Bright Like a Star

And the Plot thickens mwuahahaha....*cough cough* anyway, I hope you like this chapter.

very quickly....I would like to clarify something, Chapter 3 takes place several weeks after chapter 2, I just didn't see any point in writing about that time when we all know what.....er...well, what they did (you can only write so many sex scenes in one story, and that wasn't the point of this to begin with). Also, I wouldn't seperate Aragorn from his elf after only being married one night. Not even I am that cruel...er...nevermind.

I would also like to give a quick thanks everyone who has read this so far with special thanks going to harui and my anonymous reviewer. Extra special thanks goes to Ramoths Own, to whom this chapter is dedicated- your wonderful words of praise are greatly appreciated.


Part 5: Revelations
(Dedicated to Ramoths Own)


Aragorn woke slowly, the feeling of a warm body pressed against his and the scent of sex barely registered in the drowsy haze of his mind. As he became more aware of his surroundings his eyes lighted on pale blond hair spread out across his chest, and he allowed a smile to flit across his mouth as he shifted slightly. His movements drew a small moan from his lover, and the figure laying atop him shifted as well, bringing smooth skin in contact with his hardening phallus. This time he was the one to moan, and he pulled the figure closer to him as his eyes fluttered closed in soft pleasure. ‘Oh how I love you Legolas,’ he thought mentally as soft lips crushed against his own. At first the sensation was overpowering, but then….something was wrong. The lips tasted of too sweet vanilla, not of spices and honey. The body that covered his was too soft, too fragile, and the hair, the hair was too yellow, not the paleness of spun gold. This was all so wrong, so terribly wrong.

“Off! Get off of me!” he hissed to the now frightened woman. “This is not right! Get out!” The girl scurried off of his bed, a blanked clutched to her chest and anger shining in her eyes.

“My Lord, you can not do this, it is indecent,” she whispered, her voice trembling in anger as she gave a pointed stare at her naked body.

“You certainly had no qualms about removing your clothes last night,” he all but yelled. He was so angry. Angry at this girl for seducing him. Angry at Legolas for forcing him into this situation. But mostly he was angry at himself for letting himself get into this situation, for letting Legolas get hurt, for being weak. Oh how weak he was. “Get out,” he said to the girl, his voice much calmer now, though no comfort could be found for the woman. She glared at him, and without another word, she disappeared from his sight, and never once did she limp.


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Aragorn rubbed tiredly at his temple as he stared blankly around the room of politicians. Their yelling and arguing was a dim buzzing in the back of his mind as the thoughts of what he had done whirled through his head in a storm of emotions and meaningless words. He had done something that was unforgivable, he had taken another into his bed as his only true love lay in the isolation of his own mind. He knew, oh he knew he would have to move on eventually. He knew he couldn’t wait forever for Legolas to awaken. The healer himself had pronounced the situation hopeless, saying that no such drug existed to suppress the poison introduced to the elf’s body. The only thing that was left was to keep the prince in this stasis between life and death, asleep and lost to Aragorn, who, every moment, yearned for the elf’s knowing touch and tender kisses. He knew that it was selfish to keep his lover thus, to keep him from Mandos hall, while at the same time, denying him life, but he had no choice, not when there was hope, as small as the flame may be.

Aragorn was pulled from his brooding when the doors to the chamber were thrown open and Gandalf stalked inside.

“Up, you fool!” he hissed to Aragorn. Before the man could respond, he was practically lifted from his seat by an enraged Istari. Dumbly he followed the Wizard from the room to the king’s study where Gandalf turned angered eyes upon him.

“Gandalf, I…”

“I travel many weeks when I hear of the princes demise, and when I get here, I am met with only bitterness and scorn. And now I find you like this. You are hardly recognizable man! Surely Legolas would not have wanted you to pine like this Aragorn.” The Istari’s voice softened at the last part, and the wizard seemed to deflate as his anger washed away from him as swiftly as a passing wind.

“Gandalf, I…I am sorry, I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.”

“Do what you were born to do Aragorn. You are a king of men, now act like it. You must not neglect your people, for they are as much your children as your people. Should you neglect them for long, only trouble can come about.”

“Legolas would have said the same thing, I think,” Aragorn replied softly, as a lump formed in his throat. “Oh how I want to cry Gandalf.” His voice was so broken that the wizard could not help but feel compassion for the once so proud man.

“Then cry Aragorn, release yourself from this burden.”

“If I cry…If I cry, I am admitting defeat. I am admitting that he might be lost to me forever.”

“No Aragorn, you would honor him with your tears. To deny yourself is as much denying the place that Legolas has in your heart.”

“No…” the man sobbed. “No, I love him. We only had so short a time as mates and yet…I loved…love him so much.”

“Just cry Estel, for Legolas, you must grieve.” Aragorn nodded, and before he realized it, a singly tear had fallen from his pale grey eyes, staining his cheek as it burned down his skin in a heavy drop of sorrow. The tear trailed down his cheek where it dropped from his chin to land onto his hand, splattering on the mithril wedding band that still resided on his finger. And then he broke. Another tear slid from his eyes, blurring his vision, stinging his eyes with a pain that was unbearable in its intensity. And the tears, his grieving tears dripped from his eyes, one by one, each one more perfect than the last, each one glowing with starlight, until he sobbed softly and broken shudders wracked his body.

He wept for a long time, and when the tears finally subsided to shaky breaths, he pulled away from Gandalf, who, at some point, had taken the man into his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered to the old Istari.

“You are quite welcome,” Gandalf replied before standing, pulling the king of men to his feet as well. “Now, let us go see your little prince and see if perhaps I can ease the situation.” Aragorn only nodded.


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They walked into the room where Legolas lay. There was a wariness to Aragorn’s steps, but he bravely moved forward to face his lover. As for Gandalf, he walked forward and began a thorough examination of the elf, all the while, a frown stained his features. Finally, the wizard turned back to the king, who shifted uncertainly under the wizards now fierce stare.

“Call for the healer who attended Legolas,” he hissed, his bushy eyebrows knitting harshly together. Aragorn nodded and quickly found a servant to call for his healer.

They didn’t wait long before the healer appeared, only to stop and pale at the sight of Gandalf. As the Istari stared at the healer, a tension seemed to appear in the room, a tension so thick that it was hard to breathe.

“Gandalf…?” Aragorn questioned uncertainly, as he fought to breathe the charged air of the room.

“It was no orc blade that poisoned Legolas…”