(Parts of this story are based on the LOTR movies.)

Chapter 3: Unspoken thoughts

Aragorn – Estel – has to be eighty by now, yet he does look a day over forty-five. He sits with quiet confidence that speaks loudly to everyone, so that everyone looks at him. They see the shadow of wistfulness in his face, they admire his dark good looks, and some wonder who he is.

He was the teenage child I knew and held when he laughed and cried and grew angry. He was the young boy who, I knew, desired my attention, my affection, my love.

But he is now a man. A man among men, a man above them, full of quiet authority and a strong awareness of who he is and what he has to fight for: the future of Middle-earth.

Sitting facing each other at the Council of Elrond, we exchange looks, unsmiling. The matters being discussed are serious, and they involve him: the One Ring and the Dark Lord, and the Quest that will ascertain the fate of Middle-earth, and determine whether Aragorn's destiny will be fulfilled.

My heart swells with pride when he speaks firmly to Boromir, telling him the Ring should not be taken lightly, that it cannot be wielded by anyone save the Dark Lord, that none of us should even attempt to. I am so proud of him, though he does not know it.

Anger grips me when the man of Gondor dishonors him and questions his background. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" he challenges Aragorn.

"This is no mere Ranger," I protest, standing and facing the tall Gondorian. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." I say this softly but clearly, so that he makes no mistake about that fact.

The man turns to Aragorn, who tenses. "This… is Isildur's heir?" the man voices his doubt contemptuously.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," I confirm before I can stop myself. If looks could kindle fire, my eyes would burn him.

Aragorn – my Estel – looks a little uncomfortable. "Havo dad, Legolas," he tells me to sit. His tone is both gentle and firm.

I look at him, and I do as he asks, seating myself again slowly. And as I do so, I feel a little stunned, a little disbelieving.

Since when did I – an elf who is older than he is by more than a millennium – do his bidding so readily?

It is now that the thought hits me, although it has been there these past decades. I shiver a little, feeling his silent power, and I cast my eyes to the ground, trying to come to terms with my realization.

For it is now that I know: Aragorn may not yet be crowned, but he is already my king. He already commands me even though no orders come from him. And I am ready to follow him into the fires of Mordor and beyond if he so asks.

I raise my eyes, and find him looking at me. I cannot read the emotions in his eyes. But I know I love him, though he does not know it.

I also feel frightened for him, and I wish to remain near him, lending him what support I can, till he is crowned King of Gondor. And as soon as he swears to protect the hobbit Frodo with his sword, I offer my bow. I go on this Quest as much for him as for Frodo, though he does not know.

Do you need me as you once did, Estel? Do you seek my affection as you did so many years ago? Ah, it does not matter. I will be there for you.

He turns to me again.

I see him standing tall and straight – a reluctant king unable to hide his regal bearing. A strange sadness assails me, and tears well in my eyes, dangerously close to falling. I close my eyes to hide the ache in them.

My Estel.

He was my Estel.

But I do not see how he would ever want to be my Aragorn.

--xx00xx--

Legolas, Legolas… keeper of my heart. I see tears in your beautiful eyes, and I do not know why you weep.

I only know that seven decades have now passed since I first felt I loved you. Yet, still… I have not changed my mind.

I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

But - I wish I could tell you this - I am still Estel. Your Estel.

And each day I ask myself if I will have the courage to be what I wish to be: your Aragorn.

Perhaps this Quest will tell.