Chapter 4: Choices and loss
Aragorn sat holding his head in his hands, his dark hair clutched in his calloused fingers. He did not think he could feel so much fear. So much despair. And he could not remember a time when his strength and courage had been so greatly challenged.
Gandalf was gone. He had fallen to the deviousness of the Balrog in some, dark, nameless abyss of Moria. Without the mighty Maia, leader of the Fellowship of Nine, what hope did they have now to continue with the Quest to destroy the Ring?
The wizard had told him to lead the others on, so after the initial shock, he had done so. He had shaken everyone else out of their frozen stupor. Even Legolas had been confused and utterly dazed, the look on his face silently screaming: "It cannot be! I cannot believe Gandalf is gone!"
But the Maia was gone, leaving a shaken Ranger to harden his heart and lead the remaining members of the Fellowship to the elven refuge of Lothlorien, where the elf queen Galadriel had read all their thoughts – seeking their innermost feelings and sowing words of comfort in their hearts.
Lothlorien was a different world within the World. Here, where Aragorn now sat on the fallen leaves beneath a tall mallorn at dusk, in the midst of the sounds of night creatures just coming out from their homes, he found some measure of peace and healing. Here, perhaps the waters of the stream before him could wash away the horror he had felt at Gandalf's demise. Here, perhaps he could find strength enough to leave the safety of Lothlorien and continue with the Quest and not abandon it.
A tear rolled down his cheek in the deep blue darkness. Then another, and another. That is why he came here, to be alone, so that no one would see him weep his tears of despair.
Alone. He felt so alone, with no one to guide him on a certain path, and no one to hold in his cold dread. He was going to be the King of Men, but right now, he needed some warm, loving arms. Frodo was still in a state of shock himself, Sam was too worried about Frodo to care about anyone else, Pippin and Merry would try to make him laugh – and they would fail miserably, Boromir he could not trust, Gimli was too gruff, and he would not find comfort in gruffness this night.
At one point in the past decades, he had met and developed an affection for Arwen Undomiel, beautiful Evenstar of her people, his foster sister – the most likely person he would wed to make his Queen so that he could procure heirs. But even her presence was not what he wished for tonight.
For, deep in his heart, there was only one person he longed to hold at a time like this, when he was most vulnerable, stripped bare of the strength he armored himself with. He longed for that presence with every fiber of his being – but he did not even know if he could speak of it, let alone show it, or ask for it. In sorrow did he break into sobs, releasing his pent-up feelings of loss and loneliness and dread. As he wept, even the trees seemed to hush, and the stream grew quieter.
Then, as if in answer to some silent plea from his heart, it was as if a ray of moonlight shone on him. Loving arms wrapped gently around his frame and a warmth settled next to him, drawing him into its embrace. A fair voice whispered into his ear: "Weep if you wish to, Estel. I will catch your tears," and Aragorn knew who it was even without looking up, for he would know the scent of the speaker anywhere, and no other presence could make him shiver as this one could. And he felt incredulous that the very person he had wished for had come to him.
With Legolas' arms around him, Aragorn felt once more like the young boy he had been in Imladris, the boy whose hurts and embarrassments the elf had often soothed, whose pride the elf had always handled with care. He raised his head and looked into the blue eyes he had known since the days of his youth. They were stunning even in the twilight, and they were full of understanding, warmth and love. And he imagined that they also held the same longing he felt.
Aragorn let go of any stoicism he still had in him. He felt he had no need to feign courage with Legolas. He released the tense hold he had had on his mind and his feelings, and melted into the elf's embrace. Whether or not he would ever be able to have the elf as he desired, he was glad to have him close for the moment, to be in his arms, to feel his comfort.
Legolas smiled at him and Aragorn thought he would die just from the beauty of it. He felt some of his fear melting away in the warmth of that smile.
"You do not have to fear, Estel," said the elf consolingly, though a note of sadness resided in his voice. "We are with you."
"For how long, Legolas?" the man asked sadly. "I have already lost one good friend. How long will the Fellowship hold together?"
Legolas looked away. "I cannot tell. I am no seer."
A sudden wave of anxiety washed over Aragorn. "How long will you be with me?" he asked, unable to hide his emotions.
Legolas turned back and caught the look of woe in the man's moist eyes. He placed his forehead against Aragorn's and whispered: "Till the end, mellon nin¸ till you are king."
And however long you wish me to be with you, he added silently, though he felt he could not say it.
Aragorn felt heat course through him at being this close to the elf of his dreams, the tips of their noses touching, and when Legolas' warm breath flowed across his lips, he moaned and shivered again. But emotions and want warred with a warning within Aragorn, and he struggled to keep a rein on what his body wished to do.
You cannot have this, he told himself. What will happen? Would he even want you?
Aragorn's mind whirled madly from the conflict, but when Legolas began to draw away from him, he felt a sudden and alarming sense of loss, and before he could stop himself, one of his hands wove its fingers through the silky hair at the back of the elf's head and brought their foreheads together again.
Surprised, but without pulling away, Legolas asked worriedly: "Estel?"
Aragorn remained mute, frustrated by all he was feeling. His hands fisted, trying to make him push himself away from the elf, but he could not bring himself to break the contact.
"Estel?" Legolas asked again, rubbing the man's back. "What is wrong, mellon nin?"
Wrong? I do not know if this is wrong, the man answered silently, but this is the only thing that feels right. You and me here. I feel I belong with you.
Unable to speak, and driven by the fire in his veins, Aragorn responded by tilting his head and placing a feather-light kiss on the corner of the elf's lips, uncertain whether to go any further.
Legolas was the one who felt both fire and ice now. "Estel…" he began again, hardly believing what was happening. His hands tightened on the back of the man's tunic.
Aragorn tilted his head again to gently kiss the other corner of the elven mouth. Finding no objection, he let the tip of his tongue brush lightly along Legolas' lower lip, eliciting a moan from the elf.
Aragorn reached up to trace a finger along the smooth elven cheek, his blue-grey eyes filled now with unmistakable longing.
"Legolas…" he said in a voice raspy with desire, and when he looked into the elven eyes and saw – or thought he saw – the same longing there, he was lost. Swiftly, he captured the elf's lips with his own, giving in to the desire he had been holding in check for more than seventy years. The first taste of the soft lips that had smiled so beautifully for him through the decades was incredible, sweeter than he had ever imagined, and it felt so wonderful to finally possess them that Aragorn's heart overflowed with ecstasy, and he wept. Through the tears that leaked from his eyes, Aragorn savored the elven mouth hungrily with his own lips, teeth and tongue, not letting go of it for even a second. He buried his hands in the golden hair, pulling them both even deeper into the kiss.
Legolas found himself sobbing as well at the sensations assailing him as they kissed, and his arms tightened around the man he had loved in secret for so long. There was no need for words as they consumed each other's mouths, breathing heavily. Aragorn suddenly broke off the kiss, causing the elf to give a little whimper of disappointment. But the next instant, Legolas' veins went on fire again when the man pressed his nose and lips against the sensitive spot under the elf's ear, both inhaling the sweet scent of the elf and sucking on the skin.
Legolas drew a breath in startled pleasure, losing all sense and reason at the feeling of Aragorn's teeth and tongue against his skin as they sucked and nipped gently along his neck. Little moans of pleasure left his mouth when one of Aragorn's hands massaged the back of his neck, and the other traveled down his chest to his stomach, then went lower to feel the elf's arousal.
At the gasp from the elf, Aragorn's attention returned swiftly to the elven mouth, seizing it and cutting off the moans. He devoured the lips again and again, almost desperately, wondering that anything could taste so delicious, and why he had waited so long to claim them.
"Legolas… oh Valar…" he mumbled against the lips, then plundered the sweetness of the elf's mouth with his tongue, tasting and wanting more and more.
His hands that were fisted in the elf's hair now moved to the laces of Legolas' shirt, tugging at them impatiently. With shaking fingers, he began to undo them, but stopped when Legolas suddenly began to exert pressure on his mouth, greedily relishing his lips, exploring what lay beyond. The elven hands kneaded Aragorn's flesh through the fabric of the tunic, and Aragorn thought he would disintegrate from the heat of the touch.
Remembering what they had started to do, the man's fingers went back to unlacing the shirt, and the blind clumsy effort paid off when the smooth skin of the elf's chest was exposed to the searching hands. Both of them moaned at the contact, and Legolas' mouth lost Aragorn's lips for the second time when the man wrapped his arms around the elf's waist and quickly dropped his head to one of the inviting pink nipples to suck on it.
Legolas gasped in shock and pleasure, and grabbed Aragorn's hair in both fists, murmuring his name. He was floundering on a tempestuous sea of desire and he could only let the tide pull him where it would.
"Estel, Aragorn… I never knew… I never knew…" he said helplessly and in awe.
Aragorn himself felt lost on the same sea, buoyed on the waves of a passion bottled up for too long. The feel of the elf was all that filled his mind, and for tonight he wanted to forget the past, the present, the future…
The future.
The thought hit him mercilessly just as he was moving his lips across the porcelain skin of the elf's chest.
His future, the future of Gondor.
He abruptly lifted his head, cursing the cruel reminder of who he was and the choices he had to make. Panting heavily and hissing in frustration, he retracted his hands from the elf's body and looked up into the blue eyes in an agony of denial, finding them looking back at him in confusion.
They stared at each other for a long moment, still breathing from a passion unfulfilled.
"Estel," Legolas said at last. "Why… what…?"
"Legolas, forgive me, forgive me," Aragorn replied, clutching the elf's arms.
"It is all right, Estel," the elf replied. "I did not know, but I know now. It is all right."
"No, it is not!" the man protested, lowering his head. "There are – there are so many things to consider…" He raised his head again and Legolas saw the torment in his eyes, eyes that were pleading with the elf to understand. "There is Gondor…"
Legolas looked at him a moment, then nodded sadly, letting out a long sigh. His long lashes closed over blue eyes filled with pain. They sat in silence for some time, each trying to come to terms with what they felt their responsibilities to be, each trying to put into words what they felt.
Then Legolas stirred and got on his knees as if to leave, and the movement cut Aragorn's heart like a knife. He grabbed the elf's hands to stay him, and found them holding his back in a warm gesture.
"Estel," Legolas said, breaking the silence and smiling through moist eyes. "I have lived a long, long time. And…" He paused as he struggled with his words. "You know that elves mate only once in their lifetime."
Aragorn remained mute, waiting anxiously to hear what the elf was going to say.
"I have never mated," Legolas declared, "for I had never found the right person to whom I wished to give my heart and soul and body." Aragorn waited tensely. "Till you came into my life."
Aragorn released a long breath, again feeling the keen sorrow he felt each time he thought about what his future compelled him to give up.
"You would have been my chosen mate," Legolas continued, his voice breaking a little. "But your choice is different, and I will accept that."
Aragorn sighed again in great sorrow. You would have been my chosen, too, Legolas, he thought. I chose you when I was but eighteen years old. But Gondor demands that I choose someone else.
There was no point telling Legolas all this, he thought. It would be unfair on him; he would be better off finding someone else, though it would almost kill him to see the elf bonded with some other person.
"Find another," Aragorn forced himself to say, and he almost regretted it when he saw the rejection in the blue eyes. "But remain my friend."
Legolas reached a hand up to the man's face, stroking it gently, perhaps for the last time, he thought sadly, for he would have to belong to another.
"I will always be your friend, I will always support you," he promised. The blue eyes bored into Aragorn's own tearful ones, and what he said next shattered the heart of the man: "I understand, Estel, I understand. You are now Aragorn."
When the elf got up and withdrew his hands from Aragorn's, the man felt keenly the loss of the touch he had just found and claimed after so many decades, and he wept anew at the thought that he had not only lost his wizard guide and his mentor, but also the heart of the only person he had ever truly loved.
As he watched Legolas walk away, for the first time since he learned of his heritage, he began to question bitterly whether Gondor really needed an heir from him. For the first time, Aragorn debated whether his actions truly needed to be guided by his bloodline.
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