The Price of Pride

A/N: This chapter was inspired by the beautiful art at the Theban Band. Particularly, the piece “legorn2.”


Elvish translations

Ad – again
Hannon lle – thank you
Im naer – I’m sorry
Lirimaer – beautiful one
Uma – yes


Chapter 29


Aragorn blinked once, then again, a stunned look on his face. I could see the reflexive movement of his throat as he swallowed convulsively. I waited patiently, hand still on his cheek, for him to decide. The moment stretched, the silence as taut as my bowstring, but I did not pull away. I would not do more than just touch his face without his permission, but neither I would pull away unless he asked me to. The silence continued and still, he did not respond. Just when I was sure we had reached an impasse, his eyes closed and he nodded, slightly, so slightly I might not have seen it if my hand had not been against his cheek.

Relief and desire surged through me, but I tempered my outward response. Slowly, I rose up onto my knees, tipping his head back as I did, giving him one last chance to stop me, but his eyes remained trustingly closed. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, a chaste, gentle kiss that in no way reflected the tumult inside me. He did not pull away so I kissed him again, a little more firmly. I had tried to imagine how his beard might feel against my lips, but my imagination had failed me. It had not prepared me at all for the tickle of his moustache, nor for the soft scratch of his beard against my chin. It had also not prepared me for the silken firmness of his lips as they gave under mine, just the barest hint that he was returning the kiss.

A detached part of my mind pointed out that this had to be the chastest kiss I had experienced in two and a half millennia. Certainly, the kisses Arwen and I shared had not been this innocent since the day she kissed me by the waterfall. Unlike that kiss, though, I was in charge of this one, and I was not about to go running away before I saw the result. I moved back, just an inch, and waited for his eyes to open. For several seconds, they did not, and he hung there, face between my hands, eyes closed, the picture of wanton invitation. Then his eyes opened, and I saw a hunger there that matched my own, but it was a hunger still tinged by reservations, if not by actual fear.

“Ad, lirimaer?” I asked, letting the choice be his.

“Uma,” he whispered in reply. To my surprise, he did not wait for me to lower my head, but rose up of his own accord to meet my lips. I slackened my control a little, letting him feel more y pay passion. When he did not back away, I flicked my tongue over the seam of his lips. He gasped. I was so tempted to press my advantage, to invade his mouth, but I knew his gasp was reaction, not invitation, so I forced myself to wait. If all I had wanted was a quick tumble on a spring morning, I would have deepened the kiss and overwhelmed his senses. I could have done it. I knew where and how to touch so as to seduce him. But I wanted more, and that required the establishment of trust. When I had given him time to recover, I did it again, just a quick lick and then retreat. I wanted him to come to me. When my tongue sd oud out a third time, I found his lips parted, waiting for the caress. That was what I had been waiting for. I claimed his mouth with mine, reveling in the sound he made in his throat.

Then I broke the kiss and leaned back against a tree on the edge of the point. Aragorn looked perplexed.

“Why did you stop?”

I patted the rock in front of me, “Come here, lirimaer.” He came and sat between my outstretched legs, back pressed against my chest. “I am not playing games. Do you understand that, Estel? I am not looking for amusement. You barely know me, nor I you. If all I wanted was release, I could take care of that myself. I want to know you. What you like. What you dislike. What makes you laugh or cry, what makes you angry. I want to discover where you like to be touched, and how. I want to take my time cherishing each discovery. And I want you to know those things about me. There is no need to rush.”

He subsided against me. “What was it like growing up in Rivendell?” I asked both to take his mind off the still simmering desire between us and because I was truly curious. I really did want to know everything I could about him.

I listened as he talked of Elrond and the twins, of his mother whom he obviously adored, of lessons with Erestor and later with Glorfindel. I wondered a little at some of the things he had learned, but I was not about to question Elrond’s wisdom. When he reached the end of one story, I would ask a question that would lead to another. From time to time, as he talked, I nuzzled his neck and pressed little kisses to the curve of his ear, so very different from my o The The rest of the morning passed in comfortable camaraderie. Arien was directly overhead when I heard the faint rumbling of Aragorn’s stomach. I had not picked up any lembas nor had he, and we had an hour’s walk back to camp. Aragorn rose and offered me his hand. I took it, letting him pull me to my feet, but I did not release it until we reached the spot where we would start our descent, making our way carefully down the path left by our climb.

The twins were not in camp when we arrived, but that was not surprising. They had never enjoyed sitting around doing nothing. Aragorn and I ate, then Aragorn decided that he needed to check on my hand. There was no blood on the bandage, but Aragorn was ever the healer. I was surprised when he unwrapped the dressing at how much my hand had healed. I had not healed this fast away from Arwen since I had fallen in love with her. I shivered, though not in pain, as Aragorn took my hand to examine the cut and understood. My developing feelings for Aragorn were giving him the same power to heal me as Arwen had.

“Your hand looks much better today,” Aragorn commented. “I do not think we will need to wait three days.”

“You have healing hands.”

“Ada thought I had something of the gift of healing, though it is rare among Men. That is why he insisted on teaching me himself.”

“I am most fortunate, then. Perhaps we should not tell your brothers how fast I am healing. I was looking forward to the rest.” My smile was an invitation to collusion.

He returned my smile. “What they do not know…”

“Indeed.”

Aragorn smoothed a healing salve over my hand and applied a fresh bandage. I thanked him with a kiss. “I talked all morning. Tell me about your home,” Aragorn requested. So I did. I talked about Mirkwood before the arrival of the Shadow, of how it had changed. I told him about my father who, I insisted, was not the unreasonable Elf that stories made him out to be. “I knew that already,” Aragorn interrupted. “Ada made sure I knew the truth about King Thranduil.” I wondered what Elrond considered truth about my father, considering that they were not exactly friends for many centuries, but I did not comment. Relations between two two had improved greatly since Celebrian’s departure, so perhaps Elrond could give a mostly unbiased account of my father.

I told Aragorn everything he wanted to know. I even talked of my relationship with Arwen. I just neglected to tell him the exact nature of my feelings. It would hardly help my cause for him to think he had no chance with me because I was in love with Arwen. I could still not explain to myself how I could love both of them. I knew I could not explain it to him.

We were still talking, reclining side by side against a log, when the twins returned to camp. They had gone hunting again, bringing back a brace of coneys that they promptly gave to Aragorn. I knew better than to offer to cook, but I did offer to help clean and prepare the meat. Aragorn agreed to my help. I rose from my place and went to get my knives, one hand trailing across the back of Aragorn’s neck as I walked by. He shivered under my touch, a most gratifying reaction. Elladan caught the gesture and Aragorn’s response, and raised an eyebrow at me. I just smiled as I returned to Aragorn’s side, knife in hand.

When we had finished preparing the meat, I left Aragorn to cook, heading toward the stream to clean my knife and my hands. Elrohir followed.

“You appear to have made progress since last night,” Elrohir commented as I knelt beside the stream.

“Do you comment on every aspect of everyone’s courtships or only on mine?” I asked coolly.

“You are courting my brother.”

“Uma, and I am doing so with his permission and cooperation, Elrohir. He does not need a keeper and would not appreciate it if he thought you were interfering. I told Elladan, I told Estel, and I am telling you. I will not do anything that Estel does not want me to do. And today, I did less than what he would have accepted.”

“Im naer, Legolas. I just do not want to see him hurt.”

“That is the last thing I want to do.”

“I know. As I said, im naer.”

I accepted his apology, but still the implication that I might take advantage of Aragorn’s innocence stung, especially after I had already assured Elladan that I would cherish the gift I was being given. I took first watch again, knowing I was in no mood to sleep. I woke Aragorn a few hours later to take my place. As I lay down, I patted the space beside me. “You are welcome to sleep here if you are cold again tonight,” I told him. I paused for a moment. “Or even if you are not.”

Silence greeted my offer. Then, I heard, very softly, “Hannon lle.”