Beautiful Stranger
Prequel to Silent words, Comfort me
Author's note: thank you thank you thank you to zephyr for giving me the inspiration to let Niere play a larger role in the fic. I won't tell you how, read on to find out…
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 9
It had stopped snowing on the day they left Lorien, and the world stretched before them in an unbroken blanket of white. Yet, it was a deceptive beauty, for the layers of snow hid roots and stones that could lame a horse, or trip an unsuspecting traveller.
Aragorn scouted ahead, returning now and then to where the two elves and the child rode at a slower pace.
Legolas winced as his horse shied to avoid a passing hare, the half-healed muscles in his thigh and sides protesting indignantly. Niere gave him a questioning glance, but he smiled reassuringly and waved her away.
When she had turned back to the path, Legolas sighed and allowed the pain to tighten the corners of his eyes and mouth. It would be dark soon; they would have to hurry to reach the next decent campsite in time as it was, and he would not slow them down further.
The relentless ride to the cascading waterfalls left him pale and breathless. Legolas gripped the reins more tightly and tried to convince the world to stop spinning. Then his mind went blank, and he could feel himself falling…
Strong arms halted his abrupt descent, and the elf gave himself up to the warmth of Aragorn's embrace.
"You idiot," the man berated him, his harsh words a marked contrast to his gentle tone, "Why didn't you say something?"
"I'm fine," Legolas forced through tightly pressed lips.
"Of course you are."
The elf frowned. "Don't patronise me."
"I'm not," Aragorn replied condescendingly, tucking the blankets around his prone body, "I expect to see you dancing a jig tomorrow." He sat up and made to leave.
"Don't go." The words slipped out before he could stop himself, and Legolas cursed his foolish tongue. "I mean…you don't have to…it's just…"
The man looked around to see Niere competently setting up camp somewhere in the distance. "All right," he said quietly.
Legolas blinked. "Oh," was all he could think to say.
"Move over," Aragorn told him, "You're taking up all the blankets." The man slipped beneath the layers of cloth, pulling the elf against him.
Legolas sighed in contentment and buried his face in the man's chest. The lassitude that had plagued him since his captivity was burned away by Aragorn's touch, and he never wanted to move from this position. But.
"What will you do when this is all over?" he asked the man. Subtlety seemed to have deserted him, although the other did not notice.
Aragorn shrugged. "We could go back to Rohan. It's a beautiful country. There are so many places I want to show you - valleys and plains so lush and green…" His voice trailed off and he looked down at the elf. "But I will go wherever you want to, be wherever you are."
He never questioned the elf's continued presence by his side, and Legolas barely choked back the sob in his throat, ducking his head to burning in his eyes. No matter what his decision was, someone would get hurt. He could not choose one man over his people, but if he asked him to stay…For this man, what would he not do?
Love was a dangerous thing. "And you are a willing fool," the elf murmured to himself. So he would bury this love, and leave, and not give him the chance to ask.
Coward. his mind accused.
Yes.
Yet there was more, so much more to it than that.
"Have you never wondered who I really am?" Legolas asked in wonder.
The man tilted his head, mulling over the question. "At first," he admitted, "Now…it doesn't seem so important anymore."
"I want to tell you," the elf said bitterly, "But I cannot find the words…"
Aragorn shook his head and stopped him firmly, saying, "It doesn't matter. Tell me when you are ready. It is enough that you are here."
Ahh, but it is precisely that which cannot be. the elf thought in private.
"I want to be with you," he whispered, voice muffled against Aragorn's raiment, "Please believe that, no matter what happens." But he did not know if the man heard.
~
The moon had risen high when Legolas ascertained Aragorn was deep in slumber. He gently extricated himself from the tangle of the man's limbs and searched for his fallen cloak in the dim light. Throwing it around his shoulders, the elf made his way to the silent figure who stood at the jagged edge of the waterfall.
Niere turned at the sound of his soft footfalls and smiled. Her pale blue eyes glowed with a cat's intensity in the night, and her welcome was sad, but expectant.
They stood listening to the steady cadence of the water for a time, while she waited for him to tell her what he had come here to say.
Finally, he whispered into the uncompromising night, a plea that rent her soul, "Does it have to be this way?"
Niere remained silent. He already knew the answer to his question, but it was his choice and his love and she had to hear him say the words…
"Help me let him go."
She felt something shatter then, something beautiful and precious…if only love were ever truly enough…Niere closed her eyes, reaching out in a futile attempt to grasp at the lingering traces.
"Help me," he repeated, "please."
She sighed and brought her mind back to the unpleasant present. "Yes," she said quietly, "that was why I came."
Niere watched his face as she began to walk slowly towards him, hips swaying beneath the loose material of her pants. "It will not be easy," she told the other elf, seeking to decipher his hidden expressions, "There is something different about this one; the bond between both of you is so deep I'm afraid…" Her voice trailed off. I'm afraid of what the breaking of it will do to you.
Legolas met her eyes for a moment, then turned away from her gaze. "I know."
She nodded, opened her arms to him, and waited. A long time ago, on another moonlit night, she had loved him like that too.
How many times had she held him thus? Her foolish cousin, who loved so deeply that he forgot his loves were only human, only mortal. There was something about their brief beauty that held him to them; their lives were such passing, intangible things. He was as a moth drawn to a brilliantly burning flame - knowing full well that he would eventually get burnt, but unable to keep himself from them anyway. Yet for all the heartbreaks that she had nursed him through, all the bitter disappointment and tender partings, she had never before seen the elf prince so broken, or so utterly bereft.
Niere had spoken truly when she'd told him no one had ever loved him as much as this man. But what she had not said was that to her knowledge, he had never loved someone more either.
As time continued its inexorable passing, Legolas clung to her, too proud to cry and too hurt to hide the pain. She hugged him tight and wept the tears that he could not - but she could do nothing for his heart.
© ai 2003
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