Chapter Thirty-One: Council Deliberations
Okay, this is a very controversial chapter, and writing it wasn't easy. While I welcome all sorts of opinions and comments, please be friendly and polite.
Thank you
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The Council Chamber was bathed in the muted light of early morning as Aragorn, Faramir, and the members of the Council, except for Lord Addrimyr, gathered to deliberate the fates of the accused. The atmosphere was heavy with the gravity of what lay ahead—justice needed to be served, and the decisions made in this room would shape Gondor's future and many lives. Aragorn's thoughts were abruptly halted as Elrond entered the chamber, his expression inscrutable. The presence of the Elven Lord brought with it a tension that immediately commanded attention. The Councillors exchanged puzzled glances as Elrond took a seat beside Aragorn.
"I've summoned Lord Elrond today because there is an Elf among the accused," Aragorn began, addressing the assembly. "Given the gravity of Orophin's crimes against both Men and Elves, it was proposed that his judgment be a joint decision."
The Councillors murmured amongst themselves before nodding in agreement.
"Lord Elrond," Aragorn addressed him directly. "What judgment have the Elven Elders passed on Orophin?"
"Banishment to Mordor," Elrond replied, his gaze sweeping the room.
The words hung in the air, followed by a collective intake of breath. The mention of Mordor sent a cold shiver down every spine, memories of that cursed land resurfacing unbidden.
"Mordor?" Herumacil stammered, his voice reflecting the unease in the room. "Isn't that...extreme?"
Elrond's expression remained impassive.
"The Elders deemed it fitting. King Thranduil, whose family suffered greatly, demanded death, but Orophin had already lost his Light, which is a fate akin to death. In Mordor, he will be condemned to live out his days in darkness, cut off from everything he once knew."
"But Gondor has the right to pass judgment as well," Lord Vorondo, a senior member of the Council, frowned, leaning forward, said, his voice agitated. "He committed crimes against our royal family. You cannot decide his fate alone."
"Gondor's role will not be overlooked," Elrond assured, his voice calm. "But the fate of an Elf should be decided by his people. However, Gondor can enforce the sentence. Gondorian soldiers will ensure that Orophin is cast into Mordor, where he will remain exiled from all he once held dear."
The room fell silent again as the implications of Elrond's words settled in. The decision was harsh, but as the Councillors exchanged glances, the gravity of Orophin's crimes loomed large. All eyes turned to Aragorn, awaiting his final word.
Aragorn paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, absorbing the tension in the air. He knew this decision would leave a mark on Gondor's history.
"And what if he managed to escape his exile?" he asked.
"Then his life will be forfeit," Elrond replied. "He no longer has a place among the children of Arda."
"Do you agree to this sentence?" Aragorn asked his Councillors.
A tense silence hung in the air as their throats bobbed in unison. While they acknowledged the gravity of the Elf's crimes, the thought of banishing someone to Mordor weighed heavily on their minds and hearts. However, since the Elven Elders had made this decision, they couldn't object. After all, Elrond had a point—the fate of an Elf should be decided by his people.
"We have no objection, Your Majesty, if you consent to it," Vorondo said.
"I do," Aragorn replied. "Thus, Orophin's fate is sealed. He will be banished to Mordor, and Gondorian soldiers will carry out this sentence."
"I thank you, King Elessar, Honourable Councillors," Elrond said as he stood. "If you will excuse me." With that, he left the chamber.
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After Elrond's departure, Aragorn and his Councillors turned their attention to the fate of the servants who had assisted the Lords in disposing of those who poisoned Legolas. It was clear that these servants had acted under pressure, threat, and the allure of money. Taking these factors into account, the Council decided to sentence them to ten years of hard labour in the quarries of the White Mountains.
The discussion then shifted to the fates of Addrimyr, Mortardur, and Bonirun. Though Addrimyr was not directly involved in the conspiracy, as the one who had approved the addition of the servants who later played a role in the poisoning and killing, he bore some responsibility for failing to oversee those individuals properly. The Council viewed this as a significant lapse in judgment and negligence. While not criminal, it still reflected poorly on his ability to perform his duties with the necessary diligence and foresight. Consequently, they decided to exclude him from the Council, even though he was acquitted of any direct involvement in the conspiracy.
With the decision on Addrimyr and the servants finalized, the Council's attention turned to the two remaining accused Lords: Mortardur and Bonirun. Their crimes were far graver, involving active participation in the conspiracy that nearly ruined the royal family and the Kingdom. The weight of their actions hung heavily over the chamber as Aragorn and the Councillors prepared to deliberate on their fates. Recognizing the severity of the situation, Aragorn decided to leave the final determination of Mortardur and Bonirun's sentences to the collective judgment of the Lords, trusting them to administer justice befitting the gravity of the crimes. Once the fates of Mortardur and Bonirun had been thoroughly debated and decided upon, the conversation naturally shifted to another pressing matter—the fate of their families.
"Now that the fates of Mortardur and Bonirun have been decided," Aragorn began, his tone serious and steady, "we must address the fate of their families. Faramir informed me that their families were placed under house arrest during the trials to prevent any interference. But since the trials are nearing their conclusion, I believe it is time to consider releasing them."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the room as the Lords exchanged uneasy glances. Faramir shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sensing the tension rising.
Aragorn immediately noticed the change in the atmosphere. The sudden exchange of glances and Faramir's unease signalled that something significant had not been conveyed to him. His gaze sharpened as he addressed the room again.
"Is there something I am not aware of regarding the families?" he asked, his voice calm but firm, demanding an explanation.
Faramir cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully.
"My Lord, there is a longstanding law that dictates the fate of the families of Lords of the Court convicted of treason. In addition to confiscating their lands and stripping their titles, the immediate families of those found guilty are subjected to servitude. This law has been upheld for generations as a necessary deterrent against treason at the highest levels."
Aragorn's expression tightened.
"Servitude?" he repeated, his voice edged with disbelief. "We are talking about punishing women and children! How can we claim to be just if we impose such a fate on those who are innocent? We must ensure that justice does not become cruelty!"
The room fell silent as the Lords absorbed Aragorn's words. Then, Lord Vorondo, known for his strict adherence to tradition, spoke up, his tone firm.
"My Lord, with all due respect, the law exists precisely because we cannot always discern who is innocent and who is guilty. These families have lived under the same roof as the traitors and shared their lives and possibly even their ambitions. Releasing them now would invite potential danger into the heart of the Kingdom."
Aragorn's gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of each Lord.
"Are we to punish them based on suspicion alone? To condemn them without proof? This is not the justice I wish to uphold in Gondor."
A murmur of disagreement rippled through the Council. Another Lord, his voice tinged with frustration, interjected.
"My Lord, you must understand this is not about individual guilt but protecting the realm. If these families are allowed to go free, they could harbour resentment, conspire in secret, and continue the treasonous work of their fallen kin. The law has served us well and kept the Kingdom secure."
"And what of those who are truly innocent?" Aragorn's expression hardened as he responded. "Why should they suffer for the sins of others? We are a just and noble Kingdom, not one that metes out collective punishment without cause."
Vorondo leaned forward, his voice stern.
"Your Majesty, the Kingdom's safety must come first. These are not ordinary criminals; they were trusted Lords who, in your and Lord Faramir's absence, hold the power to rule Gondor in your name. They betrayed that trust most grievously. Their families, who, by extension, enjoyed privileges beyond any other noble in your Court, must be treated with the utmost caution. The law is clear, and it is not our place to question it now."
Aragorn could feel the weight of the room turning against him, but he stood firm.
"As King, it is my duty to question laws that may lead to injustice. We cannot allow fear to dictate our actions."
"Your Majesty," One of the Lords, clearly frustrated, spoke up more forcefully. "This is not about fear; it is about the survival of the realm. You are new to the throne, and your wisdom is beyond question, but some traditions have been in place long before you were born. Traditions that have preserved the Kingdom through countless threats. To abandon them now, in the wake of such a betrayal, is not wisdom—it is folly. And while your opinion bears considerable weight, in matters such as these, we, as your Councillors, have the authority to overrule any decision you make."
Aragorn looked around the room, seeing the resolve in the Lords' eyes. He realized that, despite his arguments, the Council was not ready to abandon this long-held law. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his rising frustration, understanding that a direct clash with the Councillors could jeopardize the trial's outcome. It would be wiser to yield for now.
"Very well," he said, his voice steady but tinged with disappointment. "It seems that we are not in agreement. I will respect the Council's will, but I urge you to consider the consequences of punishing the innocent along with the guilty. Our legacy will be defined not just by our victories but by how we treat those who fall under our judgment."
The Lords nodded, their faces reflecting a mix of respect and resolve. While acknowledging Aragorn's wisdom, they remained firm in upholding the law.
"What you said is good and well, my Lord," Vorondo said. "However, how can we determine for sure if they were innocent? I recall that during his confession, the Elf revealed that it was Mortardur's wife who suggested the idea of a trip outside the city to Prince Legolas."
Aragorn's eyes narrowed, the pieces beginning to fall into place.
"His wife?" he repeated, his voice low and measured as if testing the weight of the words.
"Yes," Lord Vorondo nodded. "Mortardur arranged for the suggestion to come through his wife, Lady Vanëanis. It was part of their plan to create an opportunity to isolate Prince Legolas. Can you determine if her suggestion was an innocent idea from a concerned friend or if it was part of her husband's plan all along? I also understand that she and her son were supposed to join the Prince on the trip but excused herself at the last moment."
A cold chill ran down Aragorn's spine as a memory surfaced in his mind. Gwîneth had mentioned something similar. The realization hit him like a blow. Vanëanis, who had seemed so kind and gentle, could have played a role in the conspiracy. Could it be possible?
Aragorn's mind raced as he considered the implications. Vanëanis could not just be an innocent bystander, but she had been an active participant, even if indirectly. She could've been a spy for her husband on Legolas all along!
Aragorn's expression hardened at the thought.
"Your Majesty," Vorondo contiuned. "While Lady Vanëanis may not have been fully aware of the entire conspiracy, her actions were instrumental in setting it in motion. The question now is, what should be done about her and the other families involved? I realize this is a difficult situation, Your Majesty. But justice must be served. We cannot allow such actions to go unpunished."
Aragorn was silent for a moment, his thoughts turning to Legolas. How would his husband react to this news?
What would it mean for Vanëanis and the other families involved in the conspiracy?
Sensing the tension, Faramir spoke up cautiously.
"Perhaps we can compromise, my Lord. We could extend the house arrest while investigating further, ensuring we do not act hastily. If no evidence of complicity is found, we could revisit this matter later."
The meeting ended with an uneasy sense of compromise, but the underlying disagreement between Aragorn and the Council remained unresolved. As the Lords left the chamber, Aragorn couldn't shake the feeling that this was a battle that would continue to echo in the halls of Minas Tirith for some time to come.
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As the meeting concluded and the Lords dispersed, Aragorn remained in the chamber, the weight of what he had just learned pressing heavily on his mind. The room felt colder, the shadows longer, as if the walls were closing on him. He was genuinely stunned by the cruelty of the Gondorian laws. He could understand the necessity of confiscating lands and stripping titles, but subjecting innocent family members to servitude was beyond his ability to grasp. Women, children...What purpose did this barbarity serve?
"How can we determine for sure if they were innocent?"
"Can you determine if her suggestion was an innocent idea from a concerned friend or if it was part of her husband's plan all along?"
Vorondo's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife, playing on his doubts and sending cold shivers down his spine. He couldn't shake the unease that had settled over him, a rising sense of dread that perhaps, in his attempt to show mercy, he might allow a greater danger to fester within his Kingdom.
Aragorn had always prided himself on his sense of justice and his ability to weigh decisions with fairness and compassion. But this...This was different. The thought that an innocent suggestion, a simple act of kindness, could be twisted into a weapon, that a family could be condemned based on mere suspicion—it troubled him deeply. He felt a pang of guilt as he thought of Legolas, his beloved husband. How could he face him now, knowing that these laws could easily be turned against those they loved?
How could he explain to Legolas that he had failed to protect the very ideals they both held dear?
The idea that Vanëanis, someone close to Legolas' heart, might have played a role in the conspiracy sent him a fresh wave of unease. What if she had been complicit?
What if her actions had indeed been part of the plan to harm Legolas?
But there was also the possibility that she was innocent, manipulated just as he and Legolas had been. And if that were the case, how could he justify the punishment that the Council demanded?
How could he, in good conscience, allow such a cruel and archaic law to stand unchallenged?
Aragorn's heart ached with the weight of these conflicting thoughts, his mind torn between duty and justice, between the safety of his Kingdom and the moral principles that had guided him throughout his life. He knew that whatever decision he made would have lasting consequences, not just for him but also for Legolas, their family, and the future of Gondor. With a heavy sigh, Aragorn leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he tried to clear his mind. But the doubts remained, whispering in the shadows, refusing to be silenced.
"Your Majesty?"
Aragorn opened his eyes and saw Faramir standing in front of him with a worried look on his face.
"Why did you hide something like this from me, Faramir?" Aragorn's tone was full of reproach. "You could've warned me!"
"Apologies, my Lord," Faramir said regretfully. "But I knew that telling you would cause a severe clash between you and the Councillors. I couldn't let this happen while the trial was ongoing. I hoped today's confrontation would not occur, but I knew it would, so I tried to delay it as much as possible to avoid interfering with the trial proceedings and risking the guilty going free."
"But now, I'm asked to punish the innocent for the crimes of the guilty, Faramir," Aragorn said. "Do you agree with this barbaric law?"
"Of course not, your Majesty," Faramir exclaimed. "However, I can understand the Lords' fear for the integrity of the Council and, consequently, the stability of the Kingdom. Perhaps if we tried hard to prove these people's innocence—"
Aragorn's frustration surged as he cut Faramir off.
"That's not how justice works, Faramir," he snapped. "The burden of proof should lie in proving guilt, not innocence. We cannot condemn these families on suspicion alone and then force them to prove they were not involved in treasonous activities. This is not justice; it's a perversion of it."
"I understand, my Lord," Faramir said, lowering his gaze, clearly troubled. "The law is harsh, and it seems cruel to hold innocent people accountable for the actions of their kin. But the Lords believe this law has kept Gondor safe and stable through the centuries. They fear that without it, the seeds of treason could take root, undetected, until it is too late."
"Fear is a poor foundation for passing judgments, Faramir," Aragorn sighed. "We cannot allow it to rule our hearts and dictate our laws. If we do, we are no better than the tyrants we seek to guard the people against. I swore to protect all my people, not just those with power or titles, but those without as well."
"But, your Majesty," Faramir began cautiously, "the Council believes these measures are necessary for the greater good. Opposing them now could weaken your standing, especially so soon after ascending."
Aragorn shook his head, his resolve hardening.
"I will not sacrifice my principles for political gain, Faramir," he said adamantly. "I haven't fought all my life and lost close comrades along the way to allow Gondor to be a Kingdom where the innocent suffer alongside the guilty simply because it is convenient. I did not become King to uphold unjust laws or allow fear to dictate the fate of innocents. There must be a way to challenge this law without undermining the Kingdom's stability."
Faramir hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"I see your point, my Lord. Perhaps we could use this time to gather evidence and find the truth about these families. If we can present solid proof of their innocence—or guilt—then we could sway the Council without causing a rift."
"Do you know what could happen then?" Aragorn said. "Every piece of evidence we present to prove someone's innocence could be twisted or undermined as a lie or an attempt to save one's life. Nothing would hold, just like what happened with Lady Vanëanis. Can you prove without a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't complicit in her husband's scheme?"
Faramir tensed upon hearing this. He lowered his head, not knowing what to say.
"To be honest, my Lord," he said. "I don't believe for a moment that Lady Vanëanis is complicit. However, I cannot prove her innocence, especially since Orophin confessed that she was the one who suggested the trip. Her testimony or even her husband's would not be enough."
Aragorn's expression darkened further as the weight of the situation settled on him. He sighed, realizing the path ahead was fraught with personal and political challenges. But he knew one thing for sure—he would not let the darkness of fear, suspicion, and doubt rule his heart or his Kingdom. There had to be a way to balance justice with compassion, and he would find it, even if it meant standing against those who had supported him thus far.
"This is what I'm afraid of, Faramir," he finally said. "Condemning an innocent soul to a fate worse than death because of my inability to prove their innocence."
"My Lord," Faramir said. "I will not allow any innocent soul to be condemned or unjustly punished; this I vow. The sentencing will be next week. Until then, I will find a way to convince the Council to reconsider their decision. All I ask of you is to avoid clashing with them for the time being."
Aragorn stared at his Steward before he nodded, the weight of the decision pressing down on him as he prepared to navigate the difficult path ahead.
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Legolas peeked into his and Aragorn's bedchamber before he went to look for his husband in the private study but didn't find him. Aragorn had disappeared this morning with no clue about his whereabouts. Legolas knew his husband had a meeting with the Councillors to deliberate on Mortardur and Bonirun's verdicts. However, he had seen Faramir earlier, who told him the deliberations had ended by noon, yet Aragorn was absent during lunch and all afternoon. It was close to sunset, and still no sign of him. Over the past few days, Legolas had found himself craving Aragorn's presence more than ever. The man's presence was a source of comfort, strength, and peace. Though his father and brother spent as much time with him as they could, Legolas couldn't find the same solace and grounding in their presence as he did with Aragorn's. The blond Prince stood in the middle of the living room, trying to reach his husband over their bond, but his husband seemed to have blocked any connections between them as if he didn't want Legolas to find him. Legolas mentally listed the places he had already searched and any places his husband might have gone.
/His office, near the throne room!/Legolas thought. /I haven't looked there!/
With eager speed, Legolas rushed to his husband's office, hoping to finally find the comfort and reassurance he had been seeking all day.
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Aragorn sat in the semi-darkness of his office, lost in thought. Since leaving the Council Chamber, he felt no desire to see or speak to anyone. The weight of the day's deliberations pressed heavily on his chest, leaving him unable to face anyone with a composed mind. All he wanted was solitude—to think through a solution that would prevent innocent souls from being punished while avoiding a clash with the Councillors. So deep was he in his thoughts that he didn't hear the soft knocks on the door or Legolas quietly entering the room.
"Aragorn, what are you doing in the dark?" the blond Elf asked, his voice breaking through the fog of Aragorn's mind. "Why didn't you join us for lunch?"
Aragorn silently watched Legolas move around the room, lighting a few candles. His mind churned over how to explain the burden weighing on him. He knew Legolas would not accept the idea of Vanëanis' possible complicity. The implications of even suspecting her involvement could strain their relationship and disrupt the newly found peace within their family. Aragorn feared not just Legolas' anger but also the deep sense of justice that his husband held—so similar to his own. He doubted Legolas would accept any of the Council's decisions regarding the traitors' families, even temporarily. Aragorn decided that telling his husband what troubled him now was not the right course.
"Aragorn, what's wrong?" Legolas asked, sitting beside him and gently touching his hand. "You seem troubled. Yet, you've blocked our bond as if you didn't want me to feel your pain. You've carried my burdens many times, Aragorn. Please, allow me to carry yours."
Seeing the sincerity and concern in Legolas' clear blue eyes, Aragorn felt his heart swell with a mixture of love, sorrow, and guilt. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around the Elf's slender body, burying his face into the curve of Legolas' neck and inhaling the familiar, comforting scent.
"A-Aragorn?" Legolas asked, his eyes widened as Aragorn pulled him into a tight embrace. However, he soon relaxed, his hands hesitantly wrapping around his husband's sturdy form. He offered silent support, understanding Aragorn's need for comfort and encouragement, even if he wasn't ready to reveal what was troubling him. They remained in that position for a while, wrapped in each other's presence.
"Would you like me to call Lord Elrond?" Legolas asked gently, breaking the silence. "Perhaps you could tell him what you don't want to share with me?"
Aragorn pulled back slightly, giving his husband an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, Legolas," he said quietly. "I just can't find the courage to share with you what's on my mind right now."
"I understand," Legolas replied with a small, reassuring smile. "I'll go and call Lord Elrond. I'm sure he can help with whatever is troubling you."
"Thank you."
With that, Legolas stood up and left the study, leaving Aragorn to his thoughts, but with the knowledge that he was not alone in facing them.
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Elrond sat before Aragorn, attentively listening as his son poured out his burden. At times like this, when Aragorn opened his heart, seeking advice and guidance, the ancient Lord felt a deep sense of relief. Despite the years, trials, and the immense weight of kingship, Aragorn still sought the wisdom of those he trusted most. It was a reminder that beneath the Crown and mantle of leadership, Aragorn remained the man Elrond had raised, still the son who valued his counsel.
As Aragorn spoke, Elrond's sharp gaze remained fixed on him, absorbing every word and every inflexion of his voice. He could sense the turmoil within his son—the struggle between duty and justice, between the demands of the Council and the compassionate heart that guided Aragorn's actions.
When Aragorn finished, the room was heavy with silence.
Elrond took a moment to gather his thoughts, carefully choosing his words. He understood how deeply this dilemma troubled Aragorn and wanted to offer his best advice.
"Aragorn," he began gently, "the burden of leadership is never light. You are caught between upholding laws that have governed this land for centuries and ensuring justice is delivered without cruelty. This is the true challenge of a wise ruler—finding the balance between tradition and compassion."
Aragorn nodded, his eyes downcast.
"But how can I reconcile the two, Adar? The Council demands I uphold these ancient laws, but punishing innocents for the crimes of their kin— it feels wrong. It goes against everything I believe in."
Elrond leaned forward slightly, his expression softening.
"I understand your conflict, ion nîn. But remember, you are not alone. You have the power to change the course of this Kingdom's future and temper the harshness of old laws with the wisdom of your heart. It may not be easy, and you will face opposition, but you possess the strength to do what is right."
Aragorn looked up, meeting his father's eyes.
"Faramir worries that if I oppose the Council now, I may weaken my position as King, especially soon after my ascension. And yet, how can I stand by and allow injustice to prevail?"
Elrond considered his words carefully.
"You are right to be cautious. But do not underestimate the power of your conviction. If you believe the law is unjust, you must find a way to change it. Whether through compromise or standing firm, know you are not without support."
"A compromise?" Aragorn asked, curiosity flickering in his tired eyes.
"How could I manage that?"
"This law," Elrond explained, "was created to keep the families of traitors under supervision, to prevent treason from festering again. Without it, traitors' children or kin could plot in secret and be a weapon against the Kingdom."
"But we're punishing people based on suspicion, not evidence," Aragorn protested.
"That's not justice."
"True," Elrond agreed. "The challenge lies in finding a solution that protects the realm without condemning the innocent. That is the balance you must achieve."
Aragorn's brow furrowed as he tried to think of a solution, but his mind, weary from the weight of responsibility, struggled to find clarity.
"Let me ask you this," Elrond spoke, seeing Aragorn's puzzlement. "If the law didn't exist, what would the families of traitors do after their lands were confiscated and their titles stripped away?"
"They'd likely seek shelter with relatives," Aragorn replied.
"Precisely," Elrond nodded. "But those relatives could be potential enemies, secretly nurturing their resentment against the Crown. That's why the law exists—to prevent future threats from within."
"What if," Aragorn said slowly, "instead of enslaving those families, I would place them under the care of loyal, trusted families—ones I know would take care and treat them fairly."
"That would fulfil the law's intent while offering a compassionate alternative. It protects the realm without condemning those who may be innocent," Elrond said.
"You're suggesting that I propose this to the Council?" Aragorn asked.
Elrond gave a gentle smile.
"It's your solution, Estel. It may be exactly what you need to balance the Council's fears with your sense of justice."
Aragorn nodded, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders.
"This could work. It would ensure the families are supervised without condemning them to a life of servitude. The Council might accept it," he said.
Elrond placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, his touch filled with quiet strength.
"You have the wisdom within you, Aragorn. Trust in it. You will find the way."
Aragorn felt a renewed sense of determination. The path ahead remained challenging, but with Elrond's guidance, he knew he could face it. He would present this compromise to the Council, and when the time was right, he would explain it to Legolas. It wasn't just about solving a political problem—it was about protecting the values he and Legolas shared.
"Thank you, Adar," Aragorn said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I needed your guidance more than you know."
Elrond smiled warmly.
"Talk to Legolas, ion nîn. He's been worried about you."
Aragorn blinked in surprise.
"Worried?"
"Aye," Elrond replied, amused. "He came to me earlier, deeply concerned. Legolas loves you deeply, Aragorn. He may not always say it aloud or clearly express it, but in his every action, it is clear. You mean more to him than even he may fully realize."
A soft smile crept onto Aragorn's face as he thought of his husband. His weary heart felt warm at knowing the extent of the Elf's love for him.
"I will. I'll talk to him now."
With Elrond's words still lingering in his mind, Aragorn rose, ready to face his next challenge with newfound resolve.
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Legolas sat in a large niche of a high window in the corridor leading to the throne room, his gaze distant as he pondered his feelings. The soft twilight glow spilled through the glass, casting long shadows across the floor. A quiet ache had taken root in his chest—a hurt that had blossomed moments ago. Aragorn had always confided in him, sharing his burdens and worries openly. But now, there was a distance between them—a wall Legolas couldn't understand.
They had faced many trials together, overcoming them by relying on each other's strengths. But this time, Aragorn kept his troubles to himself. Legolas could feel the weight of Aragorn's burden in their bond, yet when he reached out to offer comfort earlier, he was gently pushed away. This quiet exclusion hurt in a way he wasn't accustomed to.
He pressed a hand to his chest, where the pain lingered. Why did Aragorn feel the need to carry this alone?
Did he think Legolas was too fragile after everything they had endured?
Did he no longer trust him to share his struggles?
These questions stirred within the Elf, uncertainty filling his heart.
Legolas sighed, his eyes tracing the shadows created by the fading light. He never doubted Aragorn's love, but the distance between them now made him feel helpless—like watching his husband struggle from afar, unable to reach him.
The unease washed over him in waves. As he sat by the window, his thoughts spiralled into darker places. Was the barrier he himself had created before what had driven Aragorn away?
At the time, it had seemed necessary—a way to protect them both from the pain their marriage had brought. But with each passing day, the prospect of being apart felt had thought leaving Aragorn was the right choice, but now doubt gnawed at him—had he made that decision out of strength, or fear?
Legolas frowned, his chest tightening. He had once been sure of his decision, confident he could handle the distance when the time came. But now, doubt gnawed at him, eroding his resolve. His mind replayed the image of Aragorn lying wounded in his arms after Orophin's brutal attack. He had thought he would lose him then—lose the man who had become his anchor in a world constantly shifting around him. The thought of living without Aragorn now seemed impossible, especially after that moment when Legolas had feared more than anything that Aragorn would slip away forever—that singular moment had shattered whatever illusions he'd held about moving on without him.
The hurt of Aragorn's silence gnawed at Legolas, but deeper still was fear. Fear that this emotional distance was the beginning of something more final—something he wasn't sure he had the strength to endure. Could he genuinely live without Aragorn? Could he bear the separation that seemed so distant but now felt so near?
But the kiss they shared last night felt so real…Did it mean anything to Aragorn?
Legolas remained perched in the niche, his gaze lost in the fading light outside the window. With his finger, he absently traced a pattern on the stone sill, his mind replaying the events of the previous night. Aragorn's lips on his, the warmth of his touch—it had felt so real, so grounding. Yet, the memory now felt distant, shrouded by the growing distance between them.
Had the kiss meant as much to Aragorn as it did to him?
Or was it simply a fleeting moment of comfort, a balm for the wounds they both carried?
The uncertainty gnawed at him, mingling with his lingering doubts about his choices—the decision to push Aragorn away, to protect them both from the pain that seemed inevitable. He had thought it was the right thing to do, but now, doubt clung to him like a shadow. He sighed deeply, lowering his head and pressing his fingers to his temples.
Unbeknownst to Legolas, a pair of watchful eyes had been observing him from the opposite end of the corridor. Thranduil had paused in his stride, drawn by the sight of his son, so often poised and composed, now radiating a quiet anguish. The Elvenking stood still for a moment, his sharp gaze narrowing as he considered how best to approach. Thranduil stepped forward, his footfalls almost imperceptible against the stone floor. As he drew closer, he could see the tension in Legolas' frame, the way his shoulders curled inward as if shielding himself from some unseen force.
"Legolas?" Thranduil's voice broke the silence, gentle yet firm.
Legolas started slightly, turning his head to see his father standing nearby. For a fleeting moment, he considered brushing off his turmoil, but the piercing look in Thranduil's eyes told him such an attempt would be futile.
"Adar," Legolas greeted, his voice quieter than usual. "I was... thinking."
Thranduil, ever observant, took a few steps closer and studied his son's face with the sharp gaze that had ruled Mirkwood for centuries. His eyes softened slightly as he noted the tension in Legolas' expression.
"Your thoughts seem troubled," Thranduil observed. "Is it Aragorn?"
Legolas looked away, his silence answering the question.
Thranduil approached the window, his tone gentler than usual with his son.
"If you're having trouble with your husband, speak to him," he said. "Do not let uncertainty fester between you."
Legolas' hands clenched slightly in his lap, his gaze still focused on the horizon. "He... hasn't confided in me as he used to," Legolas admitted. "I wonder if he's preparing for the separation I once thought was necessary... the one *I* asked for." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying the vulnerability he struggled to suppress.
"Separation?"
"After learning the truth about Míreth's death," Legolas replied. "I made a terrible decision. I told Aragorn I wanted to leave Gondor forever and end our marriage," He hesitated, his gaze drifting back to the shadows outside the window. "He hasn't confided in me as he once did," he admitted. "Last night, we…shared a moment. It felt real like we were finally moving forward, but now...he feels farther away than ever."
Thranduil arched a brow.
"A moment? Or something more significant?"
"A kiss," Legolas confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was beautiful, Adar. For a moment, I believed it could heal everything. But now I wonder—was it enough? Or was it simply a comfort we offered each other because we felt we both needed it?"
Thranduil's expression softened, though his tone remained firm.
"Who did initiate the kiss?"
"I did," Legolas replied.
"And did he respond?"
"Yes."
"Do you truly believe Aragorn would kiss you without meaning it? He is a man of deep conviction, Legolas. He does not offer his heart lightly, and he certainly does not play with the hearts of others."
Legolas bit his lip, his fingers tightening on the stone sill.
"Then why does he shut me out now?" he asked. "Why does he carry his burdens alone, as if I cannot help him?"
Thranduil stepped closer, resting a hand on his son's shoulder.
"Perhaps because he fears adding to the weight you already bear. And perhaps because he, like you, struggles to reconcile his feelings with his duty. But the bond between you runs deeper than his fears, Legolas. You both must stop running from that truth."
Legolas looked at his father unconvidely.
"Tell me, Legolas," Thranduil said with a sigh. "Why did you want to leave?"
"At that moment, it seemed like nothing tied me to this place," Legolas said quietly.
"Are you sure?" Thranduil asked. "Not even your feelings for your husband?"
"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, looking up at his father.
"The bond between you and Aragorn runs deeper than you realize or even dare to admit to yourself," Thranduil said solemnly. "Perhaps it is time to stop running from that truth. That may be what your husband is waiting for."
Legolas frowned, his confusion deepening.
"I... don't understand what you mean."
"Yes, you do," Thranduil said firmly. "You've been denying it for so long. But it's time to face it. You'd do both of you a favour by stopping your denial."
Legolas looked down, unsure how to respond.
"I love him," he admitted softly. "But the pain I endured in this city was too great to bear. I felt suffocated!"
"And you think the pain of separation from the one you love is less and endurable?" Thranduil asked knowingly. "You've tasted the pain of separation when Haldir died. Can you face it again?"
Legolas paused, taken aback. Thranduil's question hit close to home.
"Haldir's loss was beyond my and anyone's control," he said. "I didn't want him to die at Helm's Deep."
"Voluntary separation is harder to bear, Legolas," Thranduil said. "Unlike Haldir's loss, this is a pain you would choose to endure. Knowing what it could cost your heart, can you face that choice?"
Legolas bit his lip, Thranduil's words sinking deep into his heart.
"I don't know what I want anymore," he said. "I've always known what I wanted and pursued it. Now...I don't know what to do. Last night, we kissed, and it felt wonderful…but…"
"Without buts," Thranduil said as he sat beside his son, studying his shadowed face. "You love him, and he loves you. But neither of you knows where to go from here," he said gently. "Perhaps it's time you found out."
Legolas stared at his father, his heart fluttering with hope despite the confusion.
"What should I do?" he asked quietly.
"You don't need me to tell you, Legolas," Thranduil said. "You know what to do. You've always had a free spirit. Trust it once more." The Elvenking reached out and gently stroked his son's hair—a rare affectionate gesture. "It's not easy, I know," he continued. "But listen to your heart, as you've always done and you'll surely find your way."
Legolas swallowed, a wave of emotion crashing in his chest.
"Even if I believe it's too late?"
"Since when has that stopped you?" Thranduil said with a faint smile. "You've always fought for what you believed was right. It's time to follow that instinct again, even if it feels like everything is against you."
With that, Thranduil rose and walked down the corridor, leaving Legolas staring after him. He wasn't sure what to do next, but his father's words rang true. He needed to speak to Aragorn. His heart needed it.
️ ️
Aragorn found Legolas still sitting in the large niche in the corridor. The fading light had all but disappeared, casting the hallway into darkness. A faint smile curled Aragorn's lips at the sight of the Elf. Somehow, seeing him sit like that seemed so childlike yet endearing.
"It's quite a sight," Aragorn said, his voice warm. "Gondor's Consort is sitting like a child in a window niche, his expression as thoughtful as that of an ancient sage. Or pouting like a child. How many people would be enchanted by such an unexpected sight, I wonder?"
"I doubt I'd be the first," he replied. "We all have our childish sides," Legolas said, smiling slightly, his heart leaping as Aragorn approached.
"It's the ones who admit to having childish sides who are wise enough to let it shine through," Aragorn said, stepping closer, his eyes sparkling with affection. "However, I'd love to be the only one to see that side of you."
"You seem to be in a better mood after speaking with Lord Elrond," Legolas remarked, a hint of hurt lingering in his voice. "It seems he managed to calm you. But I can still feel the weight of your worries, even though you're trying to hide it."
Aragorn noticed the soft, underlying note of pain in Legolas' tone. He took a deep breath, realizing this was the moment to address the distance that had grown between them. He owed Legolas that much.
"Elrond helped me more than I expected," Aragorn admitted. "But I can hear something else in your voice, my love. A tone that sounds like an aggrieved lover. Are you jealous of my father?"
Legolas hesitated, unsure how to voice the deeper ache in his heart. He had wanted to avoid this confrontation, but seeing Aragorn in a lighter mood, he couldn't suppress his feelings any longer.
"Not jealous," he finally said, his voice quiet. "But you used to share everything with me. Now, it feels like you're pulling away."
Aragorn's gaze softened, his heart aching as he realized the depth of the hurt he had caused. Without thinking, he moved closer, his hand reaching for Legolas' arm.
"I'm sorry for shutting you out," Aragorn said earnestly. "It was never my intention. You've carried so much already—so much pain—and I didn't want to add to your burdens. I thought it best to handle some of these troubles on my own. Especially… considering how different the politics here are from what I used to. Sometimes, the more I learn, the more I wonder if I'm suited to be their King."
Legolas blinked at Aragorn's words before he, with fluid grace, slid down from the niche to stand before his husband. His heart swelled with both relief and concern.
"You are more than worthy to be King of Men," he said softly, his gaze steady. "No one who knows you has ever doubted that. The people love you, Aragorn, and they look to you for guidance and strength."
Aragorn felt a weight lift from his chest, but a faint shadow of uncertainty remained.
"I love them, too," he replied. "But sometimes it feels like this burden will never end."
Legolas' eyes gleamed with determination as he stepped closer, gently placing his hands on Aragorn's chest.
"You don't have to bear it alone," he whispered, his voice unwavering. "I'm here, by your side. Let me share the burden, as we always have. Trust me to share it."
Aragorn's heart swelled as he cupped Legolas' face with one hand, gazing into the Elf's clear blue eyes. His exhaustion seemed to ebb away at that moment, replaced by a deep sense of gratitude and love.
"I don't deserve you," Aragorn murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for always being my anchor." He gently pulled Legolas into a kiss, his lips brushing softly against the Elf's.
Legolas melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Aragorn's shoulders as if anchoring himself to the man he loved.
When they finally parted, Aragorn rested his forehead against Legolas', his breath warm against the Elf's skin.
"I'm always glad to have you by my side," he whispered.
"And I'm glad you let me in again," Legolas replied, his voice barely above a breath.
They stood there, wrapped in each other's presence, the weight of the world outside their embrace. At that moment, neither politics nor burdens mattered—only the bond they shared.
️ ️
To Be Continued…
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So what do you think?