Well, this is my first story here, and it centers mainly around two characters, Aragorn and Legolas. Now, just so you know, I've never read any of the books, so I'm basing everything I write on either the movies or my imagination. So if something is out of character, then you may certainly go ahead and stop reading my story. Okay? Thanks.
Thunder awoke the young boy.
A six-year-old Estel sat up in his bed and listened hard. There was no rain, only the howling of the wind. The Human child cringed. He had never heard the wind make such a horrible noise . . . like it was in pain, like it was screaming in agony. The trees moved with it, and whispered to one another, speaking warnings of the coming storm.
Suddenly a light flared outside his large window and a cracking sound echoed throughout the room, loud enough to make him clap his hands over his ears. A small whimpering noise rose in Estel's throat. Another flash of lightening lit up his chambers, throwing wild shadows across the walls and furniture. The shadows seemed to be alive, to move of their own will across the stone floor. With each flash of light, they appeared closer and closer to him. They had dark faces and dark hands that reached up at him, eager to pull him off his bed and down into their evil depths.
Estel did not wait for the next crash of thunder. He had already thrown back the warm covers from his body and run from his room.
Legolas Greenleaf, youngest son of the royal family of Mirkwood, stood on the balcony adjoined to his room, staring up into the darkness. Lightening bolts danced across the sky and lit up his surroundings with a surreal glow, one that seemed to remain about him even as the light faded from the sky and the thunder rumbled on above his head. He pulled his cloak tighter around his lithe form and crossed his arms over his chest. The temperature was dropping, a sure sign of the rain soon to come.
The Elf Prince loved to watch the storms that passed trough the lands of Middle Earth. He loved to see the fury of Nature herself in action; he loved to listen to the trees whisper and moan, their love-hate relation with the storms overly obvious to his sensitive ears. Legolas felt their slight pains as the wind whipped their branches back and forth, tearing at their leaves and fruits, but he also felt their need for the rainwater and fresh, clean air, which they would soon be granted.
His hair whipped back and forth around his face as the wind picked up, howling through the trees. Legolas closed his eyes and let the cool breeze wash over him. The storm had recently pasted through the mountains; he could smell the scent of snow and large, thick evergreens in the air.
The Elf wondered dimly how many other Elves stood on their balconies, or at their windows, watching and listening to the storm, just as he was doing now. He wondered if the storm had yet reached his home of Mirkwood, or if his kin were simply awaiting its arrival.
Legolas bowed his head. He wondered if they yet missed his presence there.
The sound of movement in the hall outside his room made his head snap up. His piercing blue eyes sliced through the darkness of his room, easily locating the doors that stood across from his large bed. The footsteps slowed, then stopped all together.
Legolas was still, listening hard to the silence.
Thunder rumbled, and then the footsteps started up again, faster this time. They were growing louder.
Someone was coming.
Estel stood outside the large wooden doors of Legolas's room. He did not bother to wonder why his bare feet had chosen to bring him to this particular room, rather than that of his Ada's. His only hope was that he would find acceptance and relative safety here.
Estel placed a small hand on the door and pushed. The door swung in easily, with no creaks or groans to disturb the eerie silence that had settled on the great house of Rivendell. If Legolas was asleep, he certainly did not want to wake him. He did not know this new Elf so well, and he feared the thought of making him angry.
Stepping inside the dark room, Estel slowly shut the door behind him. Turning, he looked through the room, searching for any sign of the Elf, but found none. In fact, he could see nothing at all, save for the little bit of light that was coming in through the open doors that led out to the balcony.
Lightening flashed. The room was lit up with the intensity of it's light, and there, directly before him, was the Elf, his blue eyes cutting into Estel like a knife. Estel cried out and fell back against the door as the lightening faded. A hand reached out through the darkness and touched his shoulder.
"Aragorn," a soft voice whispered. "What are you doing here?" The voice did not sound mean or accusing. It was merely curious, and it's sound calmed the boy.
Releasing a shuddery breath, he stared up through the dark, searching for the Elf he knew was right in front of him. "I was scared. I did not feel safe to be alone."
Legolas was silent a moment before asking, "Why did you come to me?"
Estel opened his mouth before realizing he had no suitable answer to the question. He wasn't sure why he had gone to someone he barely knew, someone who very well may have kicked him from the room or roared at him to get away. He knew of the Mirkwood Elves, of their dislike for his kind, the Human race. He had read during his lessons of their vengeful king, who would as soon kill a human than look at it. It was plausible, even logical, to think that his son would be exactly the same.
But something in the young boy told him otherwise. Perhaps it was the way that the Elf had stared at him upon their first meeting, his eyes shining with a kind and gentle playfulness when he had spotted the young boy hiding behind his Ada's robes. He had spoken so softy, and his voice was so beautiful that it made Estel's throat ache the moment he fell into silence. Something about the Elf intrigued him, made him want to learn more about the stranger's long history.
Surely this Elf could be nothing like his father. He was different. He was.
Estel heard Legolas make a small sound, something like a sigh, before the hand was removed from his shoulder. "Come," said the gentle voice. "I'll take you back to your room."
Estel bowed his head and was about to make a reply when the storm's momentary quite abated, and the howling winds returned. Lightening streamed through the sky and thunder split the clouds, unleashing the torrential rain. Estel could hear it's fury at being kept locked up for so long. It pounded on the roof, like a thousand fists, beating to get inside the great House of Elrond. Lightening flashed again and Estel jumped forward, wrapping his arms about the tall Elf, burying his head in his stomach.
Legolas took a step back, startled by the boy's sudden actions, but Estel held firm to him. "Please don't leave me," he said, his voice shaky. "I am afraid!"
The Elf stared down at the boy. He could not understand why this child was so frightened by a simple storm. The lightening was not coming to get him, the thunder would do him no harm, and the wind and rain could be shut out by simply closing the balcony doors. "It is only a storm, Aragorn," he said.
Estel shook his head. "I am afraid."
Reaching down, Legolas gently pulled Estel away from him. He could feel the young boy trembling slightly under his hands, and he pitied him. Grasping the human child, the Elf lifted him into his arms, settling the boy's weight on his hip. Estel wrapped his arms about the Legolas's neck and rested his head on his shoulder. He could feel the slender, yet powerful arms of the Elf encircle his back. A feeling of peace came over him as he leaned against Legolas's chest. For the first time this night, he felt safe.
"I want to show you something, if you will allow me," Legolas whispered into the boy's ear. Estel nodded, his nose brushing against the warm skin of Prince's neck.
Legolas carried the boy to the balcony, standing just outside the reach of the rain. "Look out there," he said.
Estel shook his head.
"There is no danger, Aragorn," the Elf whispered into his ear. "I am with you." The arms about Estel's back tightened, reassuring him that he was indeed safe. "Now look out there."
Estel was still afraid, but he felt a strange need to prove himself to the Elf, to show that he was not afraid. Turning his head slightly, he peeked out at the storm.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Legolas whispered.
Estel turned his head away almost at once, preferring the feeling of his face against Legolas's wonderfully smooth skin. "How can there be any beauty in such an angry storm as this?"
Legolas turned his head to face Estel. His cheek brushed against the child's soft, dark hair. "When you learn to see past the obvious, past the surface of what is really there, you will find that a whole other world has been opened to you." Estel was still, thinking on the Elf's words.
"Now look back outside, Aragorn, and see what you can."
Estel did not move, but instead voiced a question that had been floating about inside his head since arriving at the Elf's bedchambers. "Why do you call me by that name?"
"Because it is your name," Legolas said without hesitation.
"You are the only one who calls me that," Estel said, hoping maybe if he continued the conversation long enough that the Elf would forget the storm.
Legolas sighed. "You are young, Human. When you are older, you will learn about this man, Aragorn, and about his destiny, and you will find that he is not such a terrible person to be."
Estel was silent, not quite understanding Legolas's words. After a moment, he opened his mouth, and said, "But, Legolas, tell me more about him."
"No," the Elf said. "Now is not the time for that . . . only remember that he is you, and you are him, and that it will never be any other way, no matter how strongly you struggle against it."
Estel shook his head, still confused. Elves had such cryptic ways of voicing things. Why couldn't they just get around the riddles and say what they wanted to say?
"Look," said Legolas softly. "The storm is passing."
Estel sighed, his warm breath rolling over the Elf Prince's neck, and turned his head again, making sure to keep a tight hold to Legolas, just in case something did decide to jump out of the shadows.
The trees were swaying back and forth underneath the rain, their branches stretching and reaching upwards, seeming to claw at the sky. Cool air washed over him, making his shoulder-length brown locks move in time with the trees. The rainwater smelled clean and fresh, like the water that ran through the brooks and streams that wove back and forth across Rivendell's land. Even the thunder had begun to diminish, and was now only a slight rumble that Aragorn barely registered in the back of his mind. He listened to the rain, and to the rhythmic beating of Legolas's heart. He laid his head against the Elf's shoulder once more and let his arms relax about his neck. A pair of hands was moving in a circular, soothing motion over Estel's back.
The young child suddenly felt very sleepy.
Legolas sensed the changes in the Human that he carried in his arms. He felt the fear fade away, to be replaced by a sense of security and comfort. He heard his breathing change from sharp gasps to soft and slow as Estel began to drift off to sleep.
"Come," Legolas said, more to himself than to the dozing child. "You will rest here tonight."
Stepping away from the balcony, he moved silently across the dark room to the large bed. Bending over, he tugged back the silken Elvish covers from one side of the bed and lay the child down, careful to make sure his head rested on the large pillow. Pulling the covers back over Estel, he tucked them in around him and began to move away when a small hand caught his.
"Please," came a whispered, half-conscious voice through the dark. "Don't leave me."
Legolas was still a moment, then nodded. "Alright," he said, and the hand released him. Walking around the bed, he crawled onto the other side, and, lying on top of the soft covers and sheets, settled down next to the small Human.
Rolling over, Estel pressed his face to Legolas's chest. Legolas hesitated, then wrapped his arms around the child's back, just as he had done earlier. A strange feeling of protectiveness overtook the Elf, and he pulled the child closer to him.
To think if Ada could see me, Legolas mused, as he brushed back the long locks of Estel's hair from his face. He let a slender finger trace along the curve of Estel's ear, then down across his cheek. He seemed so frail, in Legolas's eyes. So young . . . so innocent.
"You may always come to me for comfort . . . whenever it is that you may need it," Legolas whispered, before being lulled to sleep by the sound of the falling rain.
Morning dawned with clear skies. The warm sunlight streamed into Legolas's room, falling in bands over the one who watched he and his little companion.
Lord Elrond stood in the doorway of Legolas's bedchambers, his hands clasped before him, his mouth a thin line, his dark eyes stern. He stared down at the bed on which his adopted son slept, taking note of the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the small smile that graced his young face.
Elrond's eyes turned from his son to the one beside him, the Elf Prince from Mirkwood. His thin, muscular arms were wrapped tightly around Estel's body, and his chin rested gently on top of the child's brown hair. The Elf's face was calm, his open eyes unseeing as he slept.
Elrond wasn't sure why his son was in the bed and in the arms of the youngest prince of Mirkwood, but he was sure that it made him somewhat uncomfortable, maybe even a little nervous. King Thanduial would not be pleased if he knew that his most favored son had taken such a liking to a human child. The relationship between the Human and Elf was already a strong one, and Elrond knew that keeping them parted throughout the duration of Legolas's stay in Rivendell would be a most difficult, if not an impossible, task.
The Elven Lord sighed and bowed his head. He knew that two creatures with such talent and such drive as Legolas and Aragorn could do marvelous things together in their near future, if given the proper chance. But still, there was that feeling in the pit of Lord Elrond's stomach, that feeling of tension, the feeling that made him want to snatch his child away and keep him safely within the folds of his robes. Good and many things they could do together, but difficult would be their tasks, Elrond was sure of it.
And the Great Foreseer was not completely sure if their strong friendship would be more of a help or a hinder along their way.
With a shake of his head, Elrond decided one thing that day: He would not be the one to stand in fate's way. Everyone had a destiny, a path that they were meant to walk. Aragorn had found his own way to the Elven Prince's side, and there he would most likely remain for the rest of his life.
FIN . . . Or is it?