Aniron

[legolas]


It cannot end like this. Surely, it cannot. Not here, in dark places. I cannot see him…I cannot see him. I can barely even make him out; the darkness here is so dense, and we are so LOST. I know…why he stayed; why now we have come to this place where I stand on one side of the divide with Gandalf, and the others…and Aragorn, and the ring bearer stand on the other.

The sound of battle draws ever nearer, and my heart is sick within me, at the darkness of this place. I should never have come. I should not be here. Elves should not walk in dark places. And yet…

And yet, since the first day I saw him, I wanted to be near him, and I would go with him to the ends of Middle Earth. No doubt, we all of us would follow him, but I would go to Hell for him. I followed him into Moria. I will follow him. Always.

But what if we never speak again? What if we are never again close enough for touching? I could not bear that. I will not. I’ve only just come to know…Am I require no to turn, and walk away, back to Rivendell, to tell the Lord Elrond of not one failure, but two? We have lost the ring bearer. Aragorn has fallen. I have lost him too?/ No. This cannot be! He will survive. Somehow, he will bridge the abyss, and the quest will continue. The Fellowship will not have failed. My heart will not be broken.

It cannot end like this. Surely, it cannot?

[aragorn]

what to do? The chasm in front, the hordes behind. I will not fail him. If, by my life or death….

I had thought to throw him to Legolas, then turn, and be done with it, and bring myself no dishonor. At least, given them a chance to flee. But I waited too long, and the floor fell away beneath our feet, and I cannot see the way clear. They trust me…They trust me without question…An enemy would look fair, and feoul,oul, while I look foul and feel fair?

We swore to protect Frodo Baggins, the eight of us, wherever the path may lead. Axe, and sword and…and bow. Even now, in darkness, he sheds a little light. He is luminous. He makes me feel so old, because what I see when I look at him is a man barely out of boyhood. And then, in the same breath, he looks at me with eyes so old, and so knowing that I wonder how old he must truly BE?

I cannot think of him. I must not. I will not. I won’t let my heart dwell on maybes and what ifs. Maybe, I should have told him, before this moment that I have thought of little else but him, since Elrond’s council, when all our fates were decided, What if I had held him, just for a moment, before we ventured here?

Enough. I know my duty, and I will do what I must. We follow the paths that others lay for us in the world. I will go along whatever path Frodo Baggins must take, and I will pray that, in time, it will bring me closer to him. The chasm is so wide.

But it must not end like this.

I will not fail Frodo. I will speak to him. I will fail neither of them. This is my duty. This is what I must do.

We must not fail.

* [legolas]

How can this be? Perhaps I should have known better, than to give my heart to him; to Aragorn? Perhaps I should have known that he would not take due care? Maybe I should have known that I would be bruised by him? I do not care. I would do it again. I would do it always.

How did this happen? I remember sitting at Elrond’s council, assembled among my brothers, in order to combat this great evil. That was all I meant to do. That was all I ever expected. And then…And the my eyes met him. I…think, foolishly, that I tried to defend him. Sit down, Legolas. I felt blood in my face. It was painful to look at him, for a while. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have him raise the blood in me again…But that will never happen, because he is so far away, and, even now, the ground is crumbling beneath their feet.

And the enemy is nearly upon them, and I cannot watch him die. Maybe I could stop a few of them, but it would do not good. I would still have to watch him die. I should have known, choosing to love him above all others. I’ve always thought that we must seem so strange to them; as we’ve stood by, and watched the years trickle on. Who do not change, as they change, unless we are shaken to our very foundations. Maybe we seem to them like stars, or mountains…that distant. That untouched? I would never be far enough from his side to be distant. I would never let him leave me untouched.

He has shaken me to the very foundations of my soul…

I’m dying to reach him. I would give my life for him………….I would die for him.

I choose a mortal life.

[aragorn]

it has begun. The world is falling apart at the seams. I hear the sound of evil, crowing in the darkness, and they are all screaming and screaming, and I do not see what I can do. There is nothing for me to do, save do my best to save Frodo, when the times comes. And their shouting will do nothing, but the echo could drive you MAD.

Except for one.

Except for him.

He just stands there, bow in hand, looking like he’ll stand there until Hell freezes, or the end of the world, whichever will come first. He’s like stars; luminous…beyond the reach of mortal hands…and, to my mortal eyes, in Moria’s grimy light, almost close enough for touching. And there’s a strange quality to the way he looks at me…an unplaceable thing that reminds me of Arwen, and of every other woman I have ever…I have ever touched.

I do not understand it, in him.

Then again, the world has just recently gone mad. The ground begins to move beneath our feet, and Frodo grips my arm. Hold tight, Ringbearer. Don’t let go, Frodo Baggins, in case we lose each other in the dark. We will make it though.

If by my life or death…

[legolas]

They’ll fall. Surely they’ll fall?

I promise you this, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. If you fall…If you hurt me now, my heart will break. I will never again me a whole thing. Do not do this to me, Aragorn. Do not leave me now…Do not let me haunted by the memory of the fact that we barely even…we never even…touched…

Please.

[Aragorn]

If I could just get close enough to touch him, and see whether the look in his eyes was real. If I could just…

LEAN FORWARD!

And the stone rocks beneath our feet, and we are plunging forward, and there is no way back.

[Legolas]

Just as it appears that I must lose him to the dark, he shouts…something that is lost in the shouting, and the arrow fire, and the beating of my own heart behind my eyes. Suddenly, Frodo and Aragorn lean forward, so far that my heart leaps into my throat. Aragorn has hold of Frodo, and I am praying, and they are falling, falling, falling…

And then he’s in my arms. Safe. Aragorn, in my arms. For a moment, I can’t believe he’s real, and I hold him close, holding him as close as I dare, without giving myself away…Not now. Give myself time to chose what I will say, because, even now, with layers of clothing between us; between our heartbeats, I do not know how I am still standing…still breathing, breathing in the scent of him…sweat, and the earth. Soldier and ranger. Oh, my LOVE.

I’ve got you. I have you. You’re safe.

[Aragorn]

A moment of plummeting through the dark, and then Boromir has Frodo in his arms, and Legolas has me. Safe. Close against his body. Our mouths are close enough for kissing, and my arms slide comfortably around him, and I could remain like this for the rest of the world…

But there is no time. No time at all. We must keep moving. We cannot linger…

We must go yet deeper into the night.

*

You Shall Not Pass.

*


2.1 II

[legolas]

How can this have happened? How can this thing be? Never have I seen such a thing, not in all my years Never again will I. I saw Gandalf the Grey fall. A light. A flame. Gone out. Extinguished. I watched him fall…We all of us, watched him fall. Noted his sacrifice, so that the Fellowship would continue, and the world would not end.

My heart aches within me, and I want to scream and scream, until either I can scream no more, or until the end of the world. But I cannot. I do not even have the strength in me for that small thing, now. It will be along time before I can bring myself to weep; to begin to truly mourn for Mithrandir.

[aragorn]

I have brought them out of Moria; I have delivered them from darkness. I have done my DUTY. But the Fellowship is broken; nine become EIGHT, and the cracks are beginning to show. All around me are tears; the hobbits, Boromir, even the dwarf. But not him. Not Legolas. He just stands there, staring out over the land like it, and none of us, can share his own peculiar type of pain. He knows that we will soon journey on to Lothlorien. Maybe he just needs the comfort of his own kind? I don’t know how much that would hurt me, if he withdrew from me entirely. I wonder how I would feel, if he sought his comfort in another’s arms, in another’s bed, in the night? I am not afraid. I am not afraid of Legolas Greenleaf, the Prince of the Mirkwood, and yet…

Enough. There is no time now for such things…the grief is still a near, hurtful thing, but we must journey onwards to the Lady Galedriel’s forest realm…

To Lothlorien.

Lothlorien is no safe place. The memory of him, when we suddenly found ourselves surrounded. His bow was in his hand, of course it was, but we were all surrounded, and my first thought was, if Galadriel, on some whim, denied us entry to Lothlorien, then her guards would slaughter us, and I…

I would have to watch him die.

The did not refuse us entry. Galadriel gave us her permission to walk her dark places…

And the grief was still too near.

[legolas]

All around me, a lament for a lost hero…their final farewell to a great man. Goodbye to Gandalf of the Grey. Be well. Be always well.

The world is changed, for his absence. I feel it in the trees. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. The world is in mourning, or so it seems, as it should be. So I am troubled by dual aches of the heart, because Gandalf has fallen, and I have not seen Aragorn since we arrived in this place. I ache for him. I ache for him in spirit; just to speak to him…just for the joy and the terror of hearing him speak my name. And…I ache for him in my body, just to have him touche me in the way that I need to be touched by him. The blood in me rises, just at the thought of him…futile…humiliating…because it will never be so.

I close my eyes, and listen to the mourning song. Take away, make away my sorrow, Elbereth…Make this thing an easier thing to bear? These two things easier? I cannot go on like this…I must go on like this; into the endless night of Mordor, further into the darknees, in which I could lose sight of him at any time.

I could not bear it.

I would not.

My heart would surely break.

[aragorn]

I am not at my ease here in Lothlorien’s dappled shade. I am not comfortable, here in this place where even the trees are watchful. And I have not yet set eyes on him since we arrived here. I…miss him. I don’t know how to admit it to him. I don’t know what I’d say. How many lovers has he take? How many women…? How many…? Or is he untouched by mortal or immortal hands? He has always seemed so pure. And, as I wander and wonder beneath Lothlorien’s boughs, I am troubled by visions of him, and the thought of how it would feel to run my fingers through the fall of his hair, to press my body against him, to explore the most secret places of him? I wonder…how would he taste?

And then, like an omen, or something from my dreams, I see him standing there, silloueted against the moonlight, and he does not turn, as I approach.

[legolas]

I feel someone behind me, close enough to stop me turning. My heart is so full of my grief, and my wonder [I have not the heart to tell you, for my, the grief is still too near] and I did not realise, until they are too close for turning, and I am trapped between them, and the world laid out at my feet.

[aragorn]

So this will be the moment then. I lean close enough to smell the scent of him; of pine forests and the open air, and I lift the smooth silk of his hair, and I kiss him, very gently, at the nape of his neck, to make my intentions clear. His body shudders, softly…deliciously under my lips. He sighs, and tilts his head forward to let me have room to kiss him, and I slide my hands inside his shirt, running my hands over the hot taunt muscles of his stomach, pulling him back a little roughly against my hips, letting him feel the truth there. I hear him gasp, but he does not pull away, and I lay a line of kisses from the nape of his neck to his cheek.

‘You will be mine then?’

[legolas]

The shock of lips on my skin…a line of lightning snaking from my heart to…other places…hands sliding over me, touching me, and I burn. I burn, for him. He pulls me back, and I feel HIM…The blood rises in me, as his mouth finds mine.

‘You will be mine then?’

Mortal

Man

Aragorn.

‘I chose the mortal life.’

[aragorn]

And I know what I want. I want to see him; I want to see him lying under me…I want to see him as he wakes up next to me…I want to see him on his knees.

‘Close your eyes, Legolas.’ I say, taking a step back, to see him better.

‘Take off your shirt, Legolas.’ His hands go to the ties, and then grey silk whispers over his skin, like moonlight. He shivers, a little, in the chill of the night. Slender, beautiful body, and his strong archer’s hand drop to rest at his belt.

‘Take them down, Legolas.’

He shudders, perhaps in fear, and perhaps in pleasure. Maybe he HAS remained untouched? He struggles for a moment, and then there was a loosening, and his trousers drop, slowly, hesitantly towards the earth. I watch him for a moment, as his slender, lithe body quivers and shakes.

‘Aragorn?’ he says, and I go to him, and I take him in my arms.

I explore his most secret places. His hair feels like silk, running through my fingers, his body is solid, as he braces himself against a tree, a little sweat trickling down his back, and sticking his hair to the side of his face. He shivers, when I lick it away.

The blood in him RISES. I feel his heartbeat in my hand, quickening, and he cannot keep himself still. His breath comes quicker, and, when I press him with my palm, he arches his back, moaning and whimpering. He is so beautiful. I could have waited for this forever…but as he moves his body against me, begging me to go harder…faster…I can barely hold myself in. When I tell him that I am afraid that I will bruise him, he is so delicate, he turns, so that his face is in profile…luminous as an star in evening. He is so beautiful.

‘I don’t care.’ He says. ‘They’ll never see.’

So I close my eyes, and I stop holding back, and I lose myself in him…

He weeps, as the blood rises and rises until it OVERFLOWS.

He shivers, as I kiss the tears away.

[legolas]

the world is changed.