A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers, I can't say stuff individually to you
all because I am sure you want to get on and read the story, but I will say
this to Daisy Brambleburr, who I have decided is now my unofficial-mentor,
I've tried harder with the spelling in this one - usually I'm in such a
rush I forget to spell properly, so I apologise if I still don't have it
down.
As for Aragorn's character in the last chapter, I wanted to show that he and Legolas have a deep friendship, one that's lasted for a long time and has a lot of light in it. I also wanted Aragorn to be shown how I see him, sure he's a brilliant ranger and soon-to-be King, and is world-weary, but I just thought that, away from immediate danger, and in the company of his friends, he is less suspicious and prudent all the time. Like, if anyone has seen the extended version of FOTR, Boromir is teaching Merry and Pippin sword fighting, he hurts Pip accidentally, and Merry and Pippin bowl him over. Aragorn gets up to aid his fallen-friend, saying 'Gentlemen, please..' Merry and Pippin grab his legs and pull them out from underneath him, and he lands rather ungracefully on his back. I like that bit and wanted the essence of it in my story. If I didn't quite pull it off then I'm sorry, but the intent was good!
In this chapter, things get a tad darker, but it's just preparing you for stuff that happens later. Obviously, there is no actual story line, but I didn't want to let you think it's all humour (although the majority is) because we know there were rifts and the fellowship were preparing themselves for almost-certain peril. so. but read on! This is amusing, and I find myself liking Boromir the more and more I write of him.
Anyway, 'nuff said, read on, Macduff!
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Boromir: Unexpected Spirit-Healer
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A miserable gloom had settled over the remaining company, each was avoiding the others' eyes and answers to questions were clipped and cool. The negative energy flying about the air between them could almost be tasted, cut with a knife. Something had to be done.
"Aragorn?"
His back tensed; and though the ranger usually knew his boundaries, at that moment Aragorn was unsure if he could speak civilly to the dwarf just yet. He normally had no problem with Gimli at all and actually liked the stubborn, sturdy little creature a lot - though he would admit to no such thing in front of the others - but this time the son of Gloin had gone way too far. And everyone knew it. Instead of ignoring him, though, as he believed he *ought* to do, Aragorn took a deep breath and turned his head to look at his sharp-tongued companion and face the matter head-on, and was surprised to find not only the very uncomfortable-looking dwarf but the four young hobbits and Boromir as well, all waiting anxiously for him to speak. He raised a dark brow in question.
Frodo Baggins of the Shire stepped forward as if on trial, his hands clasped firmly in front of him, twisting his long fingers awkwardly. "Strider..." he started, his large blue eyes framed by dark lashes searching the ranger's face, "We are sorry to disturb you."
Aragorn smiled slightly, dear Frodo - always so polite and well mannered, wouldn't hurt a fly unless it had insulted one of his friends, so like his uncle in that way. And he *did* insist in calling him Strider. Aragorn didn't really mind, the hobbit was fast becoming a good friend of his, and anyway... Legolas called him much worse, and he was Aragorn's best friend.
Frodo continued cautiously, "But... we should like to know, I mean - if it is not too much trouble, nor too personal - w-why did Legolas act like that?"
The travel-weary dunedain had known this conversation would crop up eventually, it was only a matter of time after Gimli's barbed insult had struck a bullseye in the elf's heart. His friends weren't demanding the reasons why, as Aragorn had known they wouldn't, but they did have a right to know - they were all in this fellowship together, however unlikely that seemed at times. But that didn't mean Aragorn was going to make it easier for a certain dwarf with a wicked temper and an apparently cruel spirit. "Reacted like what?" he asked innocently, shrugging and turning back to his pipe.
Meriadoc now spoke up, "Well..." he spoke hesitantly, biting his bottom lip as was his wont in such delicate situations - Pippin had obviously been instructed not to talk at all; for he looked fit to burst, bright red in the face. "Legolas looked so upset... as he should have been." The young Brandybuck directed this pointedly with a sharp glare at Gimli who at least had the decency to look downwards in shame, face flushing to the same flaming red as his beard. Aragorn felt a slight triumph flare in his heart; for the others in the company were giving the dwarf a hard time - they obviously felt bad for their now-absent friend, and wished to know how to make Legolas feel better. Though the ranger was unsure whether they could do anything, and even if they could, firstly came the matter of where to find the elf - Gandalf was already out in the forest, looking, but when an elf does not wish to be seen...
"A-and..." mumbled Samwise, stepping forward hesitantly, "We don't want to make anything worse for him, Mr. Strider, when Mr. Legolas comes back, by saying the wrong thing, if you follow me, sir..." The gardener decided to leave out the ominous *If he comes back...*
"Do not fret, Hobbits of the Shire," Aragorn comforted, "'twas naught to do with you..." the ranger glanced at Gimli, who was still looking down at his sturdy leather boots. ~And so you should, Master Dwarf~ he thought, slightly angered by the son of Gloin's silence. "Though, I do not believe you shall be able to help Legolas aught *when* he comes back..."
"W-why?" Pippin ignored his warnings and now stepped forward, eager to know. His curiosity in all things to do with his Elven friend was more pressing than both of his cousin's actions would be after. He purposefully looked away from Merry's glare, keen green eyes completely intent upon Aragorn's weathered face. For he was sick and tired of not being told anything - he was the youngest and that, apparently, intitled him to no rights or say whatsoever. ~Which is downright mushrooms~ he thought indignantly. His temper flared all of a sudden and he added angrily, "Now, see here, Strider. We wish to know why our friend reacted in such a way to Gimli's remark - and it is *not* because we are a gaggle of nosy Bracegirdles from Hardbottle. No, indeed! We just do not wish to unintentionally hurt Legolas even deeper when he returns, and we think the best way of preventing this is if we know *all* the facts. And *I* do *not* think that is too much to ask!" He stood there, fuming. His hands were placed firmly on his hips, his large feet rooted, and his small chest heaving.
Aragorn was momentarily stunned by the tirade that had just been launched, but he quickly recovered himself and answered smoothly. "I do not think you are a bunch of nosy Bracegirdles from Hardbottle... Whatever that may mean - I assume the worst." He smiled slightly, "I was merely taking a moment to gauge whether it was my tale to tell or no."
Pippin, for one, looked abashed, but then his natural Tookish-curiosity about all things unknown took over once more, and he stammered, "A-and... have you? Decided whether it's your tale, I mean?" He held his breath expectantly, as did all the hobbits, as if to release it was to make Strider immediately refuse them.
"Aye, I'm sure our Elven-friend will feel relief that he is not the one to confide such a thing to you all - for he knew it would come sooner or later. And he will feel better that you all know *when* he gets back, without him having any part in the re-telling." The company, even Gimli, crowded round the ranger and listened, and the northerner began, "Legolas' family is a large one, with all the usual quarrels and rifts that go hand- in-hand with the joy and love of such a thing. Samwise, I am sure you at least know of which I speak, as do you Mr. Brandybuck," Aragorn paused to smile at the blushing hobbit-gardener and his friend. "What I am, none-too- eloquently, trying to say is that though there are many family members and arguments, I have never seen a kin closer... and I know them very well." He paused and sighed. "But, alas, I fear this closeness is borne from a personal tragedy." He smiled fondly, though a little sadly, as he looked up and saw the fellowship completely enthralled, eyes wide. Even Boromir and Gimli were anxious to know what this tragedy was, and how they might make amends.
"The tales say that the Queen of Eryn Lasgalen, Leinnia, was an altogether beautiful creature - like dawn breaking over a calm sea - in both physicality and spirit. Her heart was the largest and most pure of her kind, and the grace and gentleness of her nature astounded all who had the pleasure and honour to meet with her. Her curled hair was spun gold, her laughter was music to all who heard it, her eyes were a deeper green than any lagoon could boast and her smile could melt the coldest of icy hearts. She was the Queen of the Sunrise - I am told Legolas is his mother's child and I, for one, can see it clearly." The hobbits nodded furiously and he chuckled, it warmed his heart to know how much the halflings cared for the elf, though they knew him such a relatively short time. He continued, more quietly, "She was a wondrous being... and it was a fell blow to all the lands when her spirit was captured and reigned in."
The listeners gasped and looked at one another almost comically - Aragorn would have laughed had the circumstances not been quite so grave. Pippin, not the one for ever holding back, even whispered aloud, "However could that have happened?"
Aragorn answered his question by saying, "As most of you will know, Mirkwood is home to far more than Elves. Dark things creep and scuttle in it's depths, evil lurks... it was this evil that is the cause of such pain for the House of the Oaks. Giant spiders roam through the forest, causing devastation when they choose to eat... for the largest of their kind prey upon Elves. *The* largest, a hideous creature known as Gangemar was the most feared, for though he ate rarely, his feasts were the subject of Elven urban legends, frightening tales told to young elflings around campfires. Queen Leinnia... encountered this brute while travelling with the King, and though the Elven-warriors present managed to drive the creature off by attacking him with all their might, using well-trained arrows and spears, a giant spider's hide is not easily broken, and the damage was done. His insidious poison infected the enchanting Queen. I shall not go into too much detail, but I will say that her death was neither quick nor peaceful, she was taken back to the palace of Mirkwood, *everything* was done for her... to no avail. The King and his family were forced to watch their most beloved die before their eyes.
"Death is painful to those mortals who are left behind who are so unfortunate as to encounter it - but to Elves... grief is truly, truly unbearable. For they are immortal, and are blessed to walk upon the worlds for all eternal times, and to have that gift, so lovingly disclosed, cruelly ripped from them, is most heinous. Legolas himself fair nearly died from heartbreak, and was mortally ill for a long, long time - I thank the Valar that he was not also taken away from this world as well for not only would I not know him, and therefore, myself, be dead many times over..." Frodo half-smiled at this comment, for he knew only a portion of the stories and was yet greatly amused by them. "But the Royal family of Eryn Lasgalen would have been destroyed, and their light would've faded from this world by now if that had come to pass... A long time ago the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien bade me to look into her mirror, when Legolas was gravely injured by orks near the realm and actually upon the brink of mortal death for a time, and I saw a world without him, and...." Aragorn stopped abruptly and looked down, his memories too painful for him to continue. He gathered himself together and cleared his throat, "I thank the Valar that he was not also taken," he concluded.
"So, you see now," he gazed at the fellowship in turn, "why such a comment from our Master Dwarf, here, might wound *any* Silvan elf from that particular Woodland realm - and other districts, also - let alone the last born child of the subject of the joke!" Aragorn's voice was now risen, and Gimli looked downwards once more, shame and self-disgust pouring off him. The silence that followed was broken by Gandalf the Wizard entering the half-hearted circle with a frown and a shake of his head.
"I found him," he stated, "Barely, but I cannot seem to reach him. His eyes are turned towards his homeland, and he hears nothing of this world." He fixed a midnight-blue eye upon the dwarf, yet no one there present was able to discern the nature of the stare; so stoic it was. "But, I think he will heal, given adequate time and the appropriate sensitivity... even from his apparent enemies. We shall camp here tonight, and wait for his return, for I think he merely needs to ride out this bout of emotion, and no, Aragorn," He smiled, anticipating the question he knew the ranger was going to ask. "I don't think you going to find him would help him much at all. It's best you stay here, lad." Aragorn closed his mouth and the wizard settled his old body upon the ground, and set about filling his pipe with the intention of smoking it, obviously not wanting another word on the subject to be spoken.
Everyone quietly got up in silence and began to organise the camp. Sam began to get out food for everyone, making sure that there would be enough left for Legolas when he returned, though as a rule, Elves did not eat much, and Legolas most especially. Frodo sat with his suddenly subdued cousins, who did not feel much like causing trouble, joking or even talking much. Aragorn continued smoking his pipe, his misty-grey eyes staring off into nothing, and did not question when Gimli sat himself beside him, needing the company urgently.
Boromir stood awhile near the edge of the trees, thinking deeply. He knew what his heart was telling him to do, and wished deeply to do it, but he hesitated as he had no idea how to make such a thing happen. His golden gaze rested on the area in the brush Gandalf had battered his way out of and, making his decision, strode towards it. The company did not ask a word of him as he left the circle, and he made his way through the undergrowth.
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He reached the spot easily enough, Gandalf's withered staff had beaten an obvious pathway through it, so all he had to do was follow the route until he reached a tall and intimidating beech. Knowing from conversations with Greenleaf that the beech was the Wood-Elves' favourite and most loved tree, and seeing no other tracks leading from the small clearing beneath it's leaves, he decided that his friend must be concealed somewhere in the branches.
Fully aware of the fact that when an elf wishes to remain hidden, an elf will remain hidden to all - even other firstborn - and feeling rather stupid for performing the action anyway whilst fully aware of this fact, Boromir looked up the trunk of the tree. ~By Gondor~ he thought, surprised ~I did not expect that to be so easy~ for there was Legolas, sitting in the crown of the tree's trunk, right at the top, but making no effort to conceal himself. Boromir straightened his tunic with intent and squared his shoulders, then grasped the closest limb with both hands and hauled his not- feather-light weight up. He swung one leg, then the other, up and around the branch, and hung for a while, upside-down, merely contemplating at length upon the strange path his life had taken him down recently, all the friends he had met, all the peril he anticipated would be coming soon enough, and also how the pretty, upside-down world flushed red around him when he hung upside-down for too long. He realised with a start that he had been hanging upside-down for too long, lost control of his arms, and fell to the forest floor with a heavy thud.
He got up valiantly, determined not to be bettered by a tree - an elf or ranger, maybe, but he drew the line at an inanimate object defeating him - and pulled himself up once more. This time, when he managed to sit on the topside of the branch, he reached up for the next one, slipped, and then reached up again. He made his way up slowly through the tree, making as much noise as a heard of wild oliphaunts, injuring himself on the rough bark, sharp twigs and knife-sharp leaf edges. Not many trees grew in or around Gondor, and even if they did, a warrior most certainly did not climb them - he wondered once more of the strange ways of the Elves and how, to them - Wood-Elves especially - tree-climbing was a necessity, almost like breathing, to be taken advantage of whenever possible.
Finally, wheezing slightly at the unfamiliar exercise - Boromir's body had not been stretched in such a way in quite some time, for a warrior very rarely finds the necessity of stretching upwards to it's fullest extent in the midst of a battle - he reached the crown of the tree, and the slight figure sitting in it. He was saddened to see the elf's narrow shoulders hitching slightly with silent sobs, and he reached out a large, comforting hand and rested it lightly upon the nearest one, turning his friend around to face him. He expected to see tears upon the fair cheeks that faced him, or at least pain present in the good elf's face, but no, Legolas was laughing. Hard.
"Legolas!" he cried, completely confused by the eccentric elf's actions, "I thought you were upset! I came to make you feel better!"
"Aye," the elf managed to gasp, "And I am positive you would have done a very good job at it, if you had not made quite such a fuss in getting up here to do it!" He fell about with laughter once again.
Boromir was actually stricken dumb, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found himself speechless. Tried again. nothing. He was about to attempt it a third time, but he realised belatedly that he just looked like a fish out of water, adding to Legolas' amusement, and he clamped his mouth shut firmly, most unamused.
Legolas merely laughed some more, until he realised Boromir did not share his mirth. "What?" he asked when he had finally stopped laughing, confused by his friend's demeanour.
The son of Denethor glared at him, brown eyes taking on a sullen gleam, "Everyone is really anxious about you, Pippin and Merry actually silent for once, Aragorn worrying himself away into a stick, the dwarf feels terrible, and you are sat here, having a grand old time!" His voice was loud, and a few non-descript birds flew from a neighbouring treetop.
At the mention of Gimli, Legolas' fair face hardened, and silver shot through his green eyes like lightening. His voice rose to match Boromir's, "Do not speak of him to me! I owe him nothing and do not care how he feels, for he brought it upon himself."
"Maybe, but I suspect he is truly sorry," the Steward's son paused before continuing, choosing his words. "Aragorn has. told the fellowship of the reason of your distress."
At this, the elf's usually proud shoulders slumped once more, and an air of complete defeat seemed to cling to him suddenly. He looked downwards, playing with the hem of his green tunic. His shining, golden hair fell over his shoulders and covered his face like a veil so Boromir could not tell what expressions passed over his face. He finally muttered quietly, "I am glad. For I would not wish to talk of such a thing."
"Aye, the ruffian indicated it would be so," Boromir said, in an off-hand tone. He gained a half-smile from the elf, at the description of Aragorn that Boromir had apparently taken a shine to, for he used it often, surpassing all necessity. And Aragorn himself was not best pleased about his new nickname.
"Hey," Legolas objected softly, still not looking up, "That's my best friend's name you're besmirching."
"Aye," Boromir grinned, happy that Legolas was at least partly playing along. "You want to make something of it?" he challenged, as he so often did in these conversations with the elf.
Legolas merely smiled weakly, which was not usual at all for him; he usually made some - rather hilarious, even for Boromir - witty remark about the incredible speed of humans, or the size of their feet or something. He looked up and his green eyes wandered the floor of treetops, and settled upon the horizon to the Northeast where, as the Steward's heir had learned recently, his homeland lay. Boromir gazed in that way also, and they sat in a companionable silence for some time. Presently, Legolas stirred and, not taking his eyes off the setting sun, turning the sky pinks and yellows, he murmured wistfully but with a strange gentle pride, almost to himself, "You know, they called her i-tari fe i-amrun."
Boromir smiled, deciding to ignore the fact that his friend's deep voice had cracked slightly with saying this and a single tear had hit his own hand with a light touch, and stated truthfully, in the same soft, wistful voice, "I have no idea what that means, but I am sure it is very nice and gratuitous."
That made Legolas chuckle, "It means the Queen of the Sunrise. it fitted her perfectly; she was very beautiful," he indicated so with his bent knees, arms crossed and resting lightly upon them, as if to point them towards Boromir was supporting that fact.
"My mother was also, in heart and all," the man said gently, hoping to let his friend know that he was not alone, but he couldn't help adding a bit of humour, "And I do hope you are not threatening me with your sharp kneecaps, for they are quite formidable and I do not believe I am as yet up for the challenge." He batted them away, turning Legolas inadvertently in the opposite direction.
Legolas laughed out loud at that, a short, melodic burst of mirth from his soul. "I imagine she was so, pity you got your father's looks, then." He swiftly avoided the cuff to his head the man from Gondor threw at him. He chuckled again and looked fondly at Boromir, evaluating him with bright green eyes, "You know, for a man and all, you are not so bad."
"And the same to you, Master Greenleaf, for an elf, any road. but that is not saying much." He smiled when Legolas did, and leaned in comfortably when the fair head rested lightly upon his broad shoulder. They both looked at the horizon, simply enjoying each other's company, for they had swiftly become very good friends, surprisingly so. And it warmed Boromir that Legolas trusted him enough to lean on him, and vice-versa, without any uncomfortable feelings passing between them.
Legolas, not lifting his head from Boromir's shoulder murmured something which he thought needed to be said. "Al vie-u hadul mellon." And Boromir smiled, eyes crinkling, for he knew just enough elvish to know what Legolas had called him. He had said, 'You are a true friend.' And Boromir was proud to be named so. They stayed motionless for some time, both smiling faintly.
At length Boromir reluctantly said, "I suppose the others will want us back, and Samwise will be fretting about our sup. come on, Mighty Elf, up!" He made to stand, realising belatedly just how high up they were, and a dizzy sensation overcame him suddenly.
"It is okay," Legolas, already standing and who obviously had a head for heights, grasped Boromir's elbow, and helped him to his feet. "It is merely head-rush, it will pass." And he held on to the man until it had, and Boromir was eternally grateful for that.
However, he was not about to show it, "Elves," he snorted, shaking his head and easing his way down the tree trunk, clinging to it for dear life, whilst Legolas flitted lightly down from branch to branch. "I am sure many of them, by rights, should not be able to hold your weight, elf," he groused irritably.
Legolas laughed merrily as Boromir finally reached hard-ground, "Boromir, it must be said, you are the most unexpected spirit-healer. You should take it up as an occupation, for you have made me feel light of heart when I thought I could not." He clapped the man on the shoulder, conveying more than just mirth, it was a deep thanks for the company Boromir had given him, and muttered absently, "You might even surpass Aragorn in such a thing."
Boromir glared at him, but his golden-brown eyes were warm and full of humour, "I think you'll find, Greenleaf, that I surpass Aragorn in pretty much everything anyways."
"And I think you'll find, Denethorion, that I surpass you in pretty much anything, so."
Boromir laughed, slung an arm around Legolas shoulders in a one-armed hug that should have been awkward, but was surprisingly not so and together they walked back to the waiting company with Legolas saying, "Merry and Pip were silent, you say...?"
As for Aragorn's character in the last chapter, I wanted to show that he and Legolas have a deep friendship, one that's lasted for a long time and has a lot of light in it. I also wanted Aragorn to be shown how I see him, sure he's a brilliant ranger and soon-to-be King, and is world-weary, but I just thought that, away from immediate danger, and in the company of his friends, he is less suspicious and prudent all the time. Like, if anyone has seen the extended version of FOTR, Boromir is teaching Merry and Pippin sword fighting, he hurts Pip accidentally, and Merry and Pippin bowl him over. Aragorn gets up to aid his fallen-friend, saying 'Gentlemen, please..' Merry and Pippin grab his legs and pull them out from underneath him, and he lands rather ungracefully on his back. I like that bit and wanted the essence of it in my story. If I didn't quite pull it off then I'm sorry, but the intent was good!
In this chapter, things get a tad darker, but it's just preparing you for stuff that happens later. Obviously, there is no actual story line, but I didn't want to let you think it's all humour (although the majority is) because we know there were rifts and the fellowship were preparing themselves for almost-certain peril. so. but read on! This is amusing, and I find myself liking Boromir the more and more I write of him.
Anyway, 'nuff said, read on, Macduff!
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Boromir: Unexpected Spirit-Healer
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A miserable gloom had settled over the remaining company, each was avoiding the others' eyes and answers to questions were clipped and cool. The negative energy flying about the air between them could almost be tasted, cut with a knife. Something had to be done.
"Aragorn?"
His back tensed; and though the ranger usually knew his boundaries, at that moment Aragorn was unsure if he could speak civilly to the dwarf just yet. He normally had no problem with Gimli at all and actually liked the stubborn, sturdy little creature a lot - though he would admit to no such thing in front of the others - but this time the son of Gloin had gone way too far. And everyone knew it. Instead of ignoring him, though, as he believed he *ought* to do, Aragorn took a deep breath and turned his head to look at his sharp-tongued companion and face the matter head-on, and was surprised to find not only the very uncomfortable-looking dwarf but the four young hobbits and Boromir as well, all waiting anxiously for him to speak. He raised a dark brow in question.
Frodo Baggins of the Shire stepped forward as if on trial, his hands clasped firmly in front of him, twisting his long fingers awkwardly. "Strider..." he started, his large blue eyes framed by dark lashes searching the ranger's face, "We are sorry to disturb you."
Aragorn smiled slightly, dear Frodo - always so polite and well mannered, wouldn't hurt a fly unless it had insulted one of his friends, so like his uncle in that way. And he *did* insist in calling him Strider. Aragorn didn't really mind, the hobbit was fast becoming a good friend of his, and anyway... Legolas called him much worse, and he was Aragorn's best friend.
Frodo continued cautiously, "But... we should like to know, I mean - if it is not too much trouble, nor too personal - w-why did Legolas act like that?"
The travel-weary dunedain had known this conversation would crop up eventually, it was only a matter of time after Gimli's barbed insult had struck a bullseye in the elf's heart. His friends weren't demanding the reasons why, as Aragorn had known they wouldn't, but they did have a right to know - they were all in this fellowship together, however unlikely that seemed at times. But that didn't mean Aragorn was going to make it easier for a certain dwarf with a wicked temper and an apparently cruel spirit. "Reacted like what?" he asked innocently, shrugging and turning back to his pipe.
Meriadoc now spoke up, "Well..." he spoke hesitantly, biting his bottom lip as was his wont in such delicate situations - Pippin had obviously been instructed not to talk at all; for he looked fit to burst, bright red in the face. "Legolas looked so upset... as he should have been." The young Brandybuck directed this pointedly with a sharp glare at Gimli who at least had the decency to look downwards in shame, face flushing to the same flaming red as his beard. Aragorn felt a slight triumph flare in his heart; for the others in the company were giving the dwarf a hard time - they obviously felt bad for their now-absent friend, and wished to know how to make Legolas feel better. Though the ranger was unsure whether they could do anything, and even if they could, firstly came the matter of where to find the elf - Gandalf was already out in the forest, looking, but when an elf does not wish to be seen...
"A-and..." mumbled Samwise, stepping forward hesitantly, "We don't want to make anything worse for him, Mr. Strider, when Mr. Legolas comes back, by saying the wrong thing, if you follow me, sir..." The gardener decided to leave out the ominous *If he comes back...*
"Do not fret, Hobbits of the Shire," Aragorn comforted, "'twas naught to do with you..." the ranger glanced at Gimli, who was still looking down at his sturdy leather boots. ~And so you should, Master Dwarf~ he thought, slightly angered by the son of Gloin's silence. "Though, I do not believe you shall be able to help Legolas aught *when* he comes back..."
"W-why?" Pippin ignored his warnings and now stepped forward, eager to know. His curiosity in all things to do with his Elven friend was more pressing than both of his cousin's actions would be after. He purposefully looked away from Merry's glare, keen green eyes completely intent upon Aragorn's weathered face. For he was sick and tired of not being told anything - he was the youngest and that, apparently, intitled him to no rights or say whatsoever. ~Which is downright mushrooms~ he thought indignantly. His temper flared all of a sudden and he added angrily, "Now, see here, Strider. We wish to know why our friend reacted in such a way to Gimli's remark - and it is *not* because we are a gaggle of nosy Bracegirdles from Hardbottle. No, indeed! We just do not wish to unintentionally hurt Legolas even deeper when he returns, and we think the best way of preventing this is if we know *all* the facts. And *I* do *not* think that is too much to ask!" He stood there, fuming. His hands were placed firmly on his hips, his large feet rooted, and his small chest heaving.
Aragorn was momentarily stunned by the tirade that had just been launched, but he quickly recovered himself and answered smoothly. "I do not think you are a bunch of nosy Bracegirdles from Hardbottle... Whatever that may mean - I assume the worst." He smiled slightly, "I was merely taking a moment to gauge whether it was my tale to tell or no."
Pippin, for one, looked abashed, but then his natural Tookish-curiosity about all things unknown took over once more, and he stammered, "A-and... have you? Decided whether it's your tale, I mean?" He held his breath expectantly, as did all the hobbits, as if to release it was to make Strider immediately refuse them.
"Aye, I'm sure our Elven-friend will feel relief that he is not the one to confide such a thing to you all - for he knew it would come sooner or later. And he will feel better that you all know *when* he gets back, without him having any part in the re-telling." The company, even Gimli, crowded round the ranger and listened, and the northerner began, "Legolas' family is a large one, with all the usual quarrels and rifts that go hand- in-hand with the joy and love of such a thing. Samwise, I am sure you at least know of which I speak, as do you Mr. Brandybuck," Aragorn paused to smile at the blushing hobbit-gardener and his friend. "What I am, none-too- eloquently, trying to say is that though there are many family members and arguments, I have never seen a kin closer... and I know them very well." He paused and sighed. "But, alas, I fear this closeness is borne from a personal tragedy." He smiled fondly, though a little sadly, as he looked up and saw the fellowship completely enthralled, eyes wide. Even Boromir and Gimli were anxious to know what this tragedy was, and how they might make amends.
"The tales say that the Queen of Eryn Lasgalen, Leinnia, was an altogether beautiful creature - like dawn breaking over a calm sea - in both physicality and spirit. Her heart was the largest and most pure of her kind, and the grace and gentleness of her nature astounded all who had the pleasure and honour to meet with her. Her curled hair was spun gold, her laughter was music to all who heard it, her eyes were a deeper green than any lagoon could boast and her smile could melt the coldest of icy hearts. She was the Queen of the Sunrise - I am told Legolas is his mother's child and I, for one, can see it clearly." The hobbits nodded furiously and he chuckled, it warmed his heart to know how much the halflings cared for the elf, though they knew him such a relatively short time. He continued, more quietly, "She was a wondrous being... and it was a fell blow to all the lands when her spirit was captured and reigned in."
The listeners gasped and looked at one another almost comically - Aragorn would have laughed had the circumstances not been quite so grave. Pippin, not the one for ever holding back, even whispered aloud, "However could that have happened?"
Aragorn answered his question by saying, "As most of you will know, Mirkwood is home to far more than Elves. Dark things creep and scuttle in it's depths, evil lurks... it was this evil that is the cause of such pain for the House of the Oaks. Giant spiders roam through the forest, causing devastation when they choose to eat... for the largest of their kind prey upon Elves. *The* largest, a hideous creature known as Gangemar was the most feared, for though he ate rarely, his feasts were the subject of Elven urban legends, frightening tales told to young elflings around campfires. Queen Leinnia... encountered this brute while travelling with the King, and though the Elven-warriors present managed to drive the creature off by attacking him with all their might, using well-trained arrows and spears, a giant spider's hide is not easily broken, and the damage was done. His insidious poison infected the enchanting Queen. I shall not go into too much detail, but I will say that her death was neither quick nor peaceful, she was taken back to the palace of Mirkwood, *everything* was done for her... to no avail. The King and his family were forced to watch their most beloved die before their eyes.
"Death is painful to those mortals who are left behind who are so unfortunate as to encounter it - but to Elves... grief is truly, truly unbearable. For they are immortal, and are blessed to walk upon the worlds for all eternal times, and to have that gift, so lovingly disclosed, cruelly ripped from them, is most heinous. Legolas himself fair nearly died from heartbreak, and was mortally ill for a long, long time - I thank the Valar that he was not also taken away from this world as well for not only would I not know him, and therefore, myself, be dead many times over..." Frodo half-smiled at this comment, for he knew only a portion of the stories and was yet greatly amused by them. "But the Royal family of Eryn Lasgalen would have been destroyed, and their light would've faded from this world by now if that had come to pass... A long time ago the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien bade me to look into her mirror, when Legolas was gravely injured by orks near the realm and actually upon the brink of mortal death for a time, and I saw a world without him, and...." Aragorn stopped abruptly and looked down, his memories too painful for him to continue. He gathered himself together and cleared his throat, "I thank the Valar that he was not also taken," he concluded.
"So, you see now," he gazed at the fellowship in turn, "why such a comment from our Master Dwarf, here, might wound *any* Silvan elf from that particular Woodland realm - and other districts, also - let alone the last born child of the subject of the joke!" Aragorn's voice was now risen, and Gimli looked downwards once more, shame and self-disgust pouring off him. The silence that followed was broken by Gandalf the Wizard entering the half-hearted circle with a frown and a shake of his head.
"I found him," he stated, "Barely, but I cannot seem to reach him. His eyes are turned towards his homeland, and he hears nothing of this world." He fixed a midnight-blue eye upon the dwarf, yet no one there present was able to discern the nature of the stare; so stoic it was. "But, I think he will heal, given adequate time and the appropriate sensitivity... even from his apparent enemies. We shall camp here tonight, and wait for his return, for I think he merely needs to ride out this bout of emotion, and no, Aragorn," He smiled, anticipating the question he knew the ranger was going to ask. "I don't think you going to find him would help him much at all. It's best you stay here, lad." Aragorn closed his mouth and the wizard settled his old body upon the ground, and set about filling his pipe with the intention of smoking it, obviously not wanting another word on the subject to be spoken.
Everyone quietly got up in silence and began to organise the camp. Sam began to get out food for everyone, making sure that there would be enough left for Legolas when he returned, though as a rule, Elves did not eat much, and Legolas most especially. Frodo sat with his suddenly subdued cousins, who did not feel much like causing trouble, joking or even talking much. Aragorn continued smoking his pipe, his misty-grey eyes staring off into nothing, and did not question when Gimli sat himself beside him, needing the company urgently.
Boromir stood awhile near the edge of the trees, thinking deeply. He knew what his heart was telling him to do, and wished deeply to do it, but he hesitated as he had no idea how to make such a thing happen. His golden gaze rested on the area in the brush Gandalf had battered his way out of and, making his decision, strode towards it. The company did not ask a word of him as he left the circle, and he made his way through the undergrowth.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He reached the spot easily enough, Gandalf's withered staff had beaten an obvious pathway through it, so all he had to do was follow the route until he reached a tall and intimidating beech. Knowing from conversations with Greenleaf that the beech was the Wood-Elves' favourite and most loved tree, and seeing no other tracks leading from the small clearing beneath it's leaves, he decided that his friend must be concealed somewhere in the branches.
Fully aware of the fact that when an elf wishes to remain hidden, an elf will remain hidden to all - even other firstborn - and feeling rather stupid for performing the action anyway whilst fully aware of this fact, Boromir looked up the trunk of the tree. ~By Gondor~ he thought, surprised ~I did not expect that to be so easy~ for there was Legolas, sitting in the crown of the tree's trunk, right at the top, but making no effort to conceal himself. Boromir straightened his tunic with intent and squared his shoulders, then grasped the closest limb with both hands and hauled his not- feather-light weight up. He swung one leg, then the other, up and around the branch, and hung for a while, upside-down, merely contemplating at length upon the strange path his life had taken him down recently, all the friends he had met, all the peril he anticipated would be coming soon enough, and also how the pretty, upside-down world flushed red around him when he hung upside-down for too long. He realised with a start that he had been hanging upside-down for too long, lost control of his arms, and fell to the forest floor with a heavy thud.
He got up valiantly, determined not to be bettered by a tree - an elf or ranger, maybe, but he drew the line at an inanimate object defeating him - and pulled himself up once more. This time, when he managed to sit on the topside of the branch, he reached up for the next one, slipped, and then reached up again. He made his way up slowly through the tree, making as much noise as a heard of wild oliphaunts, injuring himself on the rough bark, sharp twigs and knife-sharp leaf edges. Not many trees grew in or around Gondor, and even if they did, a warrior most certainly did not climb them - he wondered once more of the strange ways of the Elves and how, to them - Wood-Elves especially - tree-climbing was a necessity, almost like breathing, to be taken advantage of whenever possible.
Finally, wheezing slightly at the unfamiliar exercise - Boromir's body had not been stretched in such a way in quite some time, for a warrior very rarely finds the necessity of stretching upwards to it's fullest extent in the midst of a battle - he reached the crown of the tree, and the slight figure sitting in it. He was saddened to see the elf's narrow shoulders hitching slightly with silent sobs, and he reached out a large, comforting hand and rested it lightly upon the nearest one, turning his friend around to face him. He expected to see tears upon the fair cheeks that faced him, or at least pain present in the good elf's face, but no, Legolas was laughing. Hard.
"Legolas!" he cried, completely confused by the eccentric elf's actions, "I thought you were upset! I came to make you feel better!"
"Aye," the elf managed to gasp, "And I am positive you would have done a very good job at it, if you had not made quite such a fuss in getting up here to do it!" He fell about with laughter once again.
Boromir was actually stricken dumb, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found himself speechless. Tried again. nothing. He was about to attempt it a third time, but he realised belatedly that he just looked like a fish out of water, adding to Legolas' amusement, and he clamped his mouth shut firmly, most unamused.
Legolas merely laughed some more, until he realised Boromir did not share his mirth. "What?" he asked when he had finally stopped laughing, confused by his friend's demeanour.
The son of Denethor glared at him, brown eyes taking on a sullen gleam, "Everyone is really anxious about you, Pippin and Merry actually silent for once, Aragorn worrying himself away into a stick, the dwarf feels terrible, and you are sat here, having a grand old time!" His voice was loud, and a few non-descript birds flew from a neighbouring treetop.
At the mention of Gimli, Legolas' fair face hardened, and silver shot through his green eyes like lightening. His voice rose to match Boromir's, "Do not speak of him to me! I owe him nothing and do not care how he feels, for he brought it upon himself."
"Maybe, but I suspect he is truly sorry," the Steward's son paused before continuing, choosing his words. "Aragorn has. told the fellowship of the reason of your distress."
At this, the elf's usually proud shoulders slumped once more, and an air of complete defeat seemed to cling to him suddenly. He looked downwards, playing with the hem of his green tunic. His shining, golden hair fell over his shoulders and covered his face like a veil so Boromir could not tell what expressions passed over his face. He finally muttered quietly, "I am glad. For I would not wish to talk of such a thing."
"Aye, the ruffian indicated it would be so," Boromir said, in an off-hand tone. He gained a half-smile from the elf, at the description of Aragorn that Boromir had apparently taken a shine to, for he used it often, surpassing all necessity. And Aragorn himself was not best pleased about his new nickname.
"Hey," Legolas objected softly, still not looking up, "That's my best friend's name you're besmirching."
"Aye," Boromir grinned, happy that Legolas was at least partly playing along. "You want to make something of it?" he challenged, as he so often did in these conversations with the elf.
Legolas merely smiled weakly, which was not usual at all for him; he usually made some - rather hilarious, even for Boromir - witty remark about the incredible speed of humans, or the size of their feet or something. He looked up and his green eyes wandered the floor of treetops, and settled upon the horizon to the Northeast where, as the Steward's heir had learned recently, his homeland lay. Boromir gazed in that way also, and they sat in a companionable silence for some time. Presently, Legolas stirred and, not taking his eyes off the setting sun, turning the sky pinks and yellows, he murmured wistfully but with a strange gentle pride, almost to himself, "You know, they called her i-tari fe i-amrun."
Boromir smiled, deciding to ignore the fact that his friend's deep voice had cracked slightly with saying this and a single tear had hit his own hand with a light touch, and stated truthfully, in the same soft, wistful voice, "I have no idea what that means, but I am sure it is very nice and gratuitous."
That made Legolas chuckle, "It means the Queen of the Sunrise. it fitted her perfectly; she was very beautiful," he indicated so with his bent knees, arms crossed and resting lightly upon them, as if to point them towards Boromir was supporting that fact.
"My mother was also, in heart and all," the man said gently, hoping to let his friend know that he was not alone, but he couldn't help adding a bit of humour, "And I do hope you are not threatening me with your sharp kneecaps, for they are quite formidable and I do not believe I am as yet up for the challenge." He batted them away, turning Legolas inadvertently in the opposite direction.
Legolas laughed out loud at that, a short, melodic burst of mirth from his soul. "I imagine she was so, pity you got your father's looks, then." He swiftly avoided the cuff to his head the man from Gondor threw at him. He chuckled again and looked fondly at Boromir, evaluating him with bright green eyes, "You know, for a man and all, you are not so bad."
"And the same to you, Master Greenleaf, for an elf, any road. but that is not saying much." He smiled when Legolas did, and leaned in comfortably when the fair head rested lightly upon his broad shoulder. They both looked at the horizon, simply enjoying each other's company, for they had swiftly become very good friends, surprisingly so. And it warmed Boromir that Legolas trusted him enough to lean on him, and vice-versa, without any uncomfortable feelings passing between them.
Legolas, not lifting his head from Boromir's shoulder murmured something which he thought needed to be said. "Al vie-u hadul mellon." And Boromir smiled, eyes crinkling, for he knew just enough elvish to know what Legolas had called him. He had said, 'You are a true friend.' And Boromir was proud to be named so. They stayed motionless for some time, both smiling faintly.
At length Boromir reluctantly said, "I suppose the others will want us back, and Samwise will be fretting about our sup. come on, Mighty Elf, up!" He made to stand, realising belatedly just how high up they were, and a dizzy sensation overcame him suddenly.
"It is okay," Legolas, already standing and who obviously had a head for heights, grasped Boromir's elbow, and helped him to his feet. "It is merely head-rush, it will pass." And he held on to the man until it had, and Boromir was eternally grateful for that.
However, he was not about to show it, "Elves," he snorted, shaking his head and easing his way down the tree trunk, clinging to it for dear life, whilst Legolas flitted lightly down from branch to branch. "I am sure many of them, by rights, should not be able to hold your weight, elf," he groused irritably.
Legolas laughed merrily as Boromir finally reached hard-ground, "Boromir, it must be said, you are the most unexpected spirit-healer. You should take it up as an occupation, for you have made me feel light of heart when I thought I could not." He clapped the man on the shoulder, conveying more than just mirth, it was a deep thanks for the company Boromir had given him, and muttered absently, "You might even surpass Aragorn in such a thing."
Boromir glared at him, but his golden-brown eyes were warm and full of humour, "I think you'll find, Greenleaf, that I surpass Aragorn in pretty much everything anyways."
"And I think you'll find, Denethorion, that I surpass you in pretty much anything, so."
Boromir laughed, slung an arm around Legolas shoulders in a one-armed hug that should have been awkward, but was surprisingly not so and together they walked back to the waiting company with Legolas saying, "Merry and Pip were silent, you say...?"