Ringspell

Chapter 1.


A change of plans...


Night was falling over the waters of the Anduin. As the sun's last mournful rays sank silently into the earth, making way for the night, the company made camp on the western bank of the great river, sheltered by the eaves of Lorien. They had no fire, for fear of Orcish patrols, but the moon was full, shining back off the swirling surface of the river like a thousand fallen stars and the cold could not dampen the spirit of the Fellowship, still glowing from their encounter with the beautiful Lady Galadriel.


"Stop it, Pippin!" Merry squealed.


"You did it to me first!"


"Pippin! Merry!" Aragorn glanced up from his inspection of the blade Galadriel had presented him, to glare at the two with steel gray eyes. "Keep the noise down. We do not want to be heard from the other side of the river. "


As usual, the Man spoke very calmly and as usual his words were heeded without argument. People always listened to what Aragorn said. He, for one, rarely felt qualified to say anything at all but he kept that to himself - it did him no harm to be listened to, after all.


About to return to admiring the blade a movement at the edge of his vision caught Aragorns attention. Turning his head towards the river, he was greeted by the sight of the Elf, Legolas wading into the night-lit water, fair hair and pale-golden flesh aglow in the darkness. The image was breathtaking and Aragorn watched shamelessly for a moment as the immortals' firm, round buttocks disappeared beneath the lapping water, leaving only the finely sculpted back exposed. Muscles rippled beneath the flawless skin as the Elf first splashed water over his torso, then began to work a lather with scented elvish soap.


Becoming increasingly aware of the tightness of his pants Aragorn tore his eyes away from the vision. He glanced guiltily around the camp. The hobbits were huddled together under a tree, whispering and giggling as they often did. Boromir sat aside from them, lost in his own thoughts and Gimli slept soundly, as evidenced by his trademark snore. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen, but that was not unusual. The wizard often wandered off after they made camp. Assured that no-one would notice, Aragorn let his eyes drift back to the river and the beautiful creature bathing there.


Legolas had sunk almost beneath the surface, tilting back his head, to dip his golden hair into the water. Aragorn watched the Elf float and drift for awhile, letting the swirling currents pull him deeper into the great river. He dived gracefully beneath the surface, sliding into the darkness and appearing again a moment later back near the place where he had entered the river. Finally seeming to have had enough, he made his way to the shore, glistening rivulets of water rolling down his skin as the Anduín relinquished its beautiful guest.


Continuing to watch as the Elf dried himself and began to dress, Aragorn was struck once again by the awesome beauty of his companion. Though he did not know Legolas particularly well it was not the first time the Elf had gone naked in front of him. Legolas, like all Elves, felt not the slightest bit ashamed of his body and, like all Elves, he hated being dirty, so it stood to reason that he bathed at every opportunity, stripping down without so much as a passing thought for the people around him. Aragorn repeatedly told himself that he did not mind, but he was lying - it made him uncomfortable.


Adopted by Lord Elrond of Rivendell, Aragorn had grown up surrounded by Elves, all of them beautiful and the one he loved was the most beautiful of them all but Legolas was somehow different. He was stunning for certain but the difference went far deeper than his appearance. It looked out from behind his eyes and it hung like mist in the air around him. Aragorn felt on edge when he looked at this Elf. He could not control the heat in his loins or the flutter of his heart and though he would never have acted on his impulses, he felt, for the first time, the stirrings of temptation and disquiet settled into his heart.


Legolas pulled on his soft leather pants, pausing to tie a quick knot in the lace and slipped into the silk shirt he wore beneath his tunic. Then he turned his head and looked Aragorn in the eyes. Deep-blue met steel-gray, as the Elfs' gaze cut through the darkness, and seemed to see into Aragorns' very soul. The Man was held for a moment, helpless to look away, until guilt broke the silent spell, and he smothered the spark of desire that welled within his heart.


Ashamed of his voyeurism, Aragorn lowered his eyes and stared resolutely at the ground, painfully aware that the Elf was now approaching him on silent feet.


"It is already cold." Legolas spoke gently, as he came to stand beside Aragorn, his melodic voice lending itself to the stillness of the night. "Winter will come early this year."


The air stirred a little, as though confirming the Elfs' prediction and sent a shiver through Aragorns' body. Not knowing how to answer and still embarrassed that the Elf had caught him staring, Aragorn maintained his silence and his down-turned eyes, praying for the awkward moment to end.


Ignoring his unspoken plea, Legolas knelt down beside him, lowering himself to the ground with the same innate grace with which he did everything. Looking up at him, Aragorn despaired to see that the Elf had not finished dressing. His silk shirt, made wet by his soaked hair clung to him like a second skin, accentuating the angles of his lean torso. Determined to appear in control, Aragorn forced his wandering eyes to the Elfs' beautiful face and looked again into the deep-blue sapphires.


"I wanted to ask you something." Legolas saved him the burden of speech. "As you know Mirkwood is very close, on the other side of the river and I thought I might send a message to my father."


The Elf paused and looked around, as though making sure no-one was listening.


"I am afraid I came here without his knowledge." He admitted.


Aragorn was surprised and slightly amused to hear such a thing. It was easy to forget that the noble warrior who fought by his side was, in fact, quite young for one of his kind and so, still subject to his father's will. He tried to imagine Legolas sneaking out of his bedroom window - it was not easy.


"Why?" He asked of the Elf.


"My Lord cares little for the world of men. He meant not to answer Lord Elronds' call." Legolas shrugged. "I took a couple of guards and left in the night. I do not regret the decision, nor do I wish to return home but Ada will be less... irritated if I send him word, assure him of my well-being."


Aragorn was dubious. As endearing as the young Elf was, the progress of the quest should be determined by the ring-bearer, not by who wanted to send personal messages. Reading him like a book, Legolas pleaded his case.


"It would only take one day." He assured the Ranger. "I could cross the river at dawn, leave a message with a hunter on the edge of the forest and be back here before sundown. I could run the whole way." He added.


"There will be no need for that, Greenleaf." Gandalfs' voice came from close by and Man and Elf looked up at the wizard in surprise.


"We will all be going together. There are things I wish to discuss with the King of Mirkwood." Aragorn looked closely at the old Man.


"That could take weeks. Can we afford the delay?" He asked.


"It will take more than a headlong charge into Mordor to win this war for us." The wizard replied, in a tone that explained everything.


Aragorn looked back to Legolas, to gage the Elfs' reaction to the news. The Elf returned his look with a small, enigmatic smile, before getting to his feet and wandering back to where his tunic and cloak still lay. Though his eyes had remained unreadable, Aragorn had a sneaking suspicion his beautiful companion was not looking forward to a family reunion.


To be continued...