Author: Mirrordance

Title: Escape

Summary: Aragorn is lost during a tour with the Rangers, and Legolas later finds him in Bree, without his memories & happily relieved of all his noble burdens, making the elf hesitate to bring him back to who he truly was.

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PART SIX

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      The Bree-folk Company of Actors was actually not made up of Bree-folk at all, but people from the quieter, neighboring towns.  Haldir reckoned the name was flawed in other ways as well, specifically that 'Actors' should either be re-stated as 'Struggling Actors' or 'Terrible Actors' or better yet, removed altogether.

      "I suppose it is the search of your elven friend that had ultimately brought you here," Estel said to Legolas.  They were traveling alongside of each other on foot, their reined horses flanking them and bearing their things.  Riding a cart and holding point was Cecilia, Biggles and Damien, while Haldir, riding his horse and looking like a fetching picture in the night, was situated at the tail of the party.

      "Yes, it is," Legolas half-lied.

      Legolas breathed in the cool night air, relieved to be away from congested old Bree, as interesting as it might have been.  It was also a relief to be traveling with Estel again, or whichever incarnation of the crazy adan he was with now.  Strider, Estel, Dalsegno.  No wonder he was confused.

      "We found him ailing," Estel said, "Sari was weary, and. and if you do not mind me saying so, he seemed rather. well, he was unlike any elf I've ever seen.  Shaky.  Sickly.  We nursed him back to health and, well, he never really left."

      It seems to be a running trend, Legolas thought sourly, thinking of Estel and how he not only managed to get into this situation, he actually seemed to be pleased being stuck within it.

      "Not that we mind overly much," Estel admitted, "He helps around.  And we are used to drifters and orphans."

      "Orphans?" Legolas asked.

      "Why yes," replied Estel, "The world, it is changing and not at all for the better.  Dark forces attack the settlements sometimes.  Many children are left on their own, without families.  Cecilia, I know she seems stern.  But she houses any and all who come upon her door.  All that we earn are to keep the children fed, and warm, and safe.  We do not have much, but there is always enough for one more."

      Legolas stared at the man, not really finding anything to say. 

      I turn my back on your for one moment, he thought again, though more fondly this time.  And so Estel has escaped from his past, but plunged headfirst into some other noble cause altogether.  The man just seemed to be destined to do good things.

      "Orphans and drifters," he repeated.

      "Yes," Estel smiled.

      And you are both, Legolas thought belatedly.

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      The group soon came upon a house made of logs, partially hidden by a thin growth of trees, and sitting alongside a running stream.  The moon was high up in the sky, and lent a silver glow to the otherwise simple sight, making it almost enchanting.

      Its reasonable isolation from the overcrowded settlements lent Legolas some comfort, for he was never much for the bustling towns.  But it was also a place that could be rife with dangers, and he realized this was perhaps many braved the discomfort of the congested cities if only to be more safe.

      For now, though, he knew to trust his elven-senses that there were no dark creatures abound in the night, and for a little while at least, they had peace.  And they had Estel.

      Even if he admittedly did not know what to do with him. 

      Can a memory lost from a head injury be recovered in a few days? Or at all? Would Estel trust him and take his word for it if he told the man expressly who he was instead of waiting for him to recall? If Estel didn't believe him, could Legolas forcibly take Estel from this place and take him to Rivendell (i.e. and therefore to the admittedly higher powers of Lord Elrond) and put this little problem upon their more able hands instead?

      He knew not.  But he kept this road for now, because at this time, one objective remained clear: Estel was not under any circumstances leaving his sight.  The loss of him had been too real.  In retrospect it had only been days that Legolas felt that great, deprived and hopeless aching.  And in truth, it was actually rather easy to find him (probably because it was almost as if it was Estel who found him instead).  But it is not with time that such aches are measured, and certainly not with the smile of chance.  The loss was real enough.  He had long feared it, and it was still worse than he thought it would be.

      As if your life weren't short enough, he thought of Estel dispassionately, You go on doing all these crazy things.  Why are you in such a hurry to avail of Iluvatar's gift, my friend?

      "You are so deep in thought."

      Legolas looked at Estel sharply, for the poignant memory struck a chord in his already-conflicted heart.  The human in turn seemed to read the stricken expression on Legolas' face, and seemed just as stunned over the strange recollection playing the elusive ghost inside his head.

      You are so deep in thought, Estel had said to him a year ago.  A memory ago.  Or better yet, an entirely different life ago, at least for Estel.

      Estel looked away from the elf, distraught for a few moments.  He blinked, and his hand absently drifted to the cut upon his head, as if it pained him, or perhaps because it anchored him to some strange ground that was sunk too deep in a sea of things so unknown he could not see to its bottom.

      ~What ails you?~ Legolas asked in his native tongue, before remembering that Estel-or perhaps Dalsegno-could not understand him, and said instead, "What's wrong?"

      Or what is right?, Legolas corrected himself, For is it that you are beginning to remember.?

      Estel shook his head, as if the action would free him from his demons.  His hand fell from his head, and he walked on in silence.  Legolas watched him with some disappointment.     

      The Mirkwood elf absolutely desired to press him, but he held his tongue the closer they came upon the humble log house, for from within it streamed a flood of children spanning all ages.  Estel smiled at the sight of them, and it was so filled with a warmth that had once been directed at Legolas that he found himself looking upon the children with an irrational envy.

      "The pout does not become you, master elf," Estel winked at him, before getting whisked away by the children who gathered and laughed around his feet.

      Feeling distinctly out of place, Legolas held his ground for a moment, and felt Haldir dismount his steed and stand beside him.

      ~I do not understand much of this,~ Haldir admitted, ~Though I suppose it is safe to say from that look on your face that the actor is the heir to the throne of Gondor and Arnor.  This doesn't become a King at all.~

      Legolas watched as Estel charmed his adoring troupe into taking his horse to the stables for him, into taking his coat, his burdens, and carrying them into the house.  He stooped low and took a young girl in his arms, and she smiled toothlessly and delightedly at him.

      ~You'd be surprised,~ said Legolas wryly, ~At how easily he becomes anything at all.~

      Haldir paused in thought for a moment, weighing his words, ~Are you sure the man you met is truly who he is supposed to be then?~ Haldir asked him, his sharp eyes reading the sudden hesitation that crossed the other elf's face.

      Though the comments were oft unwelcome, Legolas had to admit the Lothlorien elf's perceptive words made sense, deserved thought.

      As unwelcome as the truest and worst of truths, Legolas conceded.

      Estel was an elf when amongst elves, and a man when amongst men.  He was both a warrior and a lover.  A King and a servant.  Legolas had seen his charm, but also his loneliness.  Legolas always thought he knew Estel best.  There was little doubt of the truth that certainly none knew him better than Estel did and so the converse must also be true.  But was it an illusion, he now wondered.  Was he just a phase in Strider's life? A page from a thick book, turned and now done with?

      Who are you? he ached to ask of the man he thought he knew.  What was ridiculous about this entire situation was that, it seemed the man in question knew not of the answers either.

TO BE CONTINUED.