Beautiful Stranger

Prequel to Silent words, Comfort me

Author's note: 2 more chapters to go. Thanks for your support.

Oh yes, special thanks to zephyr for that whole Niere bit… : )

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 11

Supper was wild boar carved from the spit. Honey and oil dripped down the browning roast onto a heap of potatoes and wild carrots below, filling the air with a mouth-watering aroma.

Aragorn sprawled in a corner, content to bask in the simplicity of the Rangers' life. He was warm and safe and more relaxed than he had been in…he paused to think…five years now. Had it really been so long? Ever since he had stopped being Estel and started being Aragorn, things had become increasingly complicated. Sometimes it just didn't seem worth it.

But sometimes it did. He glanced down at the elf lying on his lap, and smiled. Shadows danced across his elf's pale features, dappling the high cheekbones and startling green eyes. Aragorn cast his mind back to another night, one that had been moonless, one which had brought this beautiful stranger into his life.

For a moment, a silver basin filled with images of what might be flashed through his thoughts, but he pushed it away angrily. He would make his own fate. Then the elf met his gaze, and the world narrowed down to the being in his arms, and a heart-stopping rush of desire.

The spirits he'd imbibed earlier surged through his blood, coating his vision with a fine mist. He bent to brush those soft lips, and gasped when the elf's arms snaked around him, pulling him firmly down, down…

In the distance, a woman's voice sang out, her thin wail cutting through the darkness.

From around them, voices rose to join hers, counterpoint and harmony, so that the clearing thrummed with the strength of their song. Man and elf broke apart, enraptured by the haunting melody.

Young men and women began to rise and run into the clear ring around the fire. They swayed to the music as beads of sweat rose from their skin, so that hair and clothes clung to their person.

Drawn against his will, Aragorn stared hungrily at the dancers. The song called to him, and he unconsciously rose, one foot poised in front of the other. But he did not know the steps, nor the rhythm of the dance, and so he did not know how to begin. In his preoccupation, the man never noticed the elf's face turn suddenly expressionless, or that new sorrow that gleamed in his eyes.

Moments that were hours had come and gone when Aragorn started at a touch on his arm.

"Let me lead you," the elf murmured softly. Legolas took him by the hand and led him into the midst of the gathered crowd.

Heat pounded him from every side, and Aragorn was lost in the swirling emotions that emanated from the people. Blood roared in his ears, and his heart beat with the rhythm of the music. There was something primitive about the chanted phrases and undulating movements, something that would not be denied. Aragorn felt his sense of self begin to melt away, and struggled desperately against the overpowering sensations.

Sinuous bodies pressed in around him, separating him from the elf. But once or twice amidst the dancing, the lithe figure caught his eye, and gave him an encouraging nod. At that sign of approval, Aragorn dipped lower, spun faster and gave himself over completely to the magic of the moment.

It was perhaps inevitable in such constricted circumstances that other hands slipped into his tunic and pulled them from his shoulders, and that his own cupped first one slim waist and then another. The king of Men was a beacon in the darkness, and his people fought for a piece of his glowing light. Esana in particular claimed familiarity, and watched him with smoldering eyes that held an unmistakable invitation. But Aragorn only smiled, and paid her no more and no less attention than he did any other, and soon she was swallowed back into undulating mass.

And so they danced, the descendants of Numenor, danced harder and better than they ever had because their king was now among them, even though they did not know it. Making his way gracefully to the edge of the crowd, Legolas watched the scene before him with shadowed eyes.

Niere appeared silently at his side. "Are you sure…" she began, glancing worriedly at her cousin's too-pale face.

"No," Legolas said, barely audible above the hypnotic song, "but then I suppose I never will be." He turned to her and bowed. "Will you come with me now, my Lady?" he asked formally.

Surprise and a fair amount of consternation flashed across his features when she refused his proffered hand.

"Let me lead you," she told him instead.

Legolas smiled sadly at the familiar words and slipped after her into the quiet beyond the firelight.

~

The moon had long passed its zenith by the time the majority of Rangers keeled over from sheer exhaustion and lay sleeping where they fell.

Aragorn stumbled wearily back to the camp he shared with the two elves, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto a pile of blankets and sink into oblivion with his lover's arms around him.

The man was stopped short by the sight of untouched bedding, and a clearing devoid of the presence of any other. His elf would not have left without telling him…Had bandits taken them then? Mirkwood was not called the shadowed forest without reason, and visions of pale wraiths plucking life from the dark dried his mouth with fear. A dozen other possibilities flashed through his mind, but were discarded almost immediately. All three horses were still grazing peacefully nearby - the elves had probably just gone for a walk.

At this time of the night? Worried, Aragorn feverishly tracked the double set of footprints into the forest, and sighed with relief when he caught sight of Niere and his elf sitting near the edge of a cliff.

He was just about to hail them when Niere tilted her head upwards, and Legolas leaned down to meet her lips in a passionate kiss.

Aragorn watched in growing disbelief as his lover's hands began a trail of amorous caresses down her back. "No you don't," he heard the female elf say tauntingly, "what about your man?"

"What about him?" the other elf asked.

"Well…"

"He's good," Legolas admitted, "but you're better."

Niere laughed, a rich, sultry sound. "I'm flattered," she said, "but then, I have had more practice."

"So have I." The male elf had unlaced her tunic and was working kisses down one bare shoulder. Aragorn heard Niere's breath quicken.

"What will you tell him?" she asked when he let up.

Legolas shrugged. "Nothing, " he said, "He loves me too blindly to question me."

"And what about you?"

"Now, now," he said, "you know that I will always love you best."

"As if," Niere replied, laughing.

"But I do," Legolas said, staring into her eyes, "No one understands me better than you do. I love you."

Aragorn bit his lip to keep from crying out at this exchange. He spun sharply on his heel and ran from their clandestine meeting, away from the hurt and betrayal that stabbed at his heart more viciously than any dagger ever could. How could he have been so stupid? The elf had never said those words to him, but after all they had been through, he had assumed…

Anger clouded his vision, and he changed his destination to the Rangers' larger encampment. In the arms of the willing women, he would drown his pain with lust, and burn the memory of the elf's embraces from his skin.

~

Niere listened to the sound of rapidly fading footsteps and motioned Legolas off her. "He's gone," she said, tugging her apparel back on.

"I know," he replied.

"Do you think he believed us?"

"Yes."

Niere sighed, and shook her head. "What will you do now?" she asked.

"I'll leave." Legolas said.

"Immediately?" She frowned, "But won't he suspect something?"

"I don't care," her cousin whispered harshly, "I cannot look him in the eye, and see only contempt where once there was…something more."

"Then why didn't you just explain the situation to him?" she asked, exasperated, "What we have done…it was cruel…it was meant to be cruel."

Legolas stared off into the distance, and for a while she thought he would not answer.

"He wouldn't have gone," he said softly, "He might have understood, but he would have insisted on staying, on helping, when he can do nothing." He kicked absently at a small tuft of grass. "Besides," he continued, "we would have gone our separate ways eventually, why drag out a relationship which will result in nothing?"

Niere sighed. Her cousin sounded as if he were trying very hard to convince himself of the validity of his arguments. But he had made his choices, and he would have to live with them. All she had to offer now was company in his solitude, and a shoulder to cry on in his pain.


© ai 2003

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