Author's Warning: I changed my mind about where this is going. I am
afraid there might be a little bit of romance thrown in here after all, but
only time will tell how much. Just so you know to stop here, if you want
to keep as much space between Aragorn and Legolas in fanfiction as there is
in the real story. And yes, things will happen in this story. The
overflow of talk is setup stuff. Just so you hang in there and don't give
up :)
Aragorn could not see. All the world was black, no grace nor sign of sunlight broke the suffocating darkness. He seemed to be short of breath, underwater for all he knew, yet there was no hint of impending death. It was very much like some of the black nights in Rivendell, the one year in a thousand when Elrond grieved and Imladris was a tunnel of fear and pain, no star to be seen. The Elves would wilt at the flat, featureless skyline of night, although they walked along placidly enough in the windy dusk of day. Aragorn, knowing he was not welcome within during these times, would sit outside his lord's chamber door, listening, making no effort to stem the tide of tears at the bitter words spoken within the chamber to supposed solitude. It was a grief he could not understand; the abandonment of love seemed to him unthinkable, for any cost. That Elrond's wife could have gone away seemed to him no more than foggy imagination. He himself could not imagine leaving Rivendell even on pain of death; his home was sacred to him, no family more dear than the Elves who dwelt here, save his mother. It hurt him unconscionably to know that Elrond feared nothing more than the betrayal of love, and that betrayal was unavoidably channeled through mortality. Aragorn knew that had he been an Elf and Elrond's son of his blood, there would have been no door between them.
At this point, the dream conjured up an image of Arwen's face, so radiant in her gown of evening, so dear that he wept to look her in the eyes. There was a sadness in her face, and a resignation, but there was still a small sliver of hope glowing there. He watched it until it faded from sight and her voice sounded in the depths of his memory. She spoke of love, but it made his heart ache. Elrond would not love him, could not love him; he would never let Aragorn take his only daughter from him. His princess could not be Aragorn's queen. There was no hope...
"Aragorn!" A voice was pulling Arwen away from him, she was fading, receding into the distance of time and memory... "Please...mellon nin...awake..." Someone was shaking him. He sat bolt upright, breathing hard. An Elven face was staring into his. He jumped as the dream savagely reasserted itself for a moment, then he fell back and realized who was watching him. "Legolas... you frightened me." Legolas looked crestfallen for a moment. "I am sorry. But I cannot have given you so much cause for fear as you did me just now. What is this terror, my friend, that causes you to weep when you dream of it?" Aragorn stared. "What are you talking about?" he asked warily. For answer, Legolas sadly reached up and brushed a hand over Aragorn's cheek. His fingers came away wet, and Aragorn realized that he had indeed been crying as he slept. His eyes still on Legolas' shining fingers, he raised his own to his face and quickly swept away the remaining traces of his tears. The Elf was still waiting patiently for an answer, sitting cross-legged in front of him on the ground. The fire had died down to embers, and Gimli's snores echoed across the rocky terrain. Aragorn swiftly shifted his gaze to the smouldering flame and kept it there. He began slowly and very reluctantly.
"I dreamt of Rivendell. When I was a child, there were days... you do not live in a land ruled by an Elven ring, so you would not have seen, but there were times when Elrond would- crack, I suppose. He is like a boulder; wind may blow and water may crash upon it, but nothing happens. Come the winter chill, and ice causes a single crack which destroys the rock from within. He would lock himself in his room; Imladris was a fearful place during these times. I suppose he does it still, only now there are no more children to sit outside his chamber door and share his grief." Aragorn blinked quickly, for as his voice broke on the last words, Legolas moved closer and laid a hand softly on his shoulder. The Elf watched him carefully for a few moments, then he spoke. "In spite of what you may think, he does love you, Aragorn."
Aragorn laughed bitterly. "Love me? What is love to an Elf, Legolas? Surely it cannot be the same thing as it is among humans. Elrond loved me when it suited him. I was there to pet and protect when the twins were off hunting Orcs and Arwen was exiled to Lothlorien- because of me, I might add, or rather, what the Elven Ringbearers feared of me. I was the only one who knew nothing of him, and that was the way he wanted it. He wanted to know what my favorite foods were, who my friends were, what sort of weaponry I admired, what I loved, what I feared... but he would tell nothing. I was an outsider to every joy, every grief... I was a stranger. Because I am mortal."
"Mortality is not a disease, Aragorn," retorted the Elf firmly. The remark about Elven faithlessness had ruffled him. "Elrond was simply afraid. He looked Sauron in the eye, shed no tears when Gil-galad fell, carried on without open grief when Celebrian left, but he could not allow himself to love another mortal. But in this he failed, my friend. Elrond is wise, but he is not immune to love. No Elf is, whatever you may believe. There is no choice. I saw his soul in his eyes that day, the day we began the Quest. His heart was breaking. If love means anything, you will not lose either of them, not to darkness."
As Legolas talked, Aragorn moved to his knees and dropped his head so that it rested on his friend's shoulder. He was too weary to hold himself upright any longer, and Legolas, feeling the discomfort of bone on bone, reached over and pulled Aragorn downwards, so that his friend's head was resting gently in his lap. Aragorn was too tired to fight this strange arrangement, and so he made little protest when Legolas pulled his own blanket as well as Aragorn's over the man's prostrate form. Aragorn smiled and whispered sleepily: "Thank you. As long as you are here, I shall not worry about anything sleep brings, whether it be bad dreams or bad weather. Will you not sleep?"
"I must watch, Aragorn, for enemies and for friends, tonight. You will be safe, I stake my life on it."
Aragorn looked sadly up into the Elf's eyes, so full of fierce trust and determination. "Someday, Legolas, you will fail me. The day of my death will dawn, and you will have no choice but to leave me to my fate. You will sail and leave me to rot."
A flash of pain sliced through Legolas' gaze, then he spoke in a trembling voice: "As I said, I stake my life on yours. Your death will be mine. There are other ways of dying than to fall by the weapon of a foe."
"Why do you do this?" Aragorn asked softly.
"I made the same promise twice," said Legolas after a slight pause. "When we spoke in the Lady's sanctuary... I had a similar discussion with Arwen the night before we left Rivendell. I swore to ease your troubles in any way I could, to protect you, save you if I could from any harm. I do not take such a burden lightly."
The word 'burden' triggered something in Aragorn, and the Elf's words stabbed at his heart for no reason that he could fathom. He was silent, until he understood. "Why did you make such a promise, if I am such a 'burden' that you are loath to keep it?"
Legolas' eyes met his suddenly in shock. "I did not mean..." Aragorn felt a twinge of guilt, but something in him was not appeased by the Elf's pain. He needed to know why Legolas was doing this, why anyone would do this...
"I am not your problem. Elrond is my foster-father, he raised me... I am his problem, I suppose. I am to wed the Princess Arwen Evenstar: she is my hope, I am her problem. What is your claim to my custody?"
Legolas said nothing, but a single tear slid down his pale cheek, and his hands trembled as he slowly rose, making Aragorn as comfortable as possible on the hard ground. "Nothing you would deem significant," he whispered painfully. Something in his tone made Aragorn look up, and a flash of something in the Elf's eyes caught his own before Legolas stood and walked quickly to a rock on the other side of Gimli to keep watch. Aragorn rolled over and watched him, feeling nothing but a jumble that he was unwilling to sort out just then... he was so tired, and Legolas was so difficult. He tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Legolas was so kind, so generous. He had promised to stand by Aragorn, and he had kept that promise; Aragorn did not doubt that he would always keep it. And such a friend as this he had caused to weep, over his own insecurities... Aragorn stood quickly and joined Legolas on the flat rock where his friend was keeping watch.
The Elf's posture stiffened in surprise, but he said nothing, continuing to watch the stars above his head. Aragorn sighed. "Will you not look at me, Legolas? Truly I am very sorry. I don't know why I said that."
"Yes, you do," said Legolas flatly, still not turning his head. "You said it because you do not understand sacrifice, not truly. You understand what it is to sacrifice time, goods, even friends, for a goal and a purpose, but you do not understand what it is to give yourself for another, and so Arwen, among others, mystifies you. She is willing to give her immortality, her identity, really, for your common happiness. When will it make you happy, Aragorn, to give something you dearly prize for the good of another?"
Aragorn did not know what to say. "When I am King, I suppose," he said slowly. "A king must give much of himself for the good of his people. And a husband must give much for his wife's happiness. Arwen shall have her reward, you need not fear otherwise. That it is in many ways more bitter than she deserves, I am deeply sorry, but I cannot thwart her right to choose any more than Elrond can. And truthfully, I am happy that she loves me so much, even if I do not understand in my heart why all this should be so."
Legolas turned to him finally, an intent expression on his face. "Do you not? Can you not see how easy it is to-" He stopped himself rapidly, and Aragorn stared as a faint blush stained the pale cheeks.
"What..." But suddenly Aragorn did not need to finish the question. Everything was all too plain, and he turned away in dismay. "No, it is not true," he said in a pleading voice. "I have caused you too much pain already..."
Legolas pulled himself together proudly. "It is all right, Aragorn," he said with an air of closing a subject against further discussion. "Nothing has changed. Please, let me do this for you. Let me keep my promise."
"No," said Aragorn firmly. When Legolas snapped his head around to protest, Aragorn elaborated. "It is too much. You must ask for something in return."
"To never be parted from you," said Legolas immediately. "Never send me from your side when you are in danger. You fight for Arwen, and she waits for you. Let me keep you safe when you cannot do it alone."
"Granted," said Aragorn reluctantly, "but that is too easy. I do not wish to die, of course, if you can save me. Ask for something that is hard to give."
Legolas thought for a moment, and finally his head came up and his eyes were shining with tears. "Let me be the last to see your face," said Legolas, so softly that Aragorn had to strain to hear him. "When your spirit is weak, on some grey day in the South, when you must leave your body behind on a funeral pyre, send Arwen and all others from you at the very last, and let me give you to death. I could not bear it otherwise."
Aragorn could not hold back his own tears at this, and he bent forward so that their foreheads touched. "I promise," he whispered. "Neither could I bear it otherwise."
They sat, unmoving, brows bent together in silent communion, until sunrise. Aragorn slept eventually, and Legolas wept, still keeping one eye out for a watch on the silent horizon. The real quest had begun.
Aragorn could not see. All the world was black, no grace nor sign of sunlight broke the suffocating darkness. He seemed to be short of breath, underwater for all he knew, yet there was no hint of impending death. It was very much like some of the black nights in Rivendell, the one year in a thousand when Elrond grieved and Imladris was a tunnel of fear and pain, no star to be seen. The Elves would wilt at the flat, featureless skyline of night, although they walked along placidly enough in the windy dusk of day. Aragorn, knowing he was not welcome within during these times, would sit outside his lord's chamber door, listening, making no effort to stem the tide of tears at the bitter words spoken within the chamber to supposed solitude. It was a grief he could not understand; the abandonment of love seemed to him unthinkable, for any cost. That Elrond's wife could have gone away seemed to him no more than foggy imagination. He himself could not imagine leaving Rivendell even on pain of death; his home was sacred to him, no family more dear than the Elves who dwelt here, save his mother. It hurt him unconscionably to know that Elrond feared nothing more than the betrayal of love, and that betrayal was unavoidably channeled through mortality. Aragorn knew that had he been an Elf and Elrond's son of his blood, there would have been no door between them.
At this point, the dream conjured up an image of Arwen's face, so radiant in her gown of evening, so dear that he wept to look her in the eyes. There was a sadness in her face, and a resignation, but there was still a small sliver of hope glowing there. He watched it until it faded from sight and her voice sounded in the depths of his memory. She spoke of love, but it made his heart ache. Elrond would not love him, could not love him; he would never let Aragorn take his only daughter from him. His princess could not be Aragorn's queen. There was no hope...
"Aragorn!" A voice was pulling Arwen away from him, she was fading, receding into the distance of time and memory... "Please...mellon nin...awake..." Someone was shaking him. He sat bolt upright, breathing hard. An Elven face was staring into his. He jumped as the dream savagely reasserted itself for a moment, then he fell back and realized who was watching him. "Legolas... you frightened me." Legolas looked crestfallen for a moment. "I am sorry. But I cannot have given you so much cause for fear as you did me just now. What is this terror, my friend, that causes you to weep when you dream of it?" Aragorn stared. "What are you talking about?" he asked warily. For answer, Legolas sadly reached up and brushed a hand over Aragorn's cheek. His fingers came away wet, and Aragorn realized that he had indeed been crying as he slept. His eyes still on Legolas' shining fingers, he raised his own to his face and quickly swept away the remaining traces of his tears. The Elf was still waiting patiently for an answer, sitting cross-legged in front of him on the ground. The fire had died down to embers, and Gimli's snores echoed across the rocky terrain. Aragorn swiftly shifted his gaze to the smouldering flame and kept it there. He began slowly and very reluctantly.
"I dreamt of Rivendell. When I was a child, there were days... you do not live in a land ruled by an Elven ring, so you would not have seen, but there were times when Elrond would- crack, I suppose. He is like a boulder; wind may blow and water may crash upon it, but nothing happens. Come the winter chill, and ice causes a single crack which destroys the rock from within. He would lock himself in his room; Imladris was a fearful place during these times. I suppose he does it still, only now there are no more children to sit outside his chamber door and share his grief." Aragorn blinked quickly, for as his voice broke on the last words, Legolas moved closer and laid a hand softly on his shoulder. The Elf watched him carefully for a few moments, then he spoke. "In spite of what you may think, he does love you, Aragorn."
Aragorn laughed bitterly. "Love me? What is love to an Elf, Legolas? Surely it cannot be the same thing as it is among humans. Elrond loved me when it suited him. I was there to pet and protect when the twins were off hunting Orcs and Arwen was exiled to Lothlorien- because of me, I might add, or rather, what the Elven Ringbearers feared of me. I was the only one who knew nothing of him, and that was the way he wanted it. He wanted to know what my favorite foods were, who my friends were, what sort of weaponry I admired, what I loved, what I feared... but he would tell nothing. I was an outsider to every joy, every grief... I was a stranger. Because I am mortal."
"Mortality is not a disease, Aragorn," retorted the Elf firmly. The remark about Elven faithlessness had ruffled him. "Elrond was simply afraid. He looked Sauron in the eye, shed no tears when Gil-galad fell, carried on without open grief when Celebrian left, but he could not allow himself to love another mortal. But in this he failed, my friend. Elrond is wise, but he is not immune to love. No Elf is, whatever you may believe. There is no choice. I saw his soul in his eyes that day, the day we began the Quest. His heart was breaking. If love means anything, you will not lose either of them, not to darkness."
As Legolas talked, Aragorn moved to his knees and dropped his head so that it rested on his friend's shoulder. He was too weary to hold himself upright any longer, and Legolas, feeling the discomfort of bone on bone, reached over and pulled Aragorn downwards, so that his friend's head was resting gently in his lap. Aragorn was too tired to fight this strange arrangement, and so he made little protest when Legolas pulled his own blanket as well as Aragorn's over the man's prostrate form. Aragorn smiled and whispered sleepily: "Thank you. As long as you are here, I shall not worry about anything sleep brings, whether it be bad dreams or bad weather. Will you not sleep?"
"I must watch, Aragorn, for enemies and for friends, tonight. You will be safe, I stake my life on it."
Aragorn looked sadly up into the Elf's eyes, so full of fierce trust and determination. "Someday, Legolas, you will fail me. The day of my death will dawn, and you will have no choice but to leave me to my fate. You will sail and leave me to rot."
A flash of pain sliced through Legolas' gaze, then he spoke in a trembling voice: "As I said, I stake my life on yours. Your death will be mine. There are other ways of dying than to fall by the weapon of a foe."
"Why do you do this?" Aragorn asked softly.
"I made the same promise twice," said Legolas after a slight pause. "When we spoke in the Lady's sanctuary... I had a similar discussion with Arwen the night before we left Rivendell. I swore to ease your troubles in any way I could, to protect you, save you if I could from any harm. I do not take such a burden lightly."
The word 'burden' triggered something in Aragorn, and the Elf's words stabbed at his heart for no reason that he could fathom. He was silent, until he understood. "Why did you make such a promise, if I am such a 'burden' that you are loath to keep it?"
Legolas' eyes met his suddenly in shock. "I did not mean..." Aragorn felt a twinge of guilt, but something in him was not appeased by the Elf's pain. He needed to know why Legolas was doing this, why anyone would do this...
"I am not your problem. Elrond is my foster-father, he raised me... I am his problem, I suppose. I am to wed the Princess Arwen Evenstar: she is my hope, I am her problem. What is your claim to my custody?"
Legolas said nothing, but a single tear slid down his pale cheek, and his hands trembled as he slowly rose, making Aragorn as comfortable as possible on the hard ground. "Nothing you would deem significant," he whispered painfully. Something in his tone made Aragorn look up, and a flash of something in the Elf's eyes caught his own before Legolas stood and walked quickly to a rock on the other side of Gimli to keep watch. Aragorn rolled over and watched him, feeling nothing but a jumble that he was unwilling to sort out just then... he was so tired, and Legolas was so difficult. He tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Legolas was so kind, so generous. He had promised to stand by Aragorn, and he had kept that promise; Aragorn did not doubt that he would always keep it. And such a friend as this he had caused to weep, over his own insecurities... Aragorn stood quickly and joined Legolas on the flat rock where his friend was keeping watch.
The Elf's posture stiffened in surprise, but he said nothing, continuing to watch the stars above his head. Aragorn sighed. "Will you not look at me, Legolas? Truly I am very sorry. I don't know why I said that."
"Yes, you do," said Legolas flatly, still not turning his head. "You said it because you do not understand sacrifice, not truly. You understand what it is to sacrifice time, goods, even friends, for a goal and a purpose, but you do not understand what it is to give yourself for another, and so Arwen, among others, mystifies you. She is willing to give her immortality, her identity, really, for your common happiness. When will it make you happy, Aragorn, to give something you dearly prize for the good of another?"
Aragorn did not know what to say. "When I am King, I suppose," he said slowly. "A king must give much of himself for the good of his people. And a husband must give much for his wife's happiness. Arwen shall have her reward, you need not fear otherwise. That it is in many ways more bitter than she deserves, I am deeply sorry, but I cannot thwart her right to choose any more than Elrond can. And truthfully, I am happy that she loves me so much, even if I do not understand in my heart why all this should be so."
Legolas turned to him finally, an intent expression on his face. "Do you not? Can you not see how easy it is to-" He stopped himself rapidly, and Aragorn stared as a faint blush stained the pale cheeks.
"What..." But suddenly Aragorn did not need to finish the question. Everything was all too plain, and he turned away in dismay. "No, it is not true," he said in a pleading voice. "I have caused you too much pain already..."
Legolas pulled himself together proudly. "It is all right, Aragorn," he said with an air of closing a subject against further discussion. "Nothing has changed. Please, let me do this for you. Let me keep my promise."
"No," said Aragorn firmly. When Legolas snapped his head around to protest, Aragorn elaborated. "It is too much. You must ask for something in return."
"To never be parted from you," said Legolas immediately. "Never send me from your side when you are in danger. You fight for Arwen, and she waits for you. Let me keep you safe when you cannot do it alone."
"Granted," said Aragorn reluctantly, "but that is too easy. I do not wish to die, of course, if you can save me. Ask for something that is hard to give."
Legolas thought for a moment, and finally his head came up and his eyes were shining with tears. "Let me be the last to see your face," said Legolas, so softly that Aragorn had to strain to hear him. "When your spirit is weak, on some grey day in the South, when you must leave your body behind on a funeral pyre, send Arwen and all others from you at the very last, and let me give you to death. I could not bear it otherwise."
Aragorn could not hold back his own tears at this, and he bent forward so that their foreheads touched. "I promise," he whispered. "Neither could I bear it otherwise."
They sat, unmoving, brows bent together in silent communion, until sunrise. Aragorn slept eventually, and Legolas wept, still keeping one eye out for a watch on the silent horizon. The real quest had begun.