Disclaimer: I do not own any of the men, elves, hobbits, humans or Homely Houses in this story. They're Tolkien's.
Here's the new chapter everyone! Thank you soooo much for all your lovely reviews, I treasure each and every one of them. Review responses should be done by tonight (or possibly by morning for those of you who do not live down under in Australia!) Enjoy the new chapter!
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Chapter 7: A Prince Among Elves
Dusk had fallen over Imladris as the Chieftain of the Dunedain and the youngest prince of Mirkwood walked at their ease along one of the many halls which wandered through the Last Homely House. Soft shadows played gently in their wake, leaping and dancing along the walls like playful spirits as the dark forms of the two friends fleetingly blocked the soft glow of the many candles scattered high along the corridors.
The two figures were of almost exactly the same height, yet that was where the similarities between them ended. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was the darker of the two, his brown, almost black locks falling nearly to his shoulders, framing a weathered face with silver-grey eyes. A slight beard and broader shoulders marked him as of the race of Man, yet there was a nobility to his features which reminded one of the ancient kings of Numenor, descended first from Elros, whose stone images had watched over the River Anduin for centuries. For once, he had shed his usual travel-stained garb, and had instead donned a dark grey tunic reminiscent of the robes worn by the elves of Imladris.
Next to him walked Legolas Thranduilion, prince of Mirkwood. Of far slighter build than his human companion, he was clothed in the greens and browns of his woodland home. He had discarded the bow and quiver which usually rested upon his back, ready for use, yet even deep within the sanctuary of Imladris the prince did not go unarmed, carrying a simple dagger by his left hip. Blonde hair glinted in the flickering flames of the candles, yet light also seemed to come from his very being, a dim glow which revealed him as an elf, one of the Firstborn who had inhabited Middle Earth for countless ages.
The pair did not speak, not even when they reached a small antechamber out of which branched several other passages. Without a word, stumble or gesture, they moved together, the elf prince instinctively lengthening his stride so that the two remained side by side as they turned down a corridor lined with woven tapestries. Years upon years of fighting together, hunting, and simply enjoying the other's company had given each an almost instinctive knowledge of the other's next movement, whether it was in battle or an occasion such as this, a simple walk through a childhood home.
The rough voice of the man broke the gentle quiet of the evening. "Why?"
The elf turned to look at his companion, head cocked curiously to one side.
"Did you expect something different of me?" he inquired.
"Nay."
"Then what point is there in asking why?"
"Legolas…"
"Aragorn…" The elf's voice carried almost exactly the same inflection as the human's, yet the man shook his head abruptly.
"There is nothing humorous about this, Legolas. I must know. Why did you do that?"
The prince of Mirkwood remained quiet for a moment as he considered his companion's question. "Out of fear of your brothers?"
Silence was the only response.
"Estel, you well know that my life would have been at serious risk from them had I not…offered my services."
The human simply stared ahead stonily.
"Out of fear of Arwen?" Legolas tried hopefully.
Despite himself, the ranger could not help but give a short bark of laughter. "That I can better understand, mellon nin, yet it is not yet the truth."
The elf drew himself up proudly, his eyes darkened by a gleam of arrogance. "You dare accuse a prince of Mirkwood of lying?" he demanded.
"Nay," the man replied easily, unmoved by his companion's displeasure. "Only of omitting the entire truth."
The prince's face relaxed back into its usual serene calm. "That is well then."
The two friends entered the Hall of Fire, in which the great hearth still burned bright despite the lateness of the hour. Here and there throughout the area, the occasional elf could still be seen as an ethereal form gliding lightly over the smooth stone floor. Nodding a greeting to those they passed, elf and ranger moved past several solitary figures in silence, needing no words to ease the quiet between them. However, as they exited the great hall for another long passage, the man interrupted the dusky peace once more.
"Why?"
"I believe you already asked me that."
"Aye, I did, but you did not answer."
"I was hoping that you had forgotten that part of it."
"I did not. Why?"
Legolas shrugged dismissively. "It is necessary for there to be a representative of the elves in the fellowship, and I know that my father would wish it so." A pained look crept onto his face. "Yet somehow I do not think that Adar will be pleased that it is I who is that representative."
Aragorn shook his head in grave consideration of his friend's plight. "Nay, mellon nin, he will not," he concurred, unable to bring himself to provide false comfort when they both knew there was none to be had. "Journeying to Mordor may well be less dangerous than confronting your father when he finds out."
"Particularly if he discovers that I am doing so with a dwarf," murmured Legolas. "Who is the son of Gloin, no less."
Aragorn could not hold back a chuckle even as the elf's expression darkened, his young yet somehow ageless face becoming marred by a small frown. Noticing the change in the other's demeanour almost immediately, the man turned to face his companion more fully, concern written in his silver-grey eyes.
"What troubles you, Legolas?" he urged softly, sensing that all was not right with his friend.
"It is nothing," replied the elf shortly and he lengthened his stride so that the man fell slightly behind him.
Startled by the abrupt answer, Aragorn hastened his pace and caught the elf's sleeve with the tips of his fingers, pulling the lithe creature to a halt with a short tug. Moving round until he stood face to face with his companion, he met the other's eyes searchingly. The two stood there in silence, the elf seeming to glow slightly in the dark hall, the ranger a darker, more solid shape in the night. "You warned me only minutes ago of accusing a prince of the elves of lying," the man reminded his friend softly. "Yet you make it difficult for me not to do so."
Legolas stared at the ranger, his blue eyes turned silver under the dimmed stars whose light had crept in through an open window. With a sudden chill, Aragorn became aware, whilst certainly not for the first time, that the elf whose friendship he had treasured nearly all of his life was far older than his youthful looks suggested. The prince of Mirkwood had lived through the turn of countless centuries, had fought against the forces of Sauron under the dark eaves of his home, had watched the stars perform their graceful dance in the night sky as the years came and went. As he looked at the glowing features of the ethereal being before him, Aragorn felt the magic of the elves, as Samwise Gamgee would call it, surround him for the first time in many seasons.
"I still cannot believe that you sided with the dwarf."
For a few moments more Aragorn stared at his friend, then mirth choked up inside of him and he laughed out loud, the rare sound ringing out into the night and breaking the gentle quiet which had enveloped the valley. Legolas stared at him, his expression somewhat less than amused, which only caused the man to laugh harder. Finally as the sound faded, lost amongst the many trees, the man turned to his friend, the smile upon his face easing the weathered creases already gathered there. "Thank you, mellon nin."
"For what?" the elf questioned, one dark eyebrow raised as he gazed at his human friend inquiringly, irritation forgotten as quickly as it had arrived.
"For keeping me young," Aragorn replied simply.
Legolas looked at his friend carefully, perhaps seeing, and understanding, far more than he let show. Finally he spoke. "You are young, human," he replied loftily as he strode away. A muffled snort of laughter was all that came from the ranger as he again hastened to catch up with his friend.
"Legolas?"
"Aye?"
"May I ask you something?"
"I believe that you just did."
"Very well then, may I ask you something else?
"Again, I believe that you just did."
"You realise that you are not helping."
"I am not trying to."
Aragorn glared at his friend yet the elf returned the stare easily, blue eyes looking serenely at the frustrated ranger.
"Do you take pleasure in driving me to the edge of madness?" the man inquired, his tone teetering on the very borders of civility.
"Only the edge?" The archer sounded rather disappointed. "I must try harder."
"I thought that you were not trying?" Aragorn countered, a hint of triumph in his voice.
"I am not trying to help you," Legolas corrected smoothly.
Aragorn looked briefly in the direction of the dark, clouded heavens as though asking for the patience to withstand the company of the elven prince. "If you have quite finished?" he asked.
"I have not," was the serene reply.
Aragorn growled low in his throat as the two friends emerged from the central wing of the Last Homely House and continued their path on one of the covered walkways which overlooked the River Bruinen. A light misting rain had begun to fall, coating the trees and dwellings of Imladris with a silvery sheen as the two moved slowly along the stone paving.
"You will beat me." This time it was the elf's melodious voice which echoed into the damp evening air.
"Hmm?"
"You will become king whilst I remain a mere prince."
"I am not king yet. It is doubtful that it will ever come to pass."
"It will."
"You know this?"
"I do." The elf nodded firmly as though there was not a doubt in his mind that his words would come true.
"I did not know that you were gifted with foresight."
"It does not take foresight to know that you are destined for things that other men could never achieve."
"Aye," Aragorn replied with a harsh, almost mocking, laugh. "Not all men are fortunate enough to be born heir to the throne of Gondor."
Legolas however, shook his head. "You misunderstand me, Estel," he said quietly. "I meant that few men have the courage, determination and pure stubbornness to accomplish the deeds which you are destined for, which you have already done."
"You flatter me," the man replied sardonically.
"I speak the truth, that is all. And," the elf added, casting a warning glance at the human beside him, "you cannot deny my words for, as we have already established, a son of Thranduil does not lie."
The ranger snorted softly. "Even if that is the case and your words do come to pass-"
"They will."
"-you still will have been a prince for far longer than I am king."
The elf prince nodded thoughtfully. A mischievous glint lit his eyes, bright in the evening dark. "Does that mean that I can order you about?"
"Nay, it does not."
"Please?"
"No."
"But I outrank you, you admitted so yourself!"
"I did no such thing."
"You did."
"Did not."
"Did."
"Did not." The man glanced sideways at his companion. "Leggy."
The elf halted abruptly, reaching out a slender hand to jerk the ranger to a stop beside him. "Do not call me that," he stated, blue eyes boring into the grey ones currently smirking at him.
Aragorn grinned at him. "But mellon nin," he protested, "I am sure that the hobbits would delight in hearing of it." The elf's glare only deepened, as did the man's mischievous smile as he glanced at his companion. "Not to mention Master Gimli," he added casually.
Without warning Legolas spun around and, grabbing a clenched fistful of the ranger's tunic, pulled the laughing man towards him until their faces were mere inches apart. "This I swear, Estel," he hissed ominously. "If you breath even a word of that name which you so thoughtfully bestowed on me to any creature, be it Hobbit, Man and particularly Dwarf, I will-"
"Ah, but you cannot kill me," interrupted Aragorn triumphantly, reaching up to pluck his shirt out of the elf's fingers and taking a smooth step back from the furious being. "For otherwise your prediction that I will become king will not have much chance of coming to pass."
"You did not let me finish," replied the prince softly. A dangerous look had come into his eyes, melding with the anger there, and Aragorn grew slightly nervous, recognising it as the look which so many orcs saw shortly before they met their end at the tip of two very sharp knives. "I was going to say," Legolas continued, "that if you did such a thing then I would reveal to the hobbits that you do not like mushrooms."
"You wou-" The man paused mid-word and looked at his friend whose face had developed a decidedly evil grin. "You would," he muttered resignedly, shoulders slumping.
The elf nodded happily, the last traces of anger having left his eyes as he savoured his victory. "I would indeed. And I would take great pleasure in doing so. In truth," he added after a moment's consideration, "I may do so anyway."
"Why?"
"I told you, because my father would wish-"
"Nay," the man interrupted. "I meant why would you be so cruel as to tell the hobbits? Do you not realise how long and hard I have laboured to conceal the truth from them thus far?"
The elf smirked. "I do realise."
"Then how could you even consider such a thing?" Aragorn asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice.
Legolas glanced at him disbelievingly. "Surely you must know."
The man looked at him blankly.
"You mean to say that you cannot recall a single reason why I would wish to subject you to the consequences of such a revelation, terrible as they may be?"
About to shake his head, the ranger's eyes widened suddenly as comprehension dawned. "Our fight!"
It was Legolas' turn to stare at his companion in bewilderment. "Pardon?"
"This morning, when I defeated you!"
"You did not defeat me," the elf interrupted sharply, yet the man continued on without pausing.
"I realise that you must have been embarrassed with your defeat, particularly as it occurred in full view of Frodo and Sam…and the twins…yet surely there is no need to go to such lengths to avenge yourself."
"Aragorn, you pushed me into the lake."
"Even if it was humili…I what?"
Legolas growled under his breath, considering seriously whether it would be impolite to wake the hobbits immediately in order that he could tell them about his friend's distaste for their favourite food at that very moment. "You pushed me into the lake," he repeated abruptly.
"Ah, yes." A fond smile came to the ranger's lips as he remembered the amusing sight of his elven friend, usually so unflappable, emerging dripping wet and furious from the deepest lake in Imladris. Noticing the man's grin, Legolas gave him a hard shove which sent him off balance and into a passing column. Yet his friend easily righted himself, still grinning, and continued along as though nothing had happened.
"You will pay for pushing me into the lake," Legolas stated, without looking at the man beside him.
"Of course I will."
"And for the dirty trick you used this morning during our duel."
"I do not doubt it."
"And for siding with the dwarf."
"For the last time, Legolas, I did no such thing!"
The elf ignored him, merely casting him what the man thought to be a rather unnerving look. "Keep your eyes open, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. For you never know from where, or when, an attack will come."
Aragorn glanced at the glowing elf uneasily and was not reassured to see a satisfied smile forming on the pale face. The ranger forced himself to look away from his friend, yet was unable to restrain himself from sending the occasional nervous glance in the prince's direction as they emerged into a open courtyard. As the rain fell lightly upon their hair and clothes, dusting them with silvery drops, he furiously sought a new subject of conversation in an attempt to distract the elf from formulating his revenge. Although he might not be able to prevent it, he reasoned, he may at least be able to delay it. However, when nothing came immediately to mind that would serve as a distraction, he resorted to a tried and true method.
"Why?"
"Do you not tire of asking me that?" the elf asked, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his eyes.
"Do you not tire of being asked?" Aragorn rejoined, grateful that the elf's attention had been diverted for the time being.
"I am beginning to."
"Then I will cease asking you when I am satisfied with the answer, but until that time, mellon nin, I am afraid that you will have to put up with it. Why?"
"The Ring must be destroyed. You know this."
"And you think it is your responsibility to see such a deed carried out?"
"You do." Feeling the man next to him still suddenly, Legolas halted and turned to his friend. "Nay, Estel, do not try to protest it," he said evenly. "You believe that it is your responsibility because your ancestors were the ones who failed in the task."
"I go to help Frodo," answered Aragorn, the smallest touch of defensiveness sharpening his tone. "He will need help if he is to achieve this task he has undertaken and I would not see any face such trials alone, let alone a hobbit who has barely strayed from the Shire."
Legolas nodded. "I do not dispute that you wish to help Frodo, mellon nin, for that is largely why I go myself. Even if he has the strength to withstand the pull of the Ring, he will need others, warriors, to protect him from more…substantial dangers. Yet why do you refuse to acknowledge that you feel guilty for the choices made by Isildur?"
Looking into the elf's determined gaze, Aragorn realised that the elf would not be dissuaded from gaining an answer that evening. "I am of his blood, Legolas," he stated heavily, resignedly. "I am the last of that line. And as such the deeds that he failed to accomplish fall to me."
"Why?"
"I thought that I was the one asking that question," the man jested, half in an attempt to distract his friend, yet Legolas shook his head sternly.
"His actions were not yours, Aragorn."
"Nay," the man replied simply. "They were not. Yet as a crown is passed from head to head, so are the responsibilities that go with it. You are the son of a king, Legolas, you know this."
The elf stared at him and the man stared back, neither willing to back down from this fight.
Finally Legolas looked away. "You are too stubborn for your own good, human."
Aragorn chuckled, yet his expression sobered swiftly. "Why?" he demanded once more, determined to receive an answer from the evasive elf.
"I believe that I have already answered that question."
"Nay, you merely sidestepped it with a response that you hoped would both satisfy and distract me."
"Did it?" The elf's tone was hopeful yet the man's grave, level stare was enough of an answer. The prince's voice was quiet when he finally responded. "I would follow you into Mordor, Estel."
"I know," the man replied shortly, not looking at the elf beside him. "And that is what concerns me. I do not wish for you to risk your life needlessly."
"You think the quest pointless?"
"That is not what I meant, Legolas, as you well know, " the man answered, a bite of anger coming into his voice. When the elf did not answer, Aragorn sighed heavily. "It is a long walk to Mordor, mellon nin."
"I know," Legolas replied lightly. "Indeed, I have already informed Elrohir of that fact."
"This is not a jest, Legolas!" Aragorn burst out, surprising even himself with his heated tone. He forced himself to speak slowly, calmly. "It will not be an easy journey. There is danger beyond these borders, and not just from Sauron. Even on the road from Bree-"
"Even on the road from Bree you managed to get yourself into a situation from which only the Valar knows how you managed to emerge alive!" Legolas shot back. "You confronted five of the Nazgul, Aragorn, by yourself, and it was only by the sheer stubborn luck that you seem to live by that you are here to have this conversation with me!"
"I am well able to take care of myself," the man growled. "I do not need an elven prince watching over my every move!"
"I am aware that you can survive on your own," Legolas replied coolly. "You have proven so many a time over the years that we have known each other. I simply thought that you might have appreciated a familiar presence on the quest. Yet if, as it seems, that is not the case, perhaps I should return home to Mirkwood."
"Perhaps you would do better there," the man cut in, "than being part of a near futile attempt to restore a lost king to a throne that he does not want!"
Legolas stilled abruptly. His bright blue eyes were bitingly cold as he stared at the ranger, who found himself fighting not to recoil under the incensed gaze. "Is that what you believe?" the prince asked dangerously, taking a step towards the ranger, who retreated almost unconsciously. "That I go to protect the heir of Isildur? That I go out of a duty to some lost king? Valar, Estel! Does our friendship mean that little to you?" When the man remained silent, Legolas turned away, his voice hardening to granite. "If I had wished only to protect the heir of Gondor during these past decades, I could have done so without befriending him."
"Perhaps it would have been better for you that way!" Aragorn responded furiously, his fear for his friend outweighing all else. "You are immortal, Legolas. You do not have to die on this quest!"
"What makes you think that death is a certainty!" the elf shot back, his words coming faster and more furiously as he switched into the Grey Tongue. "I am well able to protect myself, and you as well if I choose it!"
Hearing his words thrown back in his face, Aragorn paused for an instant, staring at the familiar face before him that was tight in anger. The elf's voice dropped to little more than a whisper which mingled with the falling rain, yet he held the man's gaze fiercely as he spoke his next words. "If you think that I follow Aragorn into Mordor then you are mistaken. I follow you."
Aragorn stared at his friend, whom he had known since before he could remember, who had been a constant presence in his life. Even when they had not seen each other for years at a time due to the increasing pull of their duties as prince and ranger as Sauron's hold encroached over Middle Earth, still they had exchanged the occasional missive or had at least kept track of one another, through rumours if nothing else. Glimpses flashed through his head, memories of cursing an arrogant elven prince who refused to admit to a defeat, of fighting side by side with a fierce blonde-haired warrior, of sitting by a flickering campfire as a melodious voice sang to the stars, of anger, grief, noise, peace, trust and laughter.
"Legolas-" he began, yet his voice died away as the elf took a deep breath then reached up to place a hand on the man's shoulder, forcing him to look into his eyes. "I have been your friend for many a year, Estel. I will not leave you now."
Fighting down the strange tightness which had formed in his throat, Aragorn reached up to return the gesture, yet found himself being drawn into a tight embrace which he readily returned. It was some seconds later, after they had both composed themselves, that they drew back from each other and, with a slight grin passing between them, turned and began to walk towards the dark shape of the Last Homely House.
A wry smile formed on the ranger's face as they entered the main courtyard. "I hope that the rest of the fellowship are less prone to disagreement than we are, or else it shall not be a peaceful journey to Mordor."
"From what I have seen of the hobbits thus far, I think that your hopes are in vain, at least in this matter," replied the elf. "Merry and Pippin could rival your brothers, let alone you and I. And I have heard that dwarves are not the easiest of companions."
"You are not intending to continue your feud with Master Gimli on the quest, are you?" questioned Aragorn disbelievingly.
Legolas fixed innocent blue eyes on the suspicious ranger who shook his head, resigning himself to the likelihood of spending many days acting as peacemaker between a stubborn, arrogant elven prince and a dwarf who so far seemed little better. As the two of them turned into the main house, Aragorn threw once last glance at his friend. "Then you are determined to be part of the fellowship?"
"I am."
"And you refuse to remain behind?"
"I do."
"What if I command you as the king of Gondor?"
"As you said yourself, you are not king yet."
"Future king?"
Legolas shook his head. "I am coming, mellon nin," he replied. "And anyway," he added, fixing a firm gaze on the ranger beside him. "You need people of intelligence on this type of mission, quest…thing."
As night shrouded the valley completely, the shared laughter of two friends echoed dimly throughout the dusky mists which enveloped one of the few remaining sanctuaries in Middle-Earth.
TBC
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adar- father
mellon nin- my friend
As always, thank you for reading and I would love it if you could review! Til next time!