Sleeping
By Colorain
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Legolas. I don't own Aragorn. Damn, right? All I do is write short slashy fics about them and hope people review them. Okey-day, I've never read the book, so this is movie-verse. And I only saw the movie once, and it was the late show . . . . so just imagine this is a night scene somewhere from where the Fellowship starts till the end.
I love to watch you sleep, Aragorn. Such a fierce man by day, your walls break down when you are slumbering. The lines of worry that cut into your face are smoothened. The normally tense body is relaxed, loose. It is a sight to see, Aragorn, because you are different and yet the same.
The beauty of my Elven senses is that I can focus one on you and leave the rest on watch. Tonight, I think, I will listen to you. The low rumble of your chest as you breathe. The soft sighs that sometimes escape your cracked lips; I know that you are dreaming.
And I wonder, even, what it is that has the luck to grace your dreams. The dark-haired Arwen, perhaps? Pleasant dreams can only amount from thoughts of her. The Ring? Does it tempt you as it tempts the others? Would you betray us all for a band of gold and the promise of power?
Me? Does my face ever hold court in your musings? Am I ever remembered with a smile the morning after? Dare I hope? Dare I dream?
I realize, Aragorn, that it is too much to pray that you might love me as I love you. But I, myself, might dream of it. I often do. And as we pass the days on our journey to Mordor, perhaps you might see it, in the things that I do.
