Disclaimer: I own nothing, zip, zilch, nada; everything belongs to the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. The song lyrics to "Where Are You Christmas" belong to Faith Hill; I am merely borrowing them for this humble songfic.
A/N: Hey, everyone! Another spur-of-the-moment fic here! It is a standalone piece, and my first songfic, seeing as the holiday season has already started. I actually got the idea for the songfic by listening to "Where Are You Christmas" in my car on the way to school last year (not the most convenient of times) and I thought: Legolas, Aragorn, Christmas . . . why not? So here it is, and I hope you enjoy it!
'Elvish'
"Westron/Common Speech"
/Personal Thoughts/
.:Where Are You Christmas:.
By Sentimental Star
'Ada, come on! We must make it through the High Pass by first snowfall!' Legolas, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, called while knocking on the door of his father's bedroom. They had been invited to spend the Yuletide with Lord Elrond and his sons, as with every Yule past. The younger Silvan Elf always elected to stay in Mirkwood with his father. This year, however, much to Legolas's surprise and delight, the older Woodland Elf accepted---for both he and his son, trusting his oldest nephew to watch over their kingdom.
They had bid Legolas's three cousins good-bye the previous evening and were trying to get an early start. It was a week before the actual Yuletide celebrations took place, but the journeying would take at least a few days, even by horseback. Six, to be precise. If all went well, they would arrive in Imladris on the eve before the first day of Yule.
So far, it did not appear to be happening. His father was taking forever!
He knocked all the more insistently on the older Silvan Elf's door and called once again, 'Ada!'
'All right, Legolas, I am coming,' the Woodland king chuckled from within his sleeping chamber, finally finished packing his last bag. With one last look around his tidied room, he blew out his lamp and shouldered the rucksack.
He made his way swiftly across the room and opened the door . . . only to pull to a halt as he came face to face with the young Crown Prince. Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood, watched with no small amount of amusement as his 2,886 year old son practically hopped from foot to foot like an impatient Elfling.
'May we leave now?' Legolas requested as respectfully as possible at this given moment in time.
The Elvenking raised his eyebrows in a mock-imposing manner. 'Eager much?' he inquired, a smile in his voice.
The younger Silvan Elf subsided, and bowed his head sheepishly. 'I am truly sorry, Ada, but---'
'---You want to see Estel and his family,' Thranduil interrupted with a tender chuckle. 'I know, ion-nin, I know!'
As they walked side by side, father and son, out into the brisk air of Mirkwood's winter dawn, Legolas shrugged helplessly, 'I have not seen Estel in over six years! The twins and Lord Elrond, I have seen but a little more recently and . . .'
Thranduil laughed and gently pushed the younger Firstborn towards his white steed, already laden with all the provisions necessary for their trip and visit much as his own was. Both Elves wore warm brown cloaks with hoods over their normal green-hued attire. All in all they were rather comfortable. 'We are going! We are going!' the Woodland ruler chuckled.
Where are you Christmas
Why can't I find you
Why have you gone away
Where is the laughter
You used to bring me
Why can't I hear music play
A lone figure shielded his eyes against the stinging wind of the Hithaeglir and heaved a soft sigh, the breath forming a mist cloud that hung against the grey sky. He would be lucky indeed if he reached the hidden Elven haven by the last evening of Yule. His travels had taken him quite far south and he had been unable to attend the Yuletide celebrations of Imladris for at least five years.
Sometimes he wondered if he should even bother anymore.
His journeys had taken their toll on him, scarred his heart and soul, and disillusioned him with the World of Men. He no longer was the eager, naïve, newly-established Ranger he had been when he first left Imladris to explore the world around him and to help out where he could. The world itself had been cruel to him. He now understood why Rangers usually did not establish ties to a particular place, to a particular family or individual. All of nature conspired against them whenever they attempted to see their loved ones.
Immediately following this negative train of thought, a hot flash of shame welled up within his breast. His was an enormous and loving heart by nature, even all the deviltry in the universe would never change that. He helped out wherever he was need simply because he could, because he wanted to.
Then perhaps it was not nature. Perhaps it was the Rangers themselves who severed nearly all ties with others, for certainly, he felt far too tainted to celebrate this supposedly joyous holiday among creatures so fair and pure as the Firstborns.
My world is changing
I'm rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes, too
Thranduil glanced over at his son through the softly falling snowflakes, grinning as he noted the young prince shift restlessly where he sat on his steed's white back with barely tampered excitement and expectancy. 'I think I shall ask Elrond for an aging potion when we arrive,' he remarked with a light chuckle. But in reality he was much relieved and overjoyed to see his son as he used to be---interested in everything, eager to learn more, and able to find beauty and joy in even the most commonplace of things.
Legolas frowned lightly at his father. 'That is not funny, Ada!'
Thranduil chuckled again. 'No? I thought 'twas.'
The prince's frown deepened. Soon the older Firstborn was outright laughing. At last he released a sigh and advised, 'Ah, you keep me young, ion-nin.'
Legolas's frown turned into a smile. 'Lord Elrond said nearly the exact same thing to Estel once.'
'That does not surprise me. One father's heart is not so very different from another's,' Thranduil agreed with a small nod.
They had since reached the bridge. Across the water lay the gates and brightly illuminated windows of Imladris. The snow was falling harder now, although it did not sting, but rather, wafted through the air and clung to the ground. It was indeed the eve before the first of Yule and both Elves shone with a natural light equal in brightness to the windows. Moon and stars had since poked their faces out from under their blankets and shone with all their glory through the swiftly falling crystals.
Legolas, as his father noticed, was practically squirming with anticipation and trying very hard to contain his eagerness---not without difficulty.
So Thranduil laughed again and bid his son warmly, 'Go, ion-nin. 'Tis obvious a doddering old Elf like me cannot hold you back. Go, and announce our arrival.'
' 'Doddering old Elf?' ' Legolas repeated, tossing an extremely amused look at his father.
'Do not quote me on it,' Thranduil growled good-naturedly.
The younger Silvan Elf laughed whole-heartedly. 'Of course not, Ada.' He sobered, despite the fact that he could scarcely hold still. 'Are you absolutely sure?' he asked uncertainly.
The Woodland king gave a gentle smile. 'Why else would I tell you to?'
'Hannon-le, Ada!' Legolas exclaimed exuberantly, lightly kicking his steed's sides and urging the horse into a run.
Thranduil never stopped smiling as he followed after his energetic son at a statelier pace, watching with unconcealed delight as the guards warmly greeted Legolas and the young prince jubilantly returned it. It did his ancient---and, at times, world-weary---heart good to see his beloved son thus. He fully intended to find the human son of Lord Elrond and thank him properly once within the Halls of Imladris, for assuredly, without the friendship he shared with Estel, Legolas would have retreated ever farther into himself, very possibly even died. And because of the friendship between the two princes, Imladris and Mirkwood were reconciled after many years of bitter feelings. True, the twins and Legolas had been friends before Estel was even born---and that friendship had sowed the seeds of reconciliation---but their fathers had still avoided each other unless absolutely necessary. It was the young human who had completed the peace. Thranduil shook his head slightly. It would never cease to amaze him how a single human, a child all of eight years old, so easily took what had once been there and made it whole again. Stronger for the fact that it had once been broken.
'Mae govaennen, your Majesty! Welcome to Imladris!' one of the guards called down to him as he entered the gates.
Thranduil looked up at the Noldar Elf who had called out the greeting. It was a young warrior, but a little older that his son, closer in age to the Peredhil twins Elladan and Elrohir. She shone with an ethereal light equal to the Silvan Elf's own. 'Mae govaennen,' he responded softly with a warm smile. 'Winter's greetings and blessings be upon you, young one.'
The younger Firstborn flushed slightly, but saluted Mirkwood's king before returning to her watch.
Still smiling, he entered the main courtyard just a little behind Legolas who was in the process of leaping off his horse.
'Estel! Elladan! Elrohir! Lord Elrond!' he shouted joyfully, quickly dismounting all in one leap and making for the gracefully arched doorway as swiftly as his legs could carry him. 'Estel!'
No sooner had he gained the top step than was the door flung open and two black-haired forms hurtled outside, promptly tackling the prince and sending all three of them into the thick blanket of snow which had already accumulated on the ground.
'Well, 'tis about time!' one of the twins---Elrohir, perhaps?---exclaimed with an exaggerated rolling of his eyes from where he had landed on top of the Silvan Elf.
Legolas laughed and gave the Noldar Elf a playful shove, sending him into the snow where the two ensued in a good-natured wrestling match. Elladan joined in, although it was not very clear exactly whose side he was on. He seemed to have no side but his own.
Thranduil reined his white steed next to his son's and dismounted easily with a laugh, making his way over to the door. Of course, he was very careful to skirt the three young Firstborns who were now engaged in an all-out snowball fight.
'Elladan and Elrohir, how many times have I told you not to incapacitate our guests?' Lord Elrond remarked, voice laced heavily with mirth, from inside the Halls. Within moments he had joined Thranduil where the Woodland ruler stood on the steps. The dark-haired Peredhil exchanged a warm smile of greeting with the other Elf.
He was dressed simply on this day, having no desire to fuss with fancy robes. Save for the blue and white color and the make of the tunic, leggings, and brown leather jerkin, his outfit was not so very different from Thranduil's. They both wore their crowns, they both were dressed comfortably, and---had they the same hair and eye color---one would almost believe they were twins themselves.
'Dreadfully sorry, Ada,' Elladan deadpanned, before grinning outright at the two fathers and drawing their attention back to the three sons.
Not one Firstborn in that group noticed the solitary figure who made his way swiftly and silently to the two white steeds where half a dozen servants scurried about, relieving the horses of their many packages. Indeed, not even the servants noticed as Lord Elrond's fosterling took the reins of the now unloaded steeds. Nor did anyone see Aragorn, son of Arathorn, also known as Estel, Imladris's youngest son, as he watched his adopted family a moment, infinite sadness in his depthless silver eyes. If the Dúnadan caught even a flash of gold, greens, or brown, he paid it no mind. At last, wishing to keep his hurting heart to himself for a little longer, the thirty-year-old Ranger led the white horses to Imladris's stables, biding his time.
Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know
I'm not the same one
See what the time's done
Is that why you have let me go
Legolas released a soft, sad sigh, dropping his chin into his hands and gazing wistfully out the frosted window. The Elves had retreated inside after a good thirty minutes or so of roughhousing in the snow, thoroughly damp and extremely happy. It had only been then that the prince noticed Estel was not with them, and despite how hard he looked or how long, he could not find his beloved friend. He was now beginning to wonder if the Dúnadan were here at all.
The sigh drew the attention of two slightly concerned Elf Lords from where they were talking by the fire.
'Legolas?' Thranduil asked softly.
'Young prince?' came Elrond's quiet echo.
The Silvan Elf glanced away from the window and offered a small smile for the two. 'I am fine. But I have yet to see Estel,' he admitted ruefully. 'I miss him. Very much so, in fact. Does he not return home for Yuletide?'
Elrond's eyes both saddened and took on a gleam of sudden understanding at the same time. He walked over to Legolas and lay his hand lightly on the younger Firstborn's right shoulder, standing behind him and gazing out the window. 'I fear, Legolas, that for the past five years or so, he has seldom returned here; his travels keep him in the South. I would that he stay in Lothlórien with his grandparents at least, so he would not be alone during this celebration. But Estel, stubborn and big-hearted as he is, will not.' The Peredhil's voice quieted further. 'Sometimes the only way I know he is alive and well is by his letters or by a traveler who stops here and happened to have met him along the road. I have received neither letter nor message in nigh a year.'
Legolas went cold. 'Valar,' he choked, sudden dread invading his heart. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, but Elrond knew not what to say, what he could say. He knew Legolas and Estel were close, closer even, than the twins and the prince. And that said a lot.
Of all Imladris's inhabitants, save for one, they were the only ones awake at this hour. Even Elladan and Elrohir had retired for the night. Elrond because he could not sleep. Legolas because his mind was so preoccupied. Thranduil because his best friend and his son could not sleep.
But with the Peredhil's revelation, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood thought it might be best to return to his own room and sort through his worries there alone, perhaps even make some sort of plan for the actions he would take if Estel did not return by the twelfth and last day of Yuletide. He had long ago resolved that if Estel or the Human's foster family needed him, he would do whatever was asked of him.
'I think I shall retire for the night, Lord Elrond,' Legolas advised softly, standing and turning to face the Peredhil.
Elrond nodded, but did not fail to notice the worry-shadowed eyes of his young friend. Placing both hands once more on the prince's shoulders, he looked seriously into the midnight orbs, 'If you need anything, anything at all, come and find me. If I am asleep, wake me up. I will not mind.'
Legolas found a smile for the Half-Elven Lord. 'Hannon-le.'
Elrond also managed to find a smile. 'Good night, young prince, and may restful dreams find you in your sleep.' Then he kissed Legolas's forehead, chuckling slightly at the blush which washed across his cheeks, before gently pushing him in his father's direction.
Thranduil welcomed his son with tender eyes and a warm hug, keeping the younger Silvan Elf within the circumference of his arms a little longer. Then he, too, kissed Legolas good-night with a murmured, 'Sleep well, my little light.'
To which Legolas blushed furiously, remembering that 'little light' had been his father's endearment for him when he was but an Elfling. A nickname he had not heard in at least a few centuries, probably more. Consequently, it was a very bashful archer who whispered, 'Good-night, Ada, sleep well.'
And giving his father one last squeeze, slipped out the door and headed towards "his" room. He neither heard nor caught a glimpse of the bowed figure down the corridor. Nor did the Dúnadan's slumped shoulders straighten or his head lift, as they normally would have upon catching a glimpse of his beloved friend.
Christmas is here,
Everywhere, oh
Christmas is here,
If you care, oh
As soon as he was reasonably sure Legolas would not hear him, Elrond let his smile fall and dropped his head into his hands with a half-stifled sob. A very much startled and concerned Thranduil quickly caught him about the shoulders in an awkward hug. Elrond turned without hesitation and hid his face against the other Firstborn's neck, heaving shuddering breaths as he fought to keep his emotions under control. Utterly confounded, Thranduil wrapped his arms tightly around his old friend, breathing, 'Elrond?'
Elrond shook his head against the Silvan Elf. 'I do not know what to do, Thranduil. Estel is thirty, for Valar's sake! Why do I worry so much about him?'
'He is your son, Elrond. Age and time do not matter; you still love him. Is that not right?' Thranduil pointed out softly.
'Aye,' the Peredhil choked, his grip on the other tightening. 'But---'
'Mellon-iaur---' Thranduil started.
'ADA?!'
The alarmed cry caused both Elven Lords to halt in mid-speech and snap their heads around to face the door by which Legolas had left some time ago. There, leaning in the doorway, was one very frightened Aragorn. His slightly widened silver eyes were locked on the careworn countenance of the only father he had ever known, who, to all appearances, was crying.
'Estel?' Elrond's voice was barely there and he looked rather like he had seen a ghost. He did not loosen his hold on Thranduil.
The overly-weary Ranger stumbled into the room, making his way haphazardly towards the two Elven Lords. He had meant only to slip into his room and not stop, but when he passed by the Hall of Fire, he was met with the rather disconcerting sight of his weeping Elven father. The presence of King Thranduil had not helped him any. He was positive something awful had happened. 'Oh, please do not weep, Ada!' he barely managed to force out. 'Wha-What has happened? Are the twins all right?! Legolas?!' His legs gave way; he would have crashed straight to the ground had not Thranduil reached out and caught the Human one-armed.
'Easy, young one,' he murmured, gently settling the Dúnadan against Elrond's chest.
The Peredhil, over his initial shock, swiftly released Thranduil from his grip, gathered Aragorn into his arms, and sank to his knees, easing the weight from his son's legs. Burying his face in the Ranger's unkempt dark tresses, he choked, 'Estel.'
Wildly confused and concerned, Aragorn returned the embrace, slightly unsettled by Elrond's emotional reaction.
Reading those emotions in the Human's eyes from where he had knelt behind Elrond, Thranduil offered a reassuring smile, 'Be at ease, Estel. Your brothers and Legolas are fine. Your Adar has been very worried for you. He heard and saw naught of you for a year and has not known what to think about it.'
Aragorn gave a barely perceptible nod, relaxing somewhat. 'Hannon-le, Your Majesty,' he whispered, before reaching up and touching his father's cheek, guilt flashing in his silver eyes. 'Ada?'
Elrond lifted his head and fixed his human son with a glare. 'Do not ever do that to me again! Your brothers are bad enough!'
Aragorn dropped his gaze. 'I am sorry, Ada,' he whispered.
The Lord of Imladris's face softened. Heaving a sigh, he tugged his fosterling back to his chest. ' 'Tis alright. You scared me, ion-nin. I had no idea what had happened to you or if you needed help or if you were injured or---'
Thranduil chuckled and touched Elrond's shoulder. When the Peredhil looked back at him, he spoke, 'I think he gets the point, mellon-iaur.'
Elrond nodded and gazed down at the Dúnadan who had burrowed his face into his shoulder and seemed quite content to stay there. 'Estel? Why did you not return home until today? What is it that detains you from returning home even once a year?'
Aragorn did not reply for a minute. When he did, his voice was hushed, 'I could not, Ada. I should not be here, even now.' He raised his face and Elrond found himself fully looking into his human son's eyes for the first time in over five years. Silver orbs scarred with over six years of trials and tribulations gazed back at him. 'Can you not see it, Ada? I am tainted. I have the blood of other Men on my hands, of other beings. You, Legolas, King Thranduil, the twins, all of you are so pure, so filled with light. I have been tainted by darkness.'
Silence reigned in the Hall of Fire for several endless moments, the two Elven Lords gazing in shocked awe at the young Man before them. At last, Thranduil advised gently, 'Child, we are not as pure as you seem to think us. Your Adar, myself, even the twins and Legolas, we, too, are guilty of such sins as you have named. But that is unimportant; 'tis what choices you make after those acts have been committed which truly determine whether or not you are taken by darkness.'
'And you, my child, shall never be tainted,' Elrond added with a tender smile. 'Touched, yes, but never tainted. And what darkness you face, you shall overcome.'
A smile flitted across Thranduil's face and his eyes became slightly distant as he continued, 'I once told Mithrandir, young one, that you were an angel. A healer. A messenger of the Valar themselves. This I said about you when he asked, 'Who is this Human child that sleeps in an Elf's arms as if in birth?' ' His eyes snapped back into focus as they rested on the Ranger's rather flushed face.
'But I am not . . .' Aragorn protested weakly.
Thranduil slowly shook his head, still smiling. 'You are, child, or seemed that way to me at least. And I think your Adar would agree with me. It has been nigh unto twenty-two years since that first day in Mirkwood, but I have not forgotten what you did for Legolas or what you did for two stubborn Elf Lords. You cannot be tainted by darkness for the simple fact that your heart is too full of light. I say this now, Estel, hannon-le for all that you have done.'
If there is love in your heart and your mind
You will feel like Christmas all the time
'Do you not think he is slightly too old for this, Elrond?' Thranduil inquired with a large smile, failing to keep the warm amusement from his voice.
The Peredhil easily carried his sound asleep, grown human son in his arms as he and the Woodland Elf walked soundlessly down dimly lit halls, alternating between checking on the exhausted Dúnadan and looking ahead down the corridor. He knew he was fussing over his fosterling, but a year of silence does not do wonderful things for a father's heart. Shaking his head, Elrond murmured, 'Nay, he is not. Nor will he ever be.'
'I cannot help but think, mellon-iaur, that he would be mortified to know you did this for him,' Thranduil remarked lightly.
The first real laugh he had heard from Elrond this entire evening issued forth from the Lord of Imladris's lips. 'And you would be correct in most instances. He has almost as much pride as he so often accuses Legolas and the twins of possessing!' He sobered. 'But this time, I do not believe he would have minded overmuch,' he whispered, reflecting on the rather solemn-eyed Ranger who had stumbled into the Hall of Fire earlier this evening.
Thranduil sighed and gave Elrond's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. ' 'Twas nothing you did, mellon-nin, nor was it him. The world has been darkening as of late---you know this. We must trust to Legolas, the twins, and Estel himself now.'
'Aye,' the Noldar Elf agreed quietly.
By this time they had reached Aragorn's room. Without any further words exchanged between them, Thranduil opened the door silently for Elrond, following him in. Both halted in their tracks as soon as they reached the young Human's bed.
Curled up tightly, asleep, on top of it, was . . .
'Legolas?' Thranduil breathed in surprise. He knelt down on the ground at the bed's left side near his son's head while Elrond quietly went about situating Aragorn. Legolas looked rather like a small child, his knees tucked closely to his chest and clutching a pillow with his golden hair strewn about his face. Apparently, Mirkwood's young Crown Prince had not meant to fall asleep here, for he still wore his traveling tunic. Upon closer inspection of his son's otherwise peaceful face, Thranduil noticed something.
Dried tear tracks lined Legolas's cheeks.
Lightly touching the younger Firstborn's hair, the Woodland ruler advised Elrond thickly, 'It seems Legolas missed him far more than either we or Estel knew.'
Elrond came around the bed from where he had lain his human son after kissing him good-night and stood behind Thranduil. 'Such is the nature of their friendship,' the Peredhil agreed quietly.
Thranduil shook his head, standing and brushing his fingers through Legolas's golden blond strands. 'Friendship? Nay. Brotherhood.'
The Peredhil smiled and crossed his arms as the Silvan Elf turned to face him. 'Ah? And you would know this, how?'
Thranduil returned the smile. 'I seem to recall falling asleep on your bed when we were younger any number of times. Both when you were there, and when you were not.'
Imladris's Lord let his features warm and relax as he clasped Thranduil's arm and led them towards the door. The two Elven Lords stopped just before the threshold and looked back at their sleeping sons with great tenderness. They were just in enough time to see Legolas sigh softly, letting go of the pillow, and roll over onto his right side, facing his beloved friend. Quite unconsciously, he touched his fingers to Aragorn's shoulder. The Dúnadan himself---also unconsciously---curled up even closer to the Woodland Elf.
Their fathers smiled. 'They sense each other's presence even in sleep,' Thranduil whispered.
Elrond nodded. After a moment of silence, he at last spoke up, turning to his own best friend, 'Come. Let us leave them to their dreams and in the morning they shall receive a rather unexpected gift.'
I feel you Christmas
I know I've found you
You never fade away
The joy of Christmas
Stays here inside us
Fills each and every heart with love
'. . . And then Elros sneaked up behind me and pushed me in,' Thranduil chuckled merrily. He mock-glared at Elrond. 'Aye, I remember. Come to find out, you knew perfectly well how to swim and I thought you were drowning!'
Elrond laughed, pushing his dark hair out of his face. 'Well, you have to admit, it did work. We did get you into the water and we did teach you how to swim.'
'Only under duress,' Thranduil muttered good-naturedly.
The Peredhil's eyes twinkled. However, before he could retort, a very amused voice spoke up, 'What is this I hear, Ada? You were actually worse than us?'
The two Elven Lords looked up from where they sat together, relaxed, at the breakfast table. Elrond was leaning back in his chair and Thranduil was resting his right elbow on the mahogany surface, his chin placed in his hand. A very much refreshed and at ease Aragorn headed towards them through the main dining hall.
The two Firstborns outright grinned at the Man and the Dúnadan was suddenly struck by how very young they looked---crownless and wearing comfortable tunics, Elrond's a rich crimson and Thranduil's a deep earth, they appeared centuries younger to Aragorn's human eyes.
Then Elrond chuckled and, rolling his eyes playfully at Thranduil, lightly whacked the Silvan Elf upside the head. 'Thanks ever so much,' the Peredhil teased warmly, 'now I do not know how I shall ever discipline them.'
Thranduil laughed and ducked a second playful swat.
'Elbereth!' Aragorn remarked with a huge grin, his silver eyes sparkling with amusement. 'You are worse than we are!'
Elrond rose, chuckling, and bent to kiss his human son's tousled dark head as Aragorn took a seat at the table. 'And good morning to you, too, ion-nin!'
Aragorn reached up quickly and gently grabbed his Elven father in a tight embrace. 'Good morning, Ada,' he murmured.
Elrond's face softened as he tenderly returned the embrace, now serious. 'I am glad you are home, my child,' he whispered.
'Me, too,' Aragorn breathed.
Kissing the Dúnadan's head once more, Elrond released him and headed towards the kitchen just off of this smaller, family dining room. He paused in the entrance and smiled at his best friend and his fosterling. 'I will be out in a few minutes with a little something to eat,' he informed the two at the table. 'And, mellon-nin, do not tell him anymore stories!'
Thranduil laughed again and called after him as he disappeared, 'Just do not try to burn the kitchen down! My guess is that Linan would like it to still be standing when he returns.'
'Thranduil!!' Elrond exclaimed from within. 'That only happened once, and I was barely 1200 years old!'
The Woodland Elf chuckled and turned back to Aragorn. The look on Elrond's foster son's face only made him chuckle harder.
His eyes glinting eagerly, Aragorn pressed, 'What? What?'
Thranduil shook his head, still chuckling, and rested his hand on the Dúnadan's pale blue cloth covered arm. 'Another day, child.' He calmed down and turned serious, as was the tendency of all Elves, his green eyes flickering over Aragorn's face. 'How feel you this morning, Estel?' it was asked gently and with true concern.
Easily going with the shift of topic and mood, Aragorn sobered and answered honestly, 'Much better than I have in a while, my Lord.'
Thranduil nodded, smiling warmly. ' 'Tis well, young one.'
Aragorn blushed slightly, but nonetheless returned the Elvenking's smile. He remembered Thranduil's words from last night and he very much doubted he would forget them. A trifle bashfully, he asked, 'Sir? Am I truly a messenger of the Valar?'
It was a serious question and it deserved a true answer. Thranduil stood from where he had been sitting and, gently grasping the young human's shoulders, leaned down to look straight into his silver eyes. 'I would not have told you if you were not. 'Tis not because you are Arathorn's son, child. 'Tis because it is you, Estel Elrondion; you have not been named 'Estel' in vain. Your Adar and I, we would have never reconciled were it not for you. And Legolas . . . oh, Estel, you have done so much, so very much for him. If you had but seen him when he returned from that place, after what those Men did to him. . . I-I thought I had almost certainly lost him forever, that only a miracle would bring him back.' The Elvenking of Mirkwood gave a thick laugh, leaning forward and gently encompassing Aragorn with his arms. 'I did not ever imagine that miracle would come packaged as an eight-year-old Human child. And miracle you are, Estel; do not let anyone tell you otherwise.'
'B-But I only . . .' the Dúnadan tried to protest, blushing horribly.
Thranduil chuckled, releasing him. 'Now I see why Legolas calls you 'Stubborn Dúnadan.' Child,' he continued warmly, voice still laden with emotion, 'I speak only the truth. If I cannot convince you of it, then mayhap Legolas can.'
Silence a moment, then: 'Majesty . . . how is Legolas?'
A swift, secretive smile was exchanged between Thranduil and Elrond, who had since emerged from the kitchen, above the Ranger's head. As he laid out the light morning meal he had prepared, the Peredhil remarked, ' 'Twould seem, mellon-nin, he has not yet seen his first Yule present.'
Aragorn raised an eyebrow at his Elven father. 'Whatever you say, Ada.'
Elrond laughed and finished setting out the hot tea and warm food. When he reclaimed his place, Aragorn wanted to know, suddenly realizing that, as they were in the small family dining room off the main hall, not a soul walked the corridors and rooms except for them, 'Ada? Where is everyone?'
There were no thrones in this room, no dais. All the chairs were ornately carved, but did not even resemble thrones, and all stood at the same level. A fire crackled merrily in its grate and a warm, thick rug was spread out in front of it. On the mantle were keepsakes and books and across from it two windows looked out over the falls, letting the winter sunshine stream in. This room was reserved exclusively for family and family friends to use, particularly on days like this when not even a servant puttered about. Had Aragorn been looking closer at the table, he would have noticed that there was one chair extra---disincluding Thranduil's.
Elrond nodded to the windows. 'Everyone is asleep, Estel. A few Elflings are tussling in the snow, but most have not risen from their beds, yet. Like your brothers. I do not expect to see them 'til at least noontide,' the Peredhil chuckled.
Aragorn grinned. 'I am glad of that. They would be hounding me with a thousand questions!'
'Drink your tea, Estel,' Elrond ordered, voice mirthful.
'Yes, Ada,' Aragorn responded, still with an impish smile, but nevertheless did as he was bid.
While the Dúnadan was thusly engaged, Thranduil leaned over to his best friend and murmured, 'Knowing Legolas, he should be headed down here right now. Once his subconscious registered Estel's presence missing, I am certain he woke up.'
Elrond shook his head, snickering. 'You have not changed a bit, have you?'
Thranduil rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 'Oh, like you are any better?'
Overhearing the banter between the two Elven Lords, Aragorn snorted lightly into his teacup.
Determined to hear his human son laugh, the Peredhil took on an air of injured dignity. 'For your information, I have need of my . . . natural talent for---'
'Driving your friends insane?' Thranduil chimed in with a mischievous smirk.
'Thran!' Elrond laughed.
And he was not the only one. Aragorn, unable to help himself, nearly choked on his tea, before hurriedly putting the cup down and bursting into warm laughter. He was helpless to stop it, and shook his head slowly back in forth in utter amazement. 'I am sorry,' he gasped between chuckles. 'I am sorry, but seeing the two of you . . . like this, 'tis just. . . so. . . strange.' He kept laughing. 'I cannot believe this!'
Thranduil smiled softly. 'Believe it, child. And 'tis thanks to you that we have found a common ground again.'
Aragorn sobered and shyly ducked his head, cheeks flushed a rosy red.
Elrond also smiled---at his son's bashfulness and at his old friend's words. He was grateful to Thranduil for doing this, remembering all too well his beloved child's words the previous night. He chuckled slightly in spite of it all.
Aragorn may be stubborn, but Thranduil was equally so, if not more.
Correctly guessing his old friend's line of thought, Thranduil lightly pushed the Peredhil, 'Oh, hush, Elrond!'
Aragorn glanced up through wayward dark strands at them, smiling. But a slight sadness shadowed his silver eyes. While he loved watching his father and Thranduil banter back and forth, it also reminded him of how sharply he missed Legolas. He did not know why Thranduil would come and Legolas would not, and, loving his friend as he did, that did not bode well with him.
Consequently, his voice was rather hesitant as he asked, 'I-If you do not mind my asking…King Thranduil. . .why are you here?'
Smiling kindly, noting the worry in the Human's face, even as he heard footsteps outside the room in the main dining hall, the Woodland Elf went to answer him. . .when a joyful cry split the air.
'ESTEL!!'
The two Lords chuckled. 'I do believe your presence was just announced to the whole of Imladris,' Elrond advised his fosterling warmly, even as Aragorn leapt to his feet from his seat and spun around to face the connecting entry to the adjoining dining hall.
He was just in enough time to see a gold and emerald blur rush straight at him. Within the next second he found himself tackled, knocked backwards several feet, and sent sprawling on the thick rug in front of the hearth.
'Sweet Elbereth!' the Dúnadan gasped, clearly not expecting such a greeting this early in the morning. His eyes were shut and only when he was quite certain the room would not upend, did he cautiously open them.
Not that he would be able to see much of anything, as his vision was currently obscured by a sea of gold hair. The Ranger was aware of a smooth cheek---a suspiciously wet, smooth cheek---pressed against his own stubbled one. Whoever it was, they apparently were having difficulty keeping their breathing steady. It sounded ragged to his healer's ears.
And it was. But only with emotion.
With a slight groan, Aragorn slowly sat up, gently closing his arms around the lithe form on top of him. The being shifted so that he was curled up within the Dúnadan's embrace and burrowed his fair head in the crook of the Ranger's neck. He seemed quite happy to stay there.
Recognizing the being's scent as it reached him, that of morning dew and springtime, the Human gave a strangled laugh. Slipping his hands tenderly behind the being's head, Aragorn tilted the Elf's face up and gave a teary smile. 'What is it with you immortals?' he choked. 'I was hardly under the impression that tackling unsuspecting friends was a customary greeting.'
Legolas's smile was wobbly. ' 'Tis customary when a certain insufferable Ranger is late coming home. Especially when that certain insufferable Ranger has not appeared in Mirkwood in over six years!' He sobered, tears still tracking down his cheeks. 'Six years really is too long, Estel.' Bowing his head, the prince murmured, voice barely audible, 'Sometimes I fear when next I see you, I will not recognize you. Humans grow, quel mellon-nin. We do not. Humans die . . .' Here the Silvan Elf's voice cracked. 'We do not.'
'Oh, Legolas . . .' Aragorn breathed, able to suddenly grasp how very terribly the prince had missed him. Being an Elf, to whom six years of human time normally would not mean anything, that spoke volumes.
Where are you Christmas
Fills each and every heart with love
The day had passed in a blurred haze of joy and laughter. True to his father's prediction, Elladan and Elrohir had not emerged from their bedroom 'til noontide. In much the same way as Legolas had greeted him, so, too, did his brothers greet him. Not that he minded overmuch. He was far too happy to care.
Aragorn had not stopped smiling all day. His face hurt from smiling so much, and still he did not stop. Currently the Ranger was laying in his bed, smiling insanely at nothing, his heart far lighter than it had been in recent years.
It was about time he had returned home.
Just as he was about to roll over and prepare to fall asleep, a soft knock sounded on his door and Legolas peeked into his room. 'Estel?' came the prince's whispered inquiry.
Aragorn sat up and smiled broadly at his best friend. 'Legolas, 'tis alright. You can come in.'
The Woodland archer did so, quietly closing the door behind him, and lightly made his way over to the Dúnadan's bed. Noticing that the prince carried one of his white knives, Aragorn raised an eyebrow. 'Why do you carry a knife in Imladris, mellon-nin?' he asked curiously, voice quiet, then smirked. 'I am not that dangerous.'
Legolas chuckled warmly. 'Not right now, no. I cannot speak for you in the morning, however.'
The young man growled at him good-naturedly.
The Silvan Elf merely laughed.
Aragorn gave an exaggerated sigh. 'Do you mean to simply torment me all night?'
Legolas grinned, though it softened considerably as he grew serious. 'Nay, not tonight, quel mellon-nin. I have a gift I wish to give you.'
The Dúnadan tilted his head to the side, intrigued. 'But Legolas, gift giving is traditionally not 'til the last day of Yule.'
'Who ever said I was traditional?' the Crown Prince retorted amiably. That moment of levity vanished as he shyly ducked his head, tucking a stray piece of blond hair behind a pointed ear.
Aragorn lightly brushed his fingers along the lithe archer's chin, redirecting the Elf's gaze back to his. 'Legolas?' he murmured, slightly worried by the prince's unusual display of bashfulness---in his presence anyway.
The Woodland Elf sighed, lifting emotion-filled midnight orbs to Aragorn's own silver ones. 'My Adar told me what happened last night, Estel. Do you truly think so little of yourself that you will not visit me in Mirkwood simply because you believe yourself to be tainted?'
The Ranger started slightly. This was not what he had been expecting. 'I-I know not,' he stammered.
He was shocked when a few stray tears made their way down Legolas's cheeks. The prince shook his head violently, flinging tears to either side. 'Estel!' he exclaimed fiercely.
Aragorn flinched at the pain he heard in his beloved friend's voice.
Legolas did not notice. 'Do you truly believe your friendship to be so sullied? Your heart to be so corrupt? You will never be tainted by darkness!' This stated venomously and with absolute confidence. 'Your heart is made of pure gold, mellon-nin! Pure gold! Why can you not see that?! Why can you not see that when I can?! Me, Estel, the one who was treated so ill by Men! I never thought I would befriend a Man, never believed they were anything more than cruel cowards! Then you came along,' the tears were coming fast now, fast and hot, 'you, who were little more than a babe. A Man's child. You took that belief…and tore it to pieces in the span of five minutes! Five minutes, Estel! And that has not changed, it will never change! It cannot change because your heart is simply too pure! Do you understand?!'
With that, he took the white knife and slit his right palm, his gaze never once wavering. Then he did the same to Aragorn's, deftly slicing the Dúnadan's palm---ignoring the man's wince---before crushing their hands together so mortal and immortal blood could mix, and intertwining their fingers. Keeping their eyes locked, he demanded, 'Do you understand, Estel?!'
And looking at the slight archer, at this amazing creature with defiant eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, Aragorn did understand, abruptly and more clearly than any words could ever say. To be so loved by a being as fair and chaste as Legolas, that the Elf be willing to bind himself in such a way…this was one mark that would never fade. Tearing his eyes away from their joined hands, the Ranger swallowed---hard---and nodded. 'Oh, Valar---Legolas…' he choked.
The Elf's temper quickly cooled and he smiled sadly, 'Please, Estel. I love you. Now you understand. Please, please do not think any differently.'
Then he released Aragorn's hand and produced two strips of linen to bandage their hands until the blood flow was staunched. Once the prince had wrapped his hand and done his own, the Dúnadan reached up and enveloped the Silvan Elf in a tight hug.
'Hannon-le,' he whispered.
Legolas, startled, looked at him with bright eyes and nodded.
Some time later, Thranduil and Elrond slipped into the Dúnadan's room to check on their two youngest sons.
'Familiar, do you not think? This scene…' Thranduil remarked softly, smiling warmly, gesturing to the two friends asleep on the bed.
Before them lay Legolas and Aragorn, the thirty-year-old human held quite securely in the Silvan Elf's arms. They lay there, mortal and immortal, Edan and Firstborn, dark brown intermixed with golden blond, curled together, both asleep and blissfully unaware of the world around them.
'Aye, indeed,' Elrond agreed with a tender smile. 'As if just from the womb.'
And Thranduil merely nodded.
Fills each and every heart with love
I Veth (The End)!
A/N: There! Finished! I hope you enjoyed it. The cutting of their palms is indeed used by Cassia and Siobhan in their Mellon Chronicles Series, but I have had this fic on my computer for almost a year and did not take that idea from them (although I can't say I wasn't inspired). Theirs is a wonderful series, and anyone who has not yet read it, go and do so now! At any rate, please R&R!
Elvish translations:
Ada (Papa)
Estel (Hope; one of Aragorn's many names, given to him by Elrond)
Ion-nin (My son)
Hithaeglir (Misty Mountains)
Imladris (Rivendell)
Hannon-le (Thank you)
Mae govaennen (Well met)
Peredhil (Half-Elven)
Mellon-iaur (Old friend)
Adar (Father)
Mellon-nin (My friend)
Estel Elrondion (Estel, son of Elrond)
Quel mellon-nin (My dear friend)
Edan (Man)