The Price of Pride

Elvish translations

Mellon - friend


Chapter 62


With the council over and the decision made, I began to think about preparations for the journey. I had my bow and a quiver of arrows, of course, but I had not brought a means to repair or replace them. For the relatively short journey from Mirkwood to Imladris, I had not needed them, but for the journey we were now undertaking, one that would last months, arrows would break, or be lost. I gathered what I would need and was pondering what else to take when I heard Aragorn’s voice from the shadowy terrace behind me.

“Do you have a minute, Legolas?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, mellon,” I replied. Only hours ago, I had promised myself that I would find a way for us to be friends and talking to him now seemed as good a place to start as any.

“I am sorry for snapping at you during the council,” he began. “You were only trying to help.”

“If I spoke out of turn, perhaps I should be the one apologizing,” I answered.

“Not out of turn. I knew who Boromir was, but he did not know who I was. I was content to leave it that way, to avoid the very reaction that my identity provoked. I did not know what would come of the council, of course, but as the son of the Steward, I knew Boromir would be involved in any decision. I did not see a minor insult being worth the problems that could have arisen,” Aragorn explained.

“A minor insult. Aragorn, he called you a ranger,” I exclaimed.

Aragorn laughed at that. “That is exactly what I am, Legolas. What I have been for nearly thirty years. A Ranger of the North, defending those who cannot defend themselves.”

“And who look down on you, not realizing they owe you their safety. I know how you have spent your time, but you are more than that, not less, as he tried to imply,” I insisted, more offended by the implication that Aragorn seemed to be.

“You have always defended me,” Aragorn commented with a small smile.

“And I always will,” I replied fervently.

“Why?” he asked.

Because I loved him. Of course, I could not tell him that. Before I could think of an answer, he interrupted my thoughts by taking my hand. “I owe you another apology as well,” he said.

“For what?” I asked, unable to think of anything else that had passed between us since my arrival that would warrant an apology on his part. I did not draw away, though I knew I should. I had longed for his touch, any touch, for so long, and his hand felt so good on mine.

“For not explaining myself all those years ago,” he said in a soft voice. “For throwing aside what we had shared with no word to you.” He released my hand and went to stand at the edge of the terrace, hands braced, back stiff, as if he was expecting a blow. This was the conversation I had been dreading, but perhaps airing the old wounds between us would let them finally heal.

I joined him at the rail, my hands coming to rest next to his, staring out over the beauty of Imladris, the waterfalls, the woods, the coming twilight. I did not trust myself to speak, so I remained silent, waiting for whatever he would say.

“Nothing I could say would excuse my actions,” Aragorn said finally.

“Just tell me,” I prompted.

“I… The whole time we were in Rohan, I was torn. I could never understand the promise you felt you had to keep. I tried to respect it, to accept that you had this need, but it did not stop me from feeling insecure, from wondering if you were not, in fact, using that as an excuse to avoid saying words you did not feel. And then, when we returned here…”

“Go on,” I encouraged him.

“It was all too much to take in. Finding out who I really was, trying to understand what that meant for my future… I was adrift. I looked to you as an anchor, a refuge in the storm. And you were there for me. I realize that now. You stood beside me, willing to help me through my fears and my anxieties, asking only that I give you the time you needed to fulfill your promise. I might have found a way to give you that time. I wanted to. Then, Berianir made that stupid comment about the gold ribbons you were wearing. I knew you wore them for me, but I was jealous, thinking that everyone else thought you belonged to Arwen,” he admitted.

“It was never a question of belonging, Aragorn. We werversvers because it suited us at the time. Besides, you knew she and I had been lovers,” I reproached him gently.

“I knew, but it had all seemed past when we talked of it.”

“It was past. From the first time I kissed you, it was past. I do not play games, Aragorn. Not those kind.”

“I was too afraid to see that at the time. I was sure that I would lose you. If not to Arwen, then to the Elf to whom you were bound by the deathbed promise.” I realized that he still did not know that they were one and the same. I should have told him, at some point, even if not then. “And that scared me. So much that I almost drew back from you that night. I think I would have if you had not spent the evening at my side and the night in my bed. I knew what your actions meant. At least I think I did, but I was still afraid. And you did not say the words I wanted to hear,” he told me.

“I would have said any words you wanted to hear if you had waited just a few hours longer,” I said softly. So softly in fact that he could not make them out.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. Continue,” I urged.

“And then I met Arwen. I saw her and could see nothing else. Not even you. I tried to come explain that night, to tell you that I had met her, to end things the right way, but you did not answer your door. And then, the next morning, you were so cold. I dared not speak. Arwen told me later of speaking to you that night and of your meeting in Lórien. I did not ever mean for her to bring news that I should have brought myself, but it seems that she always saw you first. I love her, and nothing could change that, but I regret the way things ended between us.”

I regretted that they endeended at all, but I understood what Aragorn was trying to do. He was trying to make sure that any lingering tension between us did not affect the quest we were about to undertake.

“I… Thank you for telling me all this,” I said finally. “I was hurt by what happened, I cannot deny that, but time heals all wounds, mellon. Mine have healed as well.” That was a lie, but they were the words he needed to hear. I laid a companionable hand on his shoulder, feeling the shiver that ran through me at that simple touch. “We will do this thing together, and we will find a way to defeat the Shadow.”

“Elrond wants to reforge Narsil. He wants me to take the sword of the King,” Aragorn said softly.

“Why not take it?” I asked. “It is yours by right.”

“By right, perhaps, but I do not want it. I have never wanted it. I have not earned it, Legolas. What if I am not worthy of it?” he questioned in reply.

“Only time will tell if you are truly worthy, but you will never prove your worth if you avoid your birthright,” I replied. “This task will prove the worth of us all, I think.”

He smiled. “You may be right.” He excused himself and left me alone on the terrace with my thoughts.