Disclaimer: Sorry this wasn't on my first post, it was an innocent mistake
that I didn't spot. I make no claim to own these characters, they belong to
Tolkein etc etc
Not in the glowing white tower of Minas Tirith were the two to meet. Not in splendour, but in this dingy back room of an empty inn in one of the lower, grey coloured districts of the splendid white city. The sky was blue, with hardly a cloud that could be seen out of the small window, but the people were out enjoying the sunshine left a silence in of this part of the city that Legolas found oppressive. His nerves had grown from nothing- why on earth would an old and trusted friend feel the need to meet with such secrecy? This thought sent a tingle down the elf's spine. Perhaps today could be the day he'd dreamed of for the past traumatic year?
A bell struck the twelfth hour in another part of the city, a part, maybe, where people were still celebrating the victory in the Last Battle, even months after the final routing was completed. Perhaps today Legolas would find his own, more personal reason to celebrate. Still early due to his eagerness, he sat on the nearest of the pair of wooden seats in the room with his customary grace and not a trace of his usual elfish arrogance.
The elf regarded himself with slight scorn at his childlike excitement and fear and gave himself a mental reprimand, ordering himself to remain collected in anticipation of meeting privately with the man he'd loved for since he'd first joined his company. How many days had passed, with this ache in his heart, Legolas had lost count. He was also lost as to how Aragorn, king of Gondor, was to escape the crowds and their adulation for this secret meeting. Who had the king told about his absence? Who knew whom Aragorn was to meet here? The nervousness returned and replaced the sweet anxiety of the previous moment. Still holding his simple riding cloak in his hand to match the rest of his worn and dusty clothing, Legolas stood and turned to the door as it creaked open and revealed the man who had been the only object of the elf's thoughts for countless days, and smiled.
His youthful grin, reminiscent of a love-sick maiden, was returned by Aragorn as an acknowledgement of his presence. Dressed as Legolas had come to know him, in the riding gear and leather overcoat of Strider, he glanced around the room, as if checking for people who may or may not have been listening and then took Legolas' hand and shook it warmly. "My dear friend, I apologise for requesting that you take time out of the day's revelry for my sake, and in these drab surroundings." "For you, my lord, any hour of my day or night is yours to do with as you will, if it will aid you." "My kind thanks. But I called you here to discuss serious matters, and these were the only lodgings I could be sure would be safe for our purposes." Aragorn gave Legolas a stern look, and with his hands bade the elf to sit across from him at the small wooden table by the window. "I would hope to approach my subject with more tact than I can afford with the small amount of time given to me," sighed the new King, " for it is no easy matter, and I hope you will forgive the lack of grace in my speech." Legolas bowed his head and nodded, eyes following his fingers which were tracing designs in the gnarled wood, even more unsure of his love's purposes than ever.
Aragorn stood and leant on the window ledge, allowing the sun to fall on his well formed features as he avoided his elf-friend's eyes, which were nonetheless still intent on the oak table. He let out a deep breath, and started what he had come to say without further hesitation. "Legolas, my friend, as you well know, I am now a king. For that I thank you, as it is partly your doing that has helped me here. And as a king, it may appear that I am free, but I can no more do as I please than an ox at harvest, driven by a heavy plough. There are few things left that truly I have a say in, but matters of the heart are still my own to follow." Still sitting, Legolas dared to raise his eyes to Aragorn, who was still gazing out of the window with his back towards the elf. "By what you have said, I would be most surprised if you had not come to discuss a matter of the heart with me, Aragorn," said Legolas, rising to stand behind the tall Man. "And you know that you can safely tell me anything you wish to say." Aragorn turned, a little shocked at Legolas' close proximity to his body. Taking a step back, he confessed, "It is not the secrecy of these words I fear, Legolas. For I know I can trust you implicitly. It is whether you will be angered or grieved that I am scared of, for I do not want to lose a friend as good as you so soon after finding him."
Legolas started and took a step back, seeing finally what Aragorn was going to say. He broke eye contact and stared at the floor, leaning on the discarded chair with one hand. He took a deep breath and just as he started to speak Aragorn interrupted quietly: "I am truly sorry for this Legolas. I see you can guess at what I was going to tell you, and therefore I was right. We shouldn't keep it hidden Legolas. Love is a wonderful thing. But I fear you placed yours wrongly." "No one placing their love in your hands is wrong, Aragorn. You deserve all the love I have," said Legolas quietly but firmly, with his gaze still on the floor. "It would be better that I go, Aragorn. We shall not speak of this again." "Wait, my friend," said Aragorn, touching Legolas' arm and stressing his words to convey his feelings. "There is more that I would say. Please give me leave to say it." Pausing by the door, the elf turned and looked the man hard in the eye. "You have my leave." "Then I will tell you that my motive for this conference today was not to reject you. Though I cannot love you Legolas, it doesn't mean that I do not care for you deeply. The more I think about, the more clearly I see what I must do. I must do my duty. Therefore, I have asked the fellowship to stay in the city to witness my wedding to Arwen." With this, Aragorn drew Legolas into tight embrace and kissed him gently on the cheek before striding out of the room without a backward glance.
As the door closed behind him, Legolas thought he heard the muttered words, "I would that things were different." said almost too lightly for even the most acute of hearing. This was obviously a fantasy, though. Of course. Aragorn and Arwen would marry, and be happy, and have children, and rule well. All would be well for them. They would die, one day, and leave Legolas to wander the ages of the world alone. A bleak thought. Miserably, Legolas sat down again, leaning his elbows on his thighs and breathing in the dying scent of the one he loved. From now on, from the moment he left this room, he would forget about the love he had harboured for Aragorn. He would never talk of it again. He would find a suitable elf-maiden, one his father approved of, and settle down in Mirkwood until the call came to leave these shores. He would never even think of this again.
What else was there to do?
Not in the glowing white tower of Minas Tirith were the two to meet. Not in splendour, but in this dingy back room of an empty inn in one of the lower, grey coloured districts of the splendid white city. The sky was blue, with hardly a cloud that could be seen out of the small window, but the people were out enjoying the sunshine left a silence in of this part of the city that Legolas found oppressive. His nerves had grown from nothing- why on earth would an old and trusted friend feel the need to meet with such secrecy? This thought sent a tingle down the elf's spine. Perhaps today could be the day he'd dreamed of for the past traumatic year?
A bell struck the twelfth hour in another part of the city, a part, maybe, where people were still celebrating the victory in the Last Battle, even months after the final routing was completed. Perhaps today Legolas would find his own, more personal reason to celebrate. Still early due to his eagerness, he sat on the nearest of the pair of wooden seats in the room with his customary grace and not a trace of his usual elfish arrogance.
The elf regarded himself with slight scorn at his childlike excitement and fear and gave himself a mental reprimand, ordering himself to remain collected in anticipation of meeting privately with the man he'd loved for since he'd first joined his company. How many days had passed, with this ache in his heart, Legolas had lost count. He was also lost as to how Aragorn, king of Gondor, was to escape the crowds and their adulation for this secret meeting. Who had the king told about his absence? Who knew whom Aragorn was to meet here? The nervousness returned and replaced the sweet anxiety of the previous moment. Still holding his simple riding cloak in his hand to match the rest of his worn and dusty clothing, Legolas stood and turned to the door as it creaked open and revealed the man who had been the only object of the elf's thoughts for countless days, and smiled.
His youthful grin, reminiscent of a love-sick maiden, was returned by Aragorn as an acknowledgement of his presence. Dressed as Legolas had come to know him, in the riding gear and leather overcoat of Strider, he glanced around the room, as if checking for people who may or may not have been listening and then took Legolas' hand and shook it warmly. "My dear friend, I apologise for requesting that you take time out of the day's revelry for my sake, and in these drab surroundings." "For you, my lord, any hour of my day or night is yours to do with as you will, if it will aid you." "My kind thanks. But I called you here to discuss serious matters, and these were the only lodgings I could be sure would be safe for our purposes." Aragorn gave Legolas a stern look, and with his hands bade the elf to sit across from him at the small wooden table by the window. "I would hope to approach my subject with more tact than I can afford with the small amount of time given to me," sighed the new King, " for it is no easy matter, and I hope you will forgive the lack of grace in my speech." Legolas bowed his head and nodded, eyes following his fingers which were tracing designs in the gnarled wood, even more unsure of his love's purposes than ever.
Aragorn stood and leant on the window ledge, allowing the sun to fall on his well formed features as he avoided his elf-friend's eyes, which were nonetheless still intent on the oak table. He let out a deep breath, and started what he had come to say without further hesitation. "Legolas, my friend, as you well know, I am now a king. For that I thank you, as it is partly your doing that has helped me here. And as a king, it may appear that I am free, but I can no more do as I please than an ox at harvest, driven by a heavy plough. There are few things left that truly I have a say in, but matters of the heart are still my own to follow." Still sitting, Legolas dared to raise his eyes to Aragorn, who was still gazing out of the window with his back towards the elf. "By what you have said, I would be most surprised if you had not come to discuss a matter of the heart with me, Aragorn," said Legolas, rising to stand behind the tall Man. "And you know that you can safely tell me anything you wish to say." Aragorn turned, a little shocked at Legolas' close proximity to his body. Taking a step back, he confessed, "It is not the secrecy of these words I fear, Legolas. For I know I can trust you implicitly. It is whether you will be angered or grieved that I am scared of, for I do not want to lose a friend as good as you so soon after finding him."
Legolas started and took a step back, seeing finally what Aragorn was going to say. He broke eye contact and stared at the floor, leaning on the discarded chair with one hand. He took a deep breath and just as he started to speak Aragorn interrupted quietly: "I am truly sorry for this Legolas. I see you can guess at what I was going to tell you, and therefore I was right. We shouldn't keep it hidden Legolas. Love is a wonderful thing. But I fear you placed yours wrongly." "No one placing their love in your hands is wrong, Aragorn. You deserve all the love I have," said Legolas quietly but firmly, with his gaze still on the floor. "It would be better that I go, Aragorn. We shall not speak of this again." "Wait, my friend," said Aragorn, touching Legolas' arm and stressing his words to convey his feelings. "There is more that I would say. Please give me leave to say it." Pausing by the door, the elf turned and looked the man hard in the eye. "You have my leave." "Then I will tell you that my motive for this conference today was not to reject you. Though I cannot love you Legolas, it doesn't mean that I do not care for you deeply. The more I think about, the more clearly I see what I must do. I must do my duty. Therefore, I have asked the fellowship to stay in the city to witness my wedding to Arwen." With this, Aragorn drew Legolas into tight embrace and kissed him gently on the cheek before striding out of the room without a backward glance.
As the door closed behind him, Legolas thought he heard the muttered words, "I would that things were different." said almost too lightly for even the most acute of hearing. This was obviously a fantasy, though. Of course. Aragorn and Arwen would marry, and be happy, and have children, and rule well. All would be well for them. They would die, one day, and leave Legolas to wander the ages of the world alone. A bleak thought. Miserably, Legolas sat down again, leaning his elbows on his thighs and breathing in the dying scent of the one he loved. From now on, from the moment he left this room, he would forget about the love he had harboured for Aragorn. He would never talk of it again. He would find a suitable elf-maiden, one his father approved of, and settle down in Mirkwood until the call came to leave these shores. He would never even think of this again.
What else was there to do?