Grumpy: lol. *smirks* You'd like that, wouldn't you? I don't think anyone has checked his blood-sugar. But he hasn't been eating very well of late so maybe they should. Somehow, I think hitting him with a rock would cause more trouble. Hehe. He also might complain rather loudly, and then my mother would complain. Then I'd get pissed and then there'd be more problems. *sigh* Have fun with this one, cherish it. It's the last you'll see of the twins for awhile. Until the next story. They figure rather much into that one.
Pernauriel: Hi! Thanks for the review. I'm glad you enjoy it.
NaughtyNat: You've been gone long time. But welcome to my new story. *g* Um, as of yet there is no plan to take that particular memory any further, but it might still pop up in the third that won't cooperate with me. So, we'll see.
Bill the Pony: Eh, awkward in a good way or a bad way? *looks anxious* Glad you like it! *g*
It took me the longest time to figure out how I wanted to start this chapter, and I think I came up with something fairly amusing. I'm sorry if it seems kinda abrupt, but I could languish in little details or I could continue on to where this gets good: the angst. *g* So, if it seems abrupt, that's because I wanted to get on with the story. Sorry if that doesn't jibe. I tried.
That said: Enjoy! Then review.
Chapter 6
Madcap
When Aragorn finally returned to his rooms, sometime long after sunset and at least before dawn, he was happy; truly genuinely happy as he had not been since the dreams started. Content.
Legolas was well and as glad to see Aragorn as Aragorn was to see him. Elladan and Elrohir had seen him weak and not shunned him, not treated him any differently. A warm glow suffused his body even as sleep began to steal over his mind, slowing his thoughts. He was wanted and loved, and that was enough.
He smiled as he reached the top of the stairs, one hand coming up to scrub at his eyes. For the first time in what seemed forever, no voices whispered doom in the back of his mind.
His vision blurred and he blinked rapidly in an effort to clear it. The hall came back into focus, so he continued. So tired.
Too long had be been running on little to no sleep, disturbed by dreams and night terrors, worn by imaginings of rejection and turmoil. Now that his mind had peace, his body could no longer sustain the pace the mind had set to protect itself from the darkness.
Aragorn entered his room and crossed over to the bed, forgoing the closet, and simply collapsed onto his bed, fully closed, and was asleep even before he hit the pillow. Serene, his sleep was too deep to dream, let alone be disturbed by unpleasant images.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The wonderful thing about sleeping is that time passes so much more quickly when you are not awake to notice it than when you are able to sit quietly and allow each second to multiply until it seems like four. Sleep releases you from your obligations to refresh your mind and body and leave you ready to resume the tedious or trying duties you left behind when your head hit the pillow, your body stilled, and your mind stopped working at such a frantic pace; when conscious thought escapes and goes somewhere else for a while until you have the energy to miss it.
It was with these thoughts that Legolas Greenleaf decided sleeping was good only if you were the one sleeping and not the one waiting for the sleeper to wake.
A small smile touched the elf's lips. He knew he would never truly wish to deny his friend sleep. Humans became so impossible when they were tired that if the ranger were always sleepy, they would never get anything done.
Besides, if he were honest with himself, he would be forced to admit there were times when he would truly love to be human and able to sleep longer, to be able to simply laze around in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness without feeling if he did not move he was going to go mad. Not, he knew, that Aragorn actually lazed around more than once a year. He would be surprised if he somehow managed to laze around even that much.
The elf shifted, shifting so that he slouched in the chair (a position his father would object to strenuously), and regarded the human critically through half-lidded eyes. The man's hair was strewn haphazardly across the pillow, a couple strands falling across his face as it rested to one side. His mouth was partially open, his breath shallow and even, his expression peaceful. For the first time since he had arrived in Mirkwood, he actually looked relaxed.
Some color had returned to his face, partially erasing that gaunt look that had worried the elf so when he had first seen the human. Lines of worry or pain had eased around the other's eyes. The deep shadows that had taken up residence under bright silver orbs that were currently hidden also seemed to be losing their hold.
The one thing, however, that could not be changed with sleep, was how thin the ranger was. Unless Legolas missed his guess, Aragorn had to have lost nearly fifteen pounds, and the one thing the human never was, was heavy. He had always been relatively thin for a human, in the elf prince's opinion, regardless that he had little experience with them. He knew humans weighed more, and that their figures usually were not as lithe as elves, though there were a few exceptions. Aragorn had never been one of those exceptions.
He sighed, then shifted again, resting his head in his left hand. Would it upset the balance Aragorn seemed to have found if he went to a bit of trouble to be sure he ate? The young man tended to be a bit touchy when he felt he was being coddled. The last thing he wanted was for his friend to pull away.
No, he would simply have to trust that, now that Aragorn seemed to have gotten over whatever was troubling him, he would go back to eating like he was supposed to on his own. In any case, he could take no action now, not with his psyche such a mystery to the three elves who called him brother--two to his face, one in his mind.
Quietly, Legolas stood. Aragorn would likely be sleeping for another couple of hours--if Elladan and Elrohir were right about how little sleep he had gotten in the last few weeks--and there were some things he needed to see to. One of them (or rather two), were notorious for leaving disaster in their wake whenever they were allowed to become bored.
He smiled and quietly left, making sure the door did not make too much noise and began his search for the twins. If he did not find them soon, he would no longer have to look, he would just have to listen for the screaming and follow it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
An hour later, Legolas was frustrated. He had searched everywhere: the kitchens, the pool, a dozen separate balconies where there were she-elves that the twins frequented, the gardens, the dining hall, the Tree room--a meditation garden, of sorts, though the twins had no particular interest in it. He checked the healers ward, and every other place he could think of to no avail. No one had seen them in hours.
Irritated, he breathed out noisily. Finally, though, he had decided to recruit Aragorn's help, which was where he was headed now: back to the human's room. The idea was that the ranger, who knew his brothers so much better than Legolas did, would be able to find them.
How they always seemed to pop up out of nowhere when one least wanted to see them, but disappeared when one was looking for them was beyond the elf prince. Not to mention highly vexing.
Though he did not particularly mind not hearing any screaming, he was not exactly sure that was a good thing. Silence tended to be the calm before the storm. He was half sure that this silence would be worse in the long run than any raised decibel level could be. Then again, it could just be his nerves.
He approached Aragorn's room, raising a hand to knock quietly on the door before entering. Then froze. He had heard something, but not from the room before him. It had come from behind him.
Frowning, the prince turned. Behind him lay the twins' room, and he suddenly remembered that was one place he had never looked.
Moving quickly, almost as if he was afraid they would disappear, Legolas crossed the floor and pushed open the door forcefully. It crashed into the other wall with a rather loud thump and two figures were revealed. Two identical figures, who jumped and looked up from their spots seated on the floor, packs between them, objects scattered around them: clothes, ointments, bandages, water, food, herbs, and one or two more items the prince could not identify.
Confused, he looked down at the twins. "What are you doing?" he asked.
Elladan stood up, movements every bit as graceful as if he had just stood from sitting in a chair. "A messenger arrived this morning from Rivendell requesting our immediate return. Apparently something has happened back home we need to see to. We were packing."
He turned back to his brother--who had remained seated and working--and plopped back down on the floor. Legolas was a bit confused as to why he had stood at all. "But you just got here," the elf prince reminded them, sounding a bit petulant even to his own ears.
Elrohir grinned up at him. "Oh, I don't think you'll mind. Besides, Estel will still be here."
"He's not going with you?"
Both shook their heads, but it was once again the younger who spoke. "No, he is to stay here."
"Who decided that?" another voice demanded.
All three elves turned to look behind them in surprise--not one of them had heard the human approach. Aragorn stood behind them, still in the clothes he had slept in, which were now rumpled, his hair in comical disarray and standing up in places. He was rubbing slightly at his left cheek which was red and imprinted with lines from the bed coverings. His eyes were still bleary from sleep.
It took all of the elves' control not to burst out laughing at the sight.
Elladan saved them from potential disaster by speaking up. "Ada," he answered.
The ranger scowled. "If something is wrong at home, I want to help."
Elrohir shook his head. "You can't, Estel."
Elladan promptly whacked the other on the head. "You idiot," he whispered fiercely. Then, "Strider, you're on vacation." He stood and faced the young human. "Father said it was urgent we get back, not that there was a problem. Probably some diplomatic problem he can't get anyone else to do. If we're wrong, we can always send someone back for you." He shook his head. "Take advantage of this opportunity, young one. It may be last one you get for a long while."
Elrohir snorted. "Yeah, we were just to escort so you wouldn't have to travel alone. Unlike you, we weren't released from responsibilities in Rivendell."
"There are--" Aragorn started, the mention of "responsibilities" setting him off again.
"Strider!" Legolas cried, more than willing to lend a hand in getting the human to stay. "Stop arguing! Or do you not wish to visit?"
Aragorn looked at him, his expression somewhat sheepish, somewhat hurt, and somewhat angry as he struggled to resolve the matter in his mind. Slowly, the ranger nodded. "Right. A vacation." He nodded, then glanced sideways at Legolas. "Of course, with Legolas here involved, we'll probably get into more trouble than either of you."
The twins laughed. Legolas looked indignant. "Excuse me."
The Dúnadan just smiled wickedly.
"Regardless, you're probably right, Estel," Elladan answered, wiping slightly at his eyes as he stood, pack in hand, with Elrohir right behind him, even if the young twin was having a bit more trouble reigning in his laughter. "Trouble follows you two everywhere. In that case, maybe we should take you with us."
Legolas scowled, as did Aragorn, and the twins again burst out laughing, the identical expressions on the two friends' faces simply too much for them. Slowly, the elf prince started to laugh. Then, the ranger's lips started to twitch.
"Be gone with you!" the young man declared, sweeping his hand. "The two of you are wretched." The twins laughed harder.
"You're not helping, Strider," Legolas murmured.
A smile quirked his lips. "Oh, I was supposed to help?"
Legolas shoved him. "Come on, human. Let's go see those two trouble-makers off before they do something to gain the ire of my father."
Aragorn just laughed, then followed his friend out of the room and down the stairs toward the front of the house. This was shaping up to be a very good day.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Many hours later, both man and elf were reclined in the prince's room, the former resting his bare feet against the wall with his hands behind his head, and the other laying on his back on his bed twirling an arrow lazily in his left hand.
Bare hours after dawn, when the twins had left, the entire house had been deemed off limits. A celebration of sorts was being prepared and the friends had been told to stay out of the way or suffer the consequences, which would likely mean Aragorn would be forced to leave (a decidedly childish consequence to both their minds, but neither had been willing to test the idea and had obediently retreated to their own space away from the preparations).
They had gone through a couple games, little things usually reserved for winter days when the weather was too forbidding to go outside. As the preparations seemed to encompass much of the palace, however, they dared not spend the time outside, and so had done their best to amuse themselves with the knickknacks.
That had been nearly three hours ago.
Both, now, were thoroughly bored. Legolas, being older and wiser, simply turned his thoughts to other things, more or less willing to wait with elvish patience which sometimes seemed to stretch the bounds of reason. Aragorn, however, was human, young, impatient, no matter that he had been raised among elves, and was itching for something to do. Anything.
Watching his toes as he wriggled them against the wall had lost any kind of thrill it had ever had long ago. Playing with his fingers as he held them before his face had proven tiresome to his arms and was no more interesting than watching his toes. Counting cracks on the ceiling had not taken very long, especially as there were few cracks in elvish architecture, perfectionists that they were, though he had counted nearly a dozen times and now knew their shape, length, and location by heart.
He was too bored to stand up and peruse the many various objects arrayed around the room which would have proven at least mildly interesting, never mind that he had seen them many times before. He was caught in that frustrating position of being too tired to get up due to boredom, and too awake to sleep; a position that could easily drive one mad.
Aragorn sighed. Then tilted his head back until he could see his friend. He could almost swear the elf was asleep, regardless that he was twirling an arrow. "Legolas?" he called, softer than he would have if the other was a man.
No response.
He frowned. "Legolas."
The elf did not move, nor did the motion of the arrow falter in it's lazy spin, the dexterous fingers moving seemingly as a matter of course. Aragorn smirked. Apparently the elf was asleep. The man glanced around him, searching for an object he could throw that would not break and would not hurt his friend. He found a discarded shirt and grasped it with his right hand.
Then he looked back at the elf. Taking careful aim while manipulating the garment until its balance was as good as he was going to manage, he threw.
The green shirt winged through the air in a gentle arc, spreading as it reached its apex on its course for the other's face. With nary a sound to mark its passage, it descended toward the unsuspecting prince. Aragorn watched expectantly as it grew ever closer to its target.
Apparently the elf felt something was coming, for seconds before the projectile hit, he blinked, focused on the world around him and saw something headed for his face. Before he could move or identify it, the article of clothing struck his face, smothering him ever so briefly beneath it.
The fair being wrestled with the item, attempting to remove it from his face so he could take a clean breath. Obscene laughter answered his attempts. Legolas pulled the garment aside, tossing it to the bed rather more forcefully than was necessary, and glared at his friend, who was rolling on the floor, practically howling with laughter.
"Strider," he growled.
Eventually, the other managed to stop laughing, though a huge smile remained glued to his face. He rolled over onto his stomach and propped his head in his hands, his feet kicking slightly in the air. The very childishness of the pose tempted a smile onto the elf's face. Silver eyes regarded him. "What do you want to do?"
"Do, Strider?" Legolas questioned. "There's nothing we can do."
"There has to be something!" the ranger exclaimed melodramatically, rolling over onto his back to stare at the ceiling, arms flung out wide. "We've been lying here all day." He tilted his head back to look at his friend. "We could lay around at Rivendell and at least be outside while we do it."
Legolas shook his head. "My father won't let me away from my duties long enough for a trip to Rivendell."
"I know," Aragorn agreed softly, then sighed and rolled back over. "Come on, Legolas. There has to be something we could do."
A slight frown on his face, the elf leaned forward, shifting to lay on his stomach, unconsciously mirroring Aragorn's pose as he thought. He still could not figure out what was going on for so much to be off limits, but if his father said it was so, then it was so.
"What about a hunt?" Aragorn asked abruptly.
Legolas sat up slightly, frowning a little as he thought it over. That actually didn't sound like such a bad idea. . . . He shook his head. "Nay, there aren't enough others who could join us. It would be too dangerous."
"Oh, come on, Legolas!" Aragorn cried, moving into a sitting position, half glaring at his friend. "We don't need baby-sitters. Just a harmless little hunt. We don't even need to hunt, just get out of the palace, away from these preparations and restrictions." He scooted forward, gaze intent. "Surely you know somewhere we could go."
The elf thought about it, staring rather oddly at the ranger, a kind of pensive glance that told him nothing except the other was not particularly fond of the idea but willing enough to consider it. Aragorn knew to wait the elf out, at least for a while. If he did not, Legolas would likely employ a favorite elvish gimmick and call him either young or human and deny the idea on either or. He was not willing to give up the idea for his impatience and so held still, watching intently as the other considered.
"Well," Legolas finally spoke, "there might be a place we could go. But I still don't think it's a good idea for us to travel through Mirkwood alone."
"We've done it before," Aragorn countered.
"Yes, and you know how that turned out."
"We survived, didn't we?" the human replied pugnaciously.
"Only just!" the elf exclaimed.
"You exaggerate, my friend," scoffed the ranger. "We were in fine shape when we made it back to safety."
Legolas rolled over onto his back, letting his head dangle over the edge so he could eye the ranger, his expression hardly believing. "We were found by Raniean and Trelan," he reminded the other. "Who knows what might have happened had we not found them?"
"You mean had they not found us?" Aragorn countered. "And you over-estimate their importance. We would have survived just fine." He paused. "We simply would not have found the evidence to prove my innocence before it was disposed of."
The elf snorted.
"Legolas. My friend. If I have to spend many more hours locked up in this room, afraid to go outside or make any loud noises, I will go quite mad. How would that go over with Father? The prince of Mirkwood driving the Heir of Isildur to insanity by refusing a simple hunting trip to pass a couple of hours. I can see his face now."
Said prince rolled over again with a laugh and leveled the Dúnadan with an amused glare. "I can see his face, also." He paused for effect, then continued, "When I drag you to Rivendell yet again to be patched back up."
"At least you have not had to drag me back half-dead!" Aragorn returned in jest, assuming an indignant posture.
"I was not half-dead," the elf declared, mock glaring.
The young man waved a hand, dismissing, and rolled his eyes. "Near dead, then."
"Don't start that again!" Legolas cried. "Don't start!"
Aragorn grinned, a roguish smile that had the side effect of occasionally making the elf prince desire to slam his head against a nearby wall, repeatedly and with vigor, as it usually meant the human was about to do something they would both regret later. Unfortunately, Legolas usually agreed to it.
"Well, if we were hunting, I wouldn't have any time to think about it," the human tried to reason.
Unconsciously, Legolas adopted a look he had seen his father use several times when he was skeptical about something that had been said, one eyebrow raising imperiously while he tipped his head down slightly, creating an "you think so" look that spoke as clearly as words.
Aragorn pursed his lips. "At least I would need to be quieter," he amended, his smile becoming impish.
Legolas sighed, but even he had to admit he would much rather be outside, among the trees, even if they were dark with the creeping shadow that seemed to claim more of Greenwood every year, affirming the name of Mirkwood that had by now been well-earned. He closed his eyes, then opened them again and looked silently at the ranger before him.
The young man apparently sensed his shift in mood, for he quieted and returned the gaze seriously, steadily. Legolas sighed again. "Oh all right, human," he finally conceded. "We'll go on a hunt."
When Aragorn jumped up with a wild cry of delight and ran for his room to prepare, Legolas suddenly felt like a parent with an unruly child who was as manipulative as he was bright, and fiercely pitied Lord Elrond who had to live with him and the twins, together, under one roof.
He groaned at the thought of having to deal with that. He was well aware that many considered him in along with the three and pitied Lord Elrond, as well, especially when he had to deal with the four of them under the same roof, at the same time. His father, he knew, greatly preferred it when they visited in Imladris rather than Mirkwood.
Idly, the young elf wondered which would go mad first: Lord Elrond or his father.
The prince laughed quietly as he stood up to ready his own pack and weapons. In this, at least, he would gladly go with a piece of human logic he normally could not hold with: If you can't beat them, join them. He had long since ceased attempting to beat the twins. Aragorn was just as hopeless.
And, truth to tell, he wouldn't change a thing. He grinned wickedly. He suspected his father would.
Steadfastly ignoring his hesitations, he began to gather what he would need. If he did not go, Aragorn would simply go by himself, the prince reasoned. His father, he knew, would have no serious objections to any outing that would keep the two friends out of his hair and away from any mischief in the palace. It was really a good idea.
So why did he feel so uneasy?