Silent words, Comfort me
This is set somewhere between the time the Fellowship left the mines of Moria and before they arrived at Lothlorien.
It's slash. You've been warned. Have fun.
Standard disclaimers apply.
He awoke to the sound of muffled weeping.
Glancing upwards, he discerned by the position of the moon among the stars that it was just past midnight. At his right, the four little ones slept curled close to one another for warmth; to his left, Gimli and Boromir sprawled exhausted, snoring softly.
He rose silently, draping his cloak over his shoulders. The night was unusually chill so far up in the mountains, especially for one who had grown up surrounded by temperate forest climate all his life.
Listening intently, he sought the source of the weeping. By this time, it had grown so faint that it was difficult even for him. Nonetheless, his keen senses soon led him towards a shadowy outcrop of rock, and the dark figure beneath it.
He stepped lightly over the snow; the powdery white substance barely giving at each step. Unsure of what to do, he paused two steps away from Aragorn, and hesitated.
He felt the hurt; raw agony laced the man's soul, unhealed even after all this time. An enormous sorrow dwelled in his eyes, lurked just beneath his skin, a pain so tangible that Legolas wondered why he wasn't screaming madly in the dark. Surely even that would have been more understandable than the almost maniacal control with which he kept his emotions in check, a control which was tearing him apart.
Legolas unconsciously reached out, placing a slender hand on his shoulder. At his touch, Aragorn started, and immediately ceased weeping. Still, he made no motion to push him away, so Legolas remained, keeping this tactile contact.
Moonlight shone through the clouds, highlighting golden hair and alabaster skin so that it seemed he glowed with some inner light. At his feet, Aragorn knelt, dark in the night except for the twin trails of tears that gleamed coldly down his cheek. They stood like that for an eternity, or perhaps merely an instant.
Suddenly, Aragorn said softly, as though resuming a long conversation, "He knew, he knew it all along and he never told me."
Lost, Legolas waited for him to continue.
"He had long ago foretold the downfall of Gandalf the Grey in Moria, and yet he did not trust me enough to confide in me, though he bade me lead… I should have been the one to stay, you know," Aragorn said in the same monotone, "Of us all, he was the one least expendable, and I the most."
"No, Estel…" Legolas began, though he was not sure of what exactly he denied.
Aragorn cut him off abruptly, "I am heir to the greatest kingdom of Men on Middle Earth, and the blood of the ancient kings of Numenor flows through my veins, yet I could not even save my oldest friend. Some king." He laughed bitterly, self-disgust and anger colouring his tone.
That self-hatred cut through Legolas like a knife. Tightening his hold on Aragorn's shoulders, Legolas spun him around to face him with a strength that belied his slight build. Aragorn struggled briefly, but his attempt was half-hearted at best and he could not have hoped to escape the elf's determined grip.
"Listen to me, son of Arathorn," Legolas said harshly, "before you sink into a mire of self-pity, you will fulfill your duty to this Fellowship, and to the task that Gandalf set you. I would tell you that none of it was your fault, and certainly not one among us casts blame upon you for this loss, but I know you would not listen. So I tell you now Estel, that it is your duty to see Frodo to Mordor, and the One Ring destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. He needs you Estel…" Legolas paused, his voice dropping to nary a whisper, "I need you."
Aragorn glanced up in surprise, and brown eyes were caught and held by those of clear emerald green. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he would drown in the sheer beauty of the elf's gaze.
"How long do you think I have wondered this earth?" Legolas asked softly, watching the man before him, "Three hundred?" He smiled at the affirmation in Aragorn's eyes. "Try three thousand." He did not know whether laugh or cry at the shock that filled the other man's face.
Pacing absently back and forth, he continued, "I have seen the mountains rise and the seas dry up. Gandalf was one of my oldest, dearest friends, I mourn him too. Perhaps even more so than you, for I have seen so many loved ones wither and fail before my eyes that I…" He paused, struggling to regain his composure.
"That you what?" Aragorn asked, captivated in spite of himself by a side of the normally emotionless elf he never knew existed.
Holding Aragorn's gaze, Legolas said almost inaudibly, his meaning unmistakable, "I never thought I'd love again."
Legolas' heart pounded in his chest like a caged thing denied too long. So very very slowly, he brought his lips to that of the man before him, and touched…
He is mortal! his mind screamed at him, He will die!
I don't care! his heart cried back.
And then he felt strong arms pull him closer, as Aragorn deepened the kiss, and all rational thought left him.
They broke from the kiss gasping for air, Legolas cradled gently in Aragorn's arms. "I…" Aragorn began, desire and duty warring in his eyes. Legolas followed the path of his hand to the evenstar at his neck. Understanding flared through him.
"She will not mind," Legolas said softly, wrapping his hand around Aragorn's, the evenstar firmly held in both their grips.
"I can't…" Aragorn said insistently, pulling away and standing in one fluid motion. He turned away from Legolas, resting his head against one hand on the cold stone, hitting the other against the unforgiving rock in frustration.
Legolas laughed, mocking but not unkind, and said, "For one who has lived so long amongst the People, how have you managed to understand so little?" He rose, and walked gracefully behind Aragorn. Spreading his hands across that broad back, he rested his head on Aragorn's shoulder. He continued, "She would rather have you healed through me than returned without but broken."
He watched Aragorn's fist unclench, but the man made no other move. Legolas stepped back and raised an eyebrow, betraying no sign whatsoever of the sudden pain that lanced through his heart. "We are not humans," he said, "I do not ask for your affection."
At that statement, Aragorn spun around and caught both his wrists in one hand, slamming the elf none too gently against the wall of rock. Legolas' eyes widened, and he winced in pain. Aragorn bent, and kissed him hungrily, devouring him to his soul.
When Aragorn finally let the elf go, he smiled slightly at the unfocused look in the elf's green eyes. Closing the dazed elf's fingers around a slender object, he turned and strode back towards the camp.
Legolas looked down in surprise at the evenstar in his hand, then up at the man walking away from him.
"The problem is," Aragorn said, not turning around, "You have it."
Comprehension dawned in the elf's emerald eyes, and he gazed with renewed wonder at this bittersweet gift. Looking up again at Aragorn's retreating back, he allowed himself a small smile. He would heal; it might take months, or even years, but Gondor would have her king whole in both body and soul. As for Arwen and Rivendell and all the rest, they would deal with it another day. But for now, they had each other.
And it was enough.
© ai 2002
Hope you liked it.