Aragorn

Aragorn was filled with excitement as he entered King Thranduil's halls for the first time. He and Legolas had been friends for nearly five years, but he'd never visited the prince in his home before.

He'd finally overcome Legolas' resistance to the idea with some subtle help from his Ada (in the form of having gentle conversations with the prince) and some not-so-subtle help from his brothers (in the form of dangling Legolas by his feet from the balcony).

He hoped that the prince would be more comfortable in his own home. Whenever Aragorn was with him, whether in Imladris or the wilds, Legolas had an air of withdrawn melancholy that only seemed to ease when he was talking to Aragorn.

Despite this, their friendship had flourished. Aragorn could barely remember a time before he was friends with Legolas, and he didn't want to. He already felt just as close to the prince as he did to either of his brothers, and he was sure Legolas felt the same, regardless of his strange withdrawal.

"Estel!" Legolas embraced him warmly, and Aragorn returned the hug, glad to get such an enthusiastic welcome. "How was your journey?"

"Fine, as I told Ada it would be. I'd better write to him, though, to tell him I've arrived safely. If he doesn't hear from me, he'll send Glorfindel and the twins to check on me, likely with a whole contingent of Glorfindel's warriors." He made a sour face, but Legolas just chuckled.

"Come, I will show you to the scribe's quarters. You can send your message from there."

The two of them fell into easy conversation that didn't stop until Aragorn was settled in the rooms he'd been assigned – right next to Legolas'. Once he'd had a chance to put down his pack and change into a clean set of clothes, the prince took him to greet Thranduil. Aragorn tried to hide his nerves, which wasn't hard, because Legolas was becoming increasingly withdrawn and distracted; Aragorn wasn't sure that his friend would notice if the hallway burst into flames around them. Aragorn knew from experience that interrogating him only served to make Legolas more withdrawn, so he kept his worry to himself.

The two of them were escorted into the throne room, and Aragorn bowed low. "My lord. It is an honor to meet you."

Thranduil was just intimidating as he'd feared, but less so when he smiled. "Estel Elrondion. I have heard a lot about you from my son. You are welcome in my halls."

"Thank you, hir nin."

"You will join us for dinner, I hope?"

"Of – of course." Aragorn was a little surprised at how readily the woodland king had accepted him – a human and a stranger – but he wasn't complaining. He wondered what Legolas had been saying about him that so quickly endeared him to Thranduil.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Legolas dragged him off to the archery range. The two of them spent a pleasant afternoon shooting and laughing together before retiring to their rooms to bathe before dinner.

Aragorn was already undressed and about to step into the delightfully steaming tub when he realized that he didn't know which of the many bottles in front of him was the soap. He remembered Legolas rushing him back to Imladris when he'd accidentally used what he thought to be soap in one of the prince's many bathing bottles. It hadn't been soap, and it had taken a week for his Ada to cure the vivid rash that had spread all over his face and neck.

Rolling his eyes, Aragorn wrapped a towel around his waist and snatched the five bottles, stepping over to Legolas' room. The door was ajar, so he walked inside, but stayed out of the bathing chamber. He knew how shy the prince was; indeed, Aragorn had never seen him even partially unclothed, despite the long times they'd travelled alone together. He supposed such a quality was unique to wood elves; the noldor certainly had no such qualms, at least with those they were close to.

"Legolas?"

A splash and a yelp had him backing up another step, hoping not to discomfort his friend. "I'm sorry to bother you, but can you please explain to me which of these bottles is safe to use as normal soap?"

"The blue one!" Legolas sounded stressed, and Aragorn dithered, his first instinct to go to his friend and demand to know what was wrong.

"Three of these are blue, mellon nin. Which blue?"

"Aqua blue."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "I don't know which of these is aqua blue! Can I come in? I don't want to go to dinner with your father looking like a picture from one of my Ada's textbooks on skin diseases."

"A minute, please, Estel."

Several minutes passed before Legolas appeared, wrapped in a towel, looking uncharacteristically pale, even for him.

"Show me."

Aragorn held out the bottles, but he was more interested in the prince's ashen complexion than bathing.

"This one is aqua blue, you ignorant human," he teased. "This one here is for your hair. The others I can explain another time."

Legolas gave him a strained grin before backing away. Aragorn would have let him go had he not caught a flash of bright red on the white towel Legolas had wrapped around himself.

"What's that?"

Legolas flinched and spun around. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing, I've seen your blood often enough to know what it looks like. You're hurt. What happened?"

Aragorn had put up with Legolas' infuriating shyness and allowed his father – at the prince's insistence – to chase him from the healing halls whenever Legolas was injured, but right now, concern outweighed his respect for his friend's modesty.

"I'm fine, it's nothing, Estel."

He wasn't having any of it. Legolas had a bad habit of hiding or downplaying injuries, and none of the servants here would dare question their prince. He could collapse before they went against his orders to help him. Aragorn wouldn't wait for that to happen; he would know what was wrong with Legolas now.

Aragorn snatched his friend's wrist. Legolas struggled fiercely, but not before Aragorn got a glimpse of a long line of deep slashes along the prince's forearm. He stared at them dumbly. "Legolas?"

Legolas wouldn't meet his gaze. Suddenly filled with fear, Aragorn grabbed the prince's other arm only to find more slashes, some still bleeding, others no more than scars that looked years old. Panic filled him as he grabbed the towel, ignoring Legolas' protests as he stalked around the elf, looking for further injuries. He found none, though he was shocked at how much the prince's ribs stuck out. What kind of clothes did he wear? He looked fine when dressed, but naked, Legolas was skeletal. Surely, normal clothes didn't hide this much?

Legolas had stopped fighting. His eyes were on his feet and his face was bright red. His bottom lip quivered, and he looked so fragile in that moment that Aragorn feared to approach him in the wrong way lest he shatter.

"Legolas? Talk to me, mellon nin. What is going on with you?"

Legolas still wouldn't meet his eyes. Aragorn snatched a bath robe from the chair and helped the limp prince into it, sitting him down on the bed. "Legolas, if you don't start talking, I'm going to have to take you to your father's healers." He was fair at healing himself – his Ada had seen to that – but he had no idea to do for wounds that were all too obviously self-inflicted. The physical wounds were easy enough to treat, but it was the wounds that couldn't be seen that worried him.

Panic flashed across the prince's face. "No! Estel, please. Don't."

"Then talk to me."

"I can't." The broken whisper was so filled with pain that it was all Aragorn could do not to cry at the sound of it.

He carefully nudged Legolas so that the two of them were lying down. Legolas was trembling, and Aragorn pulled him into a tight hug. "This is why you're always so shy about your body, isn't it?"

Slowly, Legolas nodded. "I'm not shy about my body, not really. Certainly not with you. You're like my brother, Estel. I don't care if you see me. Just…"

"Just not this," he finished. Legolas kept his arms clenched across his stomach, and Aragorn made no move to forcibly examine them again.

"Why?" Aragorn breathed.

"It's – it's not always easy. Being perfect."

Legolas was exasperatingly perfect, but Aragorn cringed to know that this was the price. "What makes you think you have to be perfect, mellon nin?"

"I'm the prince of Greenwood. There are so many lives under my control, so many depending on me. My father does it so easily. Everyone loves him. Me… I wish I didn't have to rule. It makes me sick, sending fighters out to their death, then having to talk to their loved ones afterward…"

"What does Thranduil say about this? Surely, he doesn't want you to hurt yourself just because you think it makes you a better ruler?"

If possible, Legolas went even paler. "He doesn't know. He can't. He'll be so disappointed in me. Worse, he'll be sad. The last thing I want is to bring more burdens to him."

Aragorn's heart was slowly sinking. "Who else knows about this, then?"

"No one. No one but you, Estel. Well, I think Elrond suspects – he's stitched me up enough times that he has to have noticed I'll never let him see my arms. He's had to cut plenty of tunics up to reveal my torso or shoulders for treatment while leaving the sleeves to cover my arms."

Aragorn was suddenly angry at his Ada for not saying something. How could he let Legolas suffer like this, when he surely had to know something was terribly wrong?

Legolas seemed to read something of his thoughts off his face, because he said quietly, "It's not his secret to tell."

"Tell me about it. About why you do it. I want to understand."

Legolas hesitated, unsure. Aragorn gently stroked his back, silently urging his friend to confide in him. Eventually, the prince tucked his head into Aragorn's shoulder and began to speak. "It started because of guilt, because of those who died for me. Then anger, at the world, for the cruel mistake of letting me be born. Then it was to steel myself for hard days. Then to make myself feel better when things went wrong.

"Then… I don't know, Estel. It's something I use for everything, really. Like your Ada uses his herbs to correct any fault, like the twins use their pranks. I know what you're thinking, that it's awful, but really, this is just a normal day for me. Try not to worry over it."

"You ask that which is impossible. I will always worry for you, mellon nin. I can't bear to see you hurt yourself. When did you ever get the idea that this was normal or ok? Why didn't you ask for help? Your father, mine, the twins… Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me?"

Legolas shrugged, pressing his head harder into Aragorn's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Estel," he mumbled. "I'm weak, I know. I should be able to be perfect without abusing my own body. No wonder I'm such a disappointment –"

"Shh, mellon nin, don't even think that. You are a disappointment to no one."

Legolas started shaking with quiet sobs. Aragorn held him tightly as the sobs got less quiet, and Legolas clung desperately to him. Something about the way Legolas held onto him told Aragorn that the prince hadn't allowed anyone to hold him and comfort him when he cried in a very, very long time.

Aragorn could do nothing but hug his friend, murmuring soft words of comfort in his ear. It hurt him to see Legolas in so much pain, more so because he should have realized it before now.

Legolas was taking deep breaths, trying to get his crying under control. "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid. There's no reason to get so upset. I should go –" He tried to pull away, but Aragorn was having none of it.

"You are not weak for feeling pain, mellon nin." He clenched his arms more firmly around his friend. "Just let it all out. Holding it in will do no good."

Legolas struggled for a few moments, but he was in no state to win a wrestling match, and eventually he went limp once more in Aragorn's arms as the tears overtook him. Aragorn could only imagine how many tears he'd repressed with a sharp knife over however many years this had been going on.

Eventually, Legolas seemed to exhaust himself and his eyes glazed as he fell into a light sleep. Aragorn brushed the prince's hair out of his eyes and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Don't worry, mellon nin," he whispered. "I'm going to help you. You're not alone anymore."