A/N: Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I'll be at my parents' house (with their horrible, horrible internet connection that is not condusive to uploading chapters) I've decided to update a day early. Next week I'll be back on schedule, but in the meantime Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it.
In another time, in another life, Winter Solstice had been Aragorn's favorite holiday. As a child he'd found the celebration to be absolutely wonderful and exciting. It had been the one night of the year that he'd been allowed to stay up until he literally fell asleep during the festivities. And those festivities had not been easy to nod off during either – there had always been a large feast in the House of Elrond on that night, after which all the members of the household would come together in one of the gathering chambers to listen to poetry and sing songs. There would always be a fireplace with a roaring fire in one of the prominent walls too, and it would be beside that where Elrond would give his sons their presents every year. Back when Aragorn was still Estel and no one looked to him to reunite the world of Men or cared who he would marry there had been no better time of the year than Winter Solstice.
Like so many other aspects of his life the joy of Winter Solstice had faded away almost as soon as the Man learned that his true name was Aragorn and that there was a great deal of heritage and responsibility that came along with being who he was. After that he'd rarely gotten the chance to celebrate the holiday during his years of traveling, as a ranger had little time or reason to celebrate anything. The ensuing decades had turned that once-happy day into one of the most melancholy times of his years.
During the more merciful years Solstice had just slipped by unnoticed. But those were few and far between, and most of the time he'd found himself in some unfamiliar settlement for the holiday. It had hurt when most of the people either ignored or openly scorned him, but that was nothing compared to how it felt to watch everyone else enjoying the festivities and knowing that there was no celebration that he belonged at anymore. Oh, once or twice he'd managed to get back to Rivendell in time but being there had only depressed him further; for he hadn't been little Estel Elrondion anymore but Aragorn son of Arathorn, a ranger and a Man. No one had been rude or anything but there had been no way that anyone could have missed the shift in the elves' attitudes, how they'd started to look at him with more expectations and fumbled around for something to talk with him about. As a result what had once been his favorite holiday became the day that Aragorn had felt his loneliness most keenly.
Now once again things had changed; he still wasn't Estel Elrondion but he wasn't the homeless, wandering ranger Aragorn anymore either. He was King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor and in this new role he couldn't try to ignore the holiday anymore. It was now not only acceptable but it was also expected of him to decorate the whole citadel for the season, to order the grandest holiday feast that he could imagine, to host a celebration full of poetry, music, and anything else he desired. Aragorn had surrounded himself with all the trappings of the season this year, as he did every other year since he became the king, but like in all those other years he still felt like the loneliest person in the world.
The irony was that he certainly wasn't alone: he had a wife, a four-year-old son, a three-year-old daughter, a seven-month-old baby girl, and even Elladan and Elrohir. The twins had arrived for Silmariën's birthday celebration in the early days of the cold season and were staying through at least Eldarion's birthday in the summer. Aragorn had spent almost every moment of his waking hours around one, several, or all of the members of his family, but all that turned out to be was serve as a reminder that a person could be alone even when he was in a room full of people.
He wasn't lonely around his children, of course. Aragorn thanked the Valar for the three of them more than ever, for the wonder of the season had been temporarily restored whenever he was around them. Oh, how happy Eldarion and Silmariën looked when they saw all the decorations, and how adorable it was when baby Miriel stared at the fire crackling in the fireplace with unfettered fascination. It was so gratifying to be the father now and have his beloved children gathered around his grand fireplace to open presents. Eldarion had immediately started playing with his menagerie of new carved animals (although he mainly had them trying to eat his little sisters). Silmariën had gushed over and over again about how wonderful her new baby doll was. Baby Miriel apparently couldn't be bothered to look away from the crackling and light of the fire for too long but he could tell that she loved her new stuffed rabbit by the way that she'd drooled on its floppy ears.
However all too soon the hour had grown too late and the children had drifted off. Arwen and the twins helped Aragorn to carry them off to their bedchambers before Elrohir suggested that the four of them gather together in one of the private dens in the royal quarters. Aragorn could think of no way that he could politely refuse and found himself trapped with both the painful reminders of the past and the embittering evidence of how much he despised the present.
Although it didn't bother him at all on any other day of the year Aragorn found that on Solstice it broke his heart a little each time whenever one of the twins called him 'Estel'. Would that he could be as happy as he was when he was that child of old! That feeling intensified even more when they started reminiscing about the Solstices of his childhood. 'Do you remember when you attempted to sing the Lay of Luthien when you were eight, Estel? Do you remember the year that you fell asleep on top of all the discarded wrapping paper, Estel?' Where they not as pained as he was about remembering that happy time that could never be replicated?
If that wasn't bad enough he also had to endure Arwen. He couldn't stand how she laughed at their stories and the way that she smiled fondly at him whenever her brothers brought up an embarrassing memory for Aragorn. What gave her the right to do that? She hadn't been a part of those Solstice celebrations; she'd spent all the years of his childhood hiding away from the world in Lothlorien. In fact, she'd never been a part of his life that he remembered happily and he hated having to pretend that it didn't bother him that she was acting as if she had been.
When he could take no more without exploding Aragorn excused himself from their company, telling them jokingly that he was giving them a time to talk behind his back. Then, after maintaining his kingly composure until he had walked outside and beyond the guards that were standing watch over the White Tree, he ran as fast as he could to the farthest-out point of the courtyard's cliffside. He wasn't exactly sure what he was running from but as soon as he looked out over the wall into the surrounding land he knew that he wasn't any more "home" for Solstice here than he had been anywhere else when he was a ranger. Something was missing.
It was a chilly evening but no snow was falling or covering the ground. Aragorn knew that there wouldn't be any until later on in the winter and even so it would only fall mildly – Gondor was too close to the Bay of Belfalas and too far south to get any real snowfall. It seemed almost sacrilegious to Aragorn for there not to be any snow at Solstice – in Rivendell it had always started falling a good month before the holiday. Even as a ranger he'd traveled mainly in regions where snowfall was abundant, even though then it had been more of a nuisance and potential threat than a blessing.
Aragorn took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He wondered if Legolas was somewhere where it was snowing. He could just imagine his love walking around on top of it, white snowflakes falling to the ground all around him…
"There's not much to see in the dark," noted a voice coming unexpectedly from behind him.
"Elladan," said Aragorn, not turning around. "What brings you out here? You're supposed to be inside, sharing humiliating stories about me with Elrohir and your sister."
"Your wife was concerned that you'd gone outside without your coat so she asked me to find you and bundle you up," explained Elladan, coming forward and draping the garment on the Man's shoulders. He then walked around to stand and Aragorn's side, staring unblinkingly at him. "What brings you out here?"
His tone sounded almost accusatory. "I'm just thinking," replied Aragorn ponderously. "Wondering, really."
"What about?" demanded Elladan. He looked out over the edge and frowned before turning back to the Man. "Arwen told me and Elrohir that every time you have an announcement you stand out here and let the wind carry off a copy of it for Legolas. Is that who you're thinking about? Him?"
"Yes," Aragorn told him quietly. "It's been over five-and-a-half years since anyone's seen or heard from him. I can't help but wonder where he is and why he isn't here. Why is it that he can't get in touch with the people – the people who care about him?"
Elladan squared his jaw. "I don't know," he said stiffly. He'd meant to leave it at that and not complicate the matter further, but the heaviness of the silence and the wistful look on his foster brother's face made him speak again before he could stop himself. "I know, Estel."
"You know what?" murmured Aragorn.
"I know that you and Legolas were," Elladan grimaced, "were romantically involved when you were in Mirkwood that summer before you met Arwen and..and became intimate during the War."
"We apparently did a poor job at hiding it," commented Aragorn, lacking the energy and inclination to deny it. "How did you figure it out?"
"What do you mean, a poor job at hiding it?" countered Elladan. He didn't like the idea of Estel's indiscretion being a matter of public knowledge. How humiliating that would be for Arwen! "Who else knows?"
"Gimli," answered Aragorn with a tired sigh. "He came here soon after Miriel was born to inform me that he knew all about our relationship before proceeding to blame me for Legolas vanishing. I haven't heard from him since; he sends the children messages and they got Solstice presents form him but I guess he doesn't consider me to be his friend anymore. I deserve to be scorned by him, and everyone else too, after what I did to Legolas."
"To Legolas?" repeated Elladan with a sharp intake of breath that made him sound too much like his father. "What about Arwen? You betrayed her, Estel – you both did. I expected more from you; and Legolas" –
His voice cut off when Aragorn suddenly grabbed his arm hard. "Don't," warned the Man. "Not another word or I swear I'll do something extremely unpleasant. I didn't know that Arwen existed when he and I first fell in love, so we were betraying no one. As for what happened during the War, you should remember that I sent Arwen away. Legolas knew that she was supposed to be gone; yet he still didn't act upon his feelings until after I came back from supposedly being dead and professed my love for him. And when he found out that she was still here he gave me up for her sake. He bears no blame for our relationship, if any blame is required."
"You still love him and you're not sorry for it in the least," observed Elladan tersely. "I expected" –
"I am so sick of what people expect from me!" exploded Aragorn. "My so-called family lied to me all my life and then laid the burden of saving Mankind on my shoulders as if it was nothing! You, Elrohir, Ada, Arwen, Gandalf, everyone – you all looked at me like I owed you something and there was never any way that I could live up to your expectations and still be myself. Only one person has ever made me feel as if I was good enough just as I was – guess who that was."
Shame crept into Elladan's expression. "Estel" –
"I don't want to talk about it or anything else right now," interrupted Aragorn coldly. "For once just leave me in peace to enjoy the happy memories that I have. We can call that your Solstice gift to me."
Knowing that he could say nothing to mend the situation Elladan began to walk away slowly. "I'm sorry, Estel," he said in a subdued voice over his shoulder. "I truly am. Happy Solstice."
"Yeah," muttered Aragorn in a melancholy tone, not turning to face him. Tears pricked the Man's eyes as the irony of his words almost choked him. "Happy Solstice."
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
His ada might be calling it "Solstice" and his papa and the rest of the people of Rohan might be calling it "Yule" but for Caladel it didn't matter what its name was – no matter what he was still having one of the best days of his life (so far) on that day of celebration. First of all, he hadn't had to go to his tutoring lessons that day; while he enjoyed learning and spending time with his friends and everything it was nice to have a little break from that. Then he had found out at breakfast that both of his fathers were taking the day off from their other duties so that the three of them could spend time together as a family. They'd spent the day riding, greeting messengers from the Glittering Caves and Eryn Lasgalan, and decorating the tiny saplings that had sprouted up in the buckets from the seeds that his grandfather had given him (his papa had mentioned something about cutting down a tree to decorate but both he and his ada had disliked the idea of felling a live tree). On top of all of that, after a day of fun there was a gigantic party going on now in the evening, one that he was going to be allowed to stay up late to attend.
The most exciting and wonderful part of it all in Caladel's mind, however, was happening a few rooms away from the loud festivities. He, Legolas, and Eomer were sitting together around a warm fireplace (burning something that his papa called a "Yule log"), taking the time to open presents in private before joining everyone else at the party. The boy eagerly tore the paper off of the package that his ada had just rested in his lap. "Oh, picture books!" cried Caladel excitedly, reverently thumbing through the pages. The books he'd had in Fangorn had faded a lot because of excess use and exposure to the elements and he'd almost forgotten how bright and vivid the colors could be.
"One is from Eryn Lasgalan; it tells the story of our family and how we came to settle there," Legolas told him, pointing to the picture of wood elves that Caladel was currently looking at. "And the other is from Rohan; that is about Eorl the Young and his family."
"They're so beautiful," declared Caladel in awe. "Thank you so much, Ada."
"You're welcome, ion nin," replied Legolas with a big smile. Caladel couldn't remember the last time that he'd seen his ada so happy.
"All right, all right, mine next!" exclaimed Eomer, a childishly eager grin spreading from ear to ear as he thrust another wrapped present into the boy's hands.
Caladel wasted no time in tearing all the paper away to reveal a wonderful, shiny new bridle. "Oh, it's so fancy," he said proudly. None of his friends had any riding equipment that looked so grown up. He smiled as he imagined how skilled and majestic he'd look at his next riding lesson. "Thank you, Papa! I'm going to take extra-special care of it." Suddenly his smile faded a bit and he looked distressed. "Oh no!"
"What's wrong?" asked Eomer.
"I didn't get you two anything," lamented Caladel. "I should have, right? I'm sorry."
"Oh, Caladel," said Legolas, drawing his son into his arms. "You didn't need to get anything."
"You've already given us both so much," added Eomer, planting a kiss on the boy's brow. "That and the fact that you even thought about it is the best gift that we could have asked for."
Caladel didn't quite understand what exactly he'd given them but he was relieved nonetheless that his parents weren't feeling slighted. "That's good," he said. Carefully he put his presents in a neat pile and began to rise to his feet. "Is it time for us to go to the party now?"
"No," said Legolas and Eomer in unison. Both of them smiled apologetically at each other before the Man nodded his deferment to Legolas. "There are still a few more presents left to open. Where to begin? Well, I guess with the ones that came with the messenger today."
"The ones from Gimli?" wondered Caladel, though he doubted that was what his ada was talking about. After all, Legolas had been there when the boy had torn open those packages, not knowing that they were special gifts for later – to discover a slew of dwarf-made toys that were just for him.
Legolas shook his head. "From your grandfather," he stated as he pulled out five presents that had been concealed in the shadows of a nearby corner. Two he placed in front of Caladel, two he handed to Eomer, and one he kept for himself. "He made me promise to keep these a surprise until it was time to open them. Go ahead, Caladel – you first."
The boy didn't need to be told twice. "Oh, look!" he cried, brandishing the first present for everyone to see.
"Oh, dear Elbereth," gasped Legolas in exasperation, plucking said gift – a real knife with a bejeweled hilt – away from him. "This is a family heirloom, Caladel; it once belonged to your great-grandfather Oropher. We must write to Ada and thank him for such an age-appropriate gift."
Judging by his ada's tone Caladel knew that he wasn't going to get to use the knife for a long, long time. Oh well; he liked the other present – a toy bow with arrows – just as much. "You open yours next," he encouraged Eomer as Legolas examined the arrows to make sure that they'd been blunted.
"All right," agreed Eomer, staring down at the two small packages with a bit of trepidation. He wasn't sure how he'd react to whatever gifts that Thranduil deemed appropriate for him. "He really didn't have to send me anything, you know," he added as he tore them both open together. "Oh my."
"From his gem collection," nodded Legolas knowingly, eying the ruby and emerald. "I would guess they're for your crown or some other kingly thing. You must have made a good impression on him, Eomer."
"What did he send you, Ada?" asked Caladel.
"Let's find out," sighed Legolas, opening up his present. It was a fancy box; when he opened it he found it filled with rich dark soil. The elf almost wept as he touched it. "It's a little bit of the Woodland Realm. But that's Ada – he always seems to know exactly what I want."
Something nagged at Caladel as he watched his ada finger that beloved bit of the earth. "How come you only got one present, Ada?" he asked.
"Oh, he sent me something else," Legolas assured him. By the sound of his voice it was clear that the elf didn't know whether he should be amused or annoyed by whatever that 'something else' was. "I had a feeling that I knew what it was from the moment I saw that package. I decided to open in it our suite to see if I was right and I was."
"What was it?" asked Eomer.
"That's not important right now," replied Legolas. Judging from his tone he didn't think that it would ever be important. "What is important is that there's still one gift left."
He reached over into the corner again, brought forth a bottle of wine, and presented it grandly to Eomer. "From me to you," he declared with exaggerated pride. "It's a bottle of Dorwinion. I figure that you'll need to build up more of a tolerance for the potency of elvish wine before the next time we visit Eryn Lasgalan, so why not build it with the best? Savor it! I had to slay a mighty dragon just to get my hands on a bottle."
"Really?" asked Caladel innocently. "But Grandfather has some! Why didn't you just ask him for one?"
"When it comes to convincing him to part with any of the Dorwinion, ion nin," said Legolas with a twinkle in his eye, "asking your grandfather and slaying a dragon are practically one and the same."
"Well, I thank you for both the present and your bravery in acquiring it," said Eomer with a quirk of a smile. "Now, if you two don't mind delaying our entrance to the festivities for a moment or so longer, I have a present for you, Legolas."
He hastily – Caladel could have sworn that he looked nervous while doing so – handed Legolas a long-ish box. Legolas nodded in acknowledgement and opened it, smiling when he saw what was inside. "They're arm bracers," explained Eomer awkwardly and unnecessarily. "For when you shoot."
"Yes they are," said Legolas, pulling one of them out to examine it more closely. The leather was strong and beautiful; and its intricate design, a symbol of the royal house of Rohan, was awe-inspiring in its detail. "Of excellent quality, I would say, and very handsome to boot. What a thoughtful gift, Eomer; thank you."
Eomer gulped silently as Legolas impulsively grabbed his shoulder. "You're very welcome," he whispered.
There was something inexplicable but almost visible hanging in the air between the two of them in the moment that their eyes locked. Caladel tried to hide how he was watching them, but they really wouldn't have noticed if he blatantly staring. "I," said Eomer at length, unconsciously licking his lips. "I guess we should get to the party now."
"Yes," agreed Legolas, slowly letting the Man go. "Everyone must be wondering what's taking us so long. Let's go, Caladel."
Even though he'd been looking forward to the party all day, as he watched his parents move away from each other and the moment end Caladel couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The Yule celebration was in full swing by the time that the trio arrived and showed no sign of dying down as the evening wore on. Wading through the groups of drunken Men singing off-key at the top of their lungs and the ones gorging on the feast the soldier Alfmund searched high and low for Caladel. He grinned when he finally spotted the boy sitting by himself at a smaller table in a quieter corner and he immediately made his way over. "There you are," the Man said triumphantly as he sat down next to Caladel. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Why?" asked Caladel. He'd been sitting in the same place for a good amount of time. His parents thought that he was just getting tired but really the elfling had wanted to find a good place to think.
"Because I have a present for you," said Alfmund, pulling out a piece of rolled-up parchment from under his tunic and setting it in front of the boy. "It's not a toy or anything, but I know how much you like pictures and stuff like that. I hope that you like this! I drew it myself from memory."
Caladel thought that he knew almost everything about Alfmund after all of the time that they'd spent together but he found himself surprised to see just how good the drawing was. It featured the boy with his parents; from the braids in Eomer's hair he guessed that the memory had been of when the three of them had returned to Edoras from Eryn Lasgalan. Alfmund had managed to capture the details of how they all looked perfectly and Caladel found himself staring wistfully at the way that the young Man had portrayed how his papa looked at his ada. "It's wonderful, Alfmund. Thank you."
Alfmund frowned with concern at the sadness that had crept into the elfling's voice. "Caladel, what's wrong?" he asked.
"Well…I'm not sure," Caladel hesitated.
"I think you do," replied Alfmund nicely. "It's all right, Caladel; you can tell me. Do you not like the picture?"
"No! I mean, I do like it – that's not what's wrong," sighed Caladel, carefully tracing his fingertips over the images of his fathers. "It's just that – well, Papa's looking at Ada here the same way that he was looking at him when we were done opening presents tonight; and I think that Ada was starting to look at him the same way."
"What way is that?" wondered Alfmund.
"Like, I don't know, like they want to kiss or something," said Caladel plaintively. "But they never kiss. Almost all of my friends' parents do, but Ada and Papa don't. Why is that, Alfmund? I think they'd be really happy if they'd just kiss each other whenever they wanted to."
Alfmund was rendered speechless for a moment. While his king's feelings for the elf hadn't escaped his (or many other people's, for that matter) attention he never imagined he'd be discussing it with their son. "I – I – can't say," he stammered, groping desperately for something to say that would satisfy Caladel without overstepping his bounds.
While Caladel was patiently waiting for Alfmund to stop tripping over his words Legolas was at the table of ale barrels, filling up his mug. Bringing it to his lips and taking a big gulp he decided that, watered down as it was (to his tastes at least) the drink was beginning to grow on him. At least he could drink large quantities of it without losing senses.
Giving the Men around him a little salute with his mug, Legolas turned around to make his way back to his table. He hadn't taken more than two steps when Léod, one of Rohan's senior soldiers, came up to him. A huge grin was plastered on the Man's face and it was plain to see that he was completely inebriated. Without a word Léod shoved something – mistletoe, it was mistletoe – into Legolas' hand.
Mistletoe? Hadn't Eomer mentioned something about Rohan having a mistletoe tradition for Yule? Legolas opened his mouth to ask Léod about it but before any words came out the Man placed a seconds-long sloppy, drunken kiss on his cheek. The elf stood there shocked as Léod pulled away and nodded happily. "On the mouth!" the soldier slurred loudly.
His voice seemed to echo throughout the suddenly very quiet room. "I beg your pardon?" asked Legolas, perplexed and a little incredulous.
"On the mouth!" repeated Léod, tapping the hand that was holding the mistletoe. Legolas' eyebrows shot up. "One kiss on the mouth."
Everyone watched even more intently as Eomer came up to stand at Legolas' side. The king of Rohan had started making his way over the second he's seen Léod approach the elf with the mistletoe in hand. Frustrated with himself for not intervening in time he glared warningly at the other Man before turning to the prince. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, looking sincerely embarrassed. "It's just – our mistletoe tradition. You see, when someone hands someone else mistletoe the giver tells the receiver where to kiss someone and the receiver chooses who they're going to kiss. After they kiss that person then gives the mistletoe to the person they just kissed and the cycle begins again, with the former receiver now being the giver who dictates where the next kiss is going to be."
"On the mouth!" repeated Léod jovially. He was not drunk enough, though, to not notice how displeased his king was and he withered a bit under Eomer's glare. "Uh, on the corner of the mouth," he amended.
"Legolas doesn't have to participate in this, Léod," growled Eomer warningly. "Find someone else."
"What, you mean you're going to let him get a free kiss out of me?" asked Legolas in a teasing tone. "I had to endure that sloppy, wet kiss and now you don't want me to try to get a nicer one out of someone else. Where's your sense of tradition, Eomer? Or your sense of fair play, for that matter?"
The crowd, relieved to see that Legolas was good-naturedly going along with their tradition, let out an encouraging cheer. "I – I just thought" – Eomer stammered over the noise, amazed.
"That you'd come save me?" supplied Legolas wryly. "My big, strong rescuer. Are you worried that I'm going to fall into the wrong hands – or against the wrong lips, as the case may be?"
"Well, some of the Men here aren't exactly exercising good judgment right now," pointed out Eomer, glancing over at Léod.
"True," conceded Legolas. "I will put your mind at ease, then, and give you a reward for your attentiveness by kissing…you."
"For two seconds," chimed in Léod helpfully. "It's got to be for at least two seconds or else it doesn't count."
"I think I can handle that," Legolas smirked at Eomer.
The elf reached up and cupped Eomer's cheek, gently turning the Man's head to where he wanted it and then pulling him in for the kiss. Eomer was in complete bliss and utter agony when he felt Legolas' lips against the very corner of his mouth, touching his own lips and yet not touching them at the same time. It was wonderful and terrible, a dream come true and not enough. Eomer couldn't stop himself from leaning his head in as if he was going to kiss Legolas in the same manner as the prince was kissing him but he forced himself not to.
So caught up was he that he didn't realize that Legolas had slipped the mistletoe into his hand until the elf gently pulled away. "My turn," said Legolas with an unexpected bit of softness in his voice that belied his mischievous smile. "Where should you have to kiss someone?"
"Don't think too hard," teased Eomer, tucking the mistletoe into a side pocket and patting it cheekily. "I'm the king and I say that I'm exempt from this."
As the rest of the group joined Legolas in voice loud, playful, exaggerated groans of disappointment, Alfmund turned back to Caladel with a genuine smile. "See? They did kiss."
"I'm glad," declared Caladel happily, gazing down at the drawing once more. "I like this Yule, or Solstice, or whatever it's called, and now I got everything I wanted."
'More than you know,' thought Alfmund, although he couldn't bear to say it out loud and get the boy's hopes up prematurely. Still, the young Man could count and he, like everyone else in the room who had that skill, had been counting the seconds of Legolas and Eomer's kiss to make sure that it lasted the whole two seconds. Perhaps Legolas himself hadn't noticed it, but the elf had held his lips against the king's mouth for the required amount of time and then eight seconds more.
To be continued…
A/N: This story got its 300th review (and beyond!) last chapter. Thank you so much!