Title: Leaves upon Stone
Series: LotR
Storyline: 1/?
Characters: Legolas, mention of others
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: PG
Warnings/Disclaimers/Summary:
No, I don't own them, never will. Takes place after RotK. Legolas feels the world around him in the most deep of ways, and the soul of the season created of changes brings back old memories on the eve of a day when he too must face another change he longed to have never seen come to pass.
I tried for slash, tried in a most desperate manner. Laughs And it just was not there as much as I intended for it to be, you get the idea, but maybe not to the degree I started out with in mind. Would be easier if Legolas wasn't so difficult to write. o.O But it still turned out pretty good, hopefully part two will have more of a slashy feel to it.
How long was forever? How many hours could be measured in the time frame of always, a steady ticking clock that never slows nor chimes an end to the steady passing of seconds. For some it was an all too real truth, forever was not a fairy tale notion, it was existence. A beautiful, flawless life measured not in days or moments but instead gauged by the empty expansion of endless. And even as the world fell away and grew new, this time paved in stone and mortar, forever never changed. Those beings of always were gone though, at least, they should have been. Their place in the world of men was lost, faded like a mockery of the death they would never see through natural means. But not all had passed into the golden glassy shimmer of perfect morning beyond the seas, at least not for some time. And it came to pass, in gradual degrees, that only one of that fair Elven race remained upon the shore of Middle-earth, save for the Lady Arwen who had given up such a gift in favor of something vastly more important. But this being, this lonely warrior turned wanderer still felt the call of the sea. What kept him walking the lands of the places of that world was a call stronger, friendship, companionship, a different type of forever.
He was wise, the flaxen haired prince, and he did not jest with himself for a moment and chance to think that his forever would measure the same as those he held dear to his heart. Indeed not, and if ever a time of year brought that bitter flicker of thought across his mind again it was the season of changes. The Elven knew that each being of nature had an essence, a self, just as surely as any man or Elf. And seasons too were alive in their own way, their own souls were hidden away in their voices and secrets. And this season above all he held respect for, in those faded colors given new life only a short time before falling to nothingness below he saw the world and the truth behind it.
The chilled air was the passing of old friends as each grew old before his own ageless eyes. He saw their bodies, so strong in youth, grow slow and worn until at last they gave way. And it was a difficult lesson to learn, one he was perhaps never meant to truly understand. He grieved for them each in turn, truly none of the Elven race before the prince had grieved as much as he had. And the season only added to the feeling, turning his thoughts once more to the world around him, the natural places he felt in his very blood. And within those too were lessons about time.
The moments passing was marked all the more by those shifting colors and graying barked giants. Time was a leaf upon a worn and twisted tree, always growing and fading away to memory. So hopeful in life's Spring and vivid within the Summer, growing worn with the Fall before throwing forth one last sparkling blaze of color and perfection before falling free of the branches of existence to fall upon the Winter's soon to be snowed oblivion. His mind ran through the image many, many times before, and would many times more before it let him rest.
Though his body was at ease upon the perch he had chosen, a strong branch amid the jeweled leaves of reds and gold a thousand hues at once, but his focus was as scattered as those colors. Crimson battles still raged inside his memory while soft butter-yellow mornings amid the forests engaged in sported tracking along side a dear friend brought a smile to his face. And while the muddy brown flashes of old pains of both mind and body still ached the blazing golden hopes filled in the empty corners of his mind. And it was not a sorrowed life, the one he led now. No, for he had the chance to see his companions grow and live in a peaceful world he had aided in bring forth, but then he had the pain of watching them leave it. Until at least so few where left that he spent his time as he was now, sitting in the embrace of the forest and watching the seasons change around him.
Somewhere in that forest creatures stirred, crushing the littered leaves under hoof and paw, pad and talon. The sound rang loud in his keen ears, and it was an echo of things to come, of hardships yet faced. But it also rang with hopes and promise, a loud crack of motion that stated that changes would continue just as these new leaves would give their dying voice to cry out once more. That too was purposeful, they would shelter and hold safe the plants under a blanket beneath the snow and with Spring help new life climb upward towards the sun. It was change within itself, the lifeblood of this time of year, and there was a beauty to it that was both unique and sorrowful. Because he knew, deep inside, that those colors would fade and the snowed cold would settle upon the land and make it dormant. This was a season of change, then next a time of reflection, and he was yet unready for those long hours of thought. In truth he had little reason to wait for them.
He had his forever, his never ending personal season that was life, but not all were like this. No, he had seen too many pass away, had felt them fall. Now he was sitting so alone in thought as a sort of mourning for yet another. But this soul lost was one held dear to him, a brother in arms and a companion of the closest sort. A man he knew as friend amid the forest paths, warrior upon the fields of battle, and king within a world of stone. And where once he wondered why the world of men was one of stone, now though he knew. Stone was strong and steady, but in time it too would crack and break away. Such was the life of men, their time was spent standing steady and sure only to be worn through by the world around them until at last they crumbled to dust. He wished it were any other way, for men to be anything else, to be crafted of stronger stuff. To be crafted as himself, of forever. But there was no stopping change, it flowed with life itself. His eyes rested upon the falling leaves a moment longer before he pulled his still slender and graceful form up and slipped to the ground below. How often he had done the same before he could not recall, but this day was different somehow because the sting of a death not long ago still lingered in his thoughts.
It was the man he missed, the Ranger, the warrior, the king. Too many battles fought along side, too many paths walked together, why could there not be forever for those moments? Restless nights of youth and stern resolve of age, he saw both in his mind melded together when he thought of Aragorn. He saw vastly more as well, but those thoughts were the sort that would have stolen the light from Lady Arwen's eyes. And he had intended nothing of the sort, it was just that traveling and growing along side a person, seeing the refection of your own worries and hopes in another's gaze, it made even the guarded hearts of the Elven falter. And he hoped that Arwen would not think of him darkly for his bond with the Ranger, nor for the strength of said bond even beyond moments alone. Though all the quiet moments remembered could not build the forever he still somehow longed for. And he had hoped, in foolish notion, that perhaps just once life would prove kind and find a means to preserve such a meaningful life.
But that soul that had fell to dust, the same as the leaves that crunched under his light steps. Yet, it was not a time for absolute sadness, simply change. The life of a single man was nothing compared to that of an elf, a blink of an eye. But that blink caused inhuman eyes to well with moisture still unshed, and perhaps always as such. In that single short life he had known the closest sort of friendship, and more beyond, a bond one did not simply let slip away without a few tears shed. But there also were plans to be tended to, for the ties were broken now and forever would go on, just not in this place.
This season had a soul, it was one of new beginning and old memories reborn for an instant, mournful and steady in the same breath. It was a soul that mirrored that of the Elf now that his companion had left this world. And he made ready to seek out the call of the sea, to find old companions he knew lay beyond those waters. They would not all be there, truly many of the most important ones he would never set sights to again, but some would greet him. The breeze rushed past to bid a farewell to the being that had felt its presence more acutely than any of those of the race of men, and it seemed to whisper goodbye to Legolas. He knew the seasons would continue, the world of men would change, but the soul of the natural world would be ever there under the surface. Now though it would have to carry on alone, because his own soul no longer held a place here. It was listening always to a call that had been sounding for too many years, and upon that perfect Autumn day he finally had reason to answer it.