Disclaimer: Never mine, not even once.
Warning: Slash fic (Aragorn/Legolas)
Notes: /Italicized words in here/ are for thoughts. Currently I have only Legolas' thoughts written on this fic.
Days of Passion
Author: SIB
Lord Elrond of Rivendell once said Men are weak.
Raised by the lord himself, Aragorn had matured to be a man, a ranger who loved forest, and a crowned prince who escaped his fate. He always believed that the race of Men was weak and regrettably he was one of them. Never had a faith in himself as the royal scion of Arathorn, he had but a little choice to lead his Men to war, or else he would witness them slain.
Long journey, fierce battles; all he had suffered to save Middle Earth until at last the Dark Tower had fallen, crumbled into ruins as the One Ring melted in flames. And now here he was, kneeling before the White Wizard to be entrusted the crown that should be his years ago. A fate he could never escape.
Aragorn stood before his people and felt his heart was weighed by the stares of hope they gave him. Finally, a true king who could guide them to the reign of peace. Even with the glorious crown upon his brow, he could not erase the restlessness breeding inside him. But then, he said a few words and he knew, the trust they had in him was irreplaceable. They cheered, some of them even cried in joy, that Gondor had finally found its king. It was who he was born to be.
A smile found its way to his lips as white petals poured down like a rain of untainted snow at the beginning of spring. The spring of all free people of Middle Earth. Walking his way down the stairs, he caught a glimpse of his companions, the ones who had fought alongside him. He was grateful they were there to share the moment and to encourage the new king. Perhaps, he really could be their king.
And then he saw him.
Dressed in white silvery attire, the Prince of Mirkwood treaded his way to the King of Gondor. Long golden hair, played by the wind, was dancing in the air, as the prince reduced pace by pace every space between them. A faint smile tasseled the delicate lips and Aragorn found himself hard to intake any breath.
Long he had harboured the love for the fair prince and up until the moment he became the King of Gondor, they had never spoken the words of love. True they had shared several moments in each other comfort but he had never dared to reveal what his heart felt. But now he had the rest of his life to chant those words he had longed to say to the one he had longed to hold. Or so he thought.
Aragorn stepped forward and brought his hand to clasp the shoulder of the prince as the other mimicked the gesture. No word was exchanged between the two as they stared into each other eyes. The King broadened his smile and said, "Hanon le."
It was when the smile Legolas had faltered into a rueful one that he felt an impending doom threatened before him. The fair being before him said nothing in return and merely shifted his gaze to his side. Aragorn followed the gaze and knew that he had indeed found his doom.
Arwen.
* * *
The sound of music livened up the hall filled with joyful pairs dancing across the floor. The long complex formality of the wedding ceremony had finished at last and it was time for merrymaking. Laughter echoed in the ballroom as the guests watched two of the halflings, Merry and Pippin displayed their skill in one of the many Shire-folk dances, which oddly suited the grand music played in the hall well. No one seemed to notice that the king and also the groom of the marriage had retreated to one of the corners of the room.
Aragorn stared at the scene before him without really noticing. His thought flew back to the wedding. It was grand, as glorious as any royal marriage should be, and if only his heart could be as whole. No one objected to the wedding –of course no one would- and the people of Gondor were only too happy to welcome the beautiful Evenstar as their queen. All but one: the groom himself.
He could deny not that his heart still longed for another elf. Equally fair, if not fairer to his eyes, and most important of all, where his love truly lay. Made it worse, his love had witnessed the marriage with his own eyes.
What could he do? The King of Gondor was not the wild free Dunedain from the North. The King of Gondor should respectfully take a wife from the nobles and henceforth have an heir for the throne. Lady Arwen was too perfect as his queen. She was fair, kind, noble, the daughter of the Lord of Rivendell, and above all, willing to share with him the bitterness of a mortal life. What else he could ask for a queen?
How unfair it seemed for his love. Despite his incapability of producing an heir, the Prince of Mirkwood could rival the Evenstar on everything. The beauty that could take almost every heart of them who saw it, the courage which could not be weakened even by the shadows of the Path of the Dead, the loyalty that he placed upon their fellowship, and most of all the undemanding love he offered at his time of most needs. There were still million things he could list why his heart was given to the archer, and yet his duty to be the King of Gondor, placed an impassable barrier between them.
A glimpse of gold caught his attention and he found Legolas made his way across the dance floor to the balcony. Without any second thought, Aragorn followed his steps, until he heard a voice.
"King Elessar."
It was needless to see who was speaking for it was the voice that had lulled him to sleep since he was but an infant. Yet, he dared not to turn, to face his foster father. The turmoil within him would be displayed only too clear if the Lord of Rivendell were given the chance to see it. Nevertheless, it was likely that his now father-in-law already learned of this fact well, regarding the graveness he bore in his voice.
"Please do not act thoughtlessly now that you are the King of Gondor."
There was a pause before the elven lord added in colder tone, "And are married to my daughter."
Slowly the king turned around. The sorrow colouring his countenance almost broke the father's heart and yet he stood still, for the happiness of his beloved. Arwen, however, was the daughter he loved dearly and he would never allow anyone, even his foster-son, to break her heart.
"For this last time, my Lord Elrond," Estel said, almost pleading, as his voice trailed into a whisper, "... Father..."
The stern mask shattered as the noble lord felt his every defense was taken down. He had known of his foster-son's interest in the fair prince long before the ranger even realized it. The prince himself was someone he also loved for he had known him since the Queen of Mirkwood gave birth to her only son. If only Arwen had not fallen for Aragorn, the lord would find himself more than pleased to see the king of men and the prince of elves to bind their love. Yet indeed, fate had not been so kind to them.
He found himself unable to answer the plea, now that he was torn inside. True, Estel was merely a child he looked after while Arwen was a gift from the one he loved most dearly, his wife, Celebrian. But to see the son he had raised so much in love was sinking in anguish was not something he could bear. With a heavy heart, knowing he had hurt the two of his children, Lord Elrond turned away and walked, leaving his son to do what he must.
Aragorn could never been more grateful to his foster-father and immediately wasted no time to resume his paces to the balcony, to find the elven prince was leaning forward to the white carved stone that held his lithe body from falling.
"Legolas."
No answer came and it was most unlikely that the elven prince could fail to notice his voice calling. Tentatively the king lessened the distance between them and in one fluid motion caught the blond figure in his arms.
Almost as sudden, there was a pair of arms pushed him forcefully and he soon found the ethereal beauty slipped off his grasp. Grey-blue eyes blazed straight into his hazel-green one, full with nothing but restrained anger. An elven blade was thrust to his neck, threatening to slash if he were to come any closer.
"No, Aragorn," the voice flowed like a cold river, "you are wedded to her. I will not have the light of the Evenstar foundered in grief by our deeds."
Silence engulfed them as the two stopped motionless, watching at each other. The merriment inside seemed to have dissolved to their ears. Then Aragorn broke the silence.
"Forgive me..."
The elven archer's visage remained impassive as if the words meant nothing, "I do not have the right to forgive you. It is my mistake as well. I should know better than to let anything grow between us."
A fleeting look of pain, intermingled with something undeniably close to love, crossed the king's face. "I have never regretted it."
"I do."
The two simple words were uttered in so much distaste that they pierced his heart icily. He was perfectly aware of what Legolas was trying to do but never in his darkest dream, had he ever thought that the prince would actually have the heart to say what he had just blurted out. Grief and doubts overran him as he wondered if the elf did mean the words he said.
Here before him stood the pale cold beauty, clad in silver, bathed in moonlight. Sorrow flooded his eyes but no tears were spilled from the flawless orbs of sapphire. The Prince of Mirkwood would never cry –his pride would not allow it- nor would he whine or beg for the king to stay, which he had every right to do. He would stand proudly, bitter and still as the Caradhras facing its end. Aragorn realized, he had found another reason of why his heart was given to the archer. The strength to face all pain by himself.
"But I do not."
The exquisite lips tightened. "Aragorn," the elf hissed, "Arwen gives up her immortality for you!"
"Will you not do the same?"
A bitter smile was set upon the fair face, "You are the King of Gondor, Lord Elessar, and I am the Crowned Prince of Mirkwood. Do you think it is wise to sacrifice two races in return of two souls?" /Do you not know the answer?/
Another silence took place. The alteration of how Legolas addressed him had not gone unnoticed, a proof of how much the prince was determined to distance himself from the man he used to love too deep. The man witnessed how all rage vanished from the eyes of his elf, replaced by immeasurable grief. But then, he still could do nothing but to murmur, "If that is your wish."
The grief thickened, but Legolas merely took his blade down and bowed slightly, "Yes, I wish that." His trembling voice betrayed every word he said. Before the man facing him could reply, he added, "If you have nothing to discuss further, my Lord, I shall take my leave now."
Aragorn did not answer. Too many things he wished to say only to this elf and yet, he could not spill even one of them. He merely witnessed the flowing strands of gold turned around and step by step, leading the elf farther and farther from him. He knew not that the prince's heart almost burst in pain, for he must remain fervent or all of his efforts would only end in vain.
A string of words halted his strides. "Even that I am the King of Gondor, I am still unable to marry the person I love."
A single drop of tear made its way on the pallid skin. "It is because you are the King of Gondor, Lord Elessar, that you are unable to marry the person you love..." his voice trailed off into a whisper and before the king noted there was a quiver within his voice, Legolas hastened his paces through the flood of guests filling the ballroom. /Forgive me, Aragorn.../
He raced through the hall and flights of stairs, almost running to the chamber prepared for the prince during his stay in Minas Tirith. As soon as he closed the door, he sank on his knees, his tears flowed through, no longer restrained by pride. To give his love up, even to a friend as dear as Arwen was not painless. Yet, it was the right thing to do. He should be the strong one, for Aragorn, for Gondor, and for the race of Men.
* * *
King Elessar sat on his throne, flanked by the great advisors of Gondor and his Steward, Faramir. Even if only a day had passed since the marriage, his duty as the King of Gondor could not wait. Bands of orcs were continuously swarming at the borders of Gondor, presumably servants of Sauron who had the chance to flee when the Dark Lord fell.
"We don't have many soldiers left, my Lord. More than half of the number we had prior to the war had perished," Aragorn heard his Steward elaborated, "still, we cannot abandon our borders for they are our people."
The king stayed silent for a while; his eyes lingered at the guards who were standing stiffly holding his place before the door.
"Send them the guards of the citadel," eventually he gave his words.
"But my Lord!" One of his advisors shrieked in horror, "It is unwise to leave the city unguarded-"
"I do not say to empty the city," the king commanded in his deep voice, "we can spare them at least for a half. There are too many of them for guarding a citadel while orcs are freely slaying our people at the border." The obstinate advisor was just about to reply when another guard suddenly emerged, bowing before him.
"King Elessar, the party from Mirkwood is about to leave."
The tiding struck him like a thunder once he heard it. Legolas could not do this to him, never. In a matter of second he had run passing the door, racing madly to the courtyard of stone, wishing silently that the party had yet to depart. Fortunately, the group of elves was just about to cross the gate when he eventually arrived. Leading them all on his white steed was their prince himself.
"Legolas!"
The party halted immediately at his words and so did their leader who attempted less than nothing to turn around. A hand grabbed his arm and jerked him down, almost took him off Arod, which neighed indignantly over such an abusive manner. Having no option but to step down, the prince dismounted, facing his king gravely.
Aragorn stared at the emotionless face. He was angered by the leaving, as if the elf was running away. "Are you disgracing the King of Gondor with your sudden departure and no farewell?"
The blue eyes went cold and the prince bowed deeply. "I apologize, King Elessar. I can assure you no such thing will take place at any time in the future."
Aragorn could feel blood sizzling in his veins, sending him to his wrath. With a sudden attack, he grasped the prince by his wrist, deliberately ignoring the slight wince which crossed the fair face. "Why are you doing this?"
"Is it too much for a mere elf from Mirkwood to ask King Elessar Telcontar not to make this any harder than it already is?" /For us, Elessar.../
"Legolas..." he started helplessly, "did I never have your heart?"
"I have never given my heart away to anyone." /Did I ever have my heart?/ he silently asked in grief.
The grip tightened, yet the prince could feel almost nothing of the iron-like clasp. The pain of his bleeding heart was almost too much whereas it took much more than every effort he possessed to prevent his tears, which threatening to fall. They had enough reason to put their love to an end, but why was it so hard for Elessar to let him go?
"What do you have me do," the miserable tone of his king almost broke the last defense left within him, "to keep your heart with me?"
The two lovers stared at each other and all doubts vanished yet grief mounted as a crystal drop fell, leaving a damp track upon Legolas' face. The prince knew he had failed.
"Nothing, my Lord," his voice was barely a whisper, still Aragorn found the words oddly clear as a brook trickled down upon the mountain side, "for my heart has never left you."
The king would have claimed the quivering lips if only Legolas had not put his right hand upon the broad shoulder. The azure jewels, glistening in tears, tried their best to put a look of disagreement on view of the imprudence the former ranger nearly did. "Let us say our farewells," a heart-wrenching smile bred upon the prince's lips.
Aragorn followed his love's gesture of an elvish way of farewell. His palm moved from the seemed-frail shoulder to the pale face. The elven archer closed his eyes as the ranger touched him, pouring all the love he had to the hand that held his heart. "Forgive me, King Elessar..."
"I shall hate the name of Elessar soon for it is why I can have your love not," the king said in hollow tone, sensing the soft skin that was touching his face for he would never taste it again.
The blue orbs flung open, showering him with gentleness merged in pain. "You always have my love, Aragorn, whether you are a mere ranger from the North or the heir of Isildur."
Legolas' hand left his face and the prince backed away from his touch. A remorseful smile lavished his beautiful face and it made Aragorn felt even more despondent. "Farewell, my King."
Aragorn bowed slightly, as a show of his respect towards the Mirkwood's Prince, answering nothing in return while his eyes watched the light of his life slowly was drawn farther and farther, leaving him in the bind of darkness. No longer he realized of pairs of watchful eyes scrutinized him intently, not until the voice of Faramir broke into his thought.
"My Lord?"
It jerked him instantly and he looked at his Steward, who was watching him in bewilderment. Perfectly aware of the tears that had left more or less wet traces on his face, the king immediately took his stride to the castle, his room to be precise. He wished nothing but to be deserted alone, to mourn of his lost love. At first he saw not a half-opened parchment lay abandoned on the table beside his bed for his vision was blurred by hot steaming waters. As soon as he realized it, at once he recognized the strong but smooth writing of black ink.
My dearest King Elessar,
Long have you loved the Evenstar and yet swift was our meeting. What we had was nothing but a dream, which should not be recalled when the first sunlight of dawn streamed through your white window. Let all people of Middle-earth once again remember the greatness of love that once Luthien Tinuviel the fairest had, of Elessar and Undomiel. Let the unspoken words of Legolas Greenleaf, once your friend of very best, lost in time. All I ask, my friend, is not to grieve over what was a forgotten desire for I wish not to see Gondor once again is set in fire. Sleep and forget, Aragorn, there's nothing left in our love.
Forget of the elven archer you once met, forget of the unforgivable kiss you once had, forget Legolas Greenleaf.
Not even a name to let him know who the writer was. The piece of parchment slid down his palm and landed soundlessly on the carpeted room as his knees gave way. Fresh tears ran freely down his cheek as he recalled the love once he had so great. How could he forget? For if there was no Legolas Greenleaf, there was no Aragorn.
Lord Elrond must be right, Men are weak, for not able to defend their love.
With the departure of the prince, there passed away his days of joy. Days of battle and yet, the king's only days of passion.
Fin
Author Notes: I was inspired to write this after I saw ROTK for the first time, but the plan was materialized after I watched it for the third time... I don't think this is as good as my other slash stories for it is my first LOTR fic. Forgive me for any mistake and I will be only too happy if you are willing to review. Thank you for reading...