Beautiful Stranger
Prequel to Silent words, Comfort me
Author's note: just realised I don't have much to say…except I'm pretty glad the war is more or less over…maybe…
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 4
Orange light filled his vision, a fiery rose dawn that waited beyond his closed eyelids. Then the unnatural heat of the night beat upon his face, and Legolas bolted upright to view the conflagration that hours earlier had been the Fort of Wold.
He stared expressionless at the flaming buildings in the distance, while the campfire danced mockingly at his side. The sizzle of roasted meat brought his attention back to the present, and Legolas turned to see Aragorn studying him carefully.
"How are you feeling?" the man asked, prodding the golden-brown carcass with a stick.
He ignored the question, and answered with one of his own. "Where's Mattius?"
"The boy?" When Legolas nodded in confirmation, he continued, "With my retainer, and the rest of my party. I sent them ahead with the evidence to Edoras. There'll be people there to help him find his kin if possible, or place him with a good family if not."
The fire crackled and popped in the ensuing silence. Sighing, Legolas turned to him and said, "Thank you." He jerked his head to indicate the burning wreckage to his right. "What happened?" he asked.
"That…well…" Aragorn looked at him sheepishly, "I set fire to the barracks as a distraction. I guess it got a little out of hand."
Legolas felt his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, then an unreasonable mirth filled him and he howled with laughter, clutching his side to prevent the wound splitting open from the exertion.
The man grinned uncertainly at his response, but sobered quickly when the elf grimaced in pain. Hurrying to his side, Aragorn drew back the blankets and hissed at the sight of blood seeping through the bandages. He unwrapped the soaked strips of cloth, and set about stanching the wound.
His gentle ministrations caught the elf off-guard, who cast about for words to hide the confusion he felt at that touch. "Where about yourself? Where will you go now?" he asked.
Aragorn shrugged and waved a hand in his direction. "Someplace where we can get those off," he replied, indicating the bands of metal still around the elf's wrists, "Lothlorien perhaps; it's the closest elven settlement."
Legolas blinked. In the excitement of the night, he had completely forgotten about the steel rings. "Oh," he eloquently replied, blushing at his oversight.
The conversation died, and Aragorn finished tying off the bandage in silence. That done, he pulled the blankets around the drowsing elf, reaching out to brush back a stray gold lock that had fallen across his face.
As his fingers touched the soft strands of hair, he started in realization.
What am I doing?
Nothing. he answered himself firmly. I was brought up by the Eldar, it's only natural for me to care for them.
Forcing himself to complete the motion, he stood abruptly and circled the fire to his own blankets. Summoning the memory of Arwen, he threw up her dark beauty as a shield against the barrage of conflicting emotions. But even while amber sparks flew from the dying flames, his dreams burned with a golden fire and the light of brilliant green eyes.
~
The clang of metal on dirt and the stifled expletive that followed brought Aragorn rapidly out of his uneasy slumber. Blinking to clear away the last dregs of sleep, he stared at the furious elf in incomprehension.
While he watched, Legolas lowered himself slowly to the ground, and started picking through the pile of fallen weaponry.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
The elf did not look up from his search. "A bow," he replied, "and arrows."
Aragorn rose and rummaged through his belongings. Retrieving a longbow and a filled quiver, he handed them over to the elf without comment.
Legolas maneuvered painfully to his feet and murmured his gratitude. When the quiver was slung over his shoulder, he turned hesitantly back to the man.
"You didn't have to come back for me," he began, "but you did. You didn't have to do what you did for Mattius, but you did. For those and many other things, I thank you. But your duties await, Aragorn, son of Arathorn and I can carry on alone from here."
Stunned surprise turned quickly to anger. "No." the man said, voice dangerously low.
"What?"
"I said no," he repeated, "I didn't save your life just to let you throw it away again. It's not safe out there, the duke's people may still looking for us. And how do you propose to get to Lorien?" He gestured at the elf's bandaged leg, "Walk?"
Legolas smiled. "Of course not." Turning his back on the man, he placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
The forest fell silent, then the thunder of hooves startled a flock of birds to flight, and a blindingly white stallion burst through the trees only to halt in front of the elf.
The magnificent beast pawed at the ground, tossing its mane violently. Legolas ran loving fingers along its side, before heaving himself in a concerted effort across its back.
"Farewell then..."
An arrow flew suddenly from the shadows, cutting off his words and grazing his arm. Legolas threw himself from the horse to land in a roll that ended with an arrow pulled taut in his bow. Firing rapidly into the trees, he did not notice a man in tattered livery crawl up behind him.
"Watch out!" Aragorn pounced on the smaller man and wrestled him to the ground, wrenching his wrist to disarm him.
The skirmish ended quickly. With their leader caught, the bedraggled remnants of Harad's cronies soon faded back into woods.
Aragorn released his hold on the squirming man, who hissed at him and rubbed at his injured wrist.
"Tashid!" Legolas exclaimed in surprise at the sorry sight of him; the scarred wreck before him was a far cry from the steward's former haughty self. "Why..."
"You made me lose everything," the man spat out venomously, "It took me twenty years to get to that position in Harad's household, to hold the power that came from being his confidante...And in one night, you took it all away..." He stared at the elf, and madness filled his eyes, "You will pay for this!"
Tashid leapt towards Legolas, his mouth barred in the twisted parody of a grin. The elf held out a hand to fend him off, but Aragorn's blade reached him far sooner, and the thin man crumpled around the sword, maniacal glee frozen forever on his features.
Aragorn wrenched his blade from the body, wiping off the blood with a handful of leaves. Legolas remained sitting by the corpse and watched him work, his face drained of colour.
"He was an innocent," he said softly.
"He was deluded," Aragorn corrected, throwing their blankets onto his horse, "They're not the same thing."
Legolas looked at him then, and the man read guilt in his eyes. "You can't save everyone," he told the elf.
"I wanted him dead," the elf replied, his voice empty, as though that explained it all. He seemed to notice the man's activity for the first time. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm going with you," Aragorn said. He bent down to lift the elf and carried him gently to his horse.
To the man's surprise, he made no protest. Instead, Legolas merely sighed, and curled closer into the comforting warmth of Aragorn's arms.
Aragorn clucked his tongue and sent both horses down the narrow trail at a canter. In his haste to reach the golden woods of Lorien, it did not occur to him to question why the elf's brief touch had made his mouth run dry, or his heart race within the confines of his chest.
© ai 2003
r & r people. :)
