Why does he look at me in this way?
Always, always he looks at me in the same manner. His eyes searching, waiting, hoping. Hoping...but for what?
Hoping for me.
It is different tonight. The long journeys have exhausted him and addled his mortal mind. I suppose he may have already been driven mad by the everyday challenges and battles we must always face.
He is different, tonight. Tonight I think everything may change.
God, I am afraid. Afraid of what the future holds, and afraid of him. Afraid of this strange man, this suffering king.
''Aragorn..'' I must speak. If only to break the silence that is growing all too loud.
''Yes, Elf?'' He does not look at me. I hate and love and fear him for it, and that scares me.
''Aragorn, I am afraid.''
''We are all afraid, Elf. Go to sleep, as Gimli has done. Fear nothing; I am on constant guard for you." He speaks as though he means every word. As though he really would give his life to preserve my immortality. As though he wishes to protect me as he wished to protect Frodo. As though I mean more to him than I know.
I cannot bear keeping my feelings inside. Honour and honesty are paramount to my people; Elves have strong principles.
''Sleep will not come to me.'' I say, slightly trembling..from what? The cold? The fear? The anticipation? I know not. I know nothing. "It has not, not since they took Merry and Pippin. In truth, I have scarcely slept since we left Rivendell. I fear every waking moment too greatly to risk my own dreaming.'' He must know of my fears. I want him to know me, as much as I fear what he may do. I want him...oh, it is folly. What am I thinking? I look at him then, not daring to let myself weep. He looks at me that way, and I yearn to know what he thinks. What he feels.
''Legolas...please...'' His voice breaks with notes of desire and desperation. He wants me. I know it now. Somehow I can see into his thoughts, see every longing moment, every passing thought, every passion.
And then it is upon us, the urgency and longing in our hearts, and he kisses my mouth so gently, as though he thinks I may break like a precious ornament if handled too roughly. And at this moment, perhaps that is the case. His touch makes me weak, his kiss renders me helpless. This is what he intended, I think. This is how he imagined it.
''Aragorn.'' I cannot stop the tears now. I feel the silent tears fall at last, and he holds me, and whispers words that I will not let myself hear. I say nothing at all; I understand nothing. I know now that this is what I feared all along. This is it.
By the time the sun starts its slow ascent over the horizon, I am dressed again. The past night's events run constantly through my mind and I try to drown them in the dawn. I hear Aragorn move from his sleeping place, but I do not look at him to see if it is in waking or dreaming. Confusion clouds my mind and I cry the empty tears that no one must see or hear, before there is time for them to do so.
Each night following brings the same cycle of events, the same unspoken pain and disorientation that I let myself feel only in secret.
But he must never know.
None of them must ever know.
And I silently tell my story to the sunrise, where only the birds can hear it.
Always, always he looks at me in the same manner. His eyes searching, waiting, hoping. Hoping...but for what?
Hoping for me.
It is different tonight. The long journeys have exhausted him and addled his mortal mind. I suppose he may have already been driven mad by the everyday challenges and battles we must always face.
He is different, tonight. Tonight I think everything may change.
God, I am afraid. Afraid of what the future holds, and afraid of him. Afraid of this strange man, this suffering king.
''Aragorn..'' I must speak. If only to break the silence that is growing all too loud.
''Yes, Elf?'' He does not look at me. I hate and love and fear him for it, and that scares me.
''Aragorn, I am afraid.''
''We are all afraid, Elf. Go to sleep, as Gimli has done. Fear nothing; I am on constant guard for you." He speaks as though he means every word. As though he really would give his life to preserve my immortality. As though he wishes to protect me as he wished to protect Frodo. As though I mean more to him than I know.
I cannot bear keeping my feelings inside. Honour and honesty are paramount to my people; Elves have strong principles.
''Sleep will not come to me.'' I say, slightly trembling..from what? The cold? The fear? The anticipation? I know not. I know nothing. "It has not, not since they took Merry and Pippin. In truth, I have scarcely slept since we left Rivendell. I fear every waking moment too greatly to risk my own dreaming.'' He must know of my fears. I want him to know me, as much as I fear what he may do. I want him...oh, it is folly. What am I thinking? I look at him then, not daring to let myself weep. He looks at me that way, and I yearn to know what he thinks. What he feels.
''Legolas...please...'' His voice breaks with notes of desire and desperation. He wants me. I know it now. Somehow I can see into his thoughts, see every longing moment, every passing thought, every passion.
And then it is upon us, the urgency and longing in our hearts, and he kisses my mouth so gently, as though he thinks I may break like a precious ornament if handled too roughly. And at this moment, perhaps that is the case. His touch makes me weak, his kiss renders me helpless. This is what he intended, I think. This is how he imagined it.
''Aragorn.'' I cannot stop the tears now. I feel the silent tears fall at last, and he holds me, and whispers words that I will not let myself hear. I say nothing at all; I understand nothing. I know now that this is what I feared all along. This is it.
By the time the sun starts its slow ascent over the horizon, I am dressed again. The past night's events run constantly through my mind and I try to drown them in the dawn. I hear Aragorn move from his sleeping place, but I do not look at him to see if it is in waking or dreaming. Confusion clouds my mind and I cry the empty tears that no one must see or hear, before there is time for them to do so.
Each night following brings the same cycle of events, the same unspoken pain and disorientation that I let myself feel only in secret.
But he must never know.
None of them must ever know.
And I silently tell my story to the sunrise, where only the birds can hear it.