Stolen Romance
Disclaimer: Anything you find remotely familiar to LOTR does not belong to me, which includes the places, characters etc. (Alas, if only I owned Legolas :P) they belong to the ever too wonderful TRR Tolkien, whom we must thank, or else where comes our beloved elf and man this day?
Warning: this is strictly AL slash, therefore if you are against m/m relationship do not proceed – don't say you haven't being warned
Synopsis: AU. When an elven king bows in
front of the king of Gondor for a favor, would the king put everything down in
his realm to the side of his one and only lover?
Author's Notes: My grammar and
English overall isn't really up to standard, shall I say. Please do excuse. Might seem weird too in sense of spelling – since I'm from Australia.
Also, please be aware that –
after actually taking some time to plan the actually "plot" of the story (which
is positively rare of me), I decided the ratings would go up in later chapters.
As it already has for this chap. And I'm not exactly
sure if I give the right ratings – I mean, I personally read any story, quite
unaware of the ratings.
Genre: Romance/Angst
Replies –
Anonymous: Thank you.
Nifty: Ah dear me, yes thanks for pointing it out, that was a nasty typo there. ^_^
Alexis: I wouldn't dream of leaving it there :) considering I would hate to stop torturing the lovers. Ah, there comes my sadistic nature.
Kept-secret: I suppose the answers are in the chap. And that was not a stupid review. Truly.
Forsaken^On3: Thanks~ glad you liked the way it was started :)
DustBunnies: Ah you flatter me. I would hate to disappoint you in any way – but I always find as I keep on writing the chapters get worse. =X Anyhow, thank you!
Caliowiel: An update's underway :P Thanks!
Kata Malfoy: That's exactly what I thought! I mean, Peter Jackson is wonderful – he gives us slashers hints to chew upon. :) Don't you think so?
Legolas: Here's another chapter ^_^ (Eek! Had you not put your email there I would've being hugging you to death – your nik's Legolas! =grins=)
Gershwen: Glad to know readers like long :P perhaps it was just me. Thanks!
Voldie on Varsity Track: Ah! No fancier of Legolas slash? Damn. :P Anyhow, thanks!
Starlit Hope: LoL, I suppose the rest was cut. But thanks anyhow ~
Silvertoekee: You're wonderful. In two sentences you managed to summarize the whole chapter – I wished I had the ability to do that. :)
Jera: My most sincere thanks for this review, and for pointing out the errors of the story. I really tried to put the speech together in this chapter (ah believe me, I really did – and this chapter is full of dialogue) but I really don't know if I have succeeded – I doubt it though. Oh yeah, I suppose a human cannot go to the Halls of Mandos: but I beg you to pardon it in this story, if it does come up again.
Also to Michelle: Thank you so much for the e-mail.
School is rather hectic at the moment (gosh don't I just hate year 10). Thus later chapters might be a little slow in sense of updating. ^_^ Another 'Thank you' to all :) Your reviews literally made my day. Hope this chapter is up to scratch.
---*---*---*---
"…" – Speech
This – Thoughts
Chapter 2: Of the Reunited Lovers of Old
"He is dying."
Aragorn stood immobile, uncomprehending. He felt fright and disbelief shake his body. No, it could not be happening. Not again. Not to his Legolas.
"You lie." He accused Thranduil, king of Mirkwood elves, "Legolas is an immortal elf. He does not die. He cannot."
"Elves perish in two ways, Aragorn son of Arathorn." Thranduil looked as though he'd much rather believe Aragorn than himself, "to be slain in battle or overthrown by grief. Legolas is walking too narrowly upon the thread of the second; I do not know one who could persuade him to come back to his kin, save for you."
Then it dawned on Aragorn, swift and fast. His face paled, lips a colour of dying red. He knew, obviously, of what Thranduil spoke of, but he did not want to know it. Legolas is dying because of me.
"It takes all my strength of the heart to believe you, Lord Thranduil. But I must, and I will. You must rest tonight – nay, do not protest, if not for you, then for your steeds – we shall leave when the first sunray dawns the horizon in the morn."
Thranduil, the first hint of delight worn on his face since the longest of time, nodded his appreciation. "I thank thee, Estel." And he called to Aragorn with his elven name, so alike the olden times it seemed; when Aragorn would stray towards the East in journeys to Mirkwood as a ranger of north.
"Nay, t's I who must thank thee for bringing me such grave news. I must go to him.
I must."
*
Aragorn could not rest that night, his insides were burning within his ribs, like fire. How he wished he owned a pair of feathery wings, he would soar to the side of his true lover in a blink of an eye. Rid his blonde elven beauty of all the pains he himself had inflected upon. He would hold Legolas dear to him as he had done before, and both of them shall rejoice the time till their love has finally found its peace.
He tossed and turned upon his soft bed, totally unaware that his discomfort had also caused Arwen a night of sleepless nightmares. She had known from the very beginning that Aragorn's heart had never fully belonged to her. Perhaps at one stage or another he strayed towards her, but before her always outshone the mere shadows of the Mirkwood prince. She had hoped however, as time lapses, what the two friends once had would disappear into a void. And Legolas would sail towards the west whilst Aragorn and she lived their fairy-tale endings of happily ever after. Yet she knew now she could never rid of the blonde elf from Aragorn's heart, and neither could she - however she tried, replace him.
"Can you not sleep, Melamin (my beloved)?" She asked - the answer all too obvious.
"Nay, I cannot. Distressing news has being brought to me, Lady Undómiel; I must set out tomorrow's morn at once." He called her Evenstar; no longer did his sentences fill with sweetness as it had once held.
"The news must be grave indeed, for you to be churning upon the bed at this hour. Would you care to, then, share it with your wife?" Arwen asked carefully, though she had already guessed whom it concerned.
"Nay, I cannot. Forgive me, Lady Undómiel."
"Why must you call me with such formality, Melamin? I find my name more pleasant to the ears – Arwen, you shall call me that, I beg of thee." She turned to face his back, so cold and distant he seemed now more than ever before. He is lost to me. She felt tears prickling behind her eyes, but furiously, she blinked them back.
"I am sorry…Arwen." I need to be truthful, for her, for me, for Legolas. He turned; his dark grey orbs suggested his seriousness. Slowly, his hands reached to cup Arwen's lovely face, and he said, "I-I … I must speak with you."
"At this hour?" Arwen was suddenly frightened.
"Aye. It is of great importance, to you and I." He could not meet her eyes.
"Nay, it is too late, Melamin. Speak no more, I am weary." Though craving for the touch and feel of his hand upon her cheeks, she turned away, unable to hold her tears. How could she tell him that she already knew – already felt – the distance between them, the love that has being lost. How could she stop him from voicing those words? - She did not want to hear them. It would be too final, too … absolute. There would no longer be a place for her hopes; he would dash them, merciless. Why do you torture me so?
Aragorn did not persist, his courage failing him. Unlike him whilst upon the battlefields, he was no leader in these matters of the heart.
*
Aragorn was already waiting at the stables when King Thranduil and his small party of elves prepared their steeds for their journey home. The anxiety had mounted to its maximum within his chest, he could wait no longer.
Legolas, Melamin… do you hear my calling? I am coming, do not succumb to the darkness, I beg of thee.
For four days onwards they rode towards the woods of Mirkwood, driving their steed on and on endlessly. They rested only a few hours late at night, rather for their horses than for themselves – they could not relax, how could they, when the thought of a dying elven prince constantly plagued them, shedding the light from their mind and heart.
Before the sun fully disappeared below the mountains on the fourth day, they came before the vast forest that was once known as Greenwood. The leaves rustled against the rhythm of the light breeze, echoing of a voice so deep and low. It hissed to Aragorn, rather quiet: "Save our princeeee… Aragorn son of Arathorn… save him..."
And Aragorn was astonished, for he was sure it was the trees that were murmuring to him. The trees! By the Valar. I am no elf!
But all the same he nodded solemnly at the ancient trees before he entered the forest, the answer unspoken in his heart I would rather die than witness his passing. He shall not pass to the halls of Mandos whilst I walk on this earth, nor shall he see darkness ever again.
The House of Thranduil* was grand – tall and elegant – it was rather a reflection of nature's beauty. Yet Aragorn barely had the time to admire such a place, like he always did in earlier years, before he rushed towards Legolas' own chambers. Thranduil at his heels.
His breath caught in his throat as he set his eyes on the elven prince: he had almost forgotten how beautiful the elf was.
"Legolas." Aragorn whispered, unable to move. It felt rather a delusion, Am I truly standing before you, my love? Or have I strayed into another one of my dreams? And for a minute he stood there observing his source of admiration, daring not to stir in fear all would disappear.
"He has fallen into darkness since you left, my lord. I was afraid he had -" The she-elf who sat beside Legolas' bedside bowed before Thranduil, her voice quivering ever so slightly.
"Please, do not continue." Aragorn interrupted, the she-elf's voice jolted him back to the horror of reality. Cautiously, he took small steps towards the resting elf.
"Legolas." He called again, his hands reached to touch the elf's cheek, caressing it. Legolas was so pale… almost deathly so. He looked rather serene and tranquil, motionlessly lying there, uncaring of the world. Death seemed to have a firm grip on him, Aragorn's heart clenched. "Legolas… it is I, Aragorn."
The elven prince lay undisturbed, breathing shallow and irregular.
"Open your eyes, Melamin, do not scare me." Slowly Aragorn caressed the pale cheek, hoping to bring warmth and glow back into the elf's body. "Why must you always worry me as such? Do you feel I have not enough to concern for?"
Legolas did not give the slightest acknowledgement if he had heard Aragorn's whispers, he lay so calmly, emotionless, almost the likeness of a stone.
Aragorn bent and adorned a light kiss on Legolas' brow, he did not sit upright immediately, and instead he kept his face close to Legolas, his breath hot on Legolas' neck. His voice was no more than a sigh, "Your darkness has passed, come back now, follow the light of Eärendil. You are a strong warrior, my elf, you cannot die as such."
And as he sat straight he could've sworn he saw the slightest movement of Legolas' hand. His eyes strayed hopefully towards the others in confirmation, and it was only then did he realize the others have left them in peace: so absorbed was he, he hadn't realized when they left.
The world was their own now. His and Legolas'.
"A-Aragorn?"
Aragorn's head turned swiftly at the weak voice, his heart racing with anticipation. A roar of thunder sounded by his ear as intense grey met the hauntingly beautiful sapphire. He felt numb with emotion – once again he could see the orbs of Legolas' eyes fill with the loving soul, it was no longer a cold, misted mask as it was minutes ago, but full of spirit. Yet it held no mirth, no glee, only pain and knowledge of his years. Indeed, Legolas seemed to have grown wiser by the mere look in his eyes.
"T's I, Melamin."
"W-Why are you here?" How extremely weak he sounded… a shudder of pain shot through Aragorn as he reminded himself I did this to him.
"I…" Aragorn did not know how to reply.
Legolas cut him off, his tone, though frail, was brisk, sharp as a knife. "You have forsaken your promise, Aragorn. I no longer have any reason to linger in this land, I will leave and dwell my days in the west until Mandos claims me." He struggled to seat up, panting furiously in the process – he had become so fragile. Seeing so, Aragorn quickly lent a hand, only to be brushed away.
"My heart sings to see thee, Legolas. I cannot stay in Gondor whilst you wither away. Forgive me, I cannot fulfil my oath to you, but is it what you wish – to leave for the Gray Havens? If it indeed is what you long for in your heart. I am in no place to stop you; I love you too much to do that." Aragorn was sincere as he could ever be, though the words were daggers to his heart, he had to voice them.
There was a lengthy pause before Legolas replied, "Leave, please." He turned away, but Aragorn caught the glimmer in his eyes – tears. He is crying. Aragorn was startled; Legolas was never one to be known to shed tears, for he had too much pride for such nonsense.
"I cannot. I must stay."
"Nay, you mustn't. Your duty lies with the western men, with your wife and your kingdom. You have nothing here."
"I have you." Aragorn's voice was but a whisper, full of emotion, of affection.
"You do not. Now leave, I beseech you, your presence reminds me nothing but the memories of the past, it sends much pain to me. I cannot bear it."
"But they shall not be memories! They shall be the future, beloved. I will not leave you to pass away here in the woods of Mirkwood, amongst your departing kin. I have alone made an oath to protect you. I shall not let a mortal such as myself watch the most beautiful immortal being pass to the halls, that is unjust!" Aragorn felt blood pouncing within his veins. How could he make Legolas understand?
"Please, Aragorn."
"Bless the Valar, Legolas, I will not leave you. I love you. I once swore I shall not let you see darkness ever again – and to that I hold. If I leave for Gondor, you must be beside me. Tell me, my love, why do you resist me so, do you no longer hold your love for me? Is that why you do not rejoice my presence?" His voice raised by a notch as he talked; frustration clear.
Legolas closed his eyes, crystal tears sliding down his pale cheeks hastily. "You mustn't betray Arwen. She has forsaken, for you, her immortality." He chose not to answer Aragorn's question.
"Aye, and to her I owe much, but you are dying Legolas, I know you can feel it. You have succumbed to the darkness for over eight days; I cannot live against my desire… and in fear your death every second of the day… " He spoke the last words rather soft, his eyes holding Legolas' with a determination different to those upon battle-fields – Aragorn, king of Gondor, has finally rendered to his heart's longing, "I have already… betrayed her."
"But Aragorn – I no longer love you as lovers do, only as a friend. Do you not understand?
Aragorn stared blankly at Legolas, unable to speak. Nay…
"I-I do not believe you." He said when at last he found his voice, sounding much more certain than how he felt. "If so, tell me Legolas, why do you pain with memories of me – us – our past? Why can you not look at me when you tell me you no longer love me? Why are you fading, Legolas – of grief?"
"I -"
"Please Legolas. Stop denying my yearning – our wishes, our love." And before Legolas could protest, Aragorn's lips were on his, bracing him with a loving kiss.
Legolas struggled weakly at first, but as Aragorn showed nothing save the outmost love he could bestow, Legolas slowly yielded willingly, melting into Aragorn's fierce hug. They both rendered to the passion that burnt within them like the flames of a blaze. How dearly they loved each other… the love was so fierce, so ardent, so giving but all the same – demanding.
They broke apart, eyes still closed, savouring the moment.
Aragorn shifted his position so he was right next to Legolas on the bed; his rough ranger's hands guided Legolas' head to his shoulder. And in that position they lay for the longest of time, happy simply to enjoy each other's presence.
[Flashback]
Legolas lay upon the soft green field, silent and solitude. The breeze slightly rippled his robes, and the little strands of blonde hair that escaped his neat braids danced along with the wind. He was bathed in the fading sunlight, glowing in a golden hue. For too long had he being a prisoner inside the walls of Minas Tirith, it was one of those rare days when he fled into the nature, where he really belonged.
The birds sang to him of beautiful stories in the blessed realm, the wind carried to him scent of the sea and the callings of his kin. How his heart longed to sail across the sea to the west… it had being beckoning to him in his dreams, blocking his every sense with its magical sereneness.
But he cannot leave Aragorn now, not when they had just found each other. Such a bitter fate he had chosen…
"What are you thinking of, Legolas?" Came a low voice behind him. He turned abruptly, shocked that his elven senses was unable to pick up a human's footsteps. Had he being so absorbed with the stories of the elves' miraculous land?
"The sea has being calling for me. Its scents are strong, overpowering." He said, eyes straying towards where the sea lay, though unseen to even his keen elven sight.
The human's face fell at the elf's response, he lay beside Legolas where the grass was slightly damp, but he cared not. "Would you leave me then, one day, to your kin?"
Legolas contemplated the question for a while, falling silent. Would I? He had asked himself many times the very same question.
"One day – perhaps, I would. But if indeed it is true then I know the day would not come till long years have passed." He answered frankly. His sapphire eyes followed the paths of a wandering bird in the sky, pursuing it with his orbs until it disappeared beyond his sight.
Aragorn witnessed the last of the rays disappear behind the mountains, a sense of loss drifting to the surface of his different emotions. "You long for a peaceful life beyond the sea, in Valinor." It was rather a statement.
"I do not deny that. The calling of the sea had being great. Alas, my heart is enchanted. But I will not leave you at this hour, Aragorn. I won't for a very, very long time – if indeed ever."
"I hope it is never." Aragorn whispered, playing with the elf's silky blonde hair.
And there they both lay, under the stars, until light dawned once again.
[End of Flashback]
Legolas POV –
"Why did you leave me, Legolas? Did you forget your words? You were not to leave me until long years have passed – and yet it was hardly a year since you spoke those words."
"You have Arwen now, Aragorn."
"But it is you whom I want, do you not know?"
"Please Aragorn. T's Arwen who is your wife and t's her where your loyalty must lie."
"Nay, I have deceived the callings of my heart for far too long. T's my heart where my faith lies."
I did not answer him, for I found no more strength.
An unknown darkness has crept over my eyes, blurring the world that was around me. Cold… once again I felt the discomfort of coldness lingering in my veins, freezing the blood. I could not breathe…
The darkness has come to claim me, and I gave no objection to fade into the shadows, this was my fate, this was my choice. Since long ago when I first gave my heart to the man that was now the king of Gondor, I have foreseen this day… when Legolas Greenleaf would become but a memory to those of Middle Earth, a passing leaf.
Pain seared through me, so much pain… it was unbearable. Is this what I had to pay for the love I bestowed to the man that belonged to another? And within the shadows of gloom I saw a descending light, its brightness blinding me.
A pang of ache emerged from my heart, and then another, and another. I gasped for air, and grasped my heart with both my hands in hope of soothing the pain, but it never left me once.
"Legolas…!" I could only vaguely hear Aragorn's panic-stricken cries, and I wished I could hold him one last time. But it was too late, for I felt my world come to its ending as my soul leapt from my body to a far away distant. No more pain. No more heartache. No more betrayal. Here. I am free.
Aragorn POV –
"Legolas…!" I gasp. My heart wrenched as I see him holding his hands above his chest, his face in agonizing pain. "Legolas…!" I called again. Fear was overwhelming me.
All of a sudden he fell limp upon the bed, his eyes were closed. Closed. Panic blinded me. I ran for the door that concealed us to our world, and in desperation I yelled with a shaky voice, only half a mind on what I was screaming of, "Healer! Healer! Come fast!"
I did not know how my legs supported me, they felt rather like water. And as I rushed back to his side, I crashed down upon the bed. Why… why was he so cold? I did not understand… was he not fine only minutes ago?
Slowly I slipped my hand beneath his back, guiding his body towards me. I held him in a fierce hug, unable to let go.
And in that position we sat until elves swarmed us. It was suffocating.
Please let it be a nightmare…
~*
