The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Melethron – lover
Mellon – friend

Chapter 49


The tension between us from that argument never really went away. It did not end our relationship, but it hung between us, unresolved, neither of us willing to give, neither of us willing to speak of it. I continued to sleep at Aragorn’s side, in case he needed me, but I hesitated to reach out to him as I had before. He had made his stance perfectly clear, and I could not blame him for it. Had I been in his position, I would undoubtedly have felt the same way. Unfortunately, understanding his feelings did not make the situation any easier to resolve.

I watched in helpless silence as Elrohir continued to care for Aragorn, without my assistance. Though I always hovered nearby when the time came to change Aragorn’s bandages, he no longer reached for my hand as he had before. Elrohir had to have been aware of the changes in our interaction, but he said nothing, finally taking to heart our requests that he stop meddling. Freyla, on the other hand, tried to help, offering me frequent advice, none of which I followed. I was in a situation with only one solution, or so it seemed to me. I had ait ait until Aragorn was well enough to travel so that we could find Arwen, at which point, I could explain everything, and finally resolve the tension between Aragorn and myself. I thought, for a moment, about leaving before Aragorn recovered, traveling by myself and returning with the answer I sought, but in the end, I could not. I needed to be near him while he was injured, to see for myself that he was healing. And so I stayed and worked, side by side, with the farmers. We finished repairing the houses and outbuildings, and then I learned the joys and travails of farming.

Aragorn did heal, though slowly. Another two weeks, and he could leave his pallet with assistance. A week after that, he could walk unaided, though not far. Six weeks after his initial injury, Aragorn was finally able to begin rebuilding his strength. At first, he worked close to the hamlet, doing only simple tasks, but as his strength returned, he began taking on the task of hunting, ranging farther and farther a field as his stamina increased. I offered to go with him at first, but he always replied that he was perfectly capable of hunting on his own. Before our argument, I would not even have asked; I would just have picked up my bow and joined him. Since then, I had hesitated to assume that my presence would be welcome. In hindsight, I think he was waiting for me to insist, to express more than a passing interest, to show in some way that I still loved him and desired him, but at the time, I saw only his disinterest.

I agonized over what to do. I did not want to let him go, not when I had just found him, but I could not solve the problems that plagued us until he was strong enough to travel. I missed the closeness that had developed between us almost from the start. Even when he had been too shy to return my caresses, I had felt the freedom to touch him, to be with him, anytime I wanted. The wall that had sprung up between us was unbearable to me, but I did not know how to break it down. Nor did I know if he would let me.

Finally, I did what I thought I would never do. I sought Elrohir’s advice. “How do I win Estel back?” I asked Elrohir bluntly the next time we were alone.

“How did you lose him in the first place?” Elrohir countered.

“He thinks I do not love him,” I replied.

“Why would he think such a thing? Surely you have assured him of your feelings.”

“Therein lies the problem,” I explained and I laid out the whole situation: my promise to Celebrian and my inability to speak until after I had talked to Arwen.

“You and your pride,” Elrohir muttered, almost under his breath.

“What would you have me do then?” I asked. “Break my word to your mother? I cannot do that, ‘Ro. I made that promise mere days before she left for the Undying Lands. It binds me, as surely as if I were bound to another.”

“You have told Estel this?”

“I have, though I did not tell him that the promise was to your mother. Only that I had made it to an Elf who crossed the sea.”

Elrohir was silent for a few minutes as we walked on, looking for game. “You have woven a web of half-truths, Legolas, that Estel can sense even if he cannot identify them. Have you told him about Arwen at all?”

“That we were lovers, aye. That I love her, ala. How can I tell him that I love her when I cannot tell him that I love him?” It was the same question I had asked Freyla, the same question I had asked myself a thousand times or more. There was still no answer.

“You say that you cannot, mellon, but, like with Arwen, it is truly that you will not. Your pride will be cold comfort if you lose him completely over this.” Those were prophetic words, though neither of us could see it at the time.

“I do not want to lose him, ‘Ro. How do I win him back?”

“The samy yoy you won him in the first place. It will just be harder to win his trust this time, especially if you will not tell him that you love him.”

“I cannot.”

“Then I wish you luck.”

I began my campaign as soon as we returned from hunting, sitting next to Aragorn without asking rather than giving him the opportunity to rebuff me, reaching out to touch him gently when it seemed appropriate, even kissing him before we slept at night. He still did not seek out my company as he had before our fight, but he did not leave when I joined him, nor pull away when I touched him, though he no longer initiated any caresses we shared. Then, one night, much to my delight, he slept in my arms again. We had moved from our pallet in Freyla’s room to a loft in one of the newly repaired barns when Aragorn had completely recovered, so we, and they, would have some privacy. When he shifted in my arms during the night, alerting me to his nearness, I threw caution to the wind and kissed him awake.

“Legolas?” he murmured in sleepy surprise.

“I cannot say the words you want to hear, melethron. Will you let me show you how I feel?”

“It changes nothing, Legolas. I still need the words,” he replied.

“I will give them to you as soon as I can.”

He nodded his permission, and I set out to seduce him all over again, infusing every touch, every kiss with all the love that was in my heart. I prayed only that he could feel it.

Aragorn required another several months to regain his full strength and stamina, by which time winter was setting in and Freyla encouraged us to stay. I could tell that Aragorn was impatient to be gone, but the twins overruled him, insisting that it was too dangerous to travel in the cold and snow, even for them. I accepted their decree, though I would have preferred resolving the situation with Arwen, Aragorn, and myself sooner rather than later. And so Aragorn and I settled into Freyla’s father’s room while the twins moved in with Beata for the winter.

Winter, I discovered, though not a time of great physical labor, was still a time for work. We fletched arrows, sharpened and replaced plows and scythes, laid traps and ran the trap lines. And still, we did not speak of what kept us apart emotionally. Physically, the distance was closing between us, though we never regained the complete lack of inhibition that we had experienced in those few heady days in a shabby inn in the middle of nowhere. Aragorn let me make love to him when the mood took me, but rarely did he initiate our intimacy. I regretted his reticence, but I could do nothing to change it. At least, nothing I was willing to do. I watched the people around us carefully, trying to learn all I could about Men so that I would know what to expect as Aragorn aged. Despite the tension that still lingered between us, I fully expected to claim him as mine, just as soon as I had fulfilled my remaining obligation to Celebrian. Arwen would understand. She had to, I told myself repeatedly. Surely she cared enough about me to want me to be happy. It was the voice of desperation, trying to convince myself that I had not ruined everything. I see that now, just as I see how my pride cost me every happiness I could have had. I would give much to be able to change my silence that bleak winter. Or any of the other times I could have spoken but did not. Much indeed.