A/N: My thanks again to Lamiel and Elf Lady for betaing.
Heart of the Dream
by Ithilien
Chapter 2: The Shifting Wind
The ache in his head was excruciating. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to push it away, but that only served to make his awareness of his surroundings all the more keen.
The thin air was frigid and still, making his lungs feel the sensation of his stinging shortness of breath. Opening his grey eyes, he saw that craggy rocks and wisps of dry grass, made brittle by the winter air, littered the ground about him. He did not wish to look up past his feet, for he knew his eyes would only sight more of the same desolate scene. He was not certain he could find anything to bring him joy here, for the spare environment and dry, listless air served only to evince brooding emotions in him. This journey was an interminable thing. It seemed it might never end, and to his deep chagrin, he knew they were only nine days into it.
I must find ease, Aragorn told himself as he attempted to bite back his foul mood. I serve no one if I grow mired in these miseries. Yet his mood was grizzly despite his attempt to right it. Being surrounded by the Company brought him no comfort, and he felt as wary as a hunting cat. He would just as soon scowl and slash out in his anger than respond in any kindly way.And there was the air. . . such still, still air. It was frightening almost, how it stood so close around them, like a barricade, a wall. Suffocating is how it felt. Days before it had come at them in great gusts, pushing them as if by a will of its own. But for this day it was unmoving. It sapped his strength and made it all the harder to breathe.
He hated this, the short gulps he was forced to live on in this wretched climate. His body was shaky with the fatigue it caused. He could feel his teeth grinding in his jaw with the slow movements of muscles made taut from tension. He was weary and his head pounded incessantly. Every muscle hurt, and his fingers felt cramped. He had led the way up these rising ridges through tenuous handholds placed on the boulders before them, and much of the journey had been with one Hobbit or another being pulled or carried with him. But now they had come to a place that seemed ideal for a camp and all they awaited was word that it would be secure and deemed well.
The waiting for that word is what crowned his displeasure.
Wrong turns and backtracked steps had made the day exceedingly long. The realization that a sizeable ration of food had been carelessly left behind at their prior day's camp did nothing to boost his grim spirits. And then the incessant chatter of Pippin, endlessly echoing in the still canyons around them, despite Aragorn's wary admonishments, had only served to grate on his nerves further. That his head ached in a throbbing pain only added to his misery. And now they faced this wait.
All knew elves were a patient lot, but when one depended on an elf for a pronouncement among a weary group, such patience just served to vex. As habit had become a part of their routine, the pronouncement of their safety always came from Legolas, for with eyes and ears so much keener than any man's, he was the better among them to know of their safety in these exposed places. If Legolas spoke his wariness, they believed him.
And that was that. So here they stood on a high pass in the Hithaeglir waiting for their elven companion, who was poised on a small rock formation, to tell them that all was well and they could rest. Yet, at the moment, no such proclamation came.
The party fanned out, finding ease where they might among the rocks and shrubs, without getting too comfortable. Aragorn stood in as much of a resting pose as he could muster without collapsing, one leg locked upright with the other leaning into the uphill slope. He closed his eyes as he ran calloused fingers through his hair, pushing away the errant strands that fell into his face and thinking of the tea he would make to suppress the pounding in his head.
He actually sighed in relief when the blinding sun dipped behind a heavy gray cloud. More grays followed behind, the plumes of the dust-colored tufts quickly rolling over each other, and that seemed strange compared to the stillness around them. Yet Aragorn could tell just by looking at the sky that a withering wind would soon come upon them, a great turn in the clime. He hoped that by then he might be asleep and not so aware of the change in the weather. Yet we shall feel the full effects of it if Legolas delays us much longer!
And as much as he was eased by the duller light for the pain in his head, here too, the contrast of sun, then chill, only seemed to emphasize the hot and cold fluctuations his body was experiencing. He found himself shaking, sickened by the sensations and he knew ultimately rest would help him regain his physical composure. He did not appreciate being made to wait for it.
If there was any solace to be found in Aragorn's mood it was this. The ire and unease he felt appeared not to be his alone. Ill tempers seemed prevalent among many in the party. He scanned their faces. Scorn was among them. It was in Merry and Pippin. It was in Boromir and Gimli. The dwarf was being especially vocal in his petulant gripes this day. He stared now at Legolas, grousing loudly.
"We are done marching, Elf, in case you have not noticed!"
Legolas only frowned in response, narrowing his eyes in the quick glance he cast toward the dwarf before he hopped another few steps away to a higher perch and looked back over the rigorous landscape.
Typically one or another of them would have admonished Gimli right there for his brusqueness. All appeared to adore Legolas, though Gimli too, was highly regarded, and none seemed to enjoy hearing any kind of disparaging remarks between them. However, on this day, so indicative was it of the group's dour disposition that none contradicted or argued with the dwarf.
"What does he wait for?" Pippin could be heard to comment to Merry in a whisper, though all that were near heard the words in the unmoving air. Their tempers were proof again of their collective agitation, and Aragorn vaguely wondered if there was more to the outward signs of hostility than he might have noted.
But his thought was drawn away as a kindly voice spoke. "Do you sense something, Legolas?" It was Gandalf who asked this. Aragorn turned to stare at the wizard. He was amazed at the gentleness in the old Istar's voice. It was calm, and it seemed as if it were outside their environment, spoken from a place less severe. It contrasted vastly with the exasperation that writhed within Aragorn. Without even consciously meaning to, he rolled his eyes in frustration and sighed loudly.
But then he caught himself and urged himself again to find peace. Shrugging his shoulders and turning his head away for the moment, he bit on the inside of his cheek as he tried to muster some semblance to match the wizard's calm.
Still the elf did not speak. Instead he turned his eyes upon Gandalf, taking a step forward, as if sending an unspoken message there. To Aragorn, the glance felt like something passed in a covert union, the type of knowing look one gives to an accomplice, and the man's wariness grew keener with his notice. He did not like the idea of being excluded from whatever agenda was between them.
And then Gimli chimed in again, interrupting their silent conferring. His voice was louder and his mood was most definitely abrupt. "Your plucked nervousness sets me on edge. Give us your pronouncement, Elf!"
Aragorn knew he should have said something to the callousness of those words, but he also had to admit that he thought much the same. He was tired and hungry and wished most to sleep. The medicinal tea to ease his head and a smoke would do him well, as would the ease to his legs and back. He looked forward to all of those for he knew he had no watch-duty this day. But now the waiting was interminable and the man's patience was running out. He felt like shouting his angry derision for the elf's seeming discourtesy to their need and comforts.
Aragorn looked at Frodo then. He knew what he would see there. The young Hobbit was pale with exhaustion, and he sat tensely in waiting. Aragorn did not think the small being could expend any more. And then his eyes went to Legolas. Did the elf even notice Frodo's fatigue? The man felt sure he did not and he scowled in resentment. Surely by now the elf realized that danger was about them always in this journey, and they would inevitably be exposed no matter where they chose their camp; be it this ridge, the coming dale, or the ridge after that, it mattered not. At least here there were shrubs where they might camouflage themselves. What more did the elf think they might conjure? With another glance at his small and beleaguered companion, Aragorn found he could contain his feelings no more, telling himself that what he did next, he did on Frodo's behalf.
"It is safe!" he snarled.
His voice was sharp and loud and all eyes came to look at him then. All of them gaped in quiet shock. Never had they heard him counter the elf before. His words almost seemed to be a challenge, and they gawked as if uncertain with whom they should align themselves. Silence echoed around them on the windless crest.
And then Boromir dropped his pack. With the dull thud of it landing in rock, it stirred the others. Hesitantly they looked about, and it appeared some made ready to unloose their own packs, while others turned their eyes again to Legolas. Unwittingly it seemed a division had been created, and though Boromir's small movement seemed telling, none -- not even Gimli -- was willing to go further in declaring his allegiance.
The elf then turned his darting gaze. Patiently he scrutinized the Ranger, and Aragorn found his jaw tightening in response. But then Legolas nodded and quietly turned away.
And that was it. It was over. All followed it as if their eyes were fixed only on the elf, and a murmur came up from the clustered group of Hobbits as they set about their tasks. They seemed suddenly changed in their scorn and Aragorn blinked in surprise at the quick shift in their mood. Strange folk were Hobbits, he knew, but their ease came so fast. There was even laughter among them, as if they shared a good joke. And Gimli came join them while Boromir seemed to relax.
However, immediate calm was not Aragorn's to claim. Outwardly he was able to put his riled energies to use by breaking out the implements in his kit, but inside his temper smoldered.
He paused in his actions when, from the corner of his eye, he saw the elf leap from the stone plate on which he had been standing to draw up next to Gandalf. And then he too was up. Fingers of anger prodded him. For some inexplicable reason, he felt certain Legolas was speaking of something of a greater importance, something for which Aragorn should not be excluded. Perhaps it was their lagging steps for which he spoke, or the need to take further precautions of safety, or even an admonishment of Aragorn and the way he had usurped the elf's authority before the group. Aragorn would welcome any such a discussions, for he felt then that whatever it was that was said, he should know of it too. He was a leader in this party. He had the right to know.
The man's sense of justification was fortified as he stepped across the camp. He reasoned that resentment was becoming real among them, despite the show of mood now, and any ire felt was due to Legolas' actions. Looking back, he could see Legolas had not been thinking of them when they had been made to wait his proclamation, because he had no perspective from which to do so. He felt great disdain as he considered this. Elves did not easily fatigue. How could he know what it was to be exhausted to the point of collapse? And as he approached the conniving pair of maia and elf, he was determined to make Legolas see that he had to respect those weaker among them. If the elf thought to push them more, he would have to go through Aragorn to do it!
As he neared, he heard Gandalf saying in answer to some query, "Yes, I know of what you speak," and immediately Aragorn felt himself tense. Already they were in agreement and he felt as if he were approaching a unified foe. His hands clenched as he came before them.
"And what might it be that you know?" Aragorn snapped, nothing concealed in his peevish tone. "I ask, as the rest of us have not been granted privy to your discourse."
Legolas met the man with an inquisitive brow and the seemingly overt innocence only fed Aragorn's belief that the conversation was centered on something secretive and sly. But then the elf's gaze softened and he said in a low voice, as if including him in their small fellowship, "I have told Gandalf I feel the mood of the party changing."
For Aragorn, the show of inclusion was not enough. He did not heed the topic for he knew they conspired against him. He felt only his vexation. The corners of his mouth come up into a wry smile. Mockingly he replied, "Such is to be expected when exhaustion sets in. We mortals are not gifted with the ability to tarry on endlessly."
But irritation lived in the elf as well, for his retort came swift. "I am not a child, Aragorn. I fully understand mortal fatigue. Look to yourself if you will, and mark my words. I speak of something greater than simple humor or temper." There was an icy edge in his voice and Aragorn found the hairs on his neck standing up for the sound of it.
The wizard then spoke, including Aragorn in his gaze. "And your foul mood proves much to be true. Legolas senses that the Ring is seeking ways into the hearts of the Fellowship and I must concur."
Aragorn felt a shiver of trepidation work up his spine. He felt their scrutiny upon him and he saw his suspicions were real. "You accuse me," he stated, and as he said it, he realized Legolas' eyes were indeed turned on him. Aragorn's brow creased. Though Legolas appeared outwardly unemotional, he knew the elf was looking for evidence of the Ranger's failings with his stare. "I am weary. That is all," he tried to assure, working his voice to be stilled of his rage.
But the words masked his truer thoughts. He felt then like lashing out at the cool collectiveness of the archer. He wanted to hurt in some way. He wondered if the elf had been so bold as to mention the Ring's torment upon himself, and Aragorn considered breaking their trust and speaking of it now to the wizard. That might wash Legolas' aloofness away!
Words broke into his thoughts. "It might be any of us," Gandalf was saying. "As to how, I cannot say. What voice the Ring might use is likely different to each of us. I can only say even I feel Its effect, and of late I have found myself made open to Its charms."
Aragorn abruptly turned and gaped at the old man. Those words loomed loud in his ears.
"You? Gandalf?" he gasped. He could feel his heart beating and his stomach twisting. He thought he might choke from the shock that kept him from inhaling and it suddenly struck him then exactly the dire point of what the two had been saying. The Ring was trying to alter them! It was working through the entirety of the group. He could hardly believe the words, while simultaneously he felt his failure. He had not noticed anything to be astray in the wizard's actions, let alone that of the others -- not truly -- and he wondered then at the subtle and insipid way the Ring might ply any one of them. Cursing himself, he realized that though he had felt the taunt of the Ring those many days past, he had felt he was well guarded against It, and so had put the notion of It doing more aside because he simply had seen no outward signs. He now came to realize it was not so unexpected that the Ring might stray beyond Legolas, or him. But to tempt Gandalf. . . ?
"Have no fears, Aragorn," the wizard said as if he could read Aragorn's thoughts. With a comforting smile he said, "I choose not to succumb. But we should all be made wary of it. You especially, for I would not doubt, given your place as the rightful heir, you would be one of the first It would try to seduce."
Aragorn drew in a shaky breath as he considered those words. The wizard continued. "It seeks to pull out the darker part of a soul, and it wants power to corrupt."
And here he came to see that there was truth in the wizard's words. And the elf's perceptions. Considering how he had been twisted into guilty feelings just at the Ring's mention days before, he wondered if it might not be wiser to confess Its attempts, and to do so now, while he was standing at the point where confessions might be made?
But after a moment, he decided he should not, for such doings would expose him for his vulnerability and dishearten them all. That he did not want. They needed encouragement, not signs of danger. He needed to act as a leader. Besides, he was already aware of the Ring's ploys, and he was certain, now knowing of It, that he could control It.
Deep down, he knew this to be a poor choice. This day had been a trial and he came to see it might have been made that way by the Ring. He knew he was already put under the wily attempts of the Ring, that even now it was trying him, but he could not bring himself to admit so much. A small, distant part of him felt disgust for this returned answer. Gandalf had confessed his weakness, as had Legolas. Why did he feel he was so above them in this? In his mind he argued that were it any other in the party that he knew to be thinking such thoughts, he might have decided they had gone mad. Such prideful arrogance was childish and dangerous.
But another part of him boldly countered. To confess was to appear cowardly. He would be exposing his brief vulnerability, a vulnerability the man had called into order. It was days old. Bringing up the topic would only escalate what had been a small thing, even then. And as for today, with his mood . . . If that was the Ring's doing, then he felt his temper and fury could be reined. The Ring still had not shown him anything he could not overrule with a diligent mind. It had only been a small rage, he thought, considering the foulness that had claimed him only moments before.
And so he let that side of him win as he swallowed back his hesitations, calling them weaknesses in his mind. And then he spoke. "I have felt nothing." It was a swift lie.
But that falsehood was not left unaccounted, for Legolas spoke out in return. "Are you so sure? Your mood has been grim of late, Aragorn."
The man glared at the elf then, surprised at the blatancy of the query and he decided right there that this was no friend. Legolas' face was neutral, non-judging, but he saw past it. Though this fair, perfect one donned an expression of compassion, Aragorn was not fooled. He could find nothing of familiarity here. His ire rose with the question, just like the returned sun burning on his neck, and he recognized fear was at the heart of it. Did Legolas know the full truth? Did he know the Ring had tried him too? The elf's eyes gazed into him, and Aragorn decided by the weight of their persistence that Legolas knew nothing. He felt the elven stare working to penetrate him, but Aragorn would not back down. He matched the elf's gaze, determined not to let loose this real truth.
"I would see the Ring destroyed. Of that I am sure," Aragorn said calmly. It was the truth he spoke, but it was said more in the attempt to match the cool demeanor of the elf than to hold to his conviction. He continued to stare his challenge, even though his voice had denoted convincing calm.
Gandalf spoke, "All the same, you must be cautious, Aragorn. The Ring might try reaching you through any number of ways. It might tempt you with visions of power, or with a banishing fear of failure. It may coerce you into betraying your morality without your even realizing it,"
Aragorn all but snorted his rebut. "You make it sound as if I know not my heart, and I assure you that I do." His voice remained firm and there was nothing of fury in it. He congratulated himself for maintaining such a cool front and he hoped his gaze upon the elf made clear the point of his confidence.
But Aragorn's faith was shaken when the elf answered him. "And I would find surety in seeing you prove yourself." He heard challenge in Legolas' words and he found his heart racing with that charge. A shiver of excitement ran through him though he could not explain the thrill.
"Legolas," Gandalf said, kindly still. He put a hand to the elf's shoulder, "I know your worries, but you cannot dismiss your own part. The Ring tries to rouse you as well. You know this. Be cautious of your words."
So gentle was the sentiment that Aragorn nearly missed the significance of it. But a moment later, the words registered and he saw that the statement came as a small victory to him. He could have laughed aloud then. Legolas was suddenly suspect. The man felt strangely gleeful in that, happy to see the elf's front of exacting rightness fade.
But the thoughts of Legolas' humility were suddenly nullified as the elf dropped his gaze. Shame was visible in his features. His voice became humble and the man found himself moved. "I apologize, Aragorn. My words are uncalled for. You deserve my respect. Perhaps I only feel the effects of fatigue."
Fatigue. Aragorn's brow knotted. He saw the quip as a hurtful stab, jarring like the pain in his head, and a grimace of anger bent his face. He was about to cry out in his rage. Do not mock me!
And then Legolas looked at him, and he was suddenly disarmed. A soft wind blew. It was like a hand touching him to awake.
The elf gave him a simple smile. His expression was shy and warm. Legolas appeared to him gentle then, and kind. The man blinked at the suddenness of the change. He saw no signs of the cool hostility he had been seeing. Clear words came then. "Perhaps it is the Ring attempting to drive a wedge between us. I will not let it succeed, Aragorn. Please believe me, and forgive me."
The statement was moving and Aragorn found himself confused by the words. His eyes fixed on the elf. He felt so disoriented, and he needed something for his mind to hold onto. A breath of wind passed, and a stray hair danced at the elf's temple directing the man's eyes to those. Legolas was staring at him again and he was forced to look into the sapphire orbs. He realized then that he was immune to their scrutinizing effect. That seemed so very new. Refreshing. And there was emotion within them. They reminded him of something, of someone...
"Strider?"
The word wafted past him as he continued to stare. Tears filled his eyes. He felt relief. There was something so gratifying in that gaze, so unquestioningly accepting of him. The current of wind lifted him. Air filled his lungs. The invisible wall of fury that had been erected was no longer there.The small voice called again and pulled him away from the compelling moment. It was Sam. He was speaking.
"Strider, sir? Might we make a fire for the meal? I think it might do Mister Frodo some good to eat something hot," the Hobbit asked.
Aragorn managed to turn his head, but the query seemed distant to his mind's reckoning.
Another small figure came up to them then. "Sam, no. Nothing for my sake," Frodo was saying and the Ranger looked at both of them, trying to regain his focus.
"Not just for you, Mister Frodo. I think it would do us all some good to eat a warm meal," Sam earnestly replied to his master, then turned back to the Ranger. "What say you, Mister Strider?"
The wave of dizziness was lifted. Aragorn looked with a steady eye at the elf and realized all resentment was dropped. He did not wish to hold his anger. He wanted his friendship again.
And then he felt whole once more.
Legolas cocked his brow, directing him back to Sam. The elf's mouth turned up in a sardonic smile and it appeared there was a merry reply he might give if he were only prompted to use it.
Suddenly the man felt buoyed and his heart rose with the moment. That smile let him remember himself and he found lightness and mirth within. The aches of his body and the irritations in his mind were gone. He felt invigorated, light, as if a rope that had been holding him down had been cut loose; as if a smothering cloth had been removed from his face. Every word and action became clear to him and he realized how the elf wished to play this little game. He had to smile. The cure to this tension was so easy, and he knew that things could be good between them. Still! They could read each other when they were not battling. In fact he knew it would be good for all in the group if he could lighten the rift that had formed. Had it formed? He could not discern if any of it had been real. Was there a contention between them in anyone else's mind but his?
He was confused and uncertain, only knowing that none seemed to notice his befuddlement. He knew nothing else he could do, and so he would keep up the pretense or else be thought mad. For the moment given, he would play.
He could barely catch his breath, but he carried the ruse. He turned to Legolas and screwed his face up, as if considering the Hobbit's request with serious thought. "I am not an authority in these areas. What say you, Legolas? Is it safe to build a fire?" The sarcasm was heavy in his words, and he almost laughed at the freedom they gave him from his former misery.
The elf took a glorious measure of time to answer. He exaggerated the scrutiny he put to the sky and earth. The humorous display was not lost on the Hobbits and both Sam and Frodo chuckled loudly as the elf pretended deep, serious contemplation. It was abundantly clear that Legolas was spoofing himself, and it made him seem that much more approachable. Why had not Aragorn seen it? At last the elf eased back and said with a gentle smile, "I sense no eyes upon us, Master Hobbits. Perhaps for the meal alone it would be safe." Sam smiled again, pleased by this answer, and so the two scurried away to see a campfire prepared, and also, Aragorn assumed, happy that there was nothing of darkness to sully the man and elf's comradeship.
The elf smiled and gave a warm pat to the man's back. Aragorn was shaking, but found his pleasure in recouping their friendship. So quickly did it come, like a wind carrying away a fog, and he rejoiced in his heart that the hostility was gone. He adored Legolas just then for his forgiveness, though in his mind he was confused as to what exactly had occurred. There was too much confusion brewing about, and all Aragorn could decipher was that he had been horribly antagonistic.
What was my intent? he asked of himself.
He could not remember what had made him feel such vehemence. And that thought worried him.
The Ring tries to beguile me, he realized. And yet that consideration seemed to throw him into a state of confusion also.
Could it be? For the Ring was about power, and Aragorn had already determined he had no aptitude for such lures. He did not want the Ring. Still, it did not excuse his behavior, and he needed an answer for his actions. Exhaustion. That, and his close proximity with all in the Company was what had caused his wayward thoughts toward the elf. It had been a harsh day and he was not used to constant companionship. The Ring found a way to toy with him in this. Yes, that was it. Those factors were beginning to wear on him. That was his answer.
He watched asLegolas leaped silently down the side of the embankment. The laughter of the Hobbits seemed reason enough for the elf to feel he had been dismissed, and the wizard stepped away. That is it? They are done? Aragorn looked quizzically around. It felt too easy. And then he watched the elf. The fair being's movements were noiseless as he passed. Not even the skitter of slipping rocks could be heard with his steps. For a moment Aragorn could not discern where the elf might be headed, and then an instant later it struck him. Legolas was off to scout the area to assure their security.
But had they not satisfied this worry already? Why would Legolas do so much as to discern their security when he had just agreed they were safe?
Minute anger pricked yet again just as a small gust of wind blew past him. The weather was shifting but some things remained unmoved.
And then another breeze blew, and on it he could hear whispering voices carried with the wind. They echoed around him, falling as the air dipped. He could discern their voiced displeasures. They were speaking of their disappointments in him. He could hear them mumbling about Legolas being the more noble, and what poor character Aragorn had shown.
A harsh gust, heavy with sand and tiny pebbles, struck him then. It stung. All had chosen! They did not want him!
He turned away, trying to find freedom from the wind when he realized whatever it was that seized him was not done. It was back, that wrath! Jealousy! Mistrust! Only this time Aragorn caught himself in the maelstrom of it, realizing just how far he had come in his emotional rejoinder. I will not behave as It would have me!
He felt dizzy, as if he had been turned in a vortex. His eyes tried to find an object on which to steady the world. It was the Ring! He could see that now. But why did It keep pushing him in this fashion? He could not understand the path. He fought against the whirling motion though the wind increased steadily. He would not take It from Frodo and though he had not been tested in that way, he was certain of that answer at least. Yet the wind still pushed him taking him in the direction of Legolas.
But he fought it! He would not let It win! He began to turn away from the path, and the wind seemed to give. Looking to where his steps had taken him, he realized how far he had been prodded. He found the message in that abhorrent. Why was he being forced into this emotional chaos? Why did the Ring want him to confront the elf?
And then something new, atwang of worry, passed over his heart. A sudden dread pierced him and an anxious thought echoed in his mind. It was a premonition. He suddenly saw it: Legolas falling, plummeting into an earthen pit and forever being lost to them. And more sure of anything was he of this. He knew it to be true. A disaster was about to befall the elf, and it would happen if Legolas were allowed the freedom to scout. I should not allow him to wander freely! Harm will come of this!
The breeze blew again and he found himself moving with it. I act only in warning, he told himself, finding excuse for his compulsion to seek out his friend.
In the core of his soul he tried to find assurances. He told himself it was the Ring taunting him again. There was no reason to doubt Legolas! Countless times had the elf done just this duty!
Yet his heart pounded in trepidation while the wind blew him on. The pain in his skull was revived. He could hear his heart beating clearly there along with the booming gusts of violent air ringing in his ears. He did not fight it, for his fears were as strong as the brewing storm. Vaguely did he remember leaving the camp, and he realized none seemed to notice his struggles or departure. He wondered then, Can they not feel the wind's change?
He tried to argue it in his head. He was not being reasonable. There was no cause for him to worry. But in that instant, as he followed the elf's path, eyes seeking ahead over the cliffs, he knew his heart had gone a step further than it should. He felt . . . concern. No, something greater than concern . . . There were feelings he had, feelings greater than simple worry. He stopped then, daring not to consider this further. The wind pursued him, but he did not heed it. What am I doing? His brow furrowed in confusion as a gust pushed him again. He had no reason to pursue! What am I doing?
"You follow me, Aragorn."
The air was still.
Aragorn nearly drew his sword in his surprise, so caught off his guard was he at the voice and sudden silence and he whipped around to face the elf. "Legolas," he gasped, choking on the uttered word. He had nothing else he might say, for he truly had not thought ahead in this venture, let alone did he understand why he had come.
"You follow me," the elf repeated, and the Ranger found himself unable to do anything but stare. Legolas' eyes were ripping into him. Aragorn remembered then that their shade seemed to change with the elf's mood, and at the moment, the elf's eyes looked almost violet in color. He found himself wondering at what that might mean and then he realized Legolas was angry.
Anger? For what reason, thought Aragorn. Does he not understand my concerns? He has no reason . . . Yet the thought fell away. Legolas had every right to feel annoyance. Tenfold Aragorn's senior, Legolas surely felt he needed no keeper. But Aragorn was not thinking clearly at the moment, and thus his mood shifted to match that of the elf without his wanting. Instead of confessing his worry and ultimate befuddlement, Aragorn grew angry. He felt in that moment as if he were being accused of something unseemly, but he also felt he could not reveal the real truth, though he could not discern why. Something told him to remain silent. Lashing out seemed the better response.
"You stray too far and too often, Legolas. What are you hiding in the wilds that you feel you must depart from the company?" Aragorn said with a stern voice though inside he was quaking in turmoil. Why could he just not confess the Ring's provocation? What was there that prevented him from admitting his weaknesses to the elf?
"Hiding? I hide nothing," Legolas answered, confusion dancing over his brow for a brief moment before shifting to an expression of consternation. A light wind caught his hair and blew the tendrils of it over his shoulder. "I merely sought to secure our camp."
"You might have told me as much. I am responsible for all in our party, and it does me no good if you continuously skulk off on your own," Aragorn said curtly.
Legolas' chin jerked a fraction of a measure. "I do not 'skulk'. I do as I have done since the day this Quest set out."
"Our environment grows darker and your disappearances are worrisome to me. It would appease me if you would stay nearer. I do not like being made to watch your back without good reason," Aragorn replied, sounding collected, though inside he wanted to melt away, knowing fully well he was wrong to scold the elf so. Had they not just brushed off something of a similar argument? Had they not just recovered from their earlier anger?
"I am quite capable of protecting myself, Aragorn, just as I am capable of protecting our Fellowship. Do not feel compelled to look after me." The elf's voice was sharp.
"You might be surprised by the dangers, Legolas. Please do not force me to admonish you when I ask you kindly to stay near," Aragorn answered. There was anger in his voice that he did not feel.
"I will continue my scouting now, Aragorn. You may admonish me if you so choose, but I will do as I see fit for the safety of our Company on this journey," Legolas said, and then began to turn.
"You should not defy me!" Aragorn warned, his nostrils flaring with the rage in his voice. Another gust of wind blew, underscoring the words. They could not be proscribed, and he was shaking under the puppetry evoked. He knew then that the Ring was controlling him completely, and he wanted only to be free of It.
Legolas turned, looking back at Aragorn. The wind blew his hair back. His ancient eyes again seemed to look through the man, and Aragorn pleaded silently for rescue. He was under the elf's scrutiny. Perhaps Legolas could see, truly see, what was conflicting the man's heart. The elf's chin jerked up in a challenge, those eyes narrowed slightly. In an even, unemotional voice, the elf spoke, and Aragorn knew not if Legolas was addressing him or the Ring. "What is it you want from me?" Legolas asked.
Calm, cool, controlled. There was no extreme in the articulation, nothing to give away the elf's thoughts and the wind died away. Aragorn's breath caught under the study of that gaze. It was intimidating, and breathtaking, and enthralling, all at once. It was sheer beauty to look upon and abject insecurity to feel. It was incredible and devastating all at once. It was desirable. , and the man could not help but find himself entranced by the elf's beauty. Legolas was beautiful. Long-legged and lithe in build, the golden-haired elf was grace in form and motion. His features were perfection in their splendor, and his eyes were luminous for their magnificent color.
Something took over in Aragorn, a sensation, unlike anything else he had felt before. A hard wind blew, stronger than any of those before it, and it pushed him forward. He relinquished to its urge. He was wanting and he burned, and he could not discern the originations of that want. It seemed to possess him entirely, and an ache reached into his nether regions, stirring his passions to life. So sudden was the mood. It was heady and unwieldy. It caused Aragorn's heart to beat a thunderous tempo so severe as to make him feel sick for the sudden attack. He rushed forward then, not even realizing it was his feet doing so, and he grabbed the elf. Though Legolas had seen him come forward, it was plain he knew not what the man might do. He took a step back, but not quickly enough and Aragorn had him in a fierce grip. He violently dug his fingers into the elf's shoulders, and before the elf could pull away, he pressed himself upon him, his mouth upon the elf's mouth in a bruising, violent kiss.
What he thought might come next, Aragorn could not say. He had had no plan. Like the steps to follow the elf, he had not known he would do this. It was no surprise then that Legolas fought him off, flinching away and struggling against the attack.
And just as suddenly, the feeling was gone. Gone. The desire. The violence. They were gone, and Aragorn was left standing, weak-legged, quaking, and gasping on a sob. The air was still yet again.
"Legolas . . . " he stammered. "I -- I am sorry."
The elf's hand reached up to those blood-rushed lips, his fair brow creased in confusion. The eyes dared not look at the man, and then a moment later the elf turned away. There was a tremor in the voice that spoke to him, but Aragorn could not discern if it was anger, fear, or distress that marked it. Too, the words were undefined. "What is your intention, Aragorn?"
"I . . . I have no intent," the man weakly confessed. "I know not why I did --?"
"Who holds your heart?" the elf asked abruptly, cutting him off.
"I do not --"
"Tell me! I would know!" Legolas demanded, and his voice rang out with raw anger.
"Arwen," the man whispered. "My love is for Arwen."
A long moment of silence followed. The elf did not turn. A wind picked the golden hair up in its breath and the tendrils of it danced around the figure's head as he stood against the horizon. Legolas' cape was drawn around him by the wind's tug, as if he were being embraced, but Aragorn thought he saw the elf shiver with the chill. At last, Legolas spoke. His voice almost sounded choked. "It is the Ring then that does this."
Aragorn dipped his head. He was grateful to be found, yet mortified as well.
The elf turned then to the man. His eyes glistened like stars. "You must fight it, Aragorn. Keep your love close. I know not why It might make you choose me in Its efforts, but you must fight off what compels you." Legolas broke his gaze, turning his eyes westward, toward the horizon. "And as you do this, so will I fight what compels me."
Now it was Aragorn's turn to find confusion in that of the other. "What do you mean?" His heart leapt, uncertain what defined those words. He touched Legolas' shoulder. But the elf said nothing, and so he repeated, " Legolas? Speak to me!"
The elf would not look at him, but instead spoke over his shoulder, quietly replying, "I merely try to keep us safe, my friend." And then he said no more. Legolas stepped away, and within a moment he was gone, leaving Aragorn alone with the echo of the elf's words drifting in his mind just as the gaining wind from the gray sky coldly wrapped around him.
TBC
A/N: Oh, goody! I have time to do Reviewer Responses. I love this part.
JastaElf - I should have known you'd be the first one to review. And what a review! Thank you! I love that you picked up on the special wording. Symbolism and metaphors are my friends, and though I know not everyone gets them, there are those special folks out there who do. I think you are going to like this story. It's a mix of all the good things we love in a dark fic: angst; depravity; guilt; and confusion. I'll cut off a big wedge for you, okay? Would you like some hidden passions on the side? A little of the nasty on top?
Sol 3 - Oh, I would love to put it up at Stories of Arda, but slash is verboden there, and I will respect that. I have cross-posted at AdultFanFiction.net if for some reason the story gets yanked from FanFiction.net. AND, I'm keeping a back up of my reviews, just in case. I truly hope it doesn't get pulled though. I've worked very hard to keep this within the guidelines of an R-rated story. Thank you for your concerns and your review!
Lamiel - I loved creating the intricacies of Aragorn and Legolas' friendship too, and especially interweaving the plant symbolism into it. Not everything with deep roots is a bad thing, as this story will show. Aragorn and Legolas' roots are deeper than they look. They will realize that in the end, I think. And the power of elf eyes is important too. Thank you again for all your help on this story. I owe you so BIG.
Qwe - I wish everything I wrote came out so well. Truth told, this story had a lot of behind-the-scenes scrutiny, so hopefully, the end-result is relatively clean of errors and will read with continued smoothness. I do know what you mean though, and I have the same standards when I'm the 'reader'. All I can say is thank Eru for beta-readers. They catch and fix so much. Thank you for reviewing!
Anon - I hope this chapter keeps you with us still. I'm so nervous about this fic, as I'm hoping I can keep the readers coming back for more. Thanks for your review.
Fliewatuet - Yay, Fliewatuet is back! Yes, the Ring is truly evil, and Aragorn is going to learn the hard way not to underestimate it, which he is terribly in the first chapter. After this chapter (Chapter Two, I mean), I think he'll come to see he needs to give it more respect and steer a wider berth. As for what is to come, go ahead, let your mind wander. Sometimes the best ideas come that way. We'll compare notes later. I'm so glad to have you here.
Noone - Apparently, you don't know that the cliffhanger is an artform in my eye. I love dangling people over the edge, making them want the next installment. But I also understand that to leave them hanging there for a long time is just cruel. I can't be that mean. So please know installments will come relatively quickly. In the meantime, thanks for the review!
Sadie - Thank you! And I'm enjoying that you are reading it. I'll try to keep the updates fairly quick and consistent. My best to you.
Templa Otmena - I read a lot into Tolkien saying how resilient the Hobbits were, and in a way, this story is out to prove that. I think, when done, the respect we will have for Frodo will be doubled as we come to see how unrelenting the Ring is in its own search for power. Further, I hope we all will come to appreciate how defenseless Boromir was in succumbing to its call. I think this story will prove he had little choice and it makes what happened all the sadder really.
Nienna Vala - Thank you so much for your very kind words. Many people find my style a bit daunting. My sentence structures are not easy to flow through, but that's just how I am. I like to stop and smell the flowers along the way. I hope you will continue to enjoy this story.
Myra the Archer - Oh, I'm so happy to have you here and I hope you continue to enjoy this read. It's going to get ever darker, I promise you that. Desperate even. I hope that appeals to you. Thanks for reviewing.
Elf Lady - Aw, shucks, thank you! I love to foreshadow the darkness to come. And this story does get dark. Very dark. The analogy of the plant and the hold of its roots is very suited to telling what will come next in this story. In fact, this plant tells many facets of the tale. It can be good, and it can be very, very evil. It can be harmless and helpful, and it can be abused to corrupt purposes. And their friendship will see the same twisting. Hee hee! I love symbols like this!
Nightwing - I knew you'd like the part about the eyes. Oh yes, in the books I most certainly saw Aragorn's uncertainty. The movie made him out to be a lot more sure of himself than I think Tolkien wrote him. He is, in the end, human, and overcoming what I'm leading up to will take superhuman strength. Even the elves are weak when it comes to the Ring of Power, as we shall see. This story is out to prove many things, the real strength in Aragorn to resist it being one of them. And the power of love to overlook our failures being another. But for now, the comparisons serve to create a wall, and yes, to build animosities. Sneaky Ring!
Val - I hope this was soon enough for you. I will try to keep updates frequent, about a week apart, so you may look for this story with some consistency. Thank you for the very kind words.
Hello! - Well, the pairing is as you expect, so you have my permission to be happy ::grin::. No, it's not Gimli I refer to as being the other immortal but Gandalf (he is an Ishtar, meaning a servant of the Valar, and he has been about, when this story is told, for around two thousand years, so one can assume him to be immortal -- reference Appendix B, Tale of the Years, The Third Age, from "Return of the King"). Thank you for your kind words. Happy reading!
Jenolas - What a delight to have you here and I'm glad you like the concept of the story. The subject has been gnawing at me for some time, just waiting to be written. Since, in essence, Tolkien's story is told from the perspective of the Hobbits (who, he tells us, are made of sterner stuff to be more impervious to the Ring's temptations), I thought it might be interesting to see how the other non-Hobbits deal with it. It is not an easy journey they are taking, to be sure, and in my view, what happened to Boromir was sadly inevitable. The Ring is not a trifle to be ignored, you see.
Rozzan - My stalwart supporter! I'm so happy to see you here, and I'm delighted you are liking the story. I am also very flattered you find my writing to be an inspiration to your own. Gosh, can there be a better compliment than that? I very much hope, chapter for chapter, this story will not disappoint. As to what comes ahead, well you shall see soon enough. Just keep breathing, mellon nin. That's the trick, Gimli tells us (movie-verse). Keep breathing.
And so we close for the moment. Until next time, friends . . .
(Um, don't forget to review. Was that subtle? That wasn't subtle, was it?)