Title: Kindled Flame
Author: Keithan
Disclaimers: Lord of the Rings and its characters belongs to their respective owners.
Rating: PG
Series: 3/7
Warnings: None other than implied love between same gender. mild/implied slash ; legolas/(estel)aragorn; (estel)aragorn/legolas
Summary: Having no tale to tell of its story would not mean that the light from the love of hope and its green leaves did not exist. But of the time when Hope was young, unburdened still of the cares and troubles of the world, only this tale was told.
Notes: Aragorn and Legolas, a sort of backstory. When it was said in the appendices that Elrond receives Aragorn as a foster-son, I take that to mean exactly that.
This takes place in Imladris and all dialogues may be assumed to have been spoken in Elvish.

Kindled Flame
part 3

Young Estel, on the other hand, found it hard at first to adjust to his life without the fair prince.

He no longer would be able to burst into Legolas' room early in the morning even as the Prince was still getting ready for the day. Once, he did, only a day after the Elf's departure, only to find it glaringly empty and it had hit him hard that his mentor and friend was no longer with him. After more than a year of getting used to his presence, instruction and friendship, Estel then had none other like him.

Estel stared at the empty room, at the made bed and the cleared closet.

He stood, unable to move for what seemed like the longest time.

Legolas was no longer in Imladris. By this time, he was well on his way back to his homeland.

He suddenly felt alone. He felt as though a hole was carved out of him with the prince's leaving. Feeling the heavy weight of solitude, he sighed heavily, closed the door to Legolas' chambers and headed to the one place or rather to one person whom he knew he could find peace, anytime.

He knocked on the door hesitantly, wondering if the occupant of the room was already awake. It was still a quarter before sunrise, a time in which he had usually spent having an early morning ride with Legolas and sometimes the twins.

The door opened, and the woman, for she was no Elf, standing in the doorway smiled upon seeing him. Moving aside, she let Estel walked in, instantly feeling his downcast mood.

"What brings you here so early, young one?" The woman asked gently as she walked over to the bed, where Estel had seated himself.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, mother. I..." Estel said, feeling suddenly stupid for disturbing his mother so early with no real reason. Then seemingly losing his ages to be a child once more, he continued softly. "I just needed someone to talk to."

As his mother, Gilraen knew exactly what was wrong. Even before his son had spoken up, she knew what it was that bothered him. Smiling, she said, tone soft and gentle, "But Prince Legolas isn't here right now, is he?"

Estel looked away. Knowing how his mother knew him so well, denying it would be useless.

"Aye, mother. He is not here."

Gilraen never did speak much when her son would come to her as thus, burdened or troubled. She let him speak instead. "Lords Elladan and Elrohir are here, my son," she simply said. Her words were carefully planned to get him to open up more.

"They are different, nana. They are my brothers. Legolas is different. He understands me without me saying anything and is always there," he said, then frowned. His family was capable of that as well, so he found his reasoning flawed. "No, I'm not saying the Els, or even ada, do not understand me, they do, sometimes they don't, but mostly they do.. but... it's different with him. Just different."

Afraid he wasn't making much sense, he turned to his mother, "Do you understand what I'm saying, nana? Because I'm not sure if I do."

Gilraen allowed herself to laugh softly. The sound effectively brought a smile to Estel's lips. She sat beside him on the bed and opened her arms to the young boy.

With no hesitations, Estel crawled into the cocoon of his mother's arms, feeling the weight in his troubled mind and heart lift.

Although already at the age of fifteen, still quite young for someone in which the Númenorean blood runs strong, Estel's youth and the child in him would always be present in Imladris, surrounded as he was with thousand year old Elves. And always would it show in front of his mother.

"He's different, nana," He whispered. "He's different."

"Hush now, little one. I know," she said, placing a kiss on the crown of his head, her eyes distant and thoughtful. "I know."

If she had known the extent of which the Elf Prince was different, no one knew for certain. But Gilraen was a woman foresighted, for she, daughter of Dírhael and wife to Arathorn, descended from long lines of Númenoreans, Men of the West. And upon them, gifts were bestowed by the Valar, longer life span not the least of them. Because of that and with the heart of a mother, it was possible that she could have sensed in her son what it was that fate had for both him and Legolas.

If she indeed had known, she spoke to no one of such knowledge, but sometimes, her eyes shone with understanding and wisdom, and even sadness, that confused even her own son.

So it was that the months passed, the leaves had fallen in autumn, a blanket of white covered the outside land in winter, and flowers again bloomed in spring.

Although the passage of time was nothing to the Elves, it was more than enough for a mortal, especially one at the peak of his growth, to mature.

Estel, nearing his seven and ten years of existence, had been widely traveled in the lands of the north. He had done great deeds for one so young in the company of the sons of Elrond and was adept in the use of the blade and, although not his first choice of weapon, the bow as well.

Estel's hand found his bow as he was arranging his things so that he could rest for the night. He was out camping, with his twin brothers, and it was not yet his turn to take watch.

Elladan and Elrohir were sitting across their small camp from Estel. The older twin elbowed the younger before nodding to their human brother. The fire was between them and Estel, but they could clearly see that their foster-brother had stilled his movements and was looking contemplatively at the bow in the ground. Each knowing what it was in Estel's mind, they exchanged meaningful looks.

The human, still deep in thought, lifted the weapon, almost reverently, to his lap, his eyes not once leaving it. He ran his hands through the surface of the wood, feeling the smoothness and sometimes the carved inscriptions and designs in it.

He remembered how Legolas treated his bow as though it was a vital part of himself, an extension of his arm. At many times, he tried to feel that connection, not only with the bow but with his blade as well. He tried to use his mind and heart, and not merely his body, to wield the weapon, as Legolas had told him.

It came as no surprise that he remembered the Mirkwood prince every time he handled his bow. Some memory came more fleetingly than the others, while some lingered more.

Elrohir cleared his throat, twice, finally getting their younger brother's attention.

Estel looked at them, and when he saw their knowing yet questioning looks, he flushed slightly. He silently thanked the fire and the darkness of the night for it would fully hide his embarrassment from his brothers.

"I was just... remembering," Estel said by way of explanation, gaze dropping to the bow he held.

Smiling understandingly and knowingly, the twins nodded. "We know."

They were silent for a while. The Elves left their mortal brother to his thoughts as they watched when Estel returned to inspecting the bow.

But Estel wasn't seeing the bow as it was in that time. He was seeing it as it was presented to him by Legolas.

Legolas said that the bow was a weapon that was not meant to kill and end life but to save and preserve life, as all other weapons should be. He had taken that lesson to heart, using his weapons to protect any that was in his power to protect, more mindful of the fact that with every release of an arrow, a life could be saved, rather than the other way around.

Elrohir watched his younger brother's face, and a thought occurred to him, bringing a smile to his lips. Not long after, a soft laugh escaped his lips and he finally gave in and laughed suddenly, catching both of his companions' attention. "You miss him," he said teasingly.

There was no need to specify who him was.

"Of course I do," Estel immediately answered, not thinking and not even noticing his brother's playful tone, effectively falling for Elrohir's bait. But when he looked up at Elrohir, he saw the mischievous gleam in his eyes, which was then reflected in Elladan's, who, by then, caught up on what his twin brother was trying to imply.

He narrowed his eyes warningly, guessing what it was in his brothers' minds.

Elladan and Elrohir burst out laughing. Not a second later, a blanket was hurled at their faces, effectively muffling their laughter.

Estel snorted.

"Fools."

The twin sons of the Lord Elrond could not have known the truth behind their teasing neither could Estel have known himself. For blinded they were still of the possibilities and the slow changing and maturing of feelings and emotions, of constant thoughts and memories that unconsciously surfaced in innocent and unsuspecting minds.

Elladan and Elrohir Halfelven only knew of what was and seldom do they think of what could be. For what was, was a friendship so true, what could be, however, was a realm of thousand possibilities. And what reason did they have to dwell on such things and think that the friendship of their friend and brother could suddenly take an unexpected turn?

On the eastern side of the Imladris, Mirkwood had been quiet for the time that its prince had returned from his last travel. Dol Guldur had given the Silvan Elves and their Sindarin royals no trouble for the past year. Ever since it had been thrown down by the attack of the White Council almost seven years ago, Mirkwood had been in a watchful and guarded peace.

And because of this, its prince had been meaning to ask leave from his king and father, for he perceived that he would not be urgently needed for a time.

"Father? May I have a word with you?" Legolas asked as he was allowed entrance in his father's study.

Thranduil looked up from the documents he was perusing. "Is something wrong, Legolas?" he asked, frowning, setting aside the papers in his desk.

"No, no. There's nothing wrong, father," Legolas smiled reassuringly. "It's just that..." he trailed off, having doubts if he chose the right time.

Thranduil smiled at Legolas then. "What is it my son?" he asked again, knowing that Legolas would feel more comfortable if formality was fully set aside as it should, since Legolas made it clear that it was no matter of the kingdom.

Legolas sighed. "Well, I've been wanting to ask your permission, ada," Legolas said, smiling hesitantly.

"Permission for what?"

"That I may travel abroad for a short while."

Thranduil raised a brow at this. Legolas merely smiled wider, expecting such from his father. "You just visited Imladris more than a year ago. You want to travel so soon again?"

Legolas shrugged, heading to sit at one of the chair in front of his father's desk. "Well, yes. Actually, I do plan to visit it again."

Thranduil seemed surprised.

Of course, for Elves, years were but fleeting moments, they were insignificant and were but little time. So to hear that his son wanted to visit a place he just visited again, was like a human wanting to visit a place he had just returned home from a month or even weeks ago. One year was but an instant.

Looking at his son, Thranduil saw that he was determined to get a yes out of him. He sighed, smiling. "I can see you would only accept a yes as an answer."

The younger Elf now smiled openly. "You know me well, ada."

"First, tell me why I could afford to say yes."

Legolas looked around. Finding a long roll of parchment at the end of his father's desk, he stood up and reached for it. Carefully setting aside the documents on the desk, he unrolled the it to reveal the map of Mirkwood.

Thranduil tried to hide his amusement as he looked at Legolas who stood in front of his desk, both palms flat on the surface, face looking solemn, and eyes glued on the map. He looked every bit of the captain, leader and prince that he was. At other times, Thranduil would have been proud at such aura of authority, but at the moment, he couldn't help but see the troublesome-elfling-turned-respectable-prince that was his son.

"If you would look here, my lord," Legolas started, his demeanor changing to a formal one. He indicated the western border of Mirkwood. "We need not fear any assault on these borders and if, in any case, there are…" And he launched into a detailed explanation of the stability of the safety of Mirkwood for a time and the state of the kingdom if ever attacks would be made.

Thranduil listened intently, pushing the thoughts of father and son to the back of his mind, and bringing up the king and captain, as he realized that Legolas was not doing this to convince him but to report to him the status of the kingdom. He occasionally asked questions and they were answered more than enough for him.

Legolas focused on one border at a time, then to the contingent of soldiers assigned and the captain leading each of them. His hand was waving over the map as he pointed in specific areas and locations that were concerned. He stated the strengths of each defense, acknowledged its weaknesses, if there were any, and brought up suggestions to remedy such weaknesses. He even discussed the possibility of an offense if it would be needed.

When he finished, Thranduil almost forgot the reason for the untimely report until Legolas said, "There you go, father. So unless there would be a sudden unforeseen incident, you could afford to say yes."

Thranduil laughed. He could not explain how his son could easily slip roles in just a few moments. He just shook his head. "You would give me a reason first, young one. If I know you half as well as I should, I'd say you've already packed. And I wouldn't want to wait for your return to learn of such eagerness to leave once more."

The King of Mirkwood only shook his head, sighing, and wasn't surprised when his son laughed one of his dignified and held-back laughter and said, "As I said, you know me well, ada, almost too well."

So it came to passing that the Prince of Mirkwood left only upon the condition that he would immediately return when summoned. But he left with a light heart, knowing he would soon be heading to Imladris. And with this, his heart sang for he missed the young child that he had grown fond of and learned to love.

At this point, he, too, was still blissfully ignorant of what was about to happen, of the changes, if any, that was slowly taking place. He was unaware of the turn and drastic change that would occur in Imladris on his coming visit.

And by that time, all things concealed under the thick mantle of ignorance would soon be revealed in knowledge's light.

As had been said before, they had not seen it coming, not the Lord of the House, nor either of his twin sons, when they welcomed the Prince of Mirkwood in their dwelling for a second time in less than half a decade.

But the wheels of fate had already started turning a little more than two years ago when they first met.

And there was no stopping it.

The Sindarin Elf halted his steed before the steps of the House of Elrond. Dismounting his horse in one fluid motion, he smiled at Erestor, who greeted him, and another Elf who came to lead his horse to the stables to be cared for. He then turned his admiring eyes to the glory of Rivendell.

"Forever would I be in awe each time I behold your fair valley, my lord," said he while adjusting his quiver on his back. "It takes my breath away."

"Ah, as the sight of you does."

Legolas' head whipped immediately towards the voice. "El!" He greeted before running up the stairs two at a time to Elrond's son and enveloping him in a hug. Not knowing who exactly the twin was, and not wanting to take the time to determine it as he usually could, Legolas settled for the safe first syllable.

The dark haired elf laughed as he patted the seemingly enthusiastic prince on the back. "Elrohir would be the right name," he chuckled. "I would say it has been a while, as is the usual greeting after such warm embrace," Elrohir said, laughing as he parted from Legolas. Looking at the prince and holding him an arm's length away, he continued, "But I could not, since it has not been a while. It's only been a year or so at the least."

Erestor laughed as he joined them. "I'm afraid someone is seeing time the mortal way."

Legolas laughed. "You can not fault me for it. Your Imladris is a sight always welcome to me and I would see it as often as I could." Somehow, he could not really say that one major reason was because Estel was mortal and Legolas would see him as much as he could in the adan's days of youth where his innocence and unburdened heart werestill a commanding presence in him. He knew that they were something that he wouldn't be able to see often once Estel was fully exposed to the world.

He would be around seventeen to eighteen winters now, Legolas surmised. Nearly a fully grown man. He was saddened to think that this charge – young friend, he reminded himself for he was no longer his pupil any more – had already changed much in the span of time he had been gone.

"That it is, and I'm proud to call this my home," Elrohir said, bringing Legolas out of his reverie.

"Now, time would be given later for idle talks. Elrohir, escort the Prince to his chambers that he may rest. I'll have your packs brought to your rooms." Erestor said the last to Legolas before taking his leave.

"So now that I am your gracious host, I will now lead you to your chambers," The younger twin said smiling, taking Legolas by the arm.

"But am I not to meet first with the lord of the house?" Legolas asked. Of course it was only proper for him, a guest, to greet the lord first since Elrond was absent upon his arrival.

"No. You need not," Elrohir said, smiling, slinging an arm carelessly around Legolas' shoulders. "We could forgo with the formalities with you. You would greet him when you have already rested. He has already been informed of your arrival and he ordered thus. "

Legolas smiled in return. He had been meaning to ask the Noldo Elf of where Estel was but he simply could not say the words directly, not wanting to sound too impolite by being impatient. Instead he asked, "I'm surprised, Elrohir, that you are not with Elladan. Where is he? Where are those brothers of yours?"

Elrohir laughed. He looked at Legolas saying, "Surely you don't expect us to be together every second of our immortal lives!" he guided the prince to another corridor that led outside. "Unlike me, they were not informed of your arrival. I, myself, was only informed just this morning."

Legolas frowned. "Did your father not get my letter?"

"Oh, I just learned he did. He just purposely neglected to tell us of it," he said, laughing. "Probably thought it would be a pleasant surprise."

Legolas shook his head, smiling at Elrond's thoughtfulness.

"So come now," Elrohir said as he pulled Legolas to another turn. "You'll meet them. I left Estel and Elladan busy. I do hope they are still both alive."

Legolas' heart beat faster, not really understanding what Elrohir had said. He would soon meet Estel again, this time, not anymore the fourteen or fifteen year old boy he had first laid eyes on, but a seventeen-year-old young adult. He wondered briefly if he had improved in the bow, and especially the sword, since he was a very promising swordsman. Then in a moment of self-doubt, he wondered if the human would even remember him.

"Come, tell me. How has Estel been?" Legolas finally asked.

Smiling to himself, Elrohir shrugged. "I was waiting for you to ask that. That student of yours seems to have grown well, but a bit too mischievous for his own good," he paused, smile fading somewhat. "He had grown too much in fact. Like a sapling growing into a tree in just a few weeks' time. I keep forgetting how it is for Men. Time goes faster for them," he said, face growing downcast as his voice lowered into a softer tone.

Ai, Estel is of the race of the Edain, Legolas thought. Elves spend years and years caring for babes and children, not having them grow so fast. To suddenly be reminded that Estel was unlike them brought him the same melancholy feeling that Elrohir was probably feeling.

Elrond's son shook his head, smiling again almost instantly. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. But as I was saying, young Estel has not forgotten what you have taught him during your last stay here, though I cannot fathom why he always forgets what I, his own brother, tell him!" Elrohir laughed at this. He held Legolas' elbow and directed him to turn in a corner. "Although, with all the skills that he possesses that you helped to hone, I couldn't imagine why he mostly got your stubbornness and hard-headedness."

Legolas couldn't help but laugh. "Well those skills would greatly be of help to him someday, I'm telling you," he said, noticing they were going out into the practice field, if he remembered correctly.

Estel and Elladan were crossing blades when Legolas arrived. Neither was winning, and it seemed to be an even match, but Elladan still had the upper hand. The young human still had much to learn.

Estel parried a blow from Elladan. Twisting his body side wards, he brought his sword quickly in an arc, bringing it supposedly behind Elladan's exposed neck. But he was surprised when it met with the metal of Elladan's sword. And the fight picked up pace once again, Estel going on the defensive.

"Give up, Estel!" Elladan shouted, trying to dislodge his brother's sword.

"Never in your life, Elladan!" Estel answered, bringing his sword to meet Elladan's strike and trying to avoid any slip of his hand.

The Elf laughed. "That is a long time, young one!"

So caught up were they that neither noticed the time they acquired an audience as Elrohir led Legolas out in the practice field, both keeping to the far side as the two continued obliviously.

The fight continued on, metal against metal as every blow and strike was countered hurriedly, if not efficiently.

"My, twin brother! Is Estel defeating you now?" Elrohir called out.

Elladan chanced a brief glance and was taken completely by surprise upon seeing the Mirkwood prince there.

In such fight, even less than a second of inattention was more than enough. Estel had quickly taken advantage upon seeing Elladan's surprise, not yet concerned of its cause. Penetrating the Elf's defenses, he swung his sword only to stop it mere inches from Elladan's neck.

The dark-haired Elf blinked, surprised, then exclaimed, "Hey!"

"You were distracted, brother." Estel smiled. "I took advantage."

"Why, you..."

Of course, Estel was fully expecting his name – or some insulting version of his name – after such statement from Elladan. He was completely taken aback, however, to suddenly hear another's, a foreign but not an unfamiliar one.

"…Legolas! You caused me my defeat!" Elladan shouted to the Mirkwood prince, standing beside his twin, before making his way to meet them.

Estel froze, sword still in mid-air where Elladan was supposed to be. Legolas? He is here? Estel was now clearly aware of his heart pounding in his chest because of the sword routine with his brother, or if it was because of his sudden nervousness, he couldn't really say. It can't be.

When the distinct melodious laugh reached his ears, all doubts dissolved in his mind.

"I did nothing of the sort, Elladan! You merely need more practice, I should say," came the laughing reply.

Bringing his sword down, Estel slowly turned to greet the new comers, not knowing what to expect.

Turning around, his eyes instantly met Legolas'.

They stood for a moment not saying anything; the voices of the twins were far from their minds.

Estel had a hard time believing it and the surprise was clearly written on his face. Nevertheless, he managed not to sound surprised when he spoke. "Legolas," he said. The softly spoken name served as the only greeting that he uttered, nodding once in acknowledgement.

Legolas inclined his head slightly in response and said in his calm, soft tone, "Estel."

And so it happened the moment their eyes met, things had changed, probably even long before.

Estel was no longer the boy, the pupil, the child that Legolas had tasked himself to protect and teach. And Legolas was no longer the mentor, the teacher, the instructor that Estel had been looking up to.

t b c . . .
beta'd by: Dara

Author's Notes:

If you noticed, haha, yes, I gave up in giving a chapter title, since this was written as one whole fic (supposedly a one-shot even) and not as chaptered parts, I found it hard to give an appropriate title for each, so I left it at that. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience and the long wait. But, here, I've posted the next part as well. Go on ahead, and proceed to the next chapter. Feedbacks would be most welcome. Thank you!