-1Ch. 2
The next few days proved to be the worst in the elf's long life. The gloom had even begun to effect the hobbits, whose playful banter had been reduced to occasional sarcastic remarks. Luckily, the group encountered nothing as they made their way along the winding underground paths, with Gandalf guiding them at all times. Aragorn had stayed at the back of the company, where he was able to keep an eye on the rest. He knew Legolas hadn't slept since their arrival in Moria, which only bothered him half as much as the fact that the elf's weariness was showing. Elves needed very little sleep to begin with, and under normal conditions the two sleepless nights would have had no effect on the resilient archer. But Aragorn feared there was more wearing the elf's resolve. Legolas had never been away from the sun and the forests for this long; he had always been connected to nature and living things in some way his entire life. It was like oxygen to the Sindar; it was where he found his strength and peace of mind, and now it was gone. Aragorn wasn't sure how this separation would play out, but he was certain that his focus would remain on his friend until they were out of this tomb.
Normally, Legolas would notice being watched. Normally, he would even know if the watcher was friend or foe. But after three days underground, the elf hardly knew if they walked uphill or down. The intense silence of the stone around him was deafening, and the dark was so thick not even his Elvin eyes could penetrate more than a few yards in any direction. Gandalf's light was his salvation and his sanity, giving him something to focus on, something to follow, when all he wanted was to run, to bolt in any direction and keep going until he felt fresh air on his face. He didn't even have a sense time; they could have been walking for weeks already, and he would not know it. Yet every time Gandalf called them to a halt for a few hours of sleep, it seemed too soon, the pace was too slow. There was no peace to be found in Moria, and so even the idea of sleep seemed foreign to Legolas. He would take watch, though the elf knew that his mind was too scattered and preoccupied to notice any threat that may arise. A small part of him wished for a disturbance; perhaps a troop of goblins or a few orcs…anything to distract him from the gloom.
The third night, as Legolas sat overlooking the sleeping hobbits, Aragorn came to sit with him. The elf, so absorbed in his own thoughts, was startled by the presence of the man beside him. He tried to recover his obvious surprise by whispering, "I thought you would be asleep with the rest of the company, Aragorn."
"And yet you would know I have been awake for the past several hours if you were well, Legolas," Aragorn replied with evident concern. After a moment of hesitant silence, he continued; "Will you not speak to me mellon nin? I know the darkness of the mines weighs heavily on your spirit. Perhaps it will be more bearable if you talk to me."
Legolas sighed, trying to keep his face void of emotion as he spoke. "I will not deny that the mines are unpleasant, Aragorn, yet it is not unbearable. You need not worry for me, I will be fine."
It did not escape Aragorn's notice that the elf averted his eyes as he spoke, something he only did when he lied. Yet it didn't seem wise to press the matter. Legolas knew he was there to help, and he could do no more until the stubborn immortal was willing to talk. Aragorn nodded in consent to the archer, and allowed a companionable silence to fall over them. Legolas could not deny that he felt better with the ranger at his side, and though he was still tense and alert, his mind was able to relax somewhat.
The next day went by in much the same way as the others. The Fellowship traveled through the darkness, pausing occasionally for a short break of water and dried meats before continuing on their path. It would only be a few hours until they would stop for the night, though none could tell if it was truly night in the perpetual dark, when the group came upon a fork in the path. Gandalf could not remember which of the three halls would lead them to their destination, and so the nine were forced to sit and wait for the Istari's memory to return. This, for Legolas, was more maddening than another full day of walking through the dark tunnels. They should be moving, Gandalf should remember this, they may have been lost for days and not known. It was almost too much, and so, instead of screaming his frustration to the lifeless stone, Legolas paced. For over an hour he simply walked around and around the others, never stopping nor glancing at anything but the ground before him. Finally, Gimli stood in his path, making the elf jump as he noticed the obstacle and stopped just in time to keep from falling over the dwarf.
"That's enough elf! Yeh've practically carved a path through the stone with all yer circles, and it's right unsettling… makes the hobbits nervous, it does," Gimli muttered softly.
Legolas was thankful that he kept his voice down so the others wouldn't hear, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to simply sit and wait in the oppressive shadows like the others. The look on the dwarfs face, however, broached no argument, and so Legolas moved to stand behind the hobbits. Merry and Pippin's comical arguments only sustained him for a few minutes before his ears once again filled with the roar of the mine. It took all the elf's willpower not to clamp his hands over his ears as he desperately wanted to. Instead, Legolas settled for closing his eyes and humming quietly to himself. He hummed the songs he used to sing under the trees of Mirkwood, the tunes he learned from his mother as a child, and the melodies the forest would sing to him as he lay in their branches under the stars. It was then that Legolas noticed Aragorn was beside him again, this time with his hand resting on the elf's shoulder. Legolas berated himself mentally; this was the second time he had failed to notice the man's presence, only now it was worse. Had he been so distracted that he had not felt the human's touch? What if it had been an enemy? He would be dead without ever realizing the danger. He must suppress this fear, before he, or worse, one of his friends, was hurt. Legolas made sure his face showed no emotion when he turned his head to look into Aragorn's anxious face.
"Gandalf has remembered the way. Come, we are moving on." This time Legolas could not keep the shocked look from his eyes. The rest of the Fellowship was standing, gathering their things, and moving once again toward the light on Gandalf's staff, yet he had not even noticed. Aragorn gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving to join the others. They traveled in silence for the next few hours, before the tired yawns of the hobbits broke the deafening quiet and marked the end of their day. Once again, Legolas found himself awake, watching the others slumber in peace. They were hardly affected by the suffocating closeness of Moria, able to sleep and therefore dream of places outside of this dark. It was not until a drop of liquid hit the archer's hand that Legolas realized he was crying. The tears had come without warning, and he found himself unable to stop them. It was infuriating; Legolas had shown excellent control of his emotions, always able to push down fear or pain or even love, so that nothing showed on his face but calm. But this place, this overwhelming darkness, was beyond his control. If not for the innocent hobbits, who relied so heavily upon his skill and trusted so deeply in his ability, he would already be running down the path. Legolas didn't know how much longer he would last in Moria, with nothing but black emptiness. He wiped angrily at his face, feeling ashamed at the trails flowing down his cheeks. He was a prince and a warrior, such weakness was below him. All he wanted was to be held, to be told that it would be alright, that someone would take care of him, and this too brought a feeling of shame. He would not let Moria defeat his resolve, especially with his feelings for Aragorn. He would not run to the man like a child after a terrifying dream; he would remain strong.
Finally, after several more minutes of stubborn tears, Legolas was able to control himself again. His hands still trembled slightly, and his breath still came in unsteady bursts, but the weeping had stopped. It was then that Aragorn awoke and looked across the makeshift camp at the elf. He looked beautiful; even in the dark his eyes glistened with freshly shed tears. His face was flushed and troubled, and he trembled ever so slightly. Aragorn had never seen Legolas vulnerable, it was one of the things that frustrated the man. Legolas kept everything inside, and kept people at a distance. No one was closer to the archer than Aragorn, yet he wanted to know Legolas so much more than he did. Even seeing the immortal now, with fear evident in his face and sorrow almost tangible about him, was a vast improvement to the cool aloofness Legolas usually presented.
Yet Aragorn was torn; he wanted to speak with his friend again, force him to release the burden of fear that he tried to hide, but he didn't know if he could trust himself. He wanted to be close to this elf, comfort him and… he simply didn't know if he would scare Legolas off for good when the elf needed a friend the most. Aragorn couldn't believe himself; what Legolas needed was a friend, someone he could trust to help him without any pressure, not a lusty man looking to take advantage while his defenses were down! Feeling ashamed of his thoughts, Aragorn sat up and made his way over to the troubled elf, determined to comfort his friend, as a friend. Anything beyond that would have to wait, if it were ever to come at all.
This time, Legolas was well aware of the approach of the human, giving him time to clasp his hands together and steady his breathing as much as possible, though he had a feeling it was too late for such things. Unlike before, Aragorn simply sat next to the golden elf, without asking any questions or pressing for any information. If anything, this was worse for Legolas. He knew he could trust the man, he had for decades, yet there had never been a situation where he needed to open up to Aragorn. It had always been the ranger who had something to get off his chest, who sought advice and needed a kind word. Legolas was the one who remained calm and composed, who leant a shoulder and an ear to his friend's problems, and the elf didn't know if he could accept this sudden reversal of roles. Especially now, when Aragorn so clearly had his own problems to deal with; the ring, the growing threat of Mordor, his love for Arwen, and his destiny to take the throne of men. Legolas' problems simply didn't compare, and he had no right to push another burden on the already struggling man.
Legolas continued to fight with himself in his mind, while Aragorn watched in silence. The man could see the indecision in his friends cerulean eyes, and he mentally urged Legolas to put aside his pride for a time in order to find healing. Finally, it seemed the elf had made up his mind. Casting his eyes off to the distance, Legolas whispered in Elvish, "This place strikes a fear in me that I have never before experienced… a fear that grows with each moment, threatening to overwhelm me at any time."
Anyone who may have heard the prince's words without understanding his natural tongue would have been convinced he was speaking of the weather. He sat with his legs crossed and his back straight, looking away in a nonchalant manner that indicated detachment. None of this fooled Aragorn, who could sense the slight tremors in the elven body, as well as the tremendous effort Legolas was putting into keeping his voice casual. The man shook his head at his stubborn friend before drawing the immortal to him with an arm around Legolas' shoulders. All resolve in the archer melted at this sudden act of compassion. He sank into the warm body next to him and allowed the tears to flow anew. Aragorn was momentarily stunned by the sudden change in Legolas; he was not expecting the task to be so easy. He recovered quickly, though, and began to speak soothing words to Legolas as he held the elf to him protectively. It was several minutes before the quiet sobs slowed to silence, yet Legolas showed no signs of letting go of the man next to him. His mind was blissfully blank for the first time in days, all he could hear was his own uneven breathing and Aragorn's voice, while the man's unique scent, a mix of pipeweed and pine, filled his senses.
Although this was the exact opposite of what Legolas told himself he would do, the elf could no more change his actions than he could illuminate the mines. He didn't regret it either; telling Aragorn the truth made him feel better than he had since entering Moria, and there was no denying the comfort that came from being close to the man. Without even realizing it, the elf slipped into the unconscious realm of dreams. Aragorn knew it as soon as Legolas was asleep, for his body relaxed more completely than it had been in days. He was glad for his friend; the rest would do him good in mind and body, perhaps enough to get him through the wretched mines. The ranger adjusted the slender body of the elf in his arms before closing his own eyes and resting his cheek against the top of the golden head, settling in for a few hours of rest. Despite his earlier admonishment at himself, Aragorn began to think how perfect Legolas felt curled into him, and how well they fit together, as if they were two halves of the same whole. Aragorn felt no shame in these thoughts, as he did before. Nothing could ruin this feeling for the man; it was too right to be wrong. Aragorn was sure that he could be content for eternity in that moment, breathing the sweet smell of a forest after a rainstorm that was purely Legolas.