Hardest Thing

Title: Hardest Thing.
Author: Becky
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas.
Catagory: Songfic.
Rating: PG-13/R
Feedback: BeckyHoadley@hotmail.com
Summary: The night before Aragorn marries Arwen.
Disclaimers: I don’t own the characters, and the lyrics belong to 98 degrees.

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Legolas’s head was on Aragorn’s shoulder, the sheet pooled around their waists. Aragorn ran his fingers lightly over the silky hair spread across his chest. It always reminded him of sun and light and warmth. Legolas was awake, but still and silent as Aragorn lightly traced over his face, committing the familiar lines to memory. The pain was there, just beneath the surface, so real and obvious, Aragorn could feel the echo of it the ache in his own chest.


___________________________________________

We both know that I shouldn't be here
This is wrong
And baby it's killing me, it's killing you
Both of us tryin' to be strong

__________________________________

For his part, Aragorn felt a touch of bittersweet sadness, he had someone waiting for him, someone who loved him and whom he loved. For the elf in his arms, though, he was worried. Legolas was awake, but quiet and still. Something he’d seen only a handfull of time in their decades of friendship, and the years that they had been lovers. Legolas was normally a bright and vibrant individual. For him to be reduced to quietly trembling was troubling.

Aragorn did the only thing he could do for Legolas. He held him. Not offering hollow words of reassurance, or making promises he’d be unable to keep. This was it, and they both knew it. Their last night. Tomorrow he would marry Arwen. Arwen trusted him, loved him, and he would not betray that trust, nor would he break those vows once they’d been made.

Finally the eastern horizon began to lighten, the black fading to purple with the coming dawn. When he pulled away Legolas offered no resistance, releasing him without struggle. “I have to go,” Aragorn said quietly, brushing the hair out of Legolas’s face.

“I know,” Legolas replied simply, his voice uncharastically harsh, and lacking it’s typical, musical, inflection.

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I've got somewhere else to be
Promises to keep
Someone else who loves me
And trusts me fast asleep
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Aragorn dressed in silence. His mind was on tomorrow’s wedding. The rest of his life seemed like a dream come true. In fact it was a dream come true. He had loved Arwen for as long as he could remember. She was like an angel. Always beautiful, always kind, always sweet. Her capacity for compassion and gentleness was astounding, as was her inner strength. No. No matter how much he cared for Legolas, or how much it hurt, he had made up his mind. He would not break Arwen’s faith in him. She’d given up her immortality for him, and she’d never asked anything of him in return. This was right. This was right for him, and for Arwen, and for Gondor. Legolas would never have been accepted, and could never have given him the heir he needed. Aragorn sighed.

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I've made up my mind
There is no turning back
She's been good to me
And she deserves better than that
_______________________________

Legolas was dressing as well, avoding his eyes. The pain radiating off Legolas was-- incredible. Yet there was no pleading, no anger, only a quiet resignation that somehow cut deeper, and more painfully than any ranting and railing could possibly have. Aragorn should have known Legolas would not resort to such tactics. Yet his quiet dignity somehow surprised him. It reminded him, rather forcefully, of just how much he really and truly did love Legolas. How deeply the elf had insinuated himself into Aragorn’s heart and soul.

“Legolas, I--”

Legolas looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing his boots. His hair was down, hanging around his shoulders, and shadowing his face. His expression was unreadable. Aragorn had forgotten how truly -- closed Legolas could be. It had been a long time since he had seen such a shuttered expression on his friend’s face.

“You love her Strider, and she loves you.” his voice was flat, lacking any inflection.

He did love her. So why did it hurt so badly to adknowledge that now. “Yes, I do. Very much.”


_______________________________


It's the hardest thing
I'll ever have to do
To look you in the eye
And tell you I don't love you

__________________________

Aragorn sat on the opposite side of the bed, dealing with his own footwear, and then stood and put on his cloak. Legolas stood when he did. Physically they were mere feet apart, but the distance between them was far, far greater--and growing. Aragorn wasn’t sure if they could ever reach across the chasam that was growing between then. How had he not realized that in doing this, he would be loosing not only a lover, but the man who had been his best friend, his confidant, his comrade, for his entire adult life?

Legolas was more than a lover to him. He was the source of wisdom and strength he had come to rely on heavily. How had it come to this? Why had he not seen that this was going to destroy that friendship, and quite possibly Legolas as well. He could see, sense, *feel* Legolas withdrawing from him, even as they stood there.

As Aragorn watched, horrified, tears welled up in the vivid sky blue eyes. Only one escaped the prison of those long, dark lashes, but it’s impact was profound. Aragorn knew he had never seen Legolas cry. In years and years, he had never seen the elf shed so much as a single tear. He wanted to comfort him, to hold him, to tell him it would be ok. But Aragorn was coming to realize that it would never, could never, possibly be ok again. For him...maybe, but not for Legolas.

________________________


It's the hardest thing
I'll ever have to lie
To show no emotion
When you start to cry

________________________

Aragorn crossed to where Legolas was standing, looking out the open window, the early morning breeze lifting his long hair, whipping it across his face. Moving to stand behind him, Aragorn rested hands lightly on the elf’s shoulders, sharing the view for a moment, and simply enjoying the feel of Legolas under his hands.

Legolas was shaking, Aragorn realized, and shaking hard. Burying his face in the soft satin of golden hair, Aragorn inhaled deeply. The instinct andire ire to comfort Legolas was strong...so strong it was almost impossible to fight. Yet he knew, on a visceral level, it would be the wrong thing to do. Would cause the elf to break down entirely. Legolas was holding on by the barest of threads. In spite of his own desire, he could not take that from Legolas. Not now. Maybe later they would be able to talk, and he could offer Legolas some degree of peace, but for the moment, he could only cause more pain, and it was the last thing he wanted.

________________________


I can't let you see
What you mean to me
When my hands are tied
And my heart's not free

_____________________


Aragorn squeezed the tense shoulders softly, and pressed a kiss against Legolas’ temple, “I have to go. I want to be back before Arwen s.” s.”

He let go and headed for the door. By the time he’d transversed the room, Legolas hadn’t done so much as blink. He looked as though he was a statue as he stood, outlined in the early morning light.

“Legolas?” Aragorn asked, hand on the door.

“Hmm?” Legolas asked without turning away from the window.

“Are you going to be there today?” Aragorn asked, hating himself for sounding plantive, but needing to know.

Legolas nodded silently, and then said softly, “Of course.”


_________________________________


We're not meant to be
It's the hardest thing
I'll ever have to do
To turn around and walk away
Pretending I don't love you

________________________


Closing the door behind him and walking away, Aragorn prayed to the Valar that Legolas would move beyond this, would heal, and would get on with his life. Would find someone free to love him the way he deserved to be loved: with a whole heart, and open arms. Someone who would see him through this. Elves were nearly indestructible in so many ways, but...

They didn’t love easilnd wnd when they did the intensity of it was overwhelming, and eternal. One of the few things that could truly break, destroy, and even kill an Elf was a broken heart. He didn’t want Legolas broken. He wanted him whole and vibrant and alive. More than anything he wanted Legolas to *heal* from the hurt he had inflicted upon him.


_______________________________

I know that we'll meet again
Fate has a place
So you can get on with your life
I've got to be cruel to be kind

___________________________


The wedding, Legolas thought, was lovely. Arwen was radiant, and Aragorn looked both thirlled and very much in love. Watching the ceremony was hard...harder than he had imagined. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them. He truly *was*, it just--. He missed Elessar already. Legolas sighed softly to himself, holding onto the chair in front of him to gain his feet. He swayed slightly, and Gimli looked at him with concern. Dwarves were not the most observant of creatures, but this one missed little. Legolas would have to get away from him as soon as possible.

Following tradition Legolas approached the newly wed couple. Holding both of Arwen’s hands, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Congratulations,” he said, quietly. He was surprised when Arwen didn’t release his hands but held them firmly, and looked searching into his face. Legolas forced himself to meet her gaze steadily until let him go. When she did it was only to hug him fiercly. Holding his slightly cool, and lightly shivering form, she turned her head to one side and whispered, so softly none of the humans could have heard, “Thank you.”

Legolas squeezed her gently in adknowledgment, and then gently pushed her back, freeing himself. He knew she was worried, but there was nothing he could say to reassure her. Her fears were well founded. Looking at Aragorn he smiled, and clasped Aragorn’s shoulder. Strider returned the grip, looking at the elven prince closely, waiting for him to speak.

“Congratulations, mellon-nin. You have a beautiful wife. Treat her well, and be happy.”

“Always,” Aragorn said seriously. Mindful of the press of guests around them, most of them citizens of Gondor, Legolas dropped into elvish, ensuring their privacy. “Be happy, Aragorn, and be well.”

Aragorn frowned. That sounded like a good-bye, “You’re leaving.”

Legolas nodded slowly, and released his grip on the human. “I-- yes.”

”Where are you going? Are you coming back? Will I see you again?”

Legolas looked into Aragorn’s eyes, and felt...old. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he was. Finally he voiced his uncertainity with a simple, “I do not know.”

As he walked out the door toward his horse, and as he traveled, his thoughts, and love, stayed with Aragorn. He would heal, or he would die. Only time would tell. In the meantime... He travelled.


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Like Dr. Zhivago
All my love I'll be sending
And you will never know
'Cause there can be no happy ending
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