Author: Mirrordance

Title: Exile

Summary: An elf is exiled as a suspect to his own brother's murder.  A young king goes out into the Wild.  Two warriors cross paths and embark on a common adventure as one seeks to escape his past and the other to reclaim it.  How Aragorn and Legolas met.

* * *

PART 5

      As the winds picked up, both warriors found they had little else to laugh about.  Though the trees lent them shelter from the harshest of assaults, it was still enough to significantly hamper their journey, the winds heavy and moving against them. 

      Strider worried for the wizard he had left; howling winds like these were harsher in the clearings, as it must be where Gandalf was, where the trees were thinner and the line of the forest broke against the riverbanks.  He trudged on, his determination lending strength to a weary body that screamed for rest.

      "We are near," his companion said to him for the nth time, as if in reassurance.  Although… Strider wondered if the reassurance was for him or the elf himself, who seemed to be at the edge of panic.  His face was a carefully composed guise of cool indifference, his voice even and modulated.  But his eyes held a strange fear that Strider couldn't completely comprehend, though he detected it clearly.

      Do you fear for me? he wondered, knowing the answer but not quite knowing why.

      "Do I look that bad?" Strider teased.

      He watched from the corner of his eyes as the elf's lips quirked into a harried smile that quickly vanished as he at last voiced his fears.

      "A bit."

      "I'm not just going to drop dead here, I promise," Strider reassured him.

      "Well it happens, doesn't it?" asked Legolas.

      "It's been known to," Strider admitted, "but not to me.  It is just a fever.  Humans have them every once in awhile."

      "I know," Legolas said, though he still sounded hesitant.

      "It's more unglamorous than dangerous," Strider added jokingly.

      "I know," Legolas said again, still very serious, unable to join his humor.

      "You don't sound at all convinced," Strider commented.

      "I'm not," Legolas said with a wince and then added coolly, belatedly, remembering he was supposed to be distancing himself from this strange human, "But why should I have a care."

      "I don't know," said Strider wryly, sniffing, "Why do you?"

      "Who said I did?" snapped the elf.

      "It needs no saying," the human said confidently.

      "You really are presumptuous," the elf declared.
      "And you," teased Strider, "really are pretentious."

      The elf glared at him, said nothing.  Besides, it already was embarrassingly plain to see between the two of them that he was irrationally blowing hot and cold, as if he was struggling with himself.  It was actually rather kind of the human to point it out so lightly.  But it was undoubtedly an issue that was not light to the elf at all.  Why does he have a care anyway? Was this strange man so likeable? Or had he been so alone for so long…?

      The moved on, and along this road, the human coughed, and stumbled.  It was the elf's quick reflexes that brought his hand upon Strider's arm and kept him upright.  But it was his battling heart that let it linger there.

      The tell-tale moment was not lost to Strider, even with his muddled mind and severe exhaustion.  The elf's grip upon his arm slackened but stayed, and he knew decisions were being made. 

      Will the walls the lonely elf built around himself fall around his feet at last? Who would he find underneath it all, after so long in bitter isolation?

      Never mind, the elf said to himself, focusing on the situation.  The silly human could very well fall flat on his face soon without his help.  He was here, they had traveled together this far, he might as well, all implications of what in the world his decision could mean cast away.

      He couldn't have known it then but it was answer enough, and it would change his life forever.

      His grip tightened about the human's arm, as surely as his resolve strengthened, and he now blatantly gave his aid without hesitation; he never was one to do things halfway.  It will stay there for as long as they journeyed, for as long as it was needed.  The only time it left was when it soon became apparent the man, in his worsening illness, needed more.  Wordlessly, the elf twined the human's arm about his shoulders and supported him by the waist.

      It was a strange and curious warmth that he felt when Strider murmured "Thank you."

* * *

      He stepped from the woodworks to find the old man looking at him expectantly, not seeming surprised at all.

      "Hello," Gandalf greeted him over the din of the wind, stepping forward a bit crookedly, as if his years were weighing heavily upon him.  He stooped forward to have a look at the ailing Strider, who had lost consciousness quite awhile ago.

      "He has a fever," Legolas said tentatively, watching the wizard with some suspicion.

      "It's long been coming," said Gandalf, touching the human's face gently, "He has been working himself to the ground.  Stubborn, stubborn."

      "He needs to be away from this cursed weather," Legolas added, glancing about them, finding no real shelter.  What he found, however, made his brow furrow in confusion. 

      They know their way back to me, the blasted human had said and sure enough, the confounded beasts were lashed quite securely against an old tree.

      Why couldn't have they gone back to him where they fell?, he sighed, profoundly annoyed, his anger pricked almost as much as his battered ankle was smarting.

      "I see you are once again eyeing our horses with interest," Gandalf said, his aged eyes teasing.

      "I do not plan to steal them again if that is what you mean," Legolas said dryly, "I suppose they are well rested by now.  You ought take Strider away from here."

      Gandalf pursed his lips.  Seemed to be mulling over the situation. 

      "I suppose he and I can share a horse," said Gandalf, "And I can aid him that way.  Keep him warm, keep him from falling.  But ah… as you can see, I am not as young as you."

      Legolas frowned.  "What are you saying?"

      "I'm not saying anything," the old wizard blinked innocently, handing his staff to the elf and poising to relieve him of the human's weight.  He shuffled about, his robes rustling against the snow.  He stumbled once, and the elf caught him by the elbow cleanly.  Legolas looked profoundly displeased to now be saddled with two invalids.

      "I'm sorry," Gandalf smiled at him apologetically, "As I said, I am not as young as you."

      "But are you as old as all of this?" snapped Legolas, exasperated.  Was it a trick? The old man looked too wily to be… well, old.

      "I just need some help getting us both upon the horse," Gandalf said, regaining his balance and taking his staff from the elf, apparently giving up on trying to take the human's weight, "And perhaps you will end up with one of our horses after all, if Strider and I share a mount.  I'm sure he will not mind giving his horse to one as kind as you."

      "Well he sure fought hard to keep that from happening," Legolas said hesitantly, his eyes darting from Gandalf to the horses, feeling strangely trapped.  The unnatural warmth of the human beside him kept him similarly anchored to his conscience.

      "He said you were on your way to Rivendell," Legolas said tentatively, "I suppose I could aid and accompany you to its borders."

      "Oh you would do that, boy?" Gandalf smiled, "It is rather gracious of you."

      Legolas stared at him suspiciously for a moment, before turning his attention towards getting Strider and himself upon the horse he tried to steal earlier.  Beside him, the wizard mounted his own steed cleanly and swiftly. 

      He raised an inquiring eyebrow at the suddenly youthful Istari, who simply smiled at him.

TO BE CONTINUED…