Author's Note: Sorry it has been so long since I have written!
Things have been very crazy here, college bogs you down sometimes! I hope
you have not lost interest, and I hope that this chapter makes up for the
wait, I am rather pleased with it. Please tell me what you think. I'd
love the feedback. Want another chapter? You tell me!
Aragorn stretched luxuriously in the warm sun. His body felt a million times better than before. Although he knew Elrond would be most unhappy, Aragorn thought that it was time that he regain his fighting strength. He loved being there in Rivendell, for he missed his foster Father and brothers, but he was restless. As any Ranger, he longed to return to the wilderness that was his home. His love for the elven land and Elrond, Elohir, and Elladan kept him wishing he could stay, despite the cry of his hear to return to his duty and that which he knew best. More than family bound his heart to Rivendell, for as much as he wanted to leave, his whole being rebelled at the thought of leaving his beloved Arwen, despite the fact that there love was all but forbidden by Elrond until Aragorn could defeat the curse of his own blood.
Aragorn shook the darkening thoughts from his mind as he began to dress, careful to test the range of his movement. As he bent to put on his worn leather boots, he barely detected the soft footfall of an elf entering the room. His mind worked quickly, realizing that the steps were to slow to be that of either of his brother's, to unguarded to be those of Lord Elrond's, and not light enough to be the foot fall of Arwen.
"Legolas, I'm pleased to find you here," Aragorn said, hazarding a guess at the owner of the footfalls, his body still bent over as he secured his second boot.
"Never have I met a man that could hear an elf, least of all identify what elf approaches. However, rumors betray you. I have heard that you just pretend to be a man and are really an elf in disguise, out for glory," the Prince of Mirkwood's voice was light and joking and Aragorn smiled as he sat up, finding Legolas standing nearly in front of him.
"Do you believe everything you hear Legolas?"
"Not generally, but there is so little to hear about you and everything there is to hear about you is so very cryptic, that I would almost take anything as truth, for I have no way to gauge anything."
"I am a very simple man with a very complicated destiny." Aragorn stood up once more and reached for his sword and bow that lay carefully placed on a chair. He was uncomfortable with where the conversation was going and he changed the subject. "My brothers are on a short journey for Lord Elrond and I cannot stay in this room any longer. I need to regain my strength through exercise. Would you be willing to join me?"
"I would be honored," the elf replied, trying to gauge Aragorn's physical state. "You are well enough?"
"We will see." Aragorn's reply was half of a laugh as he turned and walked out of the room, hoping Legolas would follow without pressing him further. Legolas stared after him for a moment, then moved to catch up. The two young warriors, both future kings, walked side by side out into the wood and clearings of Rivendell. If anyone had been able to see them, they would have been the picture of majesty and peace. Two very different races, talking softly with mirth and understanding. A great king of men, and a wise king of the elves, together in friendship. It should have been a song or a painting. Legolas let Aragorn lead, assuming correctly that the Ranger had a specific destination in mind as they climbed the hills in the wood.
"When I was a child I used to follow Elohir and Elladan to this place to watch them practice their archery. They taught me here when I was old enough." The two companions came through a dense thicket and it soon opened into an almost perfectly round clearing which overlooked the waterfall. Legolas was enamored with the simple beauty of the place and Aragorn turned round in circles, as if breathing in past memories.
"This place is…" Legolas found no words. Aragorn understood the sentiment and merely smiled to show his understanding.
"Legolas, long have I wished to see your skill with your bow. Would you show me now?" The elf was immediately embarrassed, but Aragorn was sincere in his request and stood waiting.
"I suppose…" Aragorn nodded and backed up, revealing a target on the far side of the clearing, away from the waterfall. Legolas notched an arrow and took his aim. He could practically feel the Ranger watch his every movement and gauge his technique. Legolas let the arrow loose and it flew strait and true, striking the target nearly dead center. Legolas repeated his motions, loosing many an arrow. He was pleased when Aragorn drew his own bow. His pleasure soon turned to worry when his keen ears caught an unguarded hiss of pain when Aragorn shot his fist arrow. The arrow arched a bit wide and hit the edge of the target. Aragorn was obviously displeased. "Are you all right my friend?"
"Because I doubt that I could lie to you, you being and elf and me being a very poor well liar, I will tell you the truth. I am all-right I suppose. I am sore and very out of practice. The pain is minimal however the frustration is acute."
"You are weak Aragorn," Legolas replied, but knowing this would not please the young man, he continued. "Shoot again if it does not pain you." Aragorn merely nodded and notched another arrow. Legolas observed that he clenched his teeth to fight back the pain as he drew back on the string, letting it go with a slight intake of air to stop a cry of pain. This time the arrow met it's mark, nearly dead center, embedded amongst Legolas' arrows. However, the effort had clearly hurt Aragorn, for he turned away from Legolas, hiding a look of discomfort. Legolas hesitated to speak. Should he question Aragorn on his decision to be here, so early after his near death experience? Surely the young Ranger would not take that well. "Aragorn, even in your pain, your skill rivals mine. Elladan and Elohir taught you very well."
Aragorn turned to face Legolas, his face a mask of confusion, clearly surprised at Legolas' choice of words.
"Truly? Or do you say that to appease my wounded pride? Legolas, I am really not a stubborn foolish man, but I do miss my calling as of now…so dearly that I long for it each night."
"Aragorn, I spoke truth fully when I praised you. I have seen many an archer, and rare are those that shoot as soundly as you do." A look of relief passed over Aragorn's fair face, as a shadow fell off of him and he was bathed in sunlight. Legolas was stunned, for he no longer saw a wounded man, but a great king of men, standing tall for his people. Seconds later, a cloud cast a shadow and the King was gone. Left in the King's place was a weather-beaten and knowledgeable Ranger of the North, young but experienced. In moments, the ranger too was gone, leaving only Aragorn, but he looked young and Legolas could not help but imagine him as a young child, laughing and playing in that very clearing. All of this seemed to have transpired in a matter of moments. Aragorn seemed not to have noticed. Legolas shivered unexpectedly, even in the warmth of the day.
"Yes, your skill is worthy of an elf…" Legolas stumbled over the words for a moment, then regained his composure. "I wish to know of this calling you speak of, for you are a confusing creature. I know you refer to your calling, Strider, as a need to return to the wild and to your fellow Dunedain, too full-fill your duty as a Ranger. However, I feel that somewhere inside your calling, Estel, is to be just that, the hope of man. Tell me, what do you feel your true calling is. Do you believe, Aragorn son of Arathorn, the so called Elfstone, that you will sit on the throne of Gondor one day, finally taking from the Stewards what rightfully belongs to you, to your blood?" The speech was passionate, confusing, honest, and meant to be convicting, for Legolas could not understand why such a great man had chose exile, and Legolas truly marveled that one man, a mere mortal as he was, could face such a great destiny, on that seemed only fit for song and story. Now Legolas waited, wondering if he had said too much, for he could not read Aragorn's face. The Ranger seemed perplexed, sad, angry, guilty, hopeful, and irritated almost at the same time. Now you have overstepped your bounds, Legolas. You may be a prince, but this will someday be the crowned king of Gondor, lord of all men.
Aragorn stood, seeming made of stone and rooted to the spot he stood in. His mind spun as Legolas threw at him the question, laced with conviction, that was like a plague to Aragorn. Aragorn knew that many of those who knew his true heritage wondered the same question in their minds, but few felt it was there place, or even dared to question Isildur's Heir. Anger flared within Aragorn's mind. How dare this elf question me at all? He does not know me! I am no more above him than below him. However, as quickly as his anger had come, it flew from him and Aragorn merely felt empty. He missed his mother.
Sighing loudly, Aragorn set down his bow and turned to face Legolas. The elf seemed to care not if he had insulted Aragorn, or asked something he should not have, but Aragorn was bright enough to know that he could hardly ever read an elf's emotions if they did not want him to. "Legolas, what you ask is a very…confusing thing," Aragorn's voice was dangerously soft as he spoke, his words the perfect pronunciation in an elven tongue. "You are far braver than most, for save Elrond and my lady, whom I know you have discovered is Arwen, no one has ever asked me to reveal my inter-most thoughts on something so complicated. However, I owe you my life and therefore cannot find it in myself to not answer you. When I am done, though it is a simple thing, you will be one of few who know, you will be counted among Lord Elrond, Arwen Undomiel, Elohir and Elladan, and a few select Rangers of the North, my kinsmen. Alas, my poor mother, rest her where she lay, also knew. I have chosen exile. I fear my blood, as cowardly as that may sound. I am not yet ready to face the evil and all is well, for the evil is not ready to be faced. I fear that the blood which runs in my veins will betray me, as Isildur's bane did to him. I wish not to speak of such dark things. I feel my destiny will take me whether I want it to or not, and I would not avoid going, though I may fear, my fear is doubt in myself and in no other. Do not take me for a fool of a man who would shirk his duty and do not what he must, for I would rather sacrifice myself than see those I care about and love perish for my selfishness. When the time comes, and I shudder to think about it, I pray I will be ready. In the mean time, I will remain Strider, the dark stranger who no one understands, wandering and protecting the wilds across Middle Earth. I will always be Aragorn and will fulfill the name Estel when it comes time and though I fear it, someday I do hope to take the name Elessar, and sit on the throne of Gondor, if for nothing else than to save Middle Earth from blackness…" with those words, Aragorn trailed off, wondering if he had said to much and wondering more if Legolas could understand the pain within his heart. He stalked silently away, not angry, but tired and stood staring into the waterfall. "I would give my sword and my life."
"Aragorn…say we remain friends, for I never should have asked you such a thing. I am so very curious about you that I do not think to keep my tongue in check. I think you brave for your words and I doubt not that you would go and do as your destiny bids you. Merely, I wish to be by your side when you go. You would have me then, as your friend, your companion?"
"Legolas, all is forgiven. I understand your curiosity, many are curious though none ask. I would have no better an elf to travel with me, yet my path will be dark and full of danger and deceit. Never would I bid you come even if I knew I must take a companion. However, I do not know what the future holds, and who will go with me. For all I know it would be a hobbit," here he chuckled softly to himself, and Legolas was relieved at the light sound. "You know, a halfling. Though the idea is absurd," he laughed again and turned back to Legolas. "Come Legolas. Already I have shown that I am too weak to fight as of yet. Let's walk and I will show you of my childhood home and you will tell me of Mirkwood. Perhaps you might even like to explain to me your interest in my relationship with Arwen."
Aragorn's words caught Legolas off guard as he followed the Ranger up a steep path from the clearing. He froze in mid-step, fearful of Aragorn's wrath at the intrusion on his privacy, wondering madly how the man had discovered Legolas had seen the two lovers together. However, when Aragorn turned to look at him, the Ranger's face seemed to have grown very young again, as that of a teenaged man, who grinned at him widely in a peace offering, showing Legolas that he had been being teased.
"You would like to know wouldn't you?" the elf asked, half glaring at Aragorn. "Some things elves must keep to themselves." And so the two companions, now bonded deeper than before, traversed the woods of Imladris, where Aragorn had played in simpler times and they spent the afternoon in bliss and forgot all the dark things of the world.
Aragorn stretched luxuriously in the warm sun. His body felt a million times better than before. Although he knew Elrond would be most unhappy, Aragorn thought that it was time that he regain his fighting strength. He loved being there in Rivendell, for he missed his foster Father and brothers, but he was restless. As any Ranger, he longed to return to the wilderness that was his home. His love for the elven land and Elrond, Elohir, and Elladan kept him wishing he could stay, despite the cry of his hear to return to his duty and that which he knew best. More than family bound his heart to Rivendell, for as much as he wanted to leave, his whole being rebelled at the thought of leaving his beloved Arwen, despite the fact that there love was all but forbidden by Elrond until Aragorn could defeat the curse of his own blood.
Aragorn shook the darkening thoughts from his mind as he began to dress, careful to test the range of his movement. As he bent to put on his worn leather boots, he barely detected the soft footfall of an elf entering the room. His mind worked quickly, realizing that the steps were to slow to be that of either of his brother's, to unguarded to be those of Lord Elrond's, and not light enough to be the foot fall of Arwen.
"Legolas, I'm pleased to find you here," Aragorn said, hazarding a guess at the owner of the footfalls, his body still bent over as he secured his second boot.
"Never have I met a man that could hear an elf, least of all identify what elf approaches. However, rumors betray you. I have heard that you just pretend to be a man and are really an elf in disguise, out for glory," the Prince of Mirkwood's voice was light and joking and Aragorn smiled as he sat up, finding Legolas standing nearly in front of him.
"Do you believe everything you hear Legolas?"
"Not generally, but there is so little to hear about you and everything there is to hear about you is so very cryptic, that I would almost take anything as truth, for I have no way to gauge anything."
"I am a very simple man with a very complicated destiny." Aragorn stood up once more and reached for his sword and bow that lay carefully placed on a chair. He was uncomfortable with where the conversation was going and he changed the subject. "My brothers are on a short journey for Lord Elrond and I cannot stay in this room any longer. I need to regain my strength through exercise. Would you be willing to join me?"
"I would be honored," the elf replied, trying to gauge Aragorn's physical state. "You are well enough?"
"We will see." Aragorn's reply was half of a laugh as he turned and walked out of the room, hoping Legolas would follow without pressing him further. Legolas stared after him for a moment, then moved to catch up. The two young warriors, both future kings, walked side by side out into the wood and clearings of Rivendell. If anyone had been able to see them, they would have been the picture of majesty and peace. Two very different races, talking softly with mirth and understanding. A great king of men, and a wise king of the elves, together in friendship. It should have been a song or a painting. Legolas let Aragorn lead, assuming correctly that the Ranger had a specific destination in mind as they climbed the hills in the wood.
"When I was a child I used to follow Elohir and Elladan to this place to watch them practice their archery. They taught me here when I was old enough." The two companions came through a dense thicket and it soon opened into an almost perfectly round clearing which overlooked the waterfall. Legolas was enamored with the simple beauty of the place and Aragorn turned round in circles, as if breathing in past memories.
"This place is…" Legolas found no words. Aragorn understood the sentiment and merely smiled to show his understanding.
"Legolas, long have I wished to see your skill with your bow. Would you show me now?" The elf was immediately embarrassed, but Aragorn was sincere in his request and stood waiting.
"I suppose…" Aragorn nodded and backed up, revealing a target on the far side of the clearing, away from the waterfall. Legolas notched an arrow and took his aim. He could practically feel the Ranger watch his every movement and gauge his technique. Legolas let the arrow loose and it flew strait and true, striking the target nearly dead center. Legolas repeated his motions, loosing many an arrow. He was pleased when Aragorn drew his own bow. His pleasure soon turned to worry when his keen ears caught an unguarded hiss of pain when Aragorn shot his fist arrow. The arrow arched a bit wide and hit the edge of the target. Aragorn was obviously displeased. "Are you all right my friend?"
"Because I doubt that I could lie to you, you being and elf and me being a very poor well liar, I will tell you the truth. I am all-right I suppose. I am sore and very out of practice. The pain is minimal however the frustration is acute."
"You are weak Aragorn," Legolas replied, but knowing this would not please the young man, he continued. "Shoot again if it does not pain you." Aragorn merely nodded and notched another arrow. Legolas observed that he clenched his teeth to fight back the pain as he drew back on the string, letting it go with a slight intake of air to stop a cry of pain. This time the arrow met it's mark, nearly dead center, embedded amongst Legolas' arrows. However, the effort had clearly hurt Aragorn, for he turned away from Legolas, hiding a look of discomfort. Legolas hesitated to speak. Should he question Aragorn on his decision to be here, so early after his near death experience? Surely the young Ranger would not take that well. "Aragorn, even in your pain, your skill rivals mine. Elladan and Elohir taught you very well."
Aragorn turned to face Legolas, his face a mask of confusion, clearly surprised at Legolas' choice of words.
"Truly? Or do you say that to appease my wounded pride? Legolas, I am really not a stubborn foolish man, but I do miss my calling as of now…so dearly that I long for it each night."
"Aragorn, I spoke truth fully when I praised you. I have seen many an archer, and rare are those that shoot as soundly as you do." A look of relief passed over Aragorn's fair face, as a shadow fell off of him and he was bathed in sunlight. Legolas was stunned, for he no longer saw a wounded man, but a great king of men, standing tall for his people. Seconds later, a cloud cast a shadow and the King was gone. Left in the King's place was a weather-beaten and knowledgeable Ranger of the North, young but experienced. In moments, the ranger too was gone, leaving only Aragorn, but he looked young and Legolas could not help but imagine him as a young child, laughing and playing in that very clearing. All of this seemed to have transpired in a matter of moments. Aragorn seemed not to have noticed. Legolas shivered unexpectedly, even in the warmth of the day.
"Yes, your skill is worthy of an elf…" Legolas stumbled over the words for a moment, then regained his composure. "I wish to know of this calling you speak of, for you are a confusing creature. I know you refer to your calling, Strider, as a need to return to the wild and to your fellow Dunedain, too full-fill your duty as a Ranger. However, I feel that somewhere inside your calling, Estel, is to be just that, the hope of man. Tell me, what do you feel your true calling is. Do you believe, Aragorn son of Arathorn, the so called Elfstone, that you will sit on the throne of Gondor one day, finally taking from the Stewards what rightfully belongs to you, to your blood?" The speech was passionate, confusing, honest, and meant to be convicting, for Legolas could not understand why such a great man had chose exile, and Legolas truly marveled that one man, a mere mortal as he was, could face such a great destiny, on that seemed only fit for song and story. Now Legolas waited, wondering if he had said too much, for he could not read Aragorn's face. The Ranger seemed perplexed, sad, angry, guilty, hopeful, and irritated almost at the same time. Now you have overstepped your bounds, Legolas. You may be a prince, but this will someday be the crowned king of Gondor, lord of all men.
Aragorn stood, seeming made of stone and rooted to the spot he stood in. His mind spun as Legolas threw at him the question, laced with conviction, that was like a plague to Aragorn. Aragorn knew that many of those who knew his true heritage wondered the same question in their minds, but few felt it was there place, or even dared to question Isildur's Heir. Anger flared within Aragorn's mind. How dare this elf question me at all? He does not know me! I am no more above him than below him. However, as quickly as his anger had come, it flew from him and Aragorn merely felt empty. He missed his mother.
Sighing loudly, Aragorn set down his bow and turned to face Legolas. The elf seemed to care not if he had insulted Aragorn, or asked something he should not have, but Aragorn was bright enough to know that he could hardly ever read an elf's emotions if they did not want him to. "Legolas, what you ask is a very…confusing thing," Aragorn's voice was dangerously soft as he spoke, his words the perfect pronunciation in an elven tongue. "You are far braver than most, for save Elrond and my lady, whom I know you have discovered is Arwen, no one has ever asked me to reveal my inter-most thoughts on something so complicated. However, I owe you my life and therefore cannot find it in myself to not answer you. When I am done, though it is a simple thing, you will be one of few who know, you will be counted among Lord Elrond, Arwen Undomiel, Elohir and Elladan, and a few select Rangers of the North, my kinsmen. Alas, my poor mother, rest her where she lay, also knew. I have chosen exile. I fear my blood, as cowardly as that may sound. I am not yet ready to face the evil and all is well, for the evil is not ready to be faced. I fear that the blood which runs in my veins will betray me, as Isildur's bane did to him. I wish not to speak of such dark things. I feel my destiny will take me whether I want it to or not, and I would not avoid going, though I may fear, my fear is doubt in myself and in no other. Do not take me for a fool of a man who would shirk his duty and do not what he must, for I would rather sacrifice myself than see those I care about and love perish for my selfishness. When the time comes, and I shudder to think about it, I pray I will be ready. In the mean time, I will remain Strider, the dark stranger who no one understands, wandering and protecting the wilds across Middle Earth. I will always be Aragorn and will fulfill the name Estel when it comes time and though I fear it, someday I do hope to take the name Elessar, and sit on the throne of Gondor, if for nothing else than to save Middle Earth from blackness…" with those words, Aragorn trailed off, wondering if he had said to much and wondering more if Legolas could understand the pain within his heart. He stalked silently away, not angry, but tired and stood staring into the waterfall. "I would give my sword and my life."
"Aragorn…say we remain friends, for I never should have asked you such a thing. I am so very curious about you that I do not think to keep my tongue in check. I think you brave for your words and I doubt not that you would go and do as your destiny bids you. Merely, I wish to be by your side when you go. You would have me then, as your friend, your companion?"
"Legolas, all is forgiven. I understand your curiosity, many are curious though none ask. I would have no better an elf to travel with me, yet my path will be dark and full of danger and deceit. Never would I bid you come even if I knew I must take a companion. However, I do not know what the future holds, and who will go with me. For all I know it would be a hobbit," here he chuckled softly to himself, and Legolas was relieved at the light sound. "You know, a halfling. Though the idea is absurd," he laughed again and turned back to Legolas. "Come Legolas. Already I have shown that I am too weak to fight as of yet. Let's walk and I will show you of my childhood home and you will tell me of Mirkwood. Perhaps you might even like to explain to me your interest in my relationship with Arwen."
Aragorn's words caught Legolas off guard as he followed the Ranger up a steep path from the clearing. He froze in mid-step, fearful of Aragorn's wrath at the intrusion on his privacy, wondering madly how the man had discovered Legolas had seen the two lovers together. However, when Aragorn turned to look at him, the Ranger's face seemed to have grown very young again, as that of a teenaged man, who grinned at him widely in a peace offering, showing Legolas that he had been being teased.
"You would like to know wouldn't you?" the elf asked, half glaring at Aragorn. "Some things elves must keep to themselves." And so the two companions, now bonded deeper than before, traversed the woods of Imladris, where Aragorn had played in simpler times and they spent the afternoon in bliss and forgot all the dark things of the world.