The Practise of Diffidence

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, i do not own any of these characters and i probably never will.

A still figure stood staring out of the large ornately decorated stone balcony, watching numbly as rivulets of rain water pooled in the smooth grooves. It was almost as if the rain reflected his mood today, he thought wryly, stifling a sob as the depths of his own misery overwhelmed him. He would not cry. He had already shed too many tears over what he should have known could not come to pass. He had set his hopes too high and now they were to be completely dashed.

But it could not be helped. One could not repress what the heart truly felt, and his heart had felt and toiled more keenly than any other these long years. He had known the minute that they had met that this was the person that he would love for all eternity, he had known it with every fibre of his being. How could one not love such nobility and bravery in a person? He did not see how it was possible.

He had refrained from voicing his true feelings all these years, had never uttered his love once. He had known that a love like this could not have been possible and therefore despite his feelings had remained a true and loyal friend. He had thought in time these feelings might pass and might blossom in to something that did not make him ache with pain or cry in anguish. But if anything, it had only amplified, consumins bos body and soul until he knew that there could never be another for him.

But now it was too late. The person who had so cruelly stolen his heart, never to be returned was to be wed within the week. The battles had been won and everyone would be rejoicing. He would put on a brave face and laugh along with the crowd, but inwardly he knew his heart would shatter at the implication of the vows being spoken.

Another would recieve the love and caresses that he had been aching for as long as he could remember, but his feelings were unimportant at this point. He would carry on as he had always had and they would be happy together. They loved each other and that was all that mattered.

He cursed his weakness suddenly on noticing that once again his tears had traced a tender path down his cheeks. It was his fate to have his heart broken in such a brutal and callous way, he thought as he watched th wind roar, whipping the majestic flags of Gondor in to the air.

* * * * *

Gandalf smiled triumphantly as he saw the youngest Prince of Mirkwood gazing imperceptibly out of the balcony as the wind howled and rain flooded the streets of the White City. He had been looking for the dratted elf for an hour on Elessar's request and so far the elf had evaded him with notable skill. Truthfully, Gandalf was not even sure if Legolas knew that Aragorn was looking for him but since Gandalf was not terribly fond of being sent on hikes looking for errant Prince's, he was going to make sure knew all about it....

His thoughts trailed off as he noticed that Legolas's shoulders were shaking slightly. He crept closer silently, shocked not only to find that the Prince was so immersed in the depths of his own misery that he did not notice the Istari until Gandalf was standing beside him but that silent tears were streaming down Legolas's normally stoic face.

'Thranduillion, tell me what is it that troubles you?' Gandalf asked in some conceafteafter all it was not every day that one found an elf in tears. He studied the elf's face expertly looking for a clue but found none. Legolas's calm was slowly settling back in to place as the elf merely shook his head not wishing to divulge his precious information to Gandalf.

'Very well then,' Gandalf sighed. 'But Aragorn requests your presence in council this evening,' he added almost as an after thought. He watched surprised as the young Prince's carefully created mask abruptly shattered, ending in Legolas sobbing incoherently in to Gandalf's comforting embrace with the elderly wizard whispering soothing and calming words to Mirkwood's youngest prince.

He had always been inexplicably fond of Legolas, who was Thranduil's youngest and fairest son and to find him in such misery made Gandalf's heart bleed. Legolas's brothers who were far older than him were always out on hunting trips with the Home Guard for their father of commanding troops in battle. Which of course left Legolas home alone.

He had almost been raised as an only child. His father doted on him and it was not hard to see that Legolas, his youngest was fast becoming his favourite son, a fact which made his older and more accomplished children decidedly jealous. Gandalf had supposed that it was Legolas's likeness to the Queen that made Thranduil lavish all his love on his precious son.

In fact to the onlooker Legolas was too much like his Lady Mother for comfort. He had her pale flaxen hair offset with his father's dark, almost black eyes. Unlike his father and his brothers, Legolas was slender, very slender for an archer; another trait he had inherited from his mother.

Unfortunately, it was this resemblance to his mother that made Thranduil terribly protective of his youngest and most precious son. It was a rare occasion indeed when Legolas could patrol with the Home Guard and even rarer when he was allowed in to battle. After much wheedling and persuading on Gandalf's part, Thranduil had sent Legolas as an emissary to the Council of Elrond.

&nb/P> /P>

In the end it was Legolas's unparalleled skill with his weapons that had earned him a place in the Fellowship as well as his close friendship with Aragorn. The elf was kind, compassionate, patient, graceful, everything anyone could ever ask of him. Privately Gandalf was angered that anyone could even think of reducing Legolas to this. He had known the elf a long time, ever since the Midwinter's eve when the Queen had given birth to the last child she would ever have. And never had he seen the young elf in such a state.

Perhaps, he mused, Aragorn might know something about it.....

* * * * *

Legolas stepped inside Aragorn's study that he had recently acquired when he had been coronated. Aragorn didn't even look up when he entered, deep in conversation with Faramir, Prince of Ithilien. Legolas blanched. Didn't Aragorn even notice his supposed best and closest friend any more? It wasn't enough for Aragorn to completely reduce him to a sobbing heap but he had to demean and ignore Legolas's presence as well. Legolas felt the resentment and anger well up inside him but it was quickly overwhelmed by the pained feelings of unrequited love.

Putting on a brave face for the company gathered, Legolas spotted Gimli watching him from the far corner of the room and instantly moved to join his dwarven friend. Perhaps Gimli's friendly and meaningless banter would help deter him from dwelling on his own misery.

The meeting passed in a blur for Legolas though as soon as everyone was assembled. He neither heard anything that was said nor made any contribution to the discussion at hand instead opting for silence. Just when he thought the assembled gathering would continue in to the night, Aragorn called a halt to the proceedings causing Legolas to breathe an audible sigh of relief.

Even moving seemed a chore to Legolas nowadays. Gimli walked on ahead with the Hobbits chatting conversationally while Legolas momentarily felt a pang of guilt wash over him. He supposed that he was indeed poor company this evening. Everybody probably thought being in such proximity to the sea was affecting him. In a way he was glad that they thought this and saw no need to rectify their assumptions. Nobody could ever find out what was really bothering him. He would keep his secret to himself as long as he saw fit.

A warm hand landing gently on his shoulder roused Legolas from his thoughts and he looked back in to the the stormy gray eyes of Aragorn shocked. He had not heard the ranger approaching him and he had wanted so badly to avoid him. He averted his eyes quickly so Aragorn wouldn't see the multitude of disturbing emotions raging inside of him.

'Legolas, please tell me what is the matter. Gandalf told me you were t abt about something. You do know that you can come to me about anything, don't you?' Legolas could feel Aragorn's penetrating gaze on him as he spoke those words. How Legolas wished he could confide his feelings to Aragorn but he knew he would be rejected. And Legolas wasn't sure if he would be able to bear it.

'Legolas please look at me,'Aragorn pleaded with his friend, gently grasping his chin in order to tilt Legolas's head so he could look at his friend's face. Legolas inadvertantly leaned in to the gentle touch of Aragorn's hand on his face. Aragorn had never touched him like this before, so sweet, so gentle, almost as if he cared. Legolas closed his eyes and smiled serenely wondg whg what things would have been like had they been different.

* * * * *

Aragorn son of Arathorn stared in astonishment as a slow sweet smile spread over the rosy mouth of his closest friend. He had never seen Legolas as such, so sweet, so vulnerable, so beautiful. He shook his head to dismiss such thoughts about his friend. Surely Legolas didn't feel anything like that for him, did he? But then again, a little voice said in his head, Legolas did lean in to his touch so he must have desired him at some point.

Her had always seen Legolas as the expert elven archer, the stoic and faithful companion whose skills with every weapon were unparalelled in battle. Never had he seen how stunningly beautiful his friend was. Never had he seen how the sun made his hair shine the colour of a moonbeam. Never had he seen how soft and se hie his pale alabaster skin was. Never had he seen how shapely and slender the elfbodybody was. Never had he wanted someone so much in his entire life.

Aragorn was scared at these thoughts. He was betrothed to Arwen, daughter of Elrond. He was in love with her. And here he was, the King of Gondor thinking the most impure thoughts about his closest friend. His hand moved automatically to stroke the soft skin of Legolas's cheek while Legolas opened his luminous dark eyes and smiled in return. A beautiful smile that nearly broke Aragorn's heart.

Without thinking, Aragorn captured the elf's lips with his own passionately and hungrily, not caring that both of them were standing in his study and that anyone might walk in on them. He wasn't surprised when Legolas responded by slipping his arms around his neck and pressing his body tightly against his own. Both kissed greedily lost in the exquisite moment of their forbidden passion as their mouths and tongues explored and tasted one another in their eagerness.

Legolas was indeed intoxicating, Aragorn thought disjointedly as he pushed the smaller elf on to his paper strewn desk and covered Legolas's body with his. He tasted like summer fruits, wine and all things good in Middle-Earth.

Though both for that moment were lost in their passion for one another, both knew that it could not last, nor could it ever happen again. Aragorn would get married as was expected of him and things would gradually return to normal........

* * * * *

Legolas buried his head in his pillow. It was three weeks after the wedding of Arwen Undomiel and King Elessar and Legolas could have sworn he had woken up feeling the same after effects of too much wine as he had the morning after the wedding. Again, he was feeling terribly nauseous and ill. He had gotten in to the habit of not eating food the night before going to sleep, after all if there was nothing in his stomach he would not be able to throw up, would he?

Irrelevently, Legolas wondered how Aragorn was in Gondor. He was still shocked over what had happened in Aragorn's study that stormy evening in Gondor a month ago but he in no way regretted it. In fact he had desired it for a very long time, but he had no idea what had possessed Aragorn to risk his betrothal to Arwen for one night in Legolas's arms.

Legolas sighed miserably. The memory of that night in no way appeased the pain he had felt. In fact, he now felt worse if that was entirely possible. His guilt in facing Arwen and congratulating her on her wedding day when all he wanted to do was stand up and let Aragorn's indiscretions be known. In fact, throughout the whole ceremony, Aragorn had been looking at him as if Legolas might do just that. But he loveagoragorn too much for to risk Aragorn's happiness out of jealousy.

Though he might treasure that night forever in his mind, he would always remember the cruel way Aragorn had exploited him. Was he just an object of lust or a toy to Aragorn, something that he could play with when bored. Was that Aragorn's whole objective? Bed Legolas, marry Arwen! If so, Legolas did not know how Aragorn could be so cruel.

And now Legolas was suffering because of this. He supposed he would have to visit one of the Healers of Ithilien to remedy his unusual unelven illness. He didn't understand it. He was an elf, he shouldn't be getting ill. He was immortal, one of the first born, immune to such things. Why was this happening to him now? Legolas sighed in to the soft comfort of his pillow watching the dawn light seep through his open balcony, announcing that it was time for the Lord of Ithilien to rise and see to the affairs of his people.

p;

With a long suffering sigh, Legolas arosd end entered his bathing chamber, all the while remembering that at least his present and unusual illness had kept his mind off the sea sickness.....

* * * * *

King Elessar of Gondor lay wrapped up in the protective warmth of his bedsheets, watching his beautiful Queen slumbering. Her eyes were open and slightly glazed betraying her sleeping state. Turning away from the picture before his eyes, he wondered what was wrong with him.

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Most men on Middle-Earth would kill to be in his position, yet he was unhappy, very much so. not for the first time he asked himself when had his feelings for the Lady Arwen changed. He had thought himself to be in love with her but now he was progressively coming to see that he was entranced with her beauty. It pained him to admit it to himself but he had made a terrible and selfish mistake in wedding her. He should have let her travel to the undying lands with the remainder of her people, like her Father sai said.