The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
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Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
Thanks for the reviews and thanks to everyone who is reading this. Very much appreciated. And here's the next chapter for you I hope you enjoy it.
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Chapter 59 – Estel
Legolas stood at the window, looking out over the city. Even in the shadow of night, the city of Men was busy. Light shone all around, making it seem almost like the cities of old Legolas had known; bold, he thought, considering how many eyes must have even now been upon the city of Osgiliath. Lighting the city up in this manner must surely have made it a far easier target for the Enemy. For the sake of the mere comfort of light, it was a terrible risk to take and one that Legolas could not condone.
How different this place was to anywhere Legolas had encountered before since the beginning of the War, he mused as he watched people walking down the well-lit streets, engrossed in conversation, confident in the defences Faramir had erected around them. Even deserted, the Elven realms he had come across since the rule of the Dark Lord began had a kind of freedom about them. He felt like he belonged in them amongst the elegant structures and towering trees. They were elemental and that was what Legolas was used to, what he loved. But to be confined within a city of stone, Legolas found himself ill at ease. The stone structures towered around him, trapping him in. How odd, that the walls of Osgiliath should trouble him so. It seemed sad that he should find fighting the Enemy and travelling the wasted lands of Middle Earth more comforting than settling in a specific place surrounded by allies and as protected as was possible to be so close to Mordor. He doubted that his own people would even recognise him anymore. An Elf bound by duty to a Human, trying desperately to work amongst other Humans, living in a city made of stone in a world without sunlight or stars. It would seem so strange to the Elves of Mirkwood, even perhaps to those of Rivendell who had long dealings with the Edain and indeed had their blood flowing through their veins.
Sometimes, even after so many years in exile, he still yearned for the green splendour of Mirkwood or the soothing calm that always met him upon entering Imladris. Ever, the past gnawed at his heart, a constant reminder of that which had been forever lost to him.
Sighing deeply, Legolas braced himself against the cold stone sill. It was cold this night but he didn't mind. He would be no warmer beneath his blankets. Besides, he found that the cold brought him comfort. He was still capable of feeling something.
Aragorn had earlier settled himself amongst Jecha, the Dwarves and the Rangers around the fireplace in which they'd built up a roaring fire in one of the buildings Faramir had lent to his guests for the duration of their stay in Gondor. Together they had tasted the food of the Gondorians, drank the potent alcohol of the Rangers and spent the evening, full and merrily inebriated, laughing and exchanging stories, some more explicit than others and none of them appealing to Legolas.
He had stayed for a while, watching rather than participating. But soon it had become tiresome. Never had he before felt out of place amongst these Men he had travelled with but tonight his mood did not make him good company nor in the right temper to be around such a jovial gathering. When it had become too much to bear, he had slipped out unnoticed from the room to this spot at the glassless window where he could observe the lamp-lit city in peace. No one had come after him and although he was a little disappointed that Aragorn especially had not deigned to either notice his absence nor come to see the reason for his gloom, he was glad for the quiet. He preferred to be alone at times like this.
A while back, the noise from the next room had died down to be replaced by gentle snoring. Irritation gnawed at him when he thought of Aragorn's indulgence. The man, despite years of practice, did not deal all that well with the effects of alcohol. He would have a terrible headache come morning. Very often after a night like this he would be a misery to be around the day after. Legolas found such a demeanour in his ward extremely wearisome.
He'd never felt the inclination to imbibe such copious amounts of potent liquor. In fact, the taste disgusted him. To lose control of himself in the same manner as his Human companions brought Legolas no comfort. The thought actually terrified him at times. He liked to remain steadfast, in total command of his body and senses. At times, that was the only thing he felt like he did have control of. He would not relinquish that so readily.
"You're up late."
Legolas startled, turning suddenly to face the intruder on his thoughts. He was surprised to find the Captain of Gondor standing before him. It was the first time that he had seen the man out of his armour and he looked oddly well-presented given the state of the city and the fact that he'd spent the two weeks since they'd arrived in the kingdom working.
Realising that Faramir was looking at him with curiosity shining in blue-flecked grey eyes, Legolas cleared his throat and answered, "I couldn't sleep."
"Then you…you do sleep?" At Legolas' questioning expression, Faramir elucidated, "Elves. You sleep as we do?"
"In the same manner, for the most part, yes."
A blush crept across Faramir's cheeks at the Elf's rather tart answer. "You must think me terribly ignorant," he nevertheless flustered for it was true that he knew very little of the mythical creatures the tales of old occasionally alluded to and he had always been of a rather curious nature.
Legolas smiled as softly as he could manage to ease the man's discomfort then corrected, "Actually, I admire those who search for knowledge. Aragorn is much the same." Legolas' smile widened affectionately at the mention of his charge's constant stream of questions during his youth. It had driven him to distraction at the time but now that it was missing he found that he missed that aspect of his ward. "He was always eager to learn."
"How old was he when he came into your care?"
"Nine. But a child."
"Did you know who he was when you took guardianship of him?"
"His father told me on his deathbed."
"That's quite a burden to take on."
"Yes. More than I realised at the time."
"Do you regret it?"
"Taking on Aragorn's care?" At Faramir's nod, Legolas answered, "At first, I confess I did. For many years I thought I had made a dreadful mistake but…I do not regret it now."
Faramir drew in a deep breath and moved cautiously to the window where Legolas stood. The Elf did not withdraw but turned to the view that the Captain's gaze had drifted to. "I wish I could be so certain."
He sounded confused, pained. Legolas could tell that he was struggling with his decision and was frustrated by that doubt. The Elf understood that emotion all too well.
"It is understandable that you have misgivings. Any sane person would have."
"It is not pride or jealously, you know."
Legolas nodded softly, folding his arms neatly across his chest. "I believe you."
"There is much at stake. I must be certain."
They fell into silence, Faramir thoughtful and Legolas dubious. He wanted to help Faramir make up his mind but he didn't want the man to feel pressured. That might just scare him off. Delicate as the situation was, he decided against interfering. So he remained quiet, giving the Captain time to mull. At least Faramir no longer seemed quite so wary or skittish around the newcomers; indeed he had ventured willingly into the quarters that had been provided them by the Steward, however reluctantly.
"Is he a good man?"
"Excuse me?" Legolas found himself startled from his musings once again as Faramir's voice broke the hush.
"Aragorn." The man was looking imploringly at Legolas, still seeking his answers. "He's a good man?"
A smile, the first for many days, spread across Legolas' face, tender and certain at the same time. "Yes. He is the best man that I have ever known. Honourable, kind, brave, selfless."
"All good qualities."
"I know what you are risking, what you have already risked, for us. Your whole life has been turned upside down overnight, your future irrevocably changed. It must be…disconcerting."
"To say the least," agreed Faramir immediately.
"But Aragorn is good of heart, sensible of mind. Give him the chance to prove that to you. You will not regret it."
Faramir bowed his head, simultaneously releasing a long breath. Somehow, now he felt even less certain. Legolas' words sounded truthful enough but then it was common knowledge that he was the supposed King's guardian. Of course he would be biased in Aragorn's favour. Confusion muted any further questions for the time being. Legolas proved to be quite a tolerant thinking companion. Of course, Faramir knew that he had his own agenda; he was on Aragorn's side, wanted the young man crowned King, but he did not pressure overly. He stood at Faramir's side, still and silent, awaiting the man's decision if he decided to give it this night. And if not, then he would remain patient, waiting, as if that was what he did best in his life. Faramir decided that Legolas would be a very good guardian; patient and understanding. Aragorn was lucky to have such a steady guide in the world.
Peace in Osgiliath seldom lasted any length of time and tonight its curse proved itself once more.
The silence of the street was shattered by a pained wail from close by. Faramir immediately drew his sword, still at his side despite his otherwise casual attire, looking about for any potential threat that had caused the scream. Legolas, on the other hand, had spun around and raced through the open doorway into the next room. He knew precisely where the cry had originated.
Others in the building from which the cry had originated had been woken but they all looked around themselves, dazed from sleep and too much alcohol still lingering in their systems, not sure what exactly was going on. Legolas went straight to where Aragorn laid on the floor, writhing and crying openly even as he slept. Dropping to his knees, the Elf took Aragorn's shoulder and shook it to wake the young man from his tortured dreams. Aragorn woke almost instantly, eyes snapping open as another ragged cry was ripped from his lips against his will.
Legolas did not even have time to enquire after his ward's well-being before he had Aragorn's arms wrapped around his neck and the boy's face buried in his shoulder. It was by no means the first time that Legolas had comforted his ward in the wake of such a nightmare. Over the years, it had become an almost regular occurrence, one that he had become quite adept at dealing with. Still, it was always hard to see Aragorn in that way, perhaps even more so as he developed from a boy into a man.
Aragorn's hands gripped the back of Legolas' jacket tightly, almost painfully; he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. The memories of his disturbed sleep haunted him and Legolas was the only one who could bring comfort. Meanwhile, Legolas held his ward in return, rubbing his trembling back in reassurance.
Deep, heaving sobs came from the young man even as he was comforted by his guardian. This concerned Legolas. What had happened to upset him so much?
"Shh, it's all right," hushed Legolas, stroking the boy's hair back in an attempt to get a view of Aragorn's face but he was pressed so close that it proved impossible so Legolas instead resumed his previous comforting.
Jecha, who had been standing staring in open bewilderment since being woken was broken from his shock by bright blue eyes that had suddenly turned on him. Legolas' imploring gaze spoke volumes. Shaking his head, Jecha looked around himself to find the others staring in exactly the same manner as he himself had been drawn into doing.
"Hey, let's…" Jecha attracted the attention of the others and nodded in the direction of the door, indicating that they should leave. No doubt Aragorn would wish for privacy. He knew that if it were him being cradled, helpless and emotional in another's arm, he would not want to be observed by gawking men. Sonal left immediately, showing, it seemed little concern for the young king. When, however, some of his men hesitated, torn between curiosity and sympathy for what they were witnessing, the Easterling prompted a little more clearly, "Come on. Out. Now."
This certainly jolted everyone into action and they filed out, indiscreetly peering at the pair over their shoulders as they left. Seeing the young man named as their king reduced to a sobbing wreck in the arms of his usually stoic guardian held a kind of grim fascination for them. It was a sight seldom seen. Particularly as it looked like Legolas was also distressed.
Finally, Jecha also left, taking Faramir, who had been loitering in the doorway after he'd tailed Legolas inside, by the arm and tugging him away. Behind him, he closed the door, leaving Legolas and Aragorn in privacy where he was confident that Aragorn would confide in his most trusted friend what had upset him so.
"That happen often?" Faramir asked as the well-dressed Easterling moved away from the door.
Dark eyes, filled with concern, turned on the Captain. "Too often of late."
With that, Jecha followed his companions outside into the cool night air, leaving Faramir to wonder at the kindness and the loyalty that this young king inspired in those who followed him. The devotion to his well-being, body, heart and mind was rather inspiring and Faramir felt a stab of jealousy for he had never enjoyed such loyalty and love, either from his people, friends or family.
The closest he had ever felt to another person had been his brother and even that had been lost years ago. One of the frequent but devastating Orc attacks on Osgiliath had robbed him of his brother, the people's champion, Boromir and left him at the mercy of his stern, grieving father and very much alone in the world. He wished above all else that he had someone like Legolas there for him. Sometimes, he wanted to curl up in the arms of someone beloved, trusted, and cry his heart out like a little boy. But that was not to be. He was alone. He resented Aragorn a little for having what he had always been denied.
OIOI
It took a long while for Legolas to calm his ward down sufficiently to ask what had caused such a reaction in the first place. It took longer still to actually get the answer but it wasn't what Legolas had expected.
"It burns," Aragorn gasped, pulling back from his guardian in such a sudden movement that the Elf instinctively reached out to grab him in case he attempted to run from the house. But Aragorn made no attempt to bolt but rather yanked the buttons of his jacket and shirt open to lay his hand upon his pale skin as if in pain.
Legolas gasped when he saw what Aragorn spoke of. A deep red burn marred his thin chest. He could think of no instance where his ward could have sustained such an injury though. Their brief skirmish with the Orcs earlier had resulted in no wounds on the young king – Jecha had made a point of making sure of that.
Grabbing the man's hand suddenly, Legolas dragged it away from the skin to get a better look at the burn.
"How did this happen?" he demanded when seeing it offered him no clues as to its source.
His voice still trembling, Aragorn explained, "I dreamed." Eyes brimming with fear and tears, the young man abruptly reached for Legolas' arm, holding it so tightly that the Elf actually winced at the strength in the thin fingers. "The Darkness took me away, took you away from me. And I was shrouded from the Light. I was all alone. And I saw. It burned."
Still Legolas did not understand and with furrowed brow he asked, "What burned?" He was growing increasingly concerned by Aragorn's obvious confusion and disorientation.
"It." Aragorn laid his trembling hand this time over the breast pocket of his battered old jacket. "He sees it. Sees me."
Understanding suddenly dawned over Legolas and in one swift almost desperate movement he took Aragorn's jacket by the lapels, demanding, "Take this off." He helped Aragorn shrug out of his coat and then threw it hard over to the other side of the room. He should have anticipated that the closer they came to Mordor and the Dark Lord Sauron the more potent the Lord's Ring's power would become in its effect on the bearer. He was loath the touch the thing itself – its power was far beyond him – but he felt it best to remove it from Aragorn's person whilst it was still possible to do so.
Far from looking relieved, Aragorn actually looked greatly pained at the loss and he ran his hand over his forehead as if being parted from the thing that had hurt and frightened him so much in the first place upset him greatly.
"We have to clean this," Legolas referred to the angry-looking skin, marred at the point where the Ring of Power had rested. Glancing around, he found Aragorn's bag and from it retrieved the man's flask. When he went to apply the cloth he had dampened to the damaged area on Aragorn's chest though, the young king yelped and scampered backwards away from his well-meaning guardian.
"Stay away!" Aragorn exclaimed in horror, eyes wide and for the first time around Legolas distrustful.
Alarmed by the abrupt change, Legolas sat back, hands raised in the air so as not to appear at all threatening. "Aragorn, I am only trying to help," he said softly, hiding his shock and concern well behind a mask of understanding he did not feel. Slowly, he crawled towards his ward who was alternating between staring wildly at Legolas and gazing longingly at his jacket laid on the other side of the room in an untidy heap where the Elf had cast it. He did not attempt escape as the Elf approached him again.
When he was close enough, Legolas reached out and took his ward loosely by the arm. Aragorn startled at the contact. Grey eyes, shining with fear, focused more intently upon his guardian.
"Let me help you," whispered Legolas calmly. Slowly raising his hand, he laid it palm down against Aragorn's tear-streaked cheek. "All right?"
Aragorn swallowed thickly, his shaking body relaxing slowly as sense returned through the haze of confusion. Suddenly, Legolas did not seem the enemy as he had a moment previously. Light replaced the darkness in his mind and he closed his eyes for a second to further clear his head of the thoughts swimming dizzyingly around. Soft eyes, shining blue and clear with sympathy, watched all this play out with patience and understanding. The pale face before him suddenly appeared blurred and hot tears spilled down Aragorn's cheeks.
Shakily, he asked, "Legolas? What…What happened?" He felt cold, shaken; more so than he had ever felt before. The hot, burning desire fuelled by anger and possessiveness had subsided but had left in its place an empty cavity in his heart. He felt almost…bereft.
With caution, just in case his ward was not entirely himself just yet, Legolas shifted closer still, finally reaching out to touch Aragorn with his fingertips.
"It's all right," the Elf whispered in reassurance. He shuffled to sit by Aragorn's side and slid his arms over the young man's shoulders to pull him close. Without hesitation, Aragorn laid his head upon his guardian's shoulder and closed his eyes once more as he let the tears fall freely.
Legolas held his rattled ward close as he shook, trembling from fear and emotion as he sought to make sense of what strange thing had just transpired within him. Thirty-five years of age was so terribly young in the eyes of one of the Firstborn. To Legolas, who had walked Arda for thousands of years, Aragorn was still but a child, little changed from the boy he had rescued on the Old Forest Road. And yet Aragorn had changed so much and so rapidly. He had grown into a confident adult. True, there had been plentiful hurdles along the way, none of which Legolas could honestly claim he'd been prepared for. But now here was his ward, the child he had effectively raised, getting ready to lead an army of Men whilst carrying with him an immense burden forged at the very heart of Darkness and that the Dark Lord coveted relentlessly above all other prize or treasure.
Pride swelled in Legolas' heart but disappointment also – not in Aragorn but rather in himself. He could do so little to share the load. It hurt that he was reduced to such a useless creature in the presence of his ward.
After a long while, Aragorn's tears ceased and he pulled away from his mentor, his cheeks flushed pink. He heaved a long breath then offered Legolas a smile that was too shaky to be seen as anything other than false.
Offering the young man a returning smile of his own, Legolas used the damp cloth to wipe away tears from Aragorn's face.
"We need to clean this wound," the Elf said softly, referring to the burn decorating Aragorn's chest. As the man's fingers delicately ghosted over the reddened flesh as if in interest, Legolas asked, "Should I get Valon? He is trained as a physician and the Men might feel more comfortable knowing that you have been looked at by someone who knows what they're doing." Jecha in particular was known for being protective over the King's well-being; Legolas was sure that if the Easterling suspected him of not doing the right thing by Aragorn then he would be most displeased.
Before Legolas could get to his feet to call for the healer, Aragorn snatched his hand to keep him from leaving. "No, I don't want anyone else in here. Please." Imploring grey eyes fixed Legolas with a pleading stare that both knew was impossible to resist. "Please, I trust you to help me and none other."
Indeed, Legolas had never been able to deny that look and he couldn't now. So, nodding his consent, he sat back down, once again retrieving the flask of water.
The injury was not bad, although it looked red and sore. Aragorn made not one sound as Legolas cleaned the burn although he couldn't hide the occasional flinch. Mostly, he simply watched his guardian's deft hands working.
"I saw him."
Legolas looked up sharply from what he was doing at the quiet, quivering voice piercing the silence. "Him?" Of course, he knew exactly to whom Aragorn was referring.
"Yes. He was rimmed with flame. He looked right at me with-with deep blue eyes. Otherworldly."
"It was a dream, Aragorn."
"But it felt real." His fingers absently traced the edges of the burn again and his eyes darkened as he remembered. "It was real; just like before."
"You think the Dark Lord has entered into your dreams?"
"Yes."
Legolas frowned as realisation came to him. "This has happened to you before!"
"Yes." Aragorn nodded, expression turning to one of guilt.
"For how long have you dreamed of him?"
"A while. A couple of months."
"Months?" In truth, Legolas was surprised that his ward had kept something so important from him all this time. "That long?" Aragorn's eyes lowered again and despite the blatant look of remorse in them, Legolas felt compelled to ask, forcing calm, "Why did you not say something?"
"I was afraid."
"Of telling me?"
Aragorn shook his head. "Of what I saw."
"What have you seen?"
"I have been dreaming of him, of his fort in the Black Lands. He-He calls to me, beckons to me to come to him."
"Come to him?"
With a nod, Aragorn continued, gaining confidence now that the first revelation had been spoken, "To join him, to merge with the forces of Shadow. And I…" He swallowed thickly, fearing to speak the words that weighed so heavily on his mind. Ciaran had spoken of a similar thing when he had looked into the Seeing Stone and he'd been equally terrified and unwilling to speak of what he'd experienced. But he continued anyway. "I was tempted – in my dreams. I went to him. I was drawn to the Shadow. Ciaran spoke of feeling the same way when he looked into the Seeing Stone." Desperate grey eyes rose to search those of his guardian for reassurance. Clearly, Aragorn did not see in the Elf what he longed for and Legolas started when the boy suddenly lurched forward at him, hands grasping his own hands and holding him with painful fierceness. "Please. I am sorry. Forgive me, please!"
Aragorn bent forwards until his forehead was pressed tight against Legolas' knees; he held his stunned guardian, shuddering as he awaited a reply.
So surprised was Legolas by this unexpected display that for a long while he could think of nothing to do or say. He simply watched his quivering ward dissolve before him. When sense finally did return to him, the truth of what Aragorn had confessed hit him full force and he gasped, his eyes seeking out the jacket he had desperately tossed aside earlier. What had the seemingly ignorant Arathorn cursed his innocent son with? Had he known when he passed on that seemingly innocuous band of gold to his child what fate it would entail to carry it? Had he known that he was condemning Aragorn to this torment?
No matter what the answers to these questions, the truth remained the same. Aragorn was burdened with this great evil and it was, in spite of all his strength, preying on the weaknesses of his ancestry and slowly destroying him, body and soul. And Legolas was, once more, rendered useless.
What could he say now? What reassurance could he offer that was not false? Perhaps he had gotten away with reassuring lies in the past but things had changed now. He could not be untruthful with the King. He had vowed not to be.
"Child…" Legolas closed his eyes, swallowed down his own fears and doubts as he made an attempt to build up enough courage for his ward to cling onto. 'Child'. No longer could he refer to Aragorn thusly. His young ward had grown into a fine man and was now transforming into a good King, even if he himself could not see it. So, he started again, only to almost immediately get cut off. "Your Majesty…"
"No!" Aragorn's head shot up so abruptly that Legolas had to recoil or receive a bang to the head. "No, not you. Please. No 'Majesty' from you, Legolas. Please."
Legolas' face softened into understanding and to placate him he laid his hand on Aragorn's arm.
"Aragorn," he corrected himself softly, tenderly brushing the man's hair from his face where it had fallen untidily. "You must calm yourself."
"He's watching me!"
"No. He cannot be." Grey eyes wildly met blue again, ever seeking certainty in the steady gaze, and Legolas forced a smile. "There is much to fear indeed in your appointed task, but not that. Please, trust me as you once did and heed my words. He is not watching you."
Aragorn nodded earnestly. "I do trust you, Legolas. More than ever."
"Then also trust that I will not let you come to any harm this night. Now you must rest." He buttoned up Aragorn's shirt for him as the man's hands were still shaking too much to do anything useful. "Come now, return to sleep for a time."
"I do not think I can."
"You must. There will be much to do tomorrow and you must be well rested for it."
Aragorn looked down at his dishevelled appearance and chuckled humourlessly. "What must these people think of me?"
"You have convinced every Man you have met so far of your true heart. Gondor shall be no different, I am certain. It will just take more time."
Embarrassed all of a sudden by the tears still wet upon his cheeks, Aragorn swiped at them in anger. "I envy you."
"How so?" Legolas enquired, his head cocked to one side in question, even as he helped Aragorn on with his own jacket. Having no desire to touch the one that bore the Ring of Power, Legolas decided that it was a worthy sacrifice to give up his own coat to Aragorn, especially as the young man still shivered.
"How is it that you are always so certain of everything now? I do not recall you being so when we first met on the road."
"Well," Legolas shrugged as he buttoned up the coat, only slightly too large on the slighter man, "you have taught me much in the intervening years."
For a moment, Aragorn gazed critically at his guardian in an attempt to gauge his seriousness, then he broke into a wide grin. "What could I possibly have taught you? Are your race not supposed to be endlessly wise? Or so Erestor informed me many times while we rested in Rivendell."
"Yes, well, Erestor has been wrong countless times before," the Elf muttered with a bitterness for the stern Elf they had left behind years ago in Imladris that made Aragorn laugh outright. "In this instance, I believe that you have been the one imparting the wisdom upon me."
His smile fading at the sincerity in his guardian, Aragorn asked, "How so?" It was not for ego that he asked this but rather for reassurance.
"Have you not chosen the way here? Have you not brought together factions of Men who would otherwise never have given each other a chance? These are no small feats, Aragorn. You should be proud."
Aragorn was already shaking his head. "Anyone could have done the same."
"Not everyone bears the blood of Kings."
"Blood means nothing."
"But strength…That is a rare gift for one born in the broken world of Darkness. Before I met you, I confess I had none. Not even in the final days of Mirkwood." He smiled wanly. "You see, Aragorn, you did what I could not. You are standing up for what is right and just. All those Wise could not get as far as you have done in this quest for freedom. And you have the Dark Lord scared. How can you belittle such great achievements?"
Legolas' voice was quiet and sincere as ever and yet Aragorn remained unconvinced. "What if it is all for nothing?"
"It will not be."
"You can't know that. We have already lost so much. So many Men have died."
"They sacrificed themselves willingly for a cause they believe in. Right or wrong, successful or not, that has to be respected."
"Is that what I am too? A sacrifice?" He wished his voice could have sounded steadier as he said this, wished he could state with honesty that he did not fear death at the hands of the Shadow, and yet he could not. He did fear it with his every waking moment – and now it even followed him into his dreams.
Legolas' memory was thrown back to Elrond's darkened chamber in Rivendell. The Lord of Imladris had referred to Aragorn thusly even then. A sacrifice. He had demanded an explanation for the coldness of Legolas' decision to lead this unsuspecting man into the Land of Fire to meet with his inevitable death. Even then, Legolas had known that the end was inevitable. And yet, he had always denied that truth, even from himself. Too painful the truth would always prove to be when Aragorn was concerned.
"No," he finally answered. "No, you are not a sacrifice, Aragorn. You are a warrior, a soldier of the Light. Of that, you should be proud. It is a noble thing."
"Death is noble? Your vision is skewed."
"Now, that I cannot argue," smiled Legolas, also making Aragorn smile in turn.
"So, what am I to do then? Carry on? Go through with our plan in spite of everything?"
"Yes. We will get Denethor to change his mind. Old men set in their ways can be persuaded. We will do so and with the might of Gondor behind us, we will march upon the lands of Mordor and both of us will face that which we fear."
"Our deaths?"
Grey eyes were dark with fear that Aragorn was not ashamed was shining through. Only a fool, Legolas thought, would be unafraid at the prospect of meeting head on the vast armies of Mordor and the Dark Lord himself.
"Or not. Perhaps we will both live through it."
Aragorn shook his head and asked, "When did you suddenly become to positive?"
"Someone must balance out your negativity. Such is the way of the world." They shared a lacklustre smile then Legolas said softly, "You will sway the Steward. That will count for much. Already Faramir is coming around to our way of thinking and the people of Gondor seem to respect him – between you and me, far more than they do Denethor."
"And what am I supposed to do?"
His eyes and expression remaining hearteningly soft, Legolas said quietly, "Have faith – in yourself and in those around you. Many already love you, Aragorn. Trust that they will be at your side even through the times of darkness."
"Faith? That's it? That's your solution to all this uncertainty?"
"You would be surprised at its power, Aragorn."
"I'd prefer a solid, fool-proof weapon," the man said dryly, only partially jesting.
"You are a powerful weapon in yourself, you know."
Meeting clear blue eyes, so full of kindness and confidence, Aragorn frowned and asked, "How's that?"
"The Shadow fears you, Aragorn, not because of any weapon you possess or any ally you have accumulated but because of what you have come to represent. Freedom. You travel the lands, unhindered, undeterred by the agents of the Shadow who constantly conspire to stop you. Few others can claim that and so boldly defy the will of Darkness. Sauron is afraid of you because of what you inspire in others."
"What do I inspire?" Aragorn asked, his voice shuddering as he spoke.
A small smile tugged at Legolas' lips although his eyes darkened at the same time. In a whisper, he spoke in his native tongue.
"Estel."
"What does that mean?"
"Hope, Aragorn. You bring your people hope."
Dipping his head, Aragorn shrugged despairingly. "I don't know if that's enough." Such a small advantage was hardly encouraging, not when one considered the might of Mordor.
Legolas' hand under his chin encouraged Aragorn to lift his head back up to find that the Elf was serene again. "It is who you are. And it is worth much."
His guardian was trying to help, Aragorn knew. But these fine words of encouragement were not what he needed right then. Some instinctive part of him, held on to since childhood, ached for comfort. For the first time in many long years, Aragorn wanted his father. Strong, warm arms that conveyed love and understanding, unequivocal devotion and care, that had nothing to do with his status or future, that would wrap him in a hug and hold him until the demons and fear had left him for good. For all his enviable traits, Legolas had never quite possessed this parental one towards him. Of course, the Elf could provide comfort when needed but never in the way of a father, never in the way of Arathorn.
Wiping at his wet eyes, Aragorn whispered wearily, "I'm tired." He felt Legolas' gaze burning into him expectantly but he could not stand to meet or acknowledge it just now. So, he kept his own eyes averted, partly in embarrassment.
After a long moment, Legolas relinquished his stare and laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, noting how the man jolted slightly at the touch.
"Of course. You should rest." He looked around the room, at the dark fire, the rumpled jackets and blankets left behind by the previous occupants. He took care to ignore the jacket in the corner. Finally, his gaze came to rest once more upon his young ward, still downcast. "Do you think you could sleep now?"
"Yes."
"Lie down then." Legolas shifted out of the way as Aragorn laid himself out on the floor, making sure he was faced away from the Elf at his side. Trying his hardest not to be hurt by this sudden and unexpected dismissal, Legolas took up Aragorn's discarded blanket and placed it carefully over him. "Do you want me to stay for a while?"
"No."
Uncertain of what exactly he had said wrong, Legolas kept his silence at the snub. He would do what Aragorn wished and leave him be.
Heaving himself to his feet, Legolas offered, "Sleep well." The man ignored him completely this time, merely shrugging his blanket over him. Clearing his throat softly, Legolas tried not to feel offended. Aragorn had much on his mind and he meant no real harm. "Goodnight then." Despite Aragorn's coldness towards him, Legolas could not help himself reminding the young man, "I'll be outside if you need me." How could he abandon his charge simply because of petty irritation? He would ever be at Aragorn's disposal, he realised. Just as it should be.
Quiet feet took him to the door but he came to a halt before he could step outside. His eyes, that had been so very careful when sweeping over the room earlier, came instinctively to rest upon Aragorn's jacket laid crumpled and forgotten in the corner. Whilst Legolas knew that the fateful trinket contained within did not compel him as it did its unwitting owner, he still felt its power tugging at his senses. The power frightened him, that he would have freely admitted to anyone who thought to ask. He felt it pulling at him. But he would not be tricked by it. The Ring, forged by Sauron himself was allied to the Dark Lord alone. It had proven itself to be treacherous, corrupting and ruining to all others who sought to claim it. The Elves were wise to this, having learned from their own past mistakes and those of the less fortunate Second Born.
Forcefully, he pushed aside the longing and yet, almost of their own accord, his feet took him to the corner and he'd bent to snag the jacket by the collar before his brain even registered the movements. All the time, his eyes remained fixed upon the pocket where it rested. Thrumming through his mind, his proximity increasing the potency of its draw, he heard the call, felt the thick, dark magic that accompanied the innocuous-looking band of gold.
Fingers, shaky and moving without conscious thought, idly inched towards the pocket.
"Leave it."
Aragorn's voice snapped through the throbbing power in the air, startling Legolas so much that he physically jumped away from the jacket. He spun around to find suspicious grey eyes watching him, accusation shining in them. He realised why a moment later when he comprehended that in his hand now clutched the young man's jacket. Shocked that he had done something and been so utterly unaware of it, he opened his fingers to let the garment fall to the ground.
"I…" He shook his head, although it already felt much clearer for being disturbed. Briefly meeting dark, distrustful eyes, Legolas sharply turned on the spot and left the room, slamming the door forcefully closed behind him, not on Aragorn, but rather on that thing.
The Elf did not pause in the front room to answer the questions of the waiting Men. He blustered past them, shoving through the door, past surprised guards posted there to watch the strangers. Out into the fresh air, where he drew in deep breaths, filled his lungs and waited for the chill of the night to clear his fogged mind.
Despite his sudden appearance, the guards kept their distance. So long as the Elf made no threat, they had been instructed not to stop him or any of the others.
After taking a moment, Legolas looked back at the house. Lights shone inside and he heard soft voices. The curious men were discussing what had just happened; maybe Faramir was demanding answers. Legolas knew that he should probably be in there providing them – they needed the Captain's trust – but he could not bring himself to return.
A cold shiver ran down of his neck and he raised his hand to investigate and found sweat coating his skin. With another visible shudder, he wiped at his brow with his sleeve.
What a terrible thing could reduce him to this wretched creature, trembling and frightened, hiding from not just this great evil but from the ward that needed him.
The door to the house opened and then was pushed closed and Legolas heard footsteps he instantly recognised to be Jecha's approaching.
"Legolas!"
Jecha's voice sounded loud in the hush of the night, cracking through the haze of Legolas' mind.
In no mood for an argument, Legolas raised his hand. "Not now."
"Yes, now! What happened? Is he all right?"
Keeping his back to the man, Legolas drew in another deep breath, still trying to clear his mind of the fog. "He's fine."
"Fine? That's it?"
"What more would you like me to say? He had a nightmare. But he is settled now."
"Faramir is asking questions."
Legolas stepped away from the house and onto the road. "Answer them, then," he replied simply, dismissively.
"Where are you going?" Jecha called, torn between following the clearly disturbed Elf and remaining close to his young king.
Finally, Legolas turned to look back at the Easterling, confident that his mask of calm had been successfully restored after the momentary slip. "I'll be back before Aragorn wakes again," he called back.
"Legolas! Where are you going?"
Once more, Legolas ignored the question, just kept on walking. Part of him wanted to simply walk off all his excess energy but he also had a specific destination in mind. Doing both would at least put his mind at ease.
Thankfully, the guards did not follow him. The streets were dark and quiet but Legolas didn't mind that at all. He did not fear being alone as Men seemed to. Over the decades, he'd suffered enough solitude for it to become the norm for him. Nor did he fear monsters in the night that Men were so troubled by. Sauron was no fool. If he was going to attack the city of Osgiliath then it would be in the form of a mass invasion, not the odd skulking beast prowling the streets picking off residents one by one. They would see any attack long before it came. And any stray creature wandering the paths of Osgiliath could be taken care of with a couple of swift strokes from sharp blades and well-practiced moves.
Still, Legolas thought that he'd prefer to face all the legions of Mordor than have to return to the room where Aragorn remained.
To Be Continued…