Beautiful Stranger

Prequel to Silent words, Comfort me

Author's note: Hope to end it in another 3, at most 4 chapters. Thanks to everyone who've r&r!

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 10

Legolas stared silently at the dark green foliage overhead. He inhaled, and the tangy aroma of oak and pine and fig filled his senses.

Eryn Lagaslen. Mirkwood.

Home.

He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it - but standing at the edge of the shadowy forest in which he'd been raised, it was all the elf could do not to run his fingers down each familiar bark and whisper to the trees.

Mattius reached imperiously upwards, and grabbed at a handful of leaves on a low-lying branch. The forest rustled dangerously, breaking Legolas' reverie.

"Diiin taur!" Legolas bade them be silent, and the sizzle of leaf against razor-edged leaf slowly died away. The boy slid obliviously off the horse and pranced ahead, gathering fallen cones from atop the snow.

Aragorn eyed him curiously.

"I never knew trees did that," he said to the elf.

Legolas shrugged and said, "They have their own consciousness. They do not like being disturbed."

"I meant I never knew that the forest obeyed elves." But he did - in another life and another forest, the trees had moved only for Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.

Legolas froze. "I…" he began. Tension lined the muscles beneath his shirt. He could not tell him…

The elf's sudden distress cut Aragorn to the core. "It doesn't matter," he said hurriedly, placing a comforting hand on his arm, "You don't have to explain."

Slowly, both became aware of the warmth that spread from that tactile contact, and smothered desire flared in their eyes. Aragorn bent from atop his own horse to take the reins from his elf, and drew them closer…

"Look!" Mattius' excited call broke them apart swiftly, and Legolas blushed furiously as the child came back into view.

They glanced in his direction, to the proud woman who stood with her companion, both carrying crossbows aimed at their heads.

Aragorn loosened his sword from its sheath.

"Wait," Legolas cautioned, putting his hand over his, "Look carefully. They are the Rangers you have come to seek."

The man let the steel slide back in and dismounted from his horse. Holding both hands in clear view by his sides, he narrowed the distance to within speaking range.

The Rangers watched his approach warily. When he had paused, the woman asked, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"By the blood of Numenor that flows in both our veins," Aragorn said quietly, "and in the child at my side, put down your weapons. I only wish to talk."

At the mention of this ancient line of kings, the stoic pair before them relaxed fractionally, and the woman who had spoken came up to greet him.

"I am Esana," she introduced herself and gestured to her companion, who had not yet put down his bow. "He is my brother, Esandor. Speak."

Aragorn hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I am…Strider." he said, "This boy is called Mattius, and the Rangers are all that are left of his blood-kin."

Esana's eyes narrowed. "Strider…" she glanced past him and saw the elf. Her eyes widened in recognition, but all she said was, "Come to our fire. Then perhaps we will talk." Turning her back to the three of them, she moved deeper into the forest. They followed, Esandor still trekking cautiously behind them, crossbow drawn taut in his hand.

She brought them before the eldest of her clan, who sat drowsing beside a well-hidden campfire. He was a tiny old man - white-hair and beard framed a face more lined than Legolas remembered - yet his back remained straight for all his years, and his eyes twinkled with intelligence as he watched them come.

The elf blanched at the familiar face and tried to shrink into the surrounding shadows. But the ancient one paid him no attention, and he relaxed soon enough to see Mattius gently led to the elder's side to be carefully examined, as well as the resulting nod that followed.

The ancient one gestured to a middle-aged woman, who detached herself from the crowd. She knelt in front of the curious boy and held out a piece of candy. Mattius shied away, eyes fearfully seeking the elf. But the sweet proved a temptation too great, and when Legolas nodded encouragingly at him, he took it from her shyly.

"Mattius," the woman spoke gently, "My name is Cisin. I had a little boy once, but he's gone, and I'm all alone now. Would you like to live with me?" Her face was warm, her expression friendly, and she smelled of cooking and clean linen and mother. The child's face screwed up as he considered her words, then he nodded furiously, the candy still clutched in his fist.

"I'm eight," he announced importantly, "And I'll take care of you."

Cisin smiled at his seriousness and hugged the boy to her. When she let go, tears of joy stained her cheeks. "Let's go then," she told him.

An aching sense of loss descended upon Legolas when the boy was brought away to meet his new family, distracting him so that he did not notice that the other humans had been dismissed, and that he stood alone before an old friend whom he had watched grow and whom he would see die.

"So you have returned," the eldest of the Rangers said querulously.

"Yes." Legolas moved gracefully to kneel by his friend's side. "How have you been?" he asked softly, noting the stiffness with which the man moved and the grimace of pain that crossed his face each time he shifted his legs.

"As well as an old man can be," he answered, smiling, "Will you stay with us tonight, or go immediately to your father?"

Legolas' expression grew suddenly cold, but the elderly Ranger recognised it for the mask it was. His eyes followed the elf's as they flashed towards the man called Strider an instant before his attention focused on him once again.

"I think it would be best if I did not stay the night," he said softly, "I'd appreciate it if you kept that to yourself."

"I see," the old man said as he began to understand. Sometimes the elves loved them longer, and sometimes they loved them and left. But Men and Elves had separate destines, and the Eldar had long since realised that there would come a time when they would be forced to leave and let their human lovers continue the mortal cycle of birth and death. In the end, all that remained for an elf would be another love lost, another heartbreak in an immortal existence with memories of a parting which could not be softened by time.

The Ranger continued, saying gently, "We can keep him busy tonight, but I cannot guarantee that he will not seek you out. It would not be difficult, considering our current location."

Legolas shook his head. "He doesn't know who I am," he said, voice tightly controlled.

"Ahh…" The Ranger reached forward and prodded at the glowing embers to hide the pity in his eyes, "Perhaps it is for the best."

The conversation tapered off, and amber sparks danced in the silence.

"Hael," Legolas said suddenly, "I have another favour to ask. Would you keep an eye on him, to make sure he doesn't do anything…drastic."

"Of course."

The elf did not speak again. Perhaps it really was better this way, after all, you couldn't mourn a name that you never knew…

And you couldn't lose what you never really had.


© ai 2003