Miles To Go Before I Sleep
Chapter Two: Lovely, Dark And Deep
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The
camp and our companions had long ago been obscured by the thick forest and
the growing gloom of evening, as Legolas and I continued to search the
immediate area for signs of danger. I had suggested, as we stepped from
camp, that we two split up; we are both well experienced with and at home
in the forest, and it seemed to me the most logical manner in which to
complete the task my Elf friend had suggested to me. Legolas declined,
however, providing to my questioning glance the excuse that two would fare
better than one should we be surprised. At the time, the excuse struck me
as only strange, though in hindsight, as I ride here in the wilderness, I
realize that I should have recognized the sign...the *intention* in what
he was saying, and what his meaning was behind his words. But again, I am
but mortal--I have not the perceptions of an Elf. We were well away from everyone's sight, and more than likely from their hearing as well, when I mentioned that I felt the area was secure, and that we could return to camp. And when I turned to him then, I saw again on Legolas' face the look of fear that had so surprised me outside Moria. And it baffled me all the more then, as I'd just declared the camp safe--I secretly worried that I'd missed something. "Is there something you see, Legolas, that I do not?" I whispered, slipping into the Sindarin that was more natural to us both. "A danger I have missed?" How prophetic that statement was! I was blind to the danger that worried Legolas because a Man's heart is akin to his eyes when compared with the Elves; I could not guess at what Legolas must have thought was obvious, just as I could not see as far into the darkening woods as he. He placed a hand on my shoulder in reply, as if to tether me to him, so that I would not run. It was not Legolas' touch that unnerved me as he transfixed me there. The strange, earnest expression on his face gave me far more concern than any touch ever could. "Legolas?" I ventured again. "Aragorn--there is no immediate danger," he stammered at last, still keeping a tightening grip on my shoulder. His eyes, dark pools in the shadowy woods, scanned mine intensely. I have known Legolas a long time, and never before that moment had he caused me to grow impatient. Having known the ways of the elves since I was but a child, I knew that they were intuitive. Elrond, and later, Arwen, had taught me to listen and to wait--and I had thought myself an accomplished student. Still, I am a Man, and Legolas was frustrating me to no end. "Then, what troubles, you, my friend?" I asked at last, hoping to hurry the moment along, to get us back to camp, where I felt I might be needed. In the back of my mind, the duties of leader loomed, large and inescapable. "Aragorn...I fear for you." My first inclination at that moment was to laugh at my friend's gift for irony. I feared for myself as well, with Gandalf dead and the hobbits distraught and Boromir beginning to show stronger signs of the lust for the Ring that we all felt, to some varying degrees, in our hearts. I feared that I was not strong enough to lead--the Fellowship or Gondor, it mattered not which. And I feared that I would be facing all of these challenges alone, with a broken heart and a distracted mind that thought only of Arwen, forever lost to me. But I did not mention any of this to Legolas. I held his gaze as firmly as I could, and calmly replied, "I am in no danger, Legolas. No more than any of us are." His brow knitted, the creases of worry playing against the smoothness of his forehead. "And it is that which worries me, Aragorn. Gandalf did not believe he was in danger, and yet...." His eyes, so liquid and large, shone a pleading then that sent a shiver through me. I had known some Elves were prophetic, and I wondered if Legolas had that gift, if he knew my fears, if he saw that the Quest would fail. I am sure I showed some worry then, for he continued: "Aragorn, it troubles me that...that you may die." "I *will* die, Legolas," I choked. No Man wishes to dwell on his own mortality, and I enjoy it even less than most, for it reminds me always of what I cannot be, what I cannot have...because I am mortal. That night, especially, with all my troubles weighing heavily upon me, I wished not to think on death. "I am mortal." He seemed at a loss for words, as if he needed very badly to share a confidence, but could not bring himself to do it. I put a hand on *his* shoulder then, connecting us further, trying to make him understand that he was my friend, and any secret he wished to unburden from himself upon me, I would gladly carry. "I must tell you, Aragorn...I could not bear to lose you." I could feel him trembling beneath my touch, and wondered at this surge of emotion. Legolas and I had been close for a long while, and never had he bared himself to me in this manner. I squinted in the shadowy light, trying to make out the expression on my friend's face. I thought--I still think I saw a wetness glistening upon his cheek. "I could not bear it!" he nearly shouted, and then embraced me strongly. A Man has little time allotted to him to sort things out--little time to make decisions, and even less to ensure that every decision he makes is the correct one. And when Legolas met my lips with his, I made a decision that I may regret for the rest of my days. Blessedly, I think, as my wound throbs and the sun beats hard and hot against my neck, that time may not be long at all. GO TO Chapter Three BACK to Chapter Index BACK to Gypsie Index BACK to Fanfic Index BACK to Main Page |