Eleven years later...
Aragorn exchanged glances with his fellow ranger, Halbarad, as they and four others walked deeper into the forest of Mirkwood. The trees blocked out almost all of the sunlight. All was quiet, except for an occasional rustling of branches. Aragorn shivered; it felt like the trees themselves were watching them with distrust and malice. How could Legolas come from such an ominous place?
He stopped, allowing himself the luxury of once again remembering the elvish prince. He hadn't seen or heard from Legolas since the time he'd kissed him on the cheek and rode off, back when he was still known as Estel Elrondion. Before he learned that his true name was Aragorn, that his destiny and burden were great, and that he needed to be trained as a ranger. Few messages or messengers had ridden between Mirkwood and Rivendell since the prince's last journey, as the road was becoming too perilous.
Now he and this group of rangers were in Mirkwood, seeking an audience with King Thranduil on Mithrandir's behalf. Aragorn couldn't get rid of the butterflies in his stomach and the feeling that he was about to fly out of his skin. Ever since he found out he'd be journeying to Mirkwood, he'd been excited and nervous at the prospect of seeing Legolas again. He sighed, shaking his head. 'How very silly,' he berated himself, 'to cling to a childish crush for so long! He probably doesn't even remember you.'
Hearing the young man's sigh, Halbarad turned and saw that Aragorn was no longer walking with them. "Halt!" he called to the others before turning to Aragorn. "What's the matter?"
Before Aragorn could even open his mouth, at least two dozen elves sprang down from the surrounding trees and drew their bows. The rangers were at a loss of what to do - they knew that the Woodland king wouldn't listen to them, or believe their message if they fought with the sentries. At the same time, they didn't want one of their own to be injured or worse by a nervous border guard. Aragorn glanced at Halbarad, unsure of what the right thing to do was. Time seemed to stop, and then -
"Daro! Lower your weapons." Aragorn started; he knew that voice! He could see a figure in the crowd moving toward the rangers, despite protests from others that he should stay where he was. The young man forgot to breathe as the figure pushed past the front line of guards and came into view of the rangers.
All six pairs of eyes grew wide at the sight of the elf before them. For many years, Aragorn had wondered if memory had exaggerated Legolas' beauty. Now he could see that his recollections hadn't done the prince justice.
Legolas' eyes never left Aragorn's face. "Estel?" he asked.
Aragorn bowed slightly. "Greetings, Prince Legolas," he said. "I'm flattered that you remember me."
"I could never forget you," Legolas responded, smiling happily. A gasp came from one of the rangers and Aragorn recalled the final line of the poem he'd written eleven years earlier: you are prettiest when you're happy. He touched his cheek briefly as a smile broke out on his own face.
All eyes were on the two. The rangers were stunned that Aragorn knew the beautiful creature. The elves wondered at the familiar way their prince talked and interacted with the man. Halbarad finally managed to recover his wits. "We bear a message from Mithrandir to King Thranduil of Mirkwood and request and audience with him as soon as possible," he announced.
Legolas started out of his revelry. "Of course," he said, sparing Aragorn one last long look. "We will escort you there."
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Halbarad and the other rangers were with King Thranduil, discussing Mithrandir's message. Aragorn would have gone with them, but Legolas had requested that he stay behind so they could talk. Now two guards watched from across the room as the two conversed.
"Amazing," said Legolas, as Aragorn finished his tales about his first year with the rangers. "To think that little boy from Rivendell is so capable of enduring such peril."
Aragorn blushed. "I'm sure you've gone through much more than I have," he said. "Guarding Mirkwood's borders sounds dangerous."
"I haven't done much at all," Legolas scoffed. "It was only just recently that I convinced Ada to let me join the border guards, and he put me with the company on the border of Beorn's land. Nobody ever came that way before, and now that someone has I'll be taken off duty. I wish there was more I could do!"
"Your time will come," Aragorn told him. "I think Mithrandir wants you to play a part in something he has planned. Maybe he'll have something for me to do too and I could go with you."
"You're still young Estel at heart, aren't you?" smiled Legolas. "But you've grown up so much." He reached up, his fingers tentatively brushing Aragorn's beard. Aragorn tried to ignore the tingly feeling in his skin. "I never imaged you with a beard," he said, his smile now wistful. "And I never thought I'd have to look up to see your eyes. You are called Aragorn now?"
"Yes," answered Aragorn. "I had feared that I've changed too much for you to recognize me."
"You have grown up, yes; but I will always recognize you."
The door swung open. Legolas removed his hand from Aragorn's beard and the two took a few steps away from each other as Thranduil and the rangers entered the room. "Tell Mithrandir," Thranduil was saying, "that any being, save the servants of the enemy, can pass through Mirkwood. All I ask is that they do not harm the forest or animals, do not bother my people, and are always truthful about their intentions. Legolas?"
"Yes Ada?"
"Do you still have extra maps of the realm?"
"Yes," he answered. "They are in a drawer in the outer chambers of my quarters."
"Good," said the king. "I'll need one to mark an acceptable path through Mirkwood. Could you please get one for me after the session?"
Legolas scowled. "Yes, Ada," he said. He nodded to the rangers, smiled half-heartedly at Aragorn, and left.
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"Where could Legolas be?" fretted Thranduil. He was supposed to be in the throne room in a few minutes. "The rangers," he concluded. "He must be visiting with that Estel ranger."
He found the rangers just outside of his cavern palace, but Legolas wasn't with them. "You," said Thranduil, pointing at Aragorn. "Have you seen my son?"
"Not for a few hours, my lord."
"Where could he be? He's going to be late."
Aragorn thought for a moment. "Where are your archery fields?" he asked.
"Of course," breathed Thranduil. "He can't stay away from there. They are just over that hill. Will you fetch him for me and escort him to the throne room?"
"Yes, my lord." Aragorn rushed off in the direction of the archery field.
He arrived to find Legolas angrily firing at the targets. Aragorn cleared his throat and Legolas glanced up, surprised. "Your father sent me to fetch you," Aragorn explained.
"How did you know I was here?" asked Legolas.
Aragorn smiled. "Legolas," he said. "No one could change that much. After that scowl, I figured you would come out here to shoot your frustrations away."
"I find my upcoming duty awkward and unpleasant," responded Legolas. He put his bow down and sighed. "But there is no use in delaying the inevitable. I will come with you."
The pair made their way to the doors outside the throne room, where Thranduil was waiting. "Let's get this over with," Legolas sighed.
Father and son entered the throne room. Aragorn watched from the door as Legolas sat on a stool in the middle of the room. Thranduil stood next to him, one hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?" he asked a nearby guard.
"The prince is receiving troubadours."
As Aragorn listened, he understood. Legolas was listening to songs and poems written for him and about him; beautiful songs and poems. His cheeks burned as he recalled his own childish poem. 'It must have sounded so stupid to him!' he thought with shame. Aragorn rushed away from the throne room and wandered the halls. No thought entered his head other than to get away from his perceived humiliation.
"Where are you going?" a guard questioned has he walked by.
Aragorn cursed silently and thought fast. "The prince asked me to fetch a map of the realm for Mithrandir," he replied. "He told me to get it from his outer chambers while he and his father were occupied with the troubadours."
The guard nodded. "It is up the stairs and to the right."
Aragorn thanked him and went to the prince's quarters. Since closing the door would rouse suspicion - and just standing there would even more so - he thought it best to look for the map in case anyone came by. Where did Legolas say they were?' he asked himself. A drawer.' He frowned; there were many drawers in this room.
He randomly chose the one closest to the bedroom door and opened it. He looked in it and gasped. Inside there was a single piece of paper with childish but neat handwriting on it. It was his poem, the one that he wrote eleven years ago!
He was only dimly aware of someone entering the room. "Aragorn," Legolas' voice invaded his shock. "I was told you...'
Aragorn looked up as Legolas' voice trailed off. The elf was looking at him, confused and concerned. "Is something the matter, Aragorn?"
Aragorn held up the poem. "I can't believe you kept this," he whispered.
Legolas shut the door and crossed the room. He carefully took the poem from Aragorn, laid it reverently back into the drawer, and closed it. "I told you before," he said, looking into the young man's eyes. "I like this poem more than any other I've heard or read. It's my favorite."
Aragorn shook his head in disbelief. "You hear beautiful poems every day," he said. 'That one is terrible in comparison -"
"Those poems are about the Sun Star, not me," Legolas asserted firmly. "All of those people admire and write about my looks. They say they know every detail about my beauty; and the irony is that the only one who's ever bothered to really see me is a ten-year-old boy." He focused firmly on Aragorn. "I believe," he continued, "that even now, you're the only person who really sees me."
Aragorn suddenly understood the difference in Legolas' behavior; why he'd been so carefree in Rivendell and more cautious and formal in Mirkwood. He understood Legolas' scowl earlier and his own father's reaction to his request that he listen to his poems all those years ago.
"Those troubadours love the Sun Star," Legolas said flippantly, but a hint of vulnerability came through in his tone. "They're in love someone who doesn't exist."
Aragorn put his hand on Legolas' arm, keenly aware of how close they were standing. "They are in love with the Sun Star," he said hoarsely. "They're all fools, but let them love a shadow. I'm in love with you."
Legolas' eyes widened. "You love me?" he asked. "You told me that before, but I'd thought you moved on to different loves."
Aragorn shook his head. "I could never move on," he stated. "I've been in love with you for eleven years and that love grows even now."
Legolas reached up, cupping the cheek he'd kissed at their parting in Rivendell long ago. Then he pulled Aragorn's face to his, gently kissing his lips. "And I love you, Aragorn," he breathed. "I love your determination and your strength. I love that you understand me. I love your bravery. I love that you talk to me rather than sing and recite at me. I love how that sweet little boy from Rivendell is still a part of the man who's in front of me now. The man I'm in love with."
Aragorn cupped either side of Legolas' head. "Say it again," he begged, planting butterfly kisses the elf's eyelids, forehead, cheeks, hair, and nose. Legolas gasped when Aragorn kissed the tip of one pointy ear and then the other. "Please say it again."
"I am in love with you," gasped out Legolas. "I love you, Aragorn."
"I love you too, Legolas Greenleaf." Their lips met again, gentleness now giving way to passion. A passion that neither of them had ever felt before, a passion that was filling their bodies. They opened their mouths; as the kiss deepened, both knew that they would not, could not ever love anyone but each other.
To be continued...
