A/N: Hello! first of all, welcome! this is the first of many stories that i'm planning. i hope you enjoy them :) a huge, HUGE shoutout to my amazing beta, cheerleader, and close friend remisfriend26 on ao3 for sticking by me throughout this!

second, this story contains spanking in the form of loving discipline. if that's not your thing, i politely request that you back out of reading.

otherwise, enjoy! xx feel free to let me know what you thought and give me ideas/requests! :)

All was peaceful on this cold night.

Aragorn let the end of his pipe play on his tongue before he exhaled, watching as the smoke floated up into the air before disappearing, becoming a part of the sky. The stars glittered brightly above him and there was nothing that indicated something amiss. The fire that they had got going a few moments ago was now crackling; gentle, soothing noises that reminded Aragorn just how lucky he was to be here.

Here, surrounded by the soft background noises of his beloved Rangers, his group of thirty, residing safely in their current campsite. Aragorn watched as the men began to separate into small groups, much the same as they did every night, dark grey cloaks wrapped tightly around themselves to keep the chill from their bones. Some kept their hoods cast over their head, but most did not. They all knew they were safe here, in each other's company. There was no need to cover their faces.

They had travelled together for a long time, long before Aragorn himself joined them, under the authority of Halbarad. For the longest time, Aragorn had secretly worried that there would be a wall between him and his men. And yet, they had accepted him right away, looking at him with glimmering eyes that showed the immense love and affection they felt for their new Chieftain already, never showing any doubt in him or his worth.

Aragorn pulled his cloak closer to his body. They were incredibly warm and light, these cloaks, he mused. Elven cloaks. The best of the best. His ada had gifted him with one before he set off with his men, a parting gift for his mortal son, though surely they would meet again, and it was the very same one that he wore at the moment.

Aragorn continued to watch and observe. He enjoyed doing so; it provided him with some solace and peace, knowing that they were all safe under his watchful gaze. He puffed his pipe again and couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. It was nice to see for himself that he was not alone, not left to flounder in his fate, or to wander the wild and drift off to sleep accompanied by nothing but the quiet chirps of crickets and bugs. Not that he had struggled greatly, per say, but… growing up in a household of elves, all of whom constantly showered affection and praise upon him, had grown familiar. The first time Aragorn set off on his own, he had, he was ashamed to confess, regretted it. He'd wanted nothing more than to turn back around, head back to Imladris, head back to home and acceptance and family.

But he couldn't. He had not let himself. For he was Isildur's heir, and that title carried no weight if he could not handle something as simple and trivial as loneliness. Of course, Legolas had disagreed when Aragorn first confessed this to him.

Ah, dear Legolas…

His smile grew bigger. Legolas, his old, trusted friend, his beloved elf, his Legolas. How he loved him so. And as if on cue…

"And what are you smiling so much for?"

Aragorn pulled the pipe out of his mouth and now grinned unashamedly at the beautiful, golden-haired elf who'd just plopped down beside him. They locked gazes and it took Aragorn a few moments to find his words. "Is it such a misdeed to smile at this hour, Sir?"

Now it was Legolas' turn to sniff a smile. "I suppose not," he replied, pressing his leg against Aragorn's, the warmth of the gesture making him blush and grin like a little boy. "I do quite like your smile. It is very pretty, Estel."

Aragorn almost laughed in response. Because here was an elf, sitting next to him, looking as gorgeous as always, complimenting him! Him, on his smile! Such folly. "Why, thank you, Sir. I suppose yours is quite adequate to see as well," he responded with a laugh.

Legolas fondly rolled his eyes. "Ai, Estel! Ever so eager with your cheek."

Not bothering to argue with his words, Aragorn just good-naturedly bumped his knee against Legolas'. Legolas would simply disagree with his retort and insist on keeping his opinion. Just like how he'd disagreed a long, long time ago about his beliefs of the 'right way' for Isildur's heir to act.

Legolas had been the one to free him from that nightmare. Oh, he'd done so in quite a special way, one that Aragorn was familiar with, but had never received from this particular elf before. He let his pipe rest in his mouth again, letting his thoughts—good thoughts, though he hadn't thought of what had happened as such a good thing at the time, considering his sore backside—consume him.

"Legolas, what are you doing?"

"Preparing my seat."

"On… on a rock?"

"Aye, Estel. For it is time we took care of those nasty nightmares in your head, once and for all. They are not true, and yet you allow them to torment you so. I shall help with that. Now, come." And he'd crooked a finger at Aragorn.

"Ai! Legolas, you cannot mean—"

"I do."

"But…"

"But?"

"You have never… you haven't… I didn't…"

Legolas' eyebrows had shot up at Aragorn's feeble argument. "I have never… what?"

"You've never… s-spanked me before."

"Spanked you?"

"Aye."

Legolas had gazed at him for a while, his blue eyes glinting in the light. Then, he'd nodded. "Aye, you are right. Indeed I haven't. But there is always a first time, is there not, meleth nîn?"

He was right: there was. Aragorn still remembered the first time Elrond pulled little Estel over his lap to teach him the importance of attending Erestor's academic lessons when he'd run off to practice his weaponry skills in the forest instead. But that was his ada. Legolas… Legolas was different.

Aragorn had been flustered, poorly defending himself from his impending doom. Legolas allowed him to dig himself a hole deeper and deeper until he'd finally had enough.

"Enough, Sir. Come." And he'd crooked his wretched finger again. When Aragorn still didn't move, he raised his brow again. "If you truly cannot handle this, Estel, I shall accept. But we both know that this will continue to agonize you. I wish to relieve that pain for you." A small pause, then: "Do you trust me?"

Aragorn hadn't even needed to hesitate in answering that question. Thus, his fate had been sealed.

Afterwards, he'd felt safe. Safe and secure, cuddling with Legolas, just the two of them, surrounded by the gentle crooning noises of nature. And Aragorn had been grateful, relieved that Legolas had seen past the mask he'd been wearing, had realized that he was not as fine as he claimed to be, but rather, wallowing in self-pity and misery. And those feelings had vanished after Legolas attended to him.

Not that it made his backside hurt any less the next day.

A loud bit of laughter from the small group of Rangers on his right made him jump, snapping him out of his daydreams. Aragorn sheepishly glanced at Legolas, who was watching him, a pretty smile playing on his pretty lips, reaching his eyes and making them crinkle at the ends. "You are blushing, Aragorn," he commented lightly.

"I am not."

"Aye, Sir, you are. There is a rosy tinge to your cheeks. Very pretty. Although, I must say… most of the time, it's a different pair of cheeks that turn so beautifully red."

And of course, Aragorn blushed even more. Legolas laughed and Aragorn rolled his eyes fondly. "You dirty elf."

"Who's a dirty elf?"

A hand gently pulled at Aragorn's hair, and then at Legolas' before the perpetrator plopped down next to Aragorn. And there sat Osben, his wavy brown locks falling in front of his mischievous hazel eyes, grin big and infectious enough to make both Aragorn and Legolas smile despite their trussed up hair.

Osben was the youngest of their group, just three years younger than Aragorn, which meant that he was always ever so eager to prove himself to everyone, to show that he was a fine warrior and a Dúnedain, a worthy Ranger of the North and a member of the Grey Company. He had idolized Aragorn from the first time Aragorn entered camp, as had all the other Rangers.

"Who's a dirty elf?" Osben repeated, face still etched with mischief. Never a good sign for Osben; it landed him in quite a bit of trouble. Not that it ever seemed to deter him from continuing on with his antics

Aragorn gently tousled his hair, the same way Elladan and Elrohir had so often done with him. Perhaps it was an action that one did for those they viewed as their little brother. "None of your business, bratling." He huffed a laugh.

"Oh, but it is!" Osben teased gleefully. He clearly was having far too much fun. "For there is only one elfling here in our company, and he is most certainly a filthy, naughty elf." He glanced at Legolas slyly. "'tis obvious why you behave so well for our Chieftain, Sir. You cannot bear the thought of losing precious time at night with him by getting into trouble instead. 'tis a shame; none of us get any rest with the noise you two make 'neath your covers."

Aragorn smirked and glanced at Legolas, who was now red in the face, clearly having caught on to Osben's meaning. "Off with you, Sir!" He gently but firmly shoved the youngest away, reckoning that if Osben teased any longer, Legolas would quite surely retaliate with his own words. Though they might not hurt Osben's feelings, they most certainly would have an effect on him, and, well… Aragorn could see that Osben did not need any further encouragement in pursuing mischief. It was a wonder he hadn't been reined back in yet.

When Aragorn gave him another push, Osben obliged, knowing that Legolas could only take so much teasing on such matters. Legolas was a private elf; he did not enjoy speaking on certain topics—his private relationship with Aragorn being one of them. Still, Osben must've been feeling rather brave, for as he left, he called over his shoulder, "Aye, Sir, you are a good boy indeed! And the best for our Captain!"

Aragorn's shoulders shook with laughter for a few moments. Osben truly was something else. They had taken him under their wing far younger than they usually allowed; he had essentially been raised in the company of Rangers. It was no surprise he was so comfortable with them—too comfortable, in fact, judging by how easily he shed his clothes to change in front of them all with no shame whatsoever. It was strangely endearing, his cheek and forwardness. It was hard to remember his age with how carefree and childishly he behaved, though Aragorn knew he only acted that way because he had lost both parents at a young age. And his cheekiness most certainly did not take away his value. The Grey Company was lucky to have such a bright, young man amongst them.

Aragorn turned to look at Legolas to share his thoughts and was caught off guard to see the scowl on Legolas' face. But half a second later, Legolas seemed to realize that Aragorn had turned to face him, for he fixed his features and his usual pretty, composed expression returned once more.

Hm. Interesting.

Aragorn didn't ask him what was wrong. He knew Legolas would come forth with all the nasty, dark whispers in his mind eventually, just as he did himself with Legolas—though whether it would be with words or actions, he did not yet know. It was like that, their relationship. They helped each other. They soothed the nightmares and the worries, pushing the other into exactly what he needed, taking care of each other. It had been quite a while since Aragorn had last needed to take such action for Legolas.

Perhaps it had been too long.

Legolas was seething.

Even when they went to their bedrolls and Aragorn took him into his arms he was still seething. He did not even know why.

Nay, that was a lie. He did know. And he was upset that he knew. Sometimes complicated feelings were easier to deal with when he was not aware of their cause, for he knew Aragorn would know for him.

And yet, here he was, pressed back against Aragorn with the warm blanket tossed over them, sulking like a little elfling. For Osben's words had struck too deep and niggled within him, and he had not been expecting it at all.

Aye, he knew the little Ranger had not meant any harm with his teasing words and cheeky remarks, but the truth was… Legolas had been extraordinarily good lately.

He knew that Aragorn was stressed with the increasing number of Orcs that seemed to be growing bolder each day. And Legolas? Well, Legolas was an elf, and an important one at that! He was a skilled archer, the Prince of Mirkwood, son of King Thranduil, stuff of legends. And yet here was Osben, taunting him about what exactly he was—a good boy!—and how exactly he was acting.

Legolas, a good boy? As though he were some pet to admire and fuss over? Nay, that would not do at all. Perhaps all the other Rangers viewed him like that. Had he not been doing enough lately? He had to admit, he'd spent most of his time recently trailing after Aragorn, trying to cheer him up and take away some of his stress with every tactic he could think of. Was he starting to act like some sort of a lapdog? Oh, for Valar's sake… he shuddered at the prospect.

And so his mind began to run, cranking out all the possibilities that could show just how not good he was. He was not there with the Grey Company to solely entertain by singing and telling Elvish stories. He was there because he was a warrior, because Aragorn himself had said he more than deserved the honour of travelling with the Grey Company.

And because he loved Aragorn.

Aragorn, and all thirty of his men, as tiresome they may be with their requests for a song every time they got a fire going.

And because he loved Aragorn, he was going to… he was going to…

He was going to make him proud.

Aye. Now that sounded like a good plan. He ignored the small voice that whispered that that meant he was still being good, a good boy, but… it was different. He would not dare to do something reckless—or rather, anything that Aragorn deemed reckless—not without cause.

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Legolas couldn't help the smirk that grew on his lips. Aye, it was true that he did not have a cause; not yet. But he would, soon. Tomorrow, he would go scouting with a few Rangers, and they would find what he already knew they would find: packs of Orcs, running through the fields without fear, baring their nasty, rotten teeth and growling at each other. Growing more fearless each day, they drew closer to the borders of their usual limits. Aragorn had been planning out different strategies to wipe them completely clear by consulting Halbarad and a few other older Rangers.

Legolas couldn't hide the grin on his face now. He knew Aragorn would see it, but he reckoned that his Ranger would simply be pleased that he was no longer sulking up a storm for an unknown reason. Aye, this plan would be one of his best yet. When he was done with those foul creatures, Aragorn would no longer need to torment himself on how their group of thirty men plus an elf, all of whom he loved, would face an enormous pack of Orcs, bigger than they'd ever faced before, without suffering any losses.

But… oh.

He had a hole in his plan.

E'en if tomorrow's patrol saw what Legolas knew they would find, he would need to get Aragorn's permission to attack the Orcs. And that would prove to be… quite difficult, to say the least. He frowned. No matter; he would have to just convince him. Or… or just go off without his permission. But he would ask first. Then, if Aragorn proved to be unwise, he would just slip away, as unseen and unheard as elves were, and put his plan into effect.

There was an odd feeling stirring in his stomach, though. A feeling of… no. He didn't want to think about it. He sighed, his sulky mood returning once again.

Legolas heard Aragorn smile and pressed closer to him, letting the man wrap his arms around him, tangling him into their usual position when they went to sleep—which, by that, he meant Aragorn went to sleep. Legolas simply rested, for he was an elf, and elves did not need as much sleep as mortal beings did.

"Your mind is running," Aragorn commented quietly.

Legolas gave no response. Speaking would give away how he was feeling and what he was thinking, and Aragorn would be all too aware of something amiss. He did not enjoy the thought of that. Didn't like that Estel would be able to read his mind from a simple response, as did all the wretched Dúnedain with their wretched abilities.

"What troubles you, Legolas?"

Ah. A different tactic, then. A far more direct one. One that Legolas couldn't avoid by staying silent without giving away his feelings, but also not one that he could avoid by responding. And judging by Aragorn's sniffed smile, he knew exactly what he'd done, maneuvering Legolas into a corner so infuriatingly perfectly.

Wretched Dúnedain instincts, indeed!

"Tis nothing, Estel. Go to sleep," Legolas responded at last, not daring to turn around and face the man. "I can hear the exhaustion in your voice."

"I am not exhausted."

Legolas smirked. It was his turn now. "Aye, you are. Your voice gets that roughness to it when you need sleep. I know you too well. So sleep, lest I decide that sleeping in separate bedrolls would be better for you instead."

Ohhh, he was good at this. Deflecting attention from himself and turning it onto Aragorn and his evident exhaustion and stress.

Aragorn gave a small, "Hmph!" that made Legolas laugh, even in his sullen mood.

"Shhh. Do not pout."

"Aye, 'tis your job to pout instead."

Legolas instinctively opened his mouth to fire back a saucy retort, but then he stopped himself, just closing his mouth shut, though it took some effort. He made a small, "Hmph!" but otherwise remained quiet.

Aragorn giggled. He giggled. Wretched man. "'ben was right. You are a good boy indeed, Sir." And with that, he drifted off, leaving Legolas to seethe throughout the night, all by himself.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion and worry plaguing Aragorn that kept him so deep in sleep, but Legolas managed to pull away from him early in the morning and head off into the forest.

Change of plans.

He was going to do a patrol by himself. If the Grey Company had an elf amongst them, the least their elf could do was allow them to rest while he watched over them. After gathering up his weapons, he headed straight where he'd planned to last night, but was rather disappointed to find that there was nothing.

Nothing.

That did not make sense.

Just a few nights ago, Legolas had heard the Orcs growling that they would approach this side of the woods on the night of the full moon. He hadn't considered that they were intelligent enough to change their minds, abominable creatures.

He was sure that if he went exploring out into the fields, he would find them. But the sun was now steadily rising above the horizon, and if he didn't head back soon, he would be missed. So, racing back through the forest, feeling the leaves crunch underneath his nimble feet, he made his way back to camp.

Aragorn had awoken already, and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Legolas rushing back in. "And where did you head off to, Sir?" he demanded, standing up and getting into his Legolas-you-better-have-a-good-reason-for-this stance.

Hastily, Legolas explained his plan, feeling his heart begin to thrum with excitement. As he explained, a few of the other Rangers drew close, seeming interested in what he was saying. But when he finished explaining, Aragorn stared at him with an aghast expression on his face, saying nothing in response.

And so Legolas squirmed.

How odd. It was most odd, squirming. Legolas did not squirm. And yet, here he was, standing in front of Aragorn, who was staring at him with a smoldering gaze, and his lieutenant, Halbarad, standing a few steps behind him.

"Well?" Legolas demanded, trying to move things along. He did not want to squirm for any longer. "What say you, Estel?

"What do I say?" Aragorn frowned. "I do not believe it would be a wise decision, letting you go off on your own with no backup, Sir."

"But I can handle it." Legolas even had his weapons ready, all packed against his body. He could already sense his blood rushing, felt the tingling from head to toe that told him just how excited he was to get rid of the cause of Aragorn's stresses. "You know I can."

"Legolas—"

"I will not get hurt."

"You don't know that."

"I promise."

"You cannot promise that."

Legolas made a frustrated noise, unable to suppress it for any longer. Valar help him; he should've just gone off without warning. He most likely could've been back by now, all those creatures slayed. And that thought just fuelled him on and he was unable to hide the irritation in his tone when he spoke next. "'Tis naught but a few orcs!"

"A few orcs—" Aragorn broke off and stared as though Legolas had grown another head.

Legolas swallowed, suddenly hesitating. He recognized that look all too well. "Well—"

"No."

"Aragorn—"

"No."

"Ai! Estel, you are not listening to me!"

"I am listening to you quite well, Sir. And I say no."

"But you know I can do it." Legolas stepped in front of Aragorn, preventing him from walking off. He was acutely aware of Halbarad still unashamedly watching their interaction, puffing his pipe. "Like I said, 'tis naught but—"

"A few orcs. Aye, I heard you." Aragorn fixed a glare on Legolas. "And I. Say. No." He held up a hand when Legolas opened his mouth to argue again, causing him to glare. "Because the truth is, Legolas, there is most certainly more than 'a few orcs.' In fact, 'tis too many orcs. It would be folly for you to go off on your own. I shall not risk your safety just so you can prove yourself."

Prove himself! Legolas fumed. It was not so he could prove himself! It was not! He had no desire to show his abilities to anyone; he just knew he would be able to handle it. How? He had done so before. When he still resided in Mirkwood, his father often sent him off on tasks, alone, and Legolas had always succeeded. Aye, he came home tired and yearning to pass out in his bed, but he had not shed a single drop of his blood.

And Aragorn knew this! It was not odd for the two of them to go scouting the wild, clearing off any evil that dared to linger. They had done so many times before. In fact, Legolas was often the one who cared for Aragorn after their fight. Aragorn was skilled in battle, but he was still what he could not help being—mortal. He was one of the Dúnedain, but he did not possess Legolas' lightweight, elegant manner of flipping through the air and slaying several Orcs as though they were naught but a dormouse.

So the fact that Estel—his Estel—was implying that he would not manage on his own? Ai! If there was anyone that Legolas indeed wanted to prove himself to, it was him!

Besides, he wanted to remember the feeling of satisfaction as he swept all the Orcs off their feet, easily beheading them without so much as a flinch, and then stand there in the bloodstained field before sheathing his weapons. No, he craved it.

And Aragorn stood, watching Legolas closely while these thoughts rampaged through his mind. Scowling, Legolas quickly composed himself. He would not have his Ranger figuring out what he planned to do before he could even set it into action.

"You will not leave the camp alone," Aragorn said at last, breaking the silence between them.

Legolas' head jerked up in dismay. What? Aragorn was treating him as though he were a mere elfling, telling him where he could and could not go! Even his ada did not treat him this way. It was most disgraceful. He huffed to express his dissatisfaction.

"Am I understood, my sweet Legolas?" Aragorn prompted, stern eyes filled with warning.

Legolas glowered, barely appeased even with the term of endearment. "Aye."

Aragorn nodded, looking satisfied. "Perhaps you should find some things to do to keep yourself busy," he suggested lightly, pulling out his pipe. "It shall help you behave."

Legolas scowled. "I will behave. I do not need chores," he shot back, turning on his heel to stomp dramatically away. It would make him feel better, even though he would truly be acting like a small elfling then. "And I do not need distractions."

"Hm." Aragorn frowned, then turned to Halbarad. Halbarad gazed steadily back. Then, he gave a small nod, and Aragorn returned it. Legolas watched all this, sulking. "I beg to differ, Sir. I believe Halbarad is in need of some aid. Would you be most kind to help him out?"

Legolas was tempted to give in to his temper and respond, "Then beg." But he'd done that once before, and it had not ended too well for his backside. So, he refrained. "Aye," he muttered, adding under his breath, "Though I would prefer not to."

Aragorn turned to him so fast that Legolas couldn't help but take a step back and exclaim, "I did not mean that!" And truly, he had not. He enjoyed spending time with Halbarad, knew that he was Aragorn's trusted lieutenant, knew that Halbarad cared for him just as much as he cared for Aragorn. He could feel Halbarad's steady, unflinching gaze fixed on him and he felt his face grow a bit warm in shame. Halbarad did not deserve to be the target of Legolas' sour mood, and he knew that. Turning to Halbarad, he murmured, "Apologies, Sir. I did not mean it, truly."

"'Tis not worth worrying your pretty head about, Sir," Halbarad responded lightly, puffing his pipe again one last time. "Forgiven." He tucked it away, though a bit reluctantly, and then gently clasped a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "We shall go fetch some provisions. We are running low. Perhaps we could stock up for the food stores in our caves; the frost will come soon and we cannot afford losing the best of our resources." He glanced at Aragorn, who nodded his approval of his plan.

Legolas, on the other hand, barely heard him, too caught up in his thoughts, which went off into another vicious cycle of temptation. If they were going to be collecting provisions and supplies for their caves—their safe houses, that was—that meant they were going out of camp, and into the forest. And he and Halbarad would most likely be forced to separate, for a little while, if not more, in order to work efficiently. And that meant...

"Come, Sir. We shall return before sunset." Halbarad began to stride away.

Legolas nearly lept after Halbarad, but he forced himself to look composed and nonchalant as he hurried after him.

"Legolas," Aragorn called softly.

Legolas stopped and looked at him, already knowing what he was going to say.

"Behave yourself for Halbarad, would you?" There was a stern glimmer in Aragorn's eye, and even a bit of anxiety that he tried and failed to hide.

Legolas felt a wave of guilt wash over him at that, but he pushed it away. Estel was worrying too much about him. He would be grateful when Legolas took care of the Orcs, all by himself. "Aye, Sir, I shall behave."

Aragorn broke into a smile, one of his pretty ones where it reached his eyes and made his entire face glow in the boyish way that Legolas loved.

And if anything, as Legolas trekked after Halbarad, that made him feel even guiltier.

They took Osben with them for an extra pair of hands. Legolas had to bite back the groan that bubbled up in the back of his throat. It wasn't that he disliked Osben; he was fond of him and cared for him. But at the moment, it just meant it was another pair of eyes he'd have to avoid when he made his escape. Osben was like an over-eager puppy, always running ahead to scout and then returning to announce that he'd seen absolutely nothing but trees. Every time.

Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe Osben would keep Halbarad properly distracted, so that Legolas could slip away unseen. But the Fates weren't on his side today, because Osben seemed extra clingy to him, chattering away as he tried to keep up with Legolas' pace.

"Your legs are too long, Sir," the young Ranger complained as he bent down to gather some plants that they could salvage before the frost bit them rotten. "You walk too fast."

"Perhaps you walk too slow," Legolas responded, and that was the end of that conversation. He made sure to stay behind Halbarad, not out of sight but just enough so that the lieutenant would get a glimpse of long golden hair if he turned his head the slightest bit. Build up his trust, and then leave. Aye, that was what Legolas would do.

But to his dismay, Halbarad stuck close to him, even having the audacity to stand 'neath a tree when Legolas silently began to scale it. He scowled and expressed his irritation by dropping a handful of berries onto the ground, knowing it had hit his target—Halbarad's head, that was—when he heard a small grunt. He smirked, then looked around. He knew he couldn't afford to head back down from the tree with empty hands. Halbarad would not hesitate to inform Aragorn of his 'unnecessary impertinence,' as he would call it.

So, he began to gather handfuls of nuts and berries, then dropped back down, landing next to the big Ranger without a strand of hair out of place.

"You took your time up there, Sir," Halbarad commented, yanking out a pouch for Legolas to put them in. "I vow you enjoyed yourself too much."

Legolas huffed. "I did not," he muttered petulantly. "You offend me, Sir."

"Do I?"

"Aye. With all your dreadful accusations."

Halbarad stared at him. Then, he murmured, "I see. Well, then, apologies, Sir, for that was not my intention. I just simply could not help but notice your attitude as of late."

Legolas stomped away, leaving Halbarard and Osben to follow him.

"Why're you so grumpy?" Osben asked as they trekked further, occasionally stooping down to scavenge for roots. They would only find ones to dry and eat here; the ones for healing were found on the other side of the woods. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

Legolas didn't reply.

"You are." Now Osbend sounded sulky. Legolas knew just how much the young Ranger couldn't bear when others acted off; he had a keen eye for catching on to emotions and felt them as though they were his own. No doubt he was feeling as grumpy and upset as Legolas. And he expressed so through his next words. "I've been trying to help you feel better but you've been mean all day. I don't deserve this from you, Legolas."

And, well, that was it. That was Legolas' last bit of patience leaving him. Osben didn't deserve this? Legolas thought otherwise. It was Osben's words that had been causing a turmoil in his mind since last night, it was Osben who continued to pester him with silly questions, and it was Osben who was now looking rather teary-eyed and on the verge of shouting at Legolas.

Legolas glared at him. "Go away, 'ben," he muttered. "I'm not in the mood."

"But—"

"Go. Away. 'ere I make you."

"Legolas—"

"Osben—"

"Gentlemen."

They both stopped and turned to look at Halbarad, who'd been listening to their entire conversation while silently following them. He now looked rather unimpressed. "I am not here to watch over the two of you," he informed them sternly, levelling a look at Legolas, and then at Osben. "We are out here to restock and prepare for the coming weather. So compose yourselves."

"I did not start it," Legolas dared to mutter.

"Very well, Sir. I shall keep the two of you separated then." Halbarad grabbed Legolas by the nape of his neck, making him yelp in surprise, and then dragged him back so that he was standing next to him. "Come along. 'ben, lead the way."

Osben threw one more upset, sullen look at Legolas, but obeyed and began to stride forward in long, determined steps. Legolas trailed after him with Halbarad by his side, gazing at the ground. They travelled in sulky silence for a while until Halbarad broke it with his next words.

"Aragorn worries for you."

Hm. The leaf-covered ground was suddenly extremely intriguing. Oh, look. A bug had bitten through that one. Perhaps it was—

"He fears you are hiding something. Something important." Halbarard spoke quietly. "Why will you not tell him? Do you not think he has enough to worry about as it is, little elfling?"

And suddenly, Legolas felt guilty. Extremely guilty. His head jerked up and he met Halbarad's grey eyes, filled with sympathy and compassion. He knew exactly how his words were affecting Legolas, along with his term of endearment—little elfling. Halbarad had been calling him that from the moment he'd begun to travel with the Grey Company, regardless of the fact that Legolas was much older than him by thousands and thousands of years. But it was not age that mattered; it was the care and affection behind the words that did.

Halbarad stopped and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can talk to him," he reminded Legolas. "He shall be there for you, just as you are always for him. You know this already."

Legolas nodded jerkily, ashamed to find his vision suddenly blurring with tears. This was all too much. This was… he was… he was spiralling out of control. He had not felt this in years; he rarely felt so lost. And that scared him.

"'Tis alright, elfling," Halbarad murmured, lightly squeezing his shoulder. "It's okay to be sad. We cannot always be content, especially if we are the ones coaxing that big scariness inside to grow bigger and bigger."

"I—" Legolas broke off, trying to speak over the lump in his throat. "I—'tis not—that's—" He stopped, unable to coherently express himself.

But Halbarad seemed to understand. He nodded and smiled. "At ease. You are a good man, Sir," he told Legolas. "Or rather, a good elf. You are ever so fond of reminding us of your Elvish blood, after all." He gave a small chuckle. "You are good for Aragorn. I admire you for that."

His tone was kind, too kind, more than Legolas could bear at the moment. He would rather prefer if the Ranger spoke to him in a harsh tone; at least then he could continue to be moody. But nay, Halbarad would never do that. And Halbarad needed to stop, 'ere Legolas break down in the middle of the forest. His cheeks burned at the thought, even more so when he was reminded that Osben, sweet, gentle Ozzy, would be watching.

"Sir, I—" He hastily wiped his eyes with his arm. "May I head back?"

Halbarad hesitated. He was clearly trying to decide whether it would be a wise decision to allow Legolas to return on his own—for they had not yet reached the cave—or command him to follow him.

Legolas could practically hear the gears in his head turning. "Please," he added. "I would… I would prefer some time alone. To gather my thoughts and compose myself." He wasn't lying. He would kill to just sit at the top of a tree and allow the crisp breeze to wash over him, to lean his head back and feel a steady pillar of oak, to imagine himself cradled in safety by the branches and leaves, taking him back to home and memory.

Perhaps it was the earnest look in his eyes, or the genuine upset in his tone. Either way, Halbarad dutifully agreed, "Aye, Sir, very well," then added more sternly, "Straight back, Legolas. Do not take any detours."

Legolas nodded, and then without another word, he was off. He truly did not plan to do anything besides calm his mind. He could feel Halbarad watching him, and heard Osben trot up to the older Ranger and ask, "Where's he goin'?" He tuned them out, not caring to listen any further to their conversation. He could already imagine how it would go:

"He is returning to camp."

"How come? What about us?"

"Soon. Come, Sir."

"But Legolas is returning."

"Legolas has matters to attend to. As do we. Do you expect us to toss out all that we've gathered? Nay, that would be a waste. So, come, little Ozzy."

"Do not call me that."

"Why not? I think it suits you well."

"It's … boyish. It sounds too young."

"You are young, Sir. And you like when I call you that. Now, for the last time: come."

Legolas sniffed a small smile at that. Oh, how he loved these Rangers. He sighed and stopped, gently leaning back against a tree. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling of the stiff tree against his skin wash over him.

The birds seemed overly active today. They sang to each other, flitting from branch to branch as they too prepared for winter. He exhaled again, then began to scale the tree. His thoughts were still running fast, too fast for his comfort, but he tried to distract himself. One foot forward, hoist himself up, the other forward, keep moving up, up, up…

And suddenly, he found himself at the top of the tree, having scaled it within mere seconds. Legolas inhaled sharply. He could see… everything. Well, not everything, but he could see a lot. And that was good enough for him. He plonked down on the branch, not even flinching when it bobbed the slightest bit, and gazed at nothing in particular.

Halbarad's words had been right. So had Osben's. He was being unnecessarily grumpy—or, as Osben had put it, mean. He didn't like that. Legolas was many things, but he was not mean.

He just… needed something. Something more. He wanted to feel safe. He didn't want to be reminded of his helplessness, trapped inside his mind, not anymore. He wanted… he wanted Estel. He wanted Aragorn to help him, to rid him of his foul thoughts, he wanted… he shuddered, closing his eyes. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Aye, that… felt better. Felt good.

Legolas opened his eyes, then squinted, catching a flicker of movement in the distance. Like a swarm of bees. Or wasps. Or… Orcs.

He didn't hesitate to jump down and race the other direction, back up to where Halbarad and Osben were heading. He made sure to stay off the road, just racing through the trees and greenery, his mind racing and his heart thumping with excitement. This was his chance. He could show Aragorn now, he could make Aragorn proud of him for accomplishing what he thought Legolas would not be able to do—defeat a swarm of Orcs, an immense amount of Orcs, all on his own.

Legolas would be able to do it. He was the Prince of the Woodland Realm, son of King Thranduil, skilled and wise in combat and strategy, having learned from the best of the best. He could handle it. He was more than capable of— "Oof!" Legolas' breath exploded from his chest as he crashed into something hard, something…

Something Osben.

"Leg'las!" Osben cried, then gave a muffled shriek when Legolas clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him behind some bushes.

"Hush!" he demanded breathlessly. "Where is Halbarad?"

Osben licked his hand in response, and Legolas pulled a face before snatching his hand away. Osben grinned at him happily. "He is ahead, not too far off. Oh, Legolas, have you changed your mind? Are you coming with us to the—"

"No." Legolas straightened his clothes, dusting himself off. "Do not tell Halbarad that you saw me." He levelled a look at Osben that he knew rivalled Aragorn's stern looks. "I am on a mission."

Osben's eyes lit up at that. "I'm joining!"

"Nay!" Legolas scowled at him, maintaining it even when Osben's face fell, though it was a bit of a struggle. It was quite difficult to not feel bad when Osben's hazel eyes lost their spark of excitement, turning dull instead. "You are not. Go back to Halbarad. Do not speak a word of this to him." He gave him one last glare for good measure, and then set off, ignoring the squeak of protest he heard.

If Osben told Halbarad, Legolas was going to skin him.

With that in mind, he pushed onwards. He was able to make it to the swarm without trouble, moving silently and quickly. He felt a glimmer of satisfaction run down his spine; ohhh, how grand this was going to be! Aragorn should've known better than to treat him as though he were helpless, for if there was one race in Middle Earth that could move as silently as the Halflings they occasionally guarded, it was elves.

The Orcs were snarling to themselves, sounding just as filthy as they looked. It sent another shudder down Legolas' spine, though it wasn't one of excitement this time. He hated Orcs. He despised them with a passion. Out of the many years he'd been alive, he had not yet allowed one to shed a drop of his blood yet, and they would not do so for a long, long time. They most definitely would not today, either.

Legolas continued to scan the field intently. He let his fingers absentmindedly play over the end of his arrow, the feathers tickling his fingertips, as he planned his strategy. He would not have the upper hand if he dashed out and jumped into the middle of the swarm; there would be too many coming from every direction. Nor should he shoot from his current location; they would overrun him in mere seconds. He would needs get to a higher ground, where they would have to struggle to climb up. And as they tried, he would strike, lightning fast, with his arrows, and then with his knives. Aye, that seemed to be the best option he had.

Legolas began to silently move back, heading around so that the Orcs wouldn't charge into the forest and potentially find their tents. Instead, he made for the opposite side, clambering onto a large pile of boulders that had been so conveniently placed, like they were begging him to stand there and release his arrows with a crisp zwing!

It was a shame that he didn't have Aragorn by his side—not to supervise him, of course. In fact, when they were out in the field, he was usually the one to be watching over Aragorn while beheading a foul creature. Aragorn oft forgot that he was not as capable as his Elvish kin in combat. Men were clumsy and heavy, whilst elves moved quickly and efficiently, darting about. Men tired quickly, arms evidently aching as they heaved their weapons around, while elves could shoot off an arrow and throw a knife within a split second. So nay, he was not disappointed that Aragorn wasn't there to 'protect' him. They simply made a good team. He had Aragorn's back, and Aragorn had his.

He could recall a time when he and Aragorn were travelling through the wild, 'ere they committed to the Grey Company. They were also accompanied by Aragorn's Elvish brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. Aye, that had been a lively time, filled with mischief, mayhem, and brotherly love. Legolas almost missed those times. Elladan and Elrohir had certainly done a fine job of keeping their mortal little brother in line, refusing to allow him to recklessly rush into danger.

Once, the three Elves demanded Aragorn that he stay behind in the shrubs while they cleared off a troll. Trolls were dumb creatures, incapable of thinking quickly and nastily like an Orc or goblin could. But trolls were not so incompetent that they couldn't recognize who was the easier target. And for this situation, Aragorn would, no doubt, be the troll's victim. So, Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir refused to allow Estel, poor, little mortal Estel, to join.

The troll had certainly been a surprise smack dab in their pretty faces, for it was stronger and smarter than they'd initially thought. It actually managed to bat away a few of their arrows and yank out the knives they stuck in its toes whilst stubbornly refusing to roar, whether it be in pain or anger. The most efficient way to kill this large creature was to pierce its brain, or its mouth and down to its throat. And it simply refused to cooperate.

Legolas had actually felt himself begin to grow frustrated, and he was becoming less and less composed by the minute. Still, channeling his feelings into the blow, he drove a knife into a rather unpleasant spot for the troll—most painful indeed—which left the creature stunned and groaning. Then, while Legolas reached to nock an arrow into his bow, the troll swung clumsily and blindly, making contact with Legolas and sending him flying. He crashed into the rocks behind him, leaving him dazed and confused for a few moments.

However, his attention was brought immediately back to the situation when he heard Elrohir's cry: "NOOOOO!"

Legolas scrambled to his feet and whipped around, spine prickling with dread, just in time to see Aragorn—Ai! His beautiful, brave, disobedient Estel!—rush into the open and lunge, stabbing the troll in… yet another painful area.

Clearly the second blow was even more painful than the first, for the troll let out the loudest bellow that Legolas had ever heard and doubled over, head nearly facing the ground as it flailed in pain. Its cry left his ears ringing. Still feeling a bit stunned, he fumbled to reach back for an arrow, but—fwing!

The troll froze, swooned back and forth for three seconds, then collapsed to the ground face-first. And there stood Aragorn, Elladan's bow clutched in hand, looking surprised that he'd actually done it, killed the troll, with an arrow through its brain. Then, his surprise turned into triumph, and he cried out, "We did it!"

His excitement had not lasted long.

Rather, it was replaced by a sore bottom, inflicted by Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas all passing him around their laps, tanning his backside cherry-red for putting himself into such danger.

The twins and Legolas had always been comrades in mischief, near turning their adas' hair grey, but when it came to their little Estel? That was a different story. Still, they'd most certainly gotten into endless bouts of trouble themselves, and it always ended with them over Thranduil and Elrond's laps. Ai! Once, when they'd gotten themselves into particularly big trouble, nearly ending up dead, Glorfindel himself, the mighty Balrog-slayer, had spanked them until they were weeping and pleading for him to stop!

Aye, it'd been a chaotic time indeed.

Legolas couldn't help but smile at the memory. Then, he started. He was daydreaming. That would not do. He frowned and nearly scolded himself. He had to focus on the task at hand. Then he could go back to those good, happy thoughts.

Turning his full attention back to the Orcs, he saw that they had moved farther away from him whilst he was lost in his thoughts like a dreamy little elfling. Muttering a foul curse to himself, he impulsively shouted, getting the creatures' attentions. Shuddering when they turned their beady eyes to him, he called, "Come and get me!" and added a rather nasty Elvish word to goad them on.

They were more than happy to obey.

Legolas shot off a few arrows, grunting with satisfaction when he saw each blow hit accurately, then he jumped off from his perch, consequences be damned. He drew out his knives and charged.

And right at that exact moment, he heard a roar that sounded just like Elrohir's during their fight with the troll.

"Legolas! NO!"

Legolas stumbled and turned around, and there was Aragorn, rushing forward with his group of brave Rangers behind him.

Legolas took the time to gape for a few moments. How had they—oh, no! This was not how his plan was supposed to go down! He stood rigidly, fixed to the spot, legs feeling like they couldn't move an inch without falling.

Aragorn reached him first and grabbed him by his shoulder and hauled him backwards so that they were under the hook of his perch. "Legolas! Legolas—" And he broke off with a loud curse that was worse than the one Legolas had growled. "Are you hurt?" Aragorn demanded. "Answer me, Sir!"

Legolas shook his head and gasped when Aragorn firmly shook him. "Ai! Aragorn, I am alright!" He tried to pull away.

Aragorn grabbed both shoulders now and eyed him all over from head to toe, as though he were trying to see if Legolas was lying to him. He bristled at that and snarled, "Estel, enough!" He craned his neck and saw the Rangers in combat with the Orcs, slaying them one by one. None were injured yet; he could not smell any blood besides the foul creatures'. "We must fight!" He managed to break away from Aragorn's hold this time, ignoring his Ranger's growl, and just leapt into the field.

Did Aragorn not understand? This was not the time to be fussing over him while the honourable Grey Company fought! Legolas had started this fight, and he was going to end it. Still, as he beheaded an orc, and then another, he fumed. This was certainly not the magnificent battle he'd envisioned.

He could sense Aragorn's anger and upset; they were very much in tune with each other's emotions. Most of the time, it was beneficial. Rarely, was it not. This was one of those rare times. It bothered him, even as he slashed and killed. He could not keep his mind off of it, and as a result, it was making him clumsy and careless. That made him even more irritated; he would not embarrass himself so!

When all the Orcs had finally been killed, Legolas stood covered in grime and Orc blood, feeling rather filthy. He quickly scanned the field. All besides poor little Osben were relatively unscathed; the youngest had acquired an injury that was more than a mere cut or bruise—he had sprained an ankle by tripping over a fallen Orc in the midst of chaos, and his face was now red in embarrassment as Halbarad and Elion, another brave Ranger soul, fussed over him, helping him hobble over to a rock to sit down. Legolas could hear their conversation.

"I am fine!"

"You are hurt."

Elion helpfully added on to Halbarad's words: "Hush."

"Nay! I will not hush!" Osben fumed. "'Tis most unfair!"

"There is nothing unfair except for the fact that you will not allow me to take off your shoe, Sir! Now, hush, stay still, and allow us to tend to you!"

Osben grumbled, but there were no further complaints.

Legolas couldn't help but smile a bit at that. Osben was endearingly petulant when he acquired an injury; for some unknown reason, he clearly felt that it was weak to show pain. Even when he'd once cracked two ribs, he had not uttered a single noise, just limping silently with the occasional gasp until Elion had confronted him and demanded to know what was bothering him.

"Are you alright?"

"Aye. I am fine."

"You are not fine. You just gasped. I heard it, Sir."

"You did not. You are hearing things, 'lion."

"The fact that you just called me 'lion tells me that there is something wrong. I shall tell Aragorn to stop moving; then I will take a look at you and see what you are hiding.

"No!"

"My lord Aragorn—"

"NO! 'LION, I AM FINE!"

"Then allow me and Halbarad to take a look at you. Sit. Down. And tell us the problem."

Osben had muttered something inaudibly.

"Pardon?"

"I… I may have been feeling some… discomfort."

"Discomfort? Where?" Halbarad immediately popped up next to the pair.

"In my ribs."

"And I presume you had a good reason for keeping this hidden, little boy?"

"Uhhh."

"Osben."

Needless to say, after his ribs healed, Osben had gotten a sound spanking from both Halbarad and Elion. Their bond had been incredibly strong ever since then. From then on, whenever Osben partook in some mischief, he would face his two loved Rangers, who were always ready to step in as his disciplinarians.

Legolas gasped when a hand landed on his shoulder and wrenched him around.

Before him stood Aragorn, looking mightily unimpressed and extremely displeased.

Legolas gulped.

And there was his disciplinarian.

thank you for reading! the next chapter will be up in a week :)

you can contact me/start a friendship at:

email: argolas.x gmail. com

tumblr: argolas-greenleaf

AO3: argolas

livejournal: argolas