Coming Home

Title: Coming Home.
Author: Becky
Rating: PG
Pairing: A/L
Warnings: Slash.
Summary: Legolas finds his way home.
A/N: This is a sequeal to a songfic “Hardest Thing” which can be found on the lxf list and ff.net. It isn’t necessary that you read it however, and this story is quite complete on it’s own, and much more interesting that the song-fic. It is certainly more complex.

Aragorn was sitting in the dark. Arwen was sleeping soundly, exhausted after hours of labor. Their baby was beautiful and healthy, and Arwen was recovering. All was right with his world. Except today, even after nearly five years, he wanted to be able to share that joy with Legolas.

Hearing a stirring from the bedchamber he went in. Arwen was sitting up, pale and exhaustand and the babe was still asleep.

”You should be resting.” he said sitting beside her looking at his son.

“I know,” she pusher her hair out of her face, “but my thoughts kept returning to Legolas. Is he alive? Is he dead? Has he left Middle -earth? I worry about him.”

“So do I,” aragorn admitted, “but why today?”

“Because it is natural to want to share joy with those you love. My father and family have gone to Valinor. Legolas is all either of us have left of family, and he is...missing.”

They sat in quite silence until Arwen fell asleep again. Just as the door closed behind him, a messenger approached.

“Your highness, there is a visitor here who would like to see you. I told him that it was a very bad time, and I would have sent him away but.... he seems very tired, and not quite well. I thought that perhaps we might let him, at least, spend the night here.”

Aragorn smiled as his servant’s compassion. “ That will be fine. I’ll see him in the morning.”

The next morning he had entirely forgotten his guest, until Darvan appeared in the throne room. Aragorn nodded, indicating that he should show the guest in.

When the ‘guest’ walked through, Aragorn nearly fell off his throne.

Weary, battered, and unsteady, but it *was* undoubtedly Legolas. His hair was lighter, and his eyes darker, but it was his long, lost, friend.

“Legolas!” Aragorn cried launching himself at his friend, wrapping his arms happily around him and hugging him hard.

The thin frame seemed too hot to him, and it was with shaking arms that Legolas returned the embrace.

Holding Legolas at arms length he frowned slightly, “What are you doing here?”

”Do you want me to go away again?” Legolas asked lightly, turning as though to go.

“NO! No, of course not. I am surprised is all.”

Legolas smiled slightly, “I heard you had a son. You didn’t think I would stay away did you?”

To be honest he had. “Well..”

“Aragorn, I am your friend, and I must admit, I am curious to see this child and how much your coarsness had infected his elven genealogy.”

”Coarsens?” Aragorn asked, wrinkling his nose, “why you prissy...”

They went to see Arwen together. She was delighted to see Legolas, and hugged himg ang and hard, and Legolas held the baby for a few minutes.

Aragorn was surprised to see his son open his eyes and stare unfailingly into Legolas’s dark eyes. This was the first time since his birth he had been awake and *not* screaming.

”If you need employment you can always be his nanny,” Arwen joked, not able to take her eyes off Legolas.

Legolas lifted an eyebrow and handed the baby back to his mother, where he promptly fell asleep.

“Are you staying?” Arwen asked, her voice was hushed to keep from waking the sleeping babe, but no less intense for all that, “I am glad to see you Legolas, but *why* are you here?”

Legolas turned and walked a few steps away and turned back. “I came here to die.” he finally admitted.

“What?” Aragorn bellowed, promptly setting off a fresh bout of wails and earning two disarmingly glances.

“Death, Estel, Tis what follows life.”

“Yes but you’re immortal, you don’t just--”

“He’s been poisoned,” Arwen said quietly, interrupting her husbands tirade.

“Is she right?” Aragorn asked, focusing his attention on his friend.

“Yes.” Legolas said flatly, “I am sorry to be a bother, but you are the only ones to whom I felt I could go. Everyone else has gone. If you want me to leave, however, I will.”

“Don’t be silly. Erestor was just shocked,” Arwen said for her husband, “Of course you’re welcome here.”

“What,” Aragorn’s voice squeaked. He cleared his throad trd tried again,

“What poison? Why isn’t there an antidote? Elvish medicine-”

“Is no longer available mellon-nin,” Legolas said gently, “If it were it would, possibly, be of use, but even then there are no guarantees. As for the poison...” Legolas pulled his sleeve up, exposing a deep, small puncture with soft purple lines radiating upward, spiraling around his forearm.

”Morgoth,” Aragorn said flatly.

“Not exactly, but it is smilier. Some of the men in the Harad have been working to mimic the poison. They have been, fairly successful.”

”Is there nothing we can do for you?” Aragorn asked bitterly.

“Allow me to stay with you. I’ve missed you, Estel.”

“We’ve missed you too, Legolas, and you are of course welcome here, for --”

“I’ll be gone within the month.” Legolas said wearily, “And you can have your lives back.”

“I don't’ want it on those terms,” Arwen said with tears in her eyes.

“Hush Arwen,” Legolas said not unkindly, “Everything that lives dies.”

Eventually Arwen joiher her son in sleep, and Legolas stood with Aragorn for several minutes, watching them sleep peacefully. When Aragorn rested a hand against the small of his back, Legolas didn’t question it. Instead he relaxed into the touch and leaned against Aragorn’s side. When the hand began rubbing slow circles, Legolas released a sigh that was nearly a purr. Valar, he’d missed being touched like this. By someone who cared about him.

He allowed Aragorn to guide him out of the room and into a comfortable, warm, sitting room.

“What were you doing in Harad?” Aragorn asked once the fire was lit and they were seated side by side.

“Running,” Legolas said with a self depreciating smile.

“Running?” Aragorn echoed blankly, “From what?”

“You. Me. Arwen. Us.” Legolas laced his fingers together, and braced his elbows on his knees. “I was hurting so badly, Estel. I was not capable of staying. I couldn’t even sit still. I ran as though I was being pursued by an army of Uruk-hai. The only thing pursuing me was memory. When I got stabbed...”

Here Legolas trailed off, sighing and staring ahead blankly for long moments.

“I know that it is selfish and wrong, but if I was going to die, I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you. I know you are happy with Arwen, and I’m not asking you to be unfaithful,” Legolas hastened to explain, “but I need you. I’m scared Estel,” Legolas said finally looking at him, “and I needed to come- home. Well the closest thing I have left to a home.”

Aragorn was looking at Legolas as though he had sprouted another head. Legolas was talking about home and fear and needing him? That admission was more frightening than the clinical knowledge of terminal illness. Made it more real.

“If you want me to go, I still can of course,” Legolas said uncomfortable with the silence.

“What? Absolutely not!” Aragorn said affronted, “I want you here Legolas. With me. With us. For however long that is-- I want you here.”

“Arwen ...?” Legolas asked vaguely.

“She has missed you as much as I have, mellon-nin. She would have my head were I allow you to leave again.”

“In that case,” Les sas said with deliberate attempt at lightening the mood, “Might I acquire housing that is not shared by your livestock?”

“What? Where did he put you last night?”

“The stable,” Legolas said, trying to hold back laughter, and only partially succeeding.

“Oh. My. I’ll talk to him. The elven Prince of Mirkwood, bedded down with sheep and horses.”

“My horse was most surprised,” Legolas said wryly, “As was I. But it was good of your man to be concerned enough to put me up at all.”

“He’s a good lad,” Aragorn said vaguely, “Now, where to put you...”

“It isn’t important. I won’t be here overly long, and I have few special needs.”

“Um,” Aragorn grunted, and continued to think. Finally he decided on the room nearest his and Arwen’s. It had a beautiful view, was more open and airy than many of the other rooms in the massive old building. It was also close enough that a door connected them, though it must be unlocked on both sides to be of use. They’d be able to keep an eye on him there, and make sure he stayed as comfortable as possible.

Dammit, he didn’t want to watch Legolas die in front of his eyes. Slowly and by inches.

When he looked up it was to find knowing blue eyes locked on his, and they were filled with compassion. Legolas knew he was asking something very hard for Aragorn. Strider had never accepted defeat, and to be forced to surrender someone he loved to death... The ultimate defeat.

“Come on, let me show you to your room, and you can get some rest, and a bath. You reek of livestock.”

“Tis not my fault that your barn animals are rank.”

“No. I should have the stable hands bathe them all with rose scented soap, I suppose.”

The banter continued as they walked the short distance to the room
Aragorn had chosen. Once there, Legolas immediately went to the large windows and threw them open. “This room is lovely. Not as-- dark as I expected a bed chamber to be inside the castle.”

“Some of the rooms inside the building are quite dark and oppressive. I thought you’d enjoy the air.”

“Mm. I do. Thank you.” Legolas said, sinking to sit on the window seat.

His face was flushed slightly, and his body was tense, giving away the pain he was trying to hide.

Aragorn went to him and joined him on the seat, facing his friend. Legolas smiled at him wanly, and after a bit the pain seemed to ease.

“Better?” Aragorn asked.

“Yes, thank you. Now, about that bath

The light joking tone was back, but it did nothing to cover the shadow of fear in his eyes.

Would he be able to handle this, Aragorn wondered, to have the strength to help Legolas and guide him? Would Legolas even be able to admit that he needed help, much less accept it?

Time would tell.

_______________

If you enjoyed this fic please leave a review or email feedback to BeckyAnnHoadley@yahoo.com
I'm feeling a bit...jittery lately after a fiasco that turned a fic into a debate forum.