Chapter 5: Moving on
The moon rose and fell many times in Lothlorien, till the Fellowship of eight lost track of the time they had spent in the elven refuge, for such was the magic of the place that when one was in it, one felt as if one was living in a different place and time away from Middle-earth.
The days and nights passed more gladly for some than for others. All received rest and healing in the peaceful realm, the borders of which were well protected by the watchful guards of Celeborn and Galadriel, but there were also hearts in silent turmoil for different reasons.
The hobbits Frodo and Sam were loath to leave the place, ever aware of the heavy task that lay ahead, while Boromir, man of Gondor, was impatient to do so and return to his city of Minas Tirith where his father was Steward. Pippin and Merry were enjoying themselves, but wished they could be back in the Shire. Gimli the dwarf still felt a little uncomfortable among so many elves despite his sudden affection for the elf queen who had shown him kindness at their arrival.
Aragorn was also heavy of heart – both because of the coming departure from Lothlorien, which must surely take place, and because of what had happened between him and Legolas that night. He still felt the sharp pain of having declared his feelings to the one he loved and having had to stop it from going further at the same time. He felt he had hurt them both, and he was bearing the agony of it alone.
They had not talked much after that night, for Legolas had taken to going away for much of the time with the elves of the Galadhrim, joining them on their watch at the borders. He often brought Gimli with him, for his kind heart took pity on the dwarf, and a great friendship developed between them. His own friendship with Aragorn remained, as he had promised, for he would sometimes return to the pavilion set aside for the Fellowship, to eat with them, but he did not spend any more nights there, and Aragorn knew that it was for both their sakes, for it would have been hard to face each other, knowing all that had transpired.
Aragorn could imagine how Legolas was hurting, for he felt the same misery. He could not forget all the happy years he and the elf had been close in Imladris and during the earlier days of his Ranger activities. Neither had known then about how the other felt, nothing was said, but they were both happy and content to be with each other.
Perhaps I should have kept it that way, he thought. Said nothing, done nothing. Then all would have been well. All would have gone on as before.
But for how long, he wondered. He had waited seven decades for the 'passing fancy' to go away. It had not only stayed but grown stronger. It was only a matter of time before the truth was revealed, and now it had. To no happy end, he lamented. Still, perhaps it had been worth it, if only to know that Legolas apparently felt the same way, although there was no way of knowing just how far the elf's love went – there had been no chance to find out.
Love? A doubt went through Aragorn's mind. Does Legolas love me? Or was he merely responding to what I did?
He sighed miserably. What does it matter? Whether or not I have his heart, I cannot have him anyway. I have little choice but to do what is best for Gondor.
And so Aragorn suffered alone, sitting by himself and mulling over a future over which he did not seem to have much control.
"What is bothering you?" a voice broke into the man's thoughts one day.
Startled, Aragorn turned around to find two hobbits looking at him curiously.
"Why are you sitting here moping in this amazing place?" Pippin asked, seating himself next to the man, his face showing his disapproval.
"Pippin!" Merry admonished, before turning to Aragorn. "Excuse us, Strider," he said, addressing the Ranger by the name he was called by the townspeople of Bree. "We don't mean to be rude, although Pippin seems to be doing a good job of disproving that." He sent a glare in his cousin's direction.
Aragorn smiled despite his misery. The two hobbits always amused him and the others no matter where they were.
"I was merely pondering our situation, my friends," he replied. "With Gandalf gone, I have no clear direction of the route we should take when we leave, and how best to… to complete our task."
At the mention of leaving, a frown crossed the faces of the two hobbits.
"Must we leave soon?" Pippin asked in a plaintive voice.
"I'm afraid we must at some point," Aragorn replied. "The Ring is safe here for the time being, but we cannot hide here forever, much as we would like to."
Pippin nodded, dejection and resignation clearly written on his face. The three companions sat in silence for a while, and Aragorn's eyes took on a faraway expression again.
"Yes, things cannot remain hidden forever," Merry said pointedly, looking at Aragorn. "And we have to act before it's too late."
Pippin nodded again, not looking up, but Aragorn's head whipped around and his eyes locked with Merry's. Something in the hobbit's tone hinted at a meaning that lay beyond their earlier reference to the Quest.
"Isn't that right, Strider?" the hobbit asked, a knowing, cheeky smile lighting his face. "We sit here brooding over a matter we can do something about, instead of tackling the problem."
Aragorn stared at him. Was he talking about the Quest, or –?
"Oh, don't give him grief over it, Merry!" Pippin scolded his cousin. "It cannot be easy to figure out what to do next."
"That is true, some decisions are difficult to make," Merry conceded, still holding Aragorn's gaze. "But some solutions seem plain enough to everyone else except the people who should make them." He winked at the man, making him fidget.
Aragorn cleared his throat. Could he mean – ?
"What is so plain?" Pip demanded. "One wrong step, and the Ring falls into the wrong hands! Even I know that, and I'm supposed to be the naïve one!"
Merry grunted in exasperation. "We are not talking about the Ring, Pip!" he retorted before looking pointedly at Aragorn again. "That is not the only thing of value in this Fellowship. There are other treasures – perhaps newly discovered – that are worth saving."
"Huh? Then what – ?" the younger hobbit asked in confusion.
Aragorn caught Merry's meaning and – to his own surprise – found himself blushing.
"Is it that obvious?" he asked quietly.
"To all who have eyes," Merry answered, laughing a little. "Maybe not this little Pipsqueak here, but everyone else. Even Gandalf…" his voice hushed a little at the reminder of the wizard's demise, but he quickly overcame the grief of the memory, and continued. "Gandalf thought so, too."
Aragorn's mouth fell open, and when he saw the mirth in the hobbit's eyes, he blushed again and looked at the ground, wondering how fast he could dig a hole to escape the scrutiny of the hobbit.
"What? What are you talking about?" Pippin asked, annoyed at having been left out of some matter everyone else apparently knew about. He looked from his cousin to the man. "Strider?"
"Nothing we should be discussing here," Aragorn stated, meeting Merry's eyes again. "Some problems are not as easily solved as others." His tone grew a little harder. "There are many factors to consider."
Merry was not intimidated by the man's dark expression. "Oh, I don't doubt that, Strider," he agreed, "but are those factors truly as important as you think?" He shrugged his shoulders. "But what do I know?" he continued, rising from his seat on the grass and assuming a cheeky grin. "I am just a hobbit, and such matters are beyond me!"
"Huh?" Pippin asked, knitting his eyebrows in incomprehension. "Wait! What am I missing here?"
"What you are missing, Peregrin Took, is your second breakfast," Merry answered teasingly. "Or you will, if we continue to sit here." He tugged at Pippin's elbow, making the latter get to his feet. "Come on, let's leave Strider alone. I'm sure he has much to mull over."
Merry winked at the Ranger and moved away, dragging a reluctant and loudly protesting fellow hobbit with him.
Aragorn stared at the retreating figures, uncertain whether to be angry or amused. He felt a little embarrassed by what Merry had told him. How could he look everyone in the eye again after this? To think that they had all been silently observing him and Legolas…
And what right did the hobbit have to suggest that there could be an easy solution for them? He would give anything, do anything within his power to be with the elf he had loved for so long – but the future of Gondor was not his to give.
Aragorn shivered. Just the thought of Legolas – and their first kiss that night – was enough to make him lose his mind. The memory of that exquisite kiss had filled Aragorn's waking and sleeping moments for all the days and nights that followed. The man could not forget the intoxicating taste of the elven lips, the silk of the elven skin and hair, the enticing nipple that had coaxed his tongue to abandon all control…
The man moaned and fisted his hands. He wanted so badly to touch Legolas again that it hurt. But the elf now seemed so unreachable. Where was he? What was he doing each day? Aragorn was left to wonder miserably.
--xx00xx--
On the borders of Lothlorien, Legolas sat in the branches of a tall mallorn, from which which he could – if he strained his far-seeing eyes – catch a glimpse of the glow from the hated Mountain of Fire: a grim reminder of the Quest awaiting to be resumed. It was also a reminder of the power of the Dark Lord, and the mission Aragorn had been assigned with since the day he was born: to reclaim Gondor. It was the mission that kept them apart.
Gimli sat beneath the tree, smoking his pipe and feeling comfortable in the moments of silence that he and Legolas were allowing each other. Over the past few days, the dwarf had noticed the elf withdraw into himself a little, and had questioned him about it until the elf had had no choice but to admit what was in his heart. Legolas – to his own unceasing puzzlement – had found himself telling an unlikely friend, a dwarf, his innermost feelings about Aragorn, and about the surprising revelation of the man's desire for him.
"But if you tell anyone else about this, Gimli, or if Aragorn himself finds out that you know," Legolas had warned, "I will kill you." The look in his eyes had confirmed his intention to carry out his threat, but the dwarf had merely shrugged.
"My lips are sealed," he had replied nonchalantly, "but you will find most of our companions less blind than you think we are." The dwarf had hidden the smug he felt at the elf's shocked discomfiture. "If you and he are fool enough to give up what could be a good thing – that's your choice." Then he had chosen to ignore the glare the elven eyes shot his way, and had gone back to annoying the elf with his smoke rings.
The smoke from Gimli's pipe at the foot of the tree reached Legolas' sensitive nose now, and the elf smiled at that memory of their conversation; thankfully, he had had no reason to kill his friend yet.
"You wear it like a cloak," a fair voice, speaking in Sindarin, snapped him out of his thoughts, and an elf with golden hair like his own, stepped nimbly on to the branch in from of him. "It is testimony to how deep in thought you were – to have not noticed my approach."
"Mae govannen, Rumil," Legolas greeted the brother of the Marchwarden Haldir. Rumil had been one of the elves who had guided the Fellowship into the Hidden Realm when they first arrived at its borders. Rumil lowered himself gracefully on to the branch and sat so that he faced Legolas, who looked at him quizzically.
"What do I wear like a cloak?" Legolas asked. He had developed a comfortable closeness to the elf over the past weeks, drawing pleasure from the warm laughs and trust they shared as they patrolled Lothlorien's borders.
Rumil did not reply for a while, but looked deep into Legolas' blue eyes with his own light brown ones. Then a gentle smile graced the Lorien elf's features.
"You are fond of the Adan, mellon nin," he said quietly. "But you cannot pursue that road. The unhappiness envelops you."
Legolas felt color creep into his fair cheeks, and he lowered his eyes. "Is it written so clearly on my face?" he asked shyly.
A soft laugh came from the other elf. "Nay, fair Legolas," he replied, the smile not leaving his handsome face. "But it is clear to those who care to look." A slender hand reached up to touch Legolas' cheek. "And I care."
Legolas' head rose quickly and studied the handsome face before him, not knowing what to say.
Rumil shook his head and sighed. Several of the Lorien elves – him included – had hoped to be more intimately acquainted with Legolas – due in no small part to the irresistible beauty and pleasant demeanor of the Mirkwood prince – but the prince himself had been graciously untouchable, both in word and deed.
"I care, Legolas," he repeated. "I have watched you suffer in silence, but you deserve more. Though you do not speak of it, I know that you and he cannot be, but you can find happiness elsewhere. Will you not let me try?" He ran the back of his hand over the smooth cheek of the Mirkwood elf.
The gentleness of his words and movement stirred something in Legolas' heart and brought a tear to his eye. He had loved Aragorn for so long, always hoping, yet never expecting… and now Aragorn had made his choice known. He did not hold it against Aragorn in the least – the man was merely doing what he felt to be right, and ironically, this principle was one of the things Legolas loved about the man.
How can I hold it against him? Legolas said to himself. He owes me nothing.
And neither did he owe Aragorn anything, he realized, except his loyalty to him as the leader of their Fellowship.
As Legolas looked at Rumil's kind face, he wondered: if he could never be with the man, perhaps he should find solace somewhere else, where it would not be wrong for him to be given solace?
Yet, even as the thought crossed his mind, and much as he feared to admit it, he knew that he still loved the man.
A love that has resided in my heart for decades does not depart so quickly, he thought sadly.
But Rumil was a good person, a fine and understanding companion. Yes, his heart was still with Aragorn… but perhaps… perhaps, with time, he could eventually come to see Rumil as more than a friend.
"Rumil, if you can truly see into my heart, then you will know it still lies elsewhere," Legolas responded at last. "I cannot see what will happen, and if indeed any change takes place, it… it will take time… and I do not want you to nurture hope where there may be none."
Rumil smiled again and nodded, dropping his hand to take hold of Legolas'. "I will wait," he said simply.
Legolas could not help noting more irony in the situation. Another wait. He had waited this many years – not that he had done anything about it – but he had waited nevertheless for a man he never had any hope of bonding with. And now he was asking Rumil to wait for him.
At least they could afford to wait, thanks to their immortality, he thought. It was a good thing, for he wanted to be sure; once he was bonded, he would have no one else. It was at this point that he felt great sorrow for Aragorn, for the man was mortal, and he had to make his choices now. That was why he could not lay any blame on the human, though it tore his own heart apart.
I have to move on, the elf told himself, not for myself, but to regain my strength for Aragorn's sake – he will need me on the Quest. I will have to remain whole and calm to lend him support, for the burden will be greatest on him. And if Rumil can help me mend, so be it.
With that, he smiled and opened himself to Rumil's warmth and companionship, if not yet his love, and he let it heal him for the remainder of his stay in Lothlorien.
--xx00xx--
"It is time," Galadriel told Aragorn as he stood before her several days later. "You will need to leave now, Estel. I wish I could protect the Fellowship and the Ring here for all time, but I cannot. You can tarry no longer."
Aragorn nodded with a heavy heart, and returned to his companions to inform them that their stay in the safety of Lothlorien was about to end. They had to make preparations to leave, and leave quickly.
When Legolas received the news, he returned to the pavilion that night, so that the whole group could discuss where to go next, which route to follow to Mordor. His companions were all seated around the fountain when he approached. Aragorn's heart leapt at the sight of the beautiful elf, and it ached again with longing. But a strange annoyance overcame all those feelings when he caught sight of Rumil walking slightly behind Legolas, a hand on the shoulder of the elf he loved.
Legolas' eyes looked for Aragorn and found him, and the warm smile he gave was like a ray of sunshine breaking through dark clouds. The elf looked so… calm, like he had come to terms with… with their earlier turmoil. The man smiled back and nodded, hoping the elf would make his way over and sit next to him. He missed Legolas more than he cared to admit.
But just as Legolas began to walk in his direction, Gimli called out. "Hoy, Elf, come sit here! I haven't seen you for a week. Come tell me what foolishness you have been up to." The hobbits echoed the invitation, and Aragorn wanted to break the dwarf's neck at that point.
As Legolas laughed and moved towards Gimli, Rumil caught his arm so that Legolas turned back to face him. The soft whispers and smiles they exchanged kindled an insane jealousy within Aragorn that he tried to push down with little success.
"I will see you soon," he heard the Lorien elf say to Legolas in Sindarin. The man was glad when Rumil nodded farewell to the group and left.
A few days later, the elves of Lothlorien gave the Fellowship a sad farewell. Galadriel gave the group three boats to bear them down the Anduin River, and presented each of them with a specially selected item. All of them were also given elvish cloaks that she and her maidens had sewn. Aragorn saw Rumil place Legolas' cloak around his shoulders and fasten the brooch for him, their heads bowed close together. And when the moment came for them to board the boats, the two elves exchanged a close embrace.
Jealousy flared through Aragorn again at the sight, but it was now tempered with sadness.
I have no right to stop him from choosing another, he thought, for it was what I asked him to do.
Aragorn fought hard to control his hurt and distress. Perhaps when he was wed with Arwen, this would all go away, he thought.
But at the back of his mind, he was not so sure. Through the seventy years he had lived since he first knew Legolas, he had met and become close to many people: elves and elleths, Rangers, and Arwen the Evenstar of her people. But none understood him or moved him as Legolas did. No other could make him feel as frisky as a young colt and as composed as an aged sage at the same time. No one else could inspire him enough to take exciting chances as well as face sobering responsibilities. And certainly, no one could set his veins on fire or fill his heart as the golden elf could.
Despite his earlier conviction that he was doing the right thing by considering Gondor above his own feelings and that of the elf's, his feelings were now as uncertain as the river journey they were about to make, and as rocky as the rapids of Sarn Gebir they would face.