Title: Temptation Interlude I: An Elf's Musings
Author: RavenWolf
Rating: R
Pairings: L/B and F/A
Disclaimers: So not mine.
Summary: Legolas discovers a few things about his feelings for a certain man. And then decides that Frodo and Aragorn need a little push in their not-relationship.
A/N: I'm baaack...And you all thought you'd gotten rid of me, didn't you? :) But seriously, sorry for the long delay, guys. I promise to try harder to keep up with this story.
A/N 2: This is Legolas POV. The first bit is mostly L/B, but then pulls back to Legolas's perspective on the Frodo/Aragorn thing. Why is it Legolas? Because I liked his smart-ass attitude in TTT and wanted to exploit it here. And I needed a catalyst for Frodo and Aragorn. Hence, Legolas. I also know I've seriously screwed with the timeline of the story, but it's my fic, so there.
Boromir is missing. I am loathe to leave Frodo, but I know he will be alright, even if I am not there. Estel will take care of him. And the other hobbits are completely devoted to him. He will be okay. But Boromir...
I am not so sure about him.
He is so strong...He is trying, I know. But his eyes are shadowed and when he looks at Frodo, his face takes on a foreign quality. Greed. I don't like to see that expression on his face, because I know that it doesn't belong there. Somehow, I know that it never used to be there. He is a good man. But I am afraid that he is slipping.
I tell Aragorn of my plans, and slip away. The sylvan setting makes me feel at home, and I glide through the trees agilely, slipping among the shadows and light. There is no sound, so I do not worry that something has happened to him. But he shouldn't be alone.
I probably worry far too much about him. I haven't known him long at all. There is nothing particularly miraculous about him. He is a Man; not like me at all. And yet...there is something that draws me to him. Some inner radiance. A light that even we Elves do not possess. He is different than me. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. I am nowhere near perfect.
I find him a ways from the camp. He is sitting against a tree. His eyes are closed, and the sunlight filters in and kisses his face gently. He is completely oblivious to my presence, and I take advantage of that fact. I watch him silently, enjoying the way that his thoughts play across his face in the forms of a twitch of the lips. A small frown. A small smile. I wonder what he is thinking about.
I move closer to scrutinize his face more closely. But I am not paying attention; a twig snaps beneath my feet.
His eyes snap open and his hand reaches for his sword. Pure instinct. The survival of a warrior depends solely on his reflexes.
But then he sees me, and his face relaxes. He leans back against the tree. "Legolas." He seems to think carefully before choosing his next words. "How is the halfling?"
"I am not sure. He is remaining more or less the same. But Aragorn and I are doing all we can for now. And when I left, he was resting." I cock my head. I cannot help it; this man intrigues me.
Boromir nods. "I do hope that he recovers. This journey has been so hard on him..."
I stand silently for a while, watching the light begin to fade from the sky. We are not far from Lorien now. A few more days' travel, at the most. There, Frodo will get all the healing he needs. I am eager to walk among my kin once more, but with it comes a reminder. I am Elf-kind. Boromir is a Man. We are different, and in this case, it *is* a bad thing.
Uninvited, I sit down next to him. He turns to look at me, surprise painting his features. "Shouldn't you return? Frodo surely must be in need of your care."
"But no, Aragorn can handle it," he says, as if talking to himself. He looks up and shares a secret smile with me; they are so obviously in love.
I raise an eyebrow. "Indeed." His lips quirk upwards in a smile. For a moment, the shadows in his eyes and the cares on his shoulders are chased away, and I see his eyes twinkle as he laughs. It's a deep, rich sound, and it sends shivers down my spine.
I smile, pleased at having made him laugh. It is a rare sound; in fact, I don't think I've ever heard it before. His eyes lock with mine. He stops laughing, though his eyes still mirror happiness.
Then he reaches his hand out and touches my cheek. I fight the urge to lean into it. His hand is rough and calloused from wielding a sword. My own hand reaches up and covers his of its own accord. I am still staring into his eyes.
When it seems that time has frozen, I dart forward and press a quick kiss to his lips. He blinks in surprise, and then lowers his gaze. "I...I didn't know that you...And I...I'm glad you did that." I am surprised to see what almost appears to be a blush rising and staining his cheeks.
"So am I." I say softly. Determinedly. Now that I know that I am not alone in my wanting, nothing will prevent me. "They won't be expecting me back for a while..."
I leave the sentence hanging. I will not force him; being immortal gives one patience. I will wait for him, if that is what he needs. Because we are so alike. So close in spirit, and at the same time very different. So I will wait for him, if it is required of me to get what I want.
"Yes..." he says softly. He catches my meaning. And it seems that there will be no waiting needed. Which is good, because I am rapidly finding myself becoming uncomfortable. Something strange I think. I am supposed to be attracted to Elves, to my own kind, and their fair skin and beautiful features. But I find myself deeply attracted to this rugged man, who as anything but an Elf. He has a scruffy beard and his hair is relatively short and dull. But one of the most attractive features he has, I think, is his voice. Deep and rough, like chocolate with sand in it. That simple word is enough to send shivers down my spine.
I nod once at him, and my hands go to his belt. We've all been allowed little privacy on this quest, so I know that he's well built beneath his garments. But it will be different to see him and not worry about being noticed. And to be able to touch that which I have admired from afar.
I've laid my bow down on the ground next to it, and now my quiver of arrows has been placed beside it.
After seeing me take the initiative, Boromir's reluctance seems to fade, and he moves closer to me with hungry eyes. And a hungry mouth, as he sweeps me up in a fierce kiss, lips bruising mine with their force. It's perfect, and his scruffy beard brushes my face in the most delicious way.
He pushes me back on the ground, and, well, things progress from there...
***
When we return, Aragorn is speaking urgently to Gimli, who is nodding enthusiastically. When we enter the camp, both of them, plus all four hobbits, turn to look at us.
Countless years of experience keep me from being too embarrassed, but I see color rising in Boromir's cheeks and he shifts and stares at the ground nervously. I smirk. It's strangely humorous to see the normally stoic man lose his composure.
Aragorn opens his mouth as if he's going to say something. But then he seems to think better of it, because his mouth closes with a clink as his teeth snap together. I brush the leaves off my breeches. "How is Frodo?" I ask cheerily. There is dead silence for a moment as they all stare at us, not seeming to hear me. I imagine they're noticing the bits of debris caught in our hair and on our clothes. Not to mention that Boromir's shirt is tucked half in and half out.
Aragorn is the first to snap out of it. He tosses a concerned glance towards Frodo, who appears to be on the verge of sleep again. "Not good," he says in a lowered voice. "I'm worried, Legolas. He's not getting worse, but he's not getting better, either."
I look over at the halfling in question. There's an unhealthy pallor to his face, and he sleeps restlessly now. A thin sheen of sweat covers his pale face. "Has the wound healed at all?" I ask. I would not know; Aragorn is very protective of Frodo, and I am not allowed to do anything to him without Aragorn's direct supervision. It would be cute if it weren't so annoying.
But not now. "Yes. But not nearly enough. I think it may be infected." He bites his lip and looks at Frodo. "Would you be willing to look at it?"
"Of course," I say smoothly. I frown. Frodo is strong, but he's been through a lot. He can't be expected to endure indefinitely. The journey and the loss of Gandalf have made him weak, both in spirit and in body. I look sideways at Estel, who is staring intently at Frodo with a tender, unguarded look on his face. I can tell as well that the conflict between them is causing Frodo unnecessary stress and strain. If they were to resolve it, I know they could draw so much strength from one another.
I turn my attention to Boromir, who so far has stood silently through our entire conversation. I allow my hand to brush his, and throw him a soft smile. He smiles back, and I know that I am lucky to have found such...happiness on such a harsh quest. Yes, indeed, it is happiness, and it so strange that I have found it in a man, this man, in particular.
"He will be alright, Estel." I say in an attempt to comfort him. He nods at me without taking his eyes from Frodo.
I sigh, and beckon to the hobbits to help me fix dinner. They look up from where they've been conversing amongst themselves, and Merry and Pippin nod at each other. Then, they drag Sam away from his ailing friend's side to come help.
I see Boromir give a small smile out of the corner of my eye. It does seem to be true; the hobbits have a miraculous way of lifting everyone's spirits.
Aragorn is tending to Frodo. Again. I don't believe I've ever seen him show such tenderness towards anyone before. He dabs the sweat from the halfling's brow, and occasionally, when Frodo cries out and starts to thrash, he presses a kiss to his forehead. At all times he clutches Frodo's hand to him tightly.
And beneath the worried anguish, I see something else. Frustration. I have the sneaking suspicion that there are things that he wanted to say to Frodo. That both of them have left unsaid.
I have decided. Both of them are unbearably stubborn. And if they will do nothing to remedy the situation by themselves, then someone is going to have to step in and help. And I can think of no one better for the job than myself.
***
The sun has gone down, and we have eaten dinner. Merry and Sam are already asleep. Frodo is sitting up against a small rock, looking pale and shaken. And Pippin seems intent on staying up, and forcing us to stay up with him.
I have offered to take Aragorn's watch. My Ranger friend has not left Frodo's side all night, though Frodo hardly seems to notice.
Gimli is on first watch. Ready to sleep, I turn to find my bedroll, and discover that it has been moved to a new location. Beside Boromir's. He's laying on his side, his back to my bedroll, pretending to be sleeping. Well. If that's the way he wants it...
I lay down, pressing myself flush against his back. I can feel his muscles tense, but he makes no sign of acknowledging me. I brush his hair back from his neck and nuzzle the junction of his shoulder and neck. "Good night, Boromir," I whisper into his ear tenderly, half-playfully, half-seriously. I know then that this man has captured my heart, fully and irreversibly. Partway between his simple bravery, quick wit, and dry humor, I've found myself hopelessly in love with him.
I sigh softly when he turns to me in the dark and kisses me softly on the lips. A shiver runs down my spine, but I am tired, and must be content to simply rest in his arms. I bend my head to his chest and wrap my arms around his back, crushing him close to me.
"Goodnight, my Elf prince," he says seriously, staring into my eyes. The moonlight sky frames his head. Everything is perfect. And then he continues the sentence: "Or should I say princess?" He smirks. I fight the childish urge to smack the back of his head.
Instead I roll over in a mock huff. Now it is his turn to press himself against me. My body relaxes into his arms, and I feel that I can let his little insult go. For now. But I'm immortal; there is plenty of time for payback later.
***
The next morning, Frodo asks that I carry him again. I see Aragorn's wounded look, and I see the way that he tries to hide it. I also see the way that Frodo stares at him when he is not looking.
After breakfast, I steal a moment alone with Frodo while the others are packing. Boromir catches my eye as I am going to him. And then that infernal man winks.
Frodo looks up when I approach. I am caught momentarily in wide, cerulean eyes, dulled for the moment by sickness. Frodo is truly a hobbit fairer than most. In fact, some days I am not entirely convinced that he's not just a particularly small elf.
"Legolas," he says by way of greeting. I nod at him.
"How are you feeling this morning, Frodo?" I ask.
He gives me a weak smile. "Alright, I suppose. A little bit weak. And my wound is hurting again." I nod thoughtfully, but that is not why I'm here. Besides, Estel would kill me if I did something to his precious hobbit without his knowledge and consent.
"Frodo, I wanted to talk to you about something," I say, uncertain how to phrase my next sentence. He looks at me with surprise, waiting for me to continue. "You and Aragorn. What...what's happened? I see him looking at you, and I've noticed the cold way you seem to treat him. This would not be so unless something important has happened. I simply want to know what it is."
He looks indignant at first, ready to open his mouth and tell me to mind my own business. But slowly he closes it, and the look on his face becomes thoughtful and unguarded. He nods quietly. "I will tell you. But not now." He nods over my shoulder, where it appears we are ready to move on. "Later today. But are you sure you want to burden yourself with my troubles?"
I smile, and kneel down. "Of course, Frodo. You are my friend, as is Estel, and I would like to see you both happy. And as for burdening myself with your troubles, I would not mind at all. You carry a large enough burden as it is, and it would be my pleasure to help lighten your load."
I look behind me. Aragorn is motioning for us to continue. Frodo sighs and stands up. Suppressing a chuckle, I lift him up and cradle him in my arms. He weighs hardly anything at all. Which is a surprise, when I compare him to the other hobbits.
"This is very humiliating, you know," he says. But already I can see him settle himself and get comfortable.
"I would imagine so." I say. And then we do not speak for a long while.
***
We stop at midday for lunch and a brief rest. Despite having done very little walking, Frodo looks tired. I begin to wonder whether or not I should push for information on what's going on between him and Aragorn. Then I realize that I really must. Aragorn has withdrawn into himself more and more as the days pass, and I can barely get him to say two words to me.
While lunch is passed around, I go to sit next to Frodo. The other hobbits are absorbed again in a secret conversation. They are constantly turning their gazes to Frodo, and by default, me. I wonder idly what they are talking about.
Frodo shifts uncomfortably on his blankets and nibbles delicately at some bread. His eyes flick to me quickly, and then back to his food. "We'll be reaching Lorien sometime tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken." He looks up at me through his lashes.
I nod, somewhat surprised that he's been keeping track of our progress. I keep forgetting that this is no ordinary hobbit that I'm dealing with. I also notice his weak attempt at small talk. "He cares about you, you know." I say without preamble. He knows who I'm talking about, and his eyes dart quickly to where Aragorn is sitting, then back.
His manner grows strangely downcast and he stares at the ground, losing all interest in his food. "I know," he whispers.
"Then what is the problem?" He looks at me in disbelief. As if it is impossible to miss why they would not simply be together.
His brows knit together in thought. "It's complicated," he says finally.
"Why?"
"Because...he treats me like a child. But he kissed me. He told me that he..." Here he lowers his voice. "He told me that his feelings for me were dangerous. And that I should just stay away. And I...I worry that it's the Ring making me feel like this. Goading me into doing something that I shouldn't."
I snort. "That certainly sounds like Estel. Trying to protect everyone from everything. Even himself. But Frodo, I don't think that the Ring is making you feel anything. It only exploits feelings that are already there. I don't think it could make you...make you love him. But it is up to you to decide whether or not your feelings are true. I would not know the pull of the Ring as intimately as you.
I do think that it is important you resolve this problem. I can see the tension wearing on you day by day. And you're not the only one. For better or for worse, he cares very deeply about you, maybe even loves you. I think that you should decide whether or not what you feel is real, and then tell him about it. He deserves that much at least."
He looks startled. His eyes brighten a bit, and I smile. It seems that I have been able to be of some assistance, after all.
Both of us turn when Aragorn announces that it is time to move on. I think for a moment, and then smile. "Aragorn?" I say. "I am a bit tired. Perhaps you could carry Frodo for a while?" Frodo looks stricken. I smirk. My work is done.
"Of course," he responds. Frodo looks stricken.
"Think about what I said?" I ask as I stand up.
"Alright." He summons up a weak smile for me as Aragorn comes over to scoop him up in his arms.
I walk up to Boromir's side.