Evergreen

Evergreen

Part 1

Posted: February 17, 2006
Title: Evergreen
Sequel to: A Lesson in Loving
Author: Ennorwen
Type: FCS
Characters: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tolkien and alas to his heirs who do not like to share. I am borrowing them anyway and unlike them do not make a cent off of it.
Timeline: TA 2951
Warnings: Sexual Innuendo and thoughts. Some touching and kissing.
Beta: Rozzan
Author's Notes: Very slightly AU in that even though Aragorn has learned of his heritage, I do not have him meeting Arwen the very next day, as Tolkien does. Also, my Aragorn is bookverse in character but definitely movieverse in countenance. Written for the Livejournal 50 passages challenge, Quote #005, "There was something in this tree that I have never seen before."

Summary: Somewhat a sequel to "A Lesson in Loving", but you do not have to read that first. Aragorn sets off on his own for the first time to travel to Mirkwood and see his friend, Legolas.

*****

Sitting astride Tôrannroch*, Aragorn paused for a moment while his eyes swept the vista below him. He had come safely over the Misty Mountains and through the High Pass and now looked out over the plain between the mountains and the edge of Taur-e-Ndaedelos. He saw the Great River - Anduin, and briefly his mind turned to Gondor. It awakened in him a longing to see it. He had to just but go south and follow the river and he would reach Minas Tirith and all that Elrond had told him about. He rested his hand on the hilt of his ancestor's sword - a mere broken blade, but within it the power of Elendil and his heirs and with it the throne in the White City.

He inhaled long and with the exhaled breath he also expelled the thought from his mind. Not yet. He would go to Gondor one day but this journey would take him through the forest path to the realm of Thranduil and to his friend, Legolas, the Elven-king's son. He had one more day's ride to gain the edge of Mirkwood Forest and then a potentially dangerous seven day trek through the forest itself.

He deftly guided Tôrannroch down through the craggy rocks and then turned north. He would follow the river for time and then seek for the all but hidden Forest Gate. It was a relatively simple ride, and for the first time since leaving Imladris, Aragorn could breathe easily and let his mind wander.

This was his initial solitary journey and as his brothers had taught him he had been ever watchful along the way. So tense had he been that his jaw ached and he relished the feeling of riding freely, if only for a while.

Periodically a green glint would flash into his eyes, Anor's rays reflecting the beryl stones from the ring on his finger. Barahir - another gift from his father, along with the shards of Narsil, Elendil's sword. The heirlooms of his house. His house. For he was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, direct descendent of an unbroken line of Kings and not simply Estel, human child in a household of elves.

Truth be told, he had not been completely surprised by the revelation, only by its magnitude. Though humans abided from time to time in Imladris he was the only one permanently in residence and called brother by Elladan and Elrohir and son by its lord. There had to have been something different about him, so lavishly was he attended to and taught in all the ways of the elves and some of the world of men. By the time he was eighteen he had begun to wonder as to the why of it, and though he never would have guessed it was he who was the dead Chieftain's son, he had heard enough history and lore to understand it once the tale had been told.

There was much to consider of the pathway ahead of him but for now he was more than content to look toward his visit with Legolas and to seeing another elven realm. He had actually been surprised when the invitation had come, for Thranduil was not known to welcome outsiders, but he surmised that his friend had persuaded his father and was not beyond believing that even Elrond had a hand in it. It was foreboding, he had been told, the forest where Thranduil dwelt, the caves that were his residence, the Silvan elves that lived there. Aragorn did not have much experience with the Silvan race, only what he had learned in his schooling and in the encounters with Legolas himself.

His first glimpse of Legolas had caught him off balance. Imladris was largely Noldorin and most of its residents had the near black hair of that race. Only Glorfindel among them had golden locks, because it was said he was of the house of Finarfin, whose Vanyar blood brought with it light hair.

But Legolas was different. So pale was his hair that it seemed kissed by the sun and his eyes were a watery blue, by turns green or grey or deep azure. His body was lithe and his step light and his voice was as melodious as a breeze through the forest. Aragorn always felt refreshed in his presence, somehow cleansed.

He needed such refreshment now, so heavy a burden had been placed on his shoulders and he needed his friend's counsel. He thought for a moment of the last lesson learned before he left his father's house, the one at Glorfindel's deft hands and gentle teaching. The one that taught him of the body and its pleasures. He thought of the blond elf Prince and felt his cheeks flush, his breeches tighten. He thought...No. Shaking his head, he spurred Tôrannroch on, the better to gain the Forest Gate by nightfall. He would rest there, under Mirkwood's eaves and would not enter the forest until the next day.

When he came near to the place, Aragorn's eyes narrowed as he sought for the signs. Elladan had taught him the skills of a tracker and Glorfindel had tested him and he felt confident in his ability to read the land. He found the overgrown gate nestled into the trees, gave Tôrannroch an apple and set him to graze at the edge of the grassland and forest. He unrolled his sleeping blanket and sat down, eating the dried meat he had brought and the fruit that he had found along the way. He was grateful for Tôrannroch's presence and felt comforted in knowing that his pricked ears would warn him of any danger. The stallion was a fine horse and loyal, an elvish horse that Elrohir had raised from a foal and gifted to Aragorn upon his eighteen year birthday. Most of the time Aragorn shortened his name to Tôrann - brother-gift, and it made him smile to think of Elrohir.

As he closed his eyes to rest, a fleeting vision of sunlit hair and moistened lips crossed his mind. He meditated on his friend for a while, wondering whether he had known the truth of his heritage all this time, wondering how Legolas would see him now, on his own and full grown to manhood. Wondering whether Legolas might... Such thoughts pleased him despite this next most perilous part of his journey and he drifted off into the semi-conscious sleep of the lone traveler.

The day dawned and Aragorn arose, greeting Tôrann and leading him to drink in the small stream nearby. They would not be horse and rider for much of the trek through the forest for Aragorn had been told that the trees were enmeshed and the forest had grown dark since the advent of the Necromancer and then the Nazgûl in Dol Gulder. He knew that the forest had once been beautiful - Greenwood the Great, but now was dangerous and rife with dark creatures and orcs. This was the reason for choosing the northern path, it was just that much farther from the dark fortress in the south and orc patrols were rarer in the north.

Taking a deep breath, Aragorn mounted Tôrann and together they passed through the gate. He entered the forest cautiously and soon found that all he had been told was true. The trees were close and hardly a ray of sun permeated the dense canopy. Below his feet the roots were knotted and gnarled and every step was considered and slow. Soon Aragorn had to dismount and take Tôrannroch's reins in his hand, leading the horse behind him through the ever thickening wood.

For three days they picked their way through the vast woodland, dodging low hanging branches and sleeping but a little. It was very quiet in the wood, but Aragorn's ears were ever turned to the slightest rustling of the branches, a creature's footfall nearby. The cost on his body of this keen vigilance began to take its toll and soon he felt weary, but his steps plodded onward.

The forest was so dark that the sun's rise and set held little meaning for him and he began to lose track of time. Smiling, he thought even so, this is an elven realm and perhaps its influence had altered his perception of the passing of the days. It was ever thus, amongst the elves. And perhaps even more so among many of the Silvan race who had lived in these woods since their awakening.

He stopped to rest and to tend to Tôrann, but came to full awareness when he saw his steed's ears pricked back and the restless stomping of his feet. Aragorn stilled him some and listened hard. Soon he heard what Tôrann had, the subtle snick, snick, snick of rustling feet. Many rustling feet. He dropped the rein in a trice and pulled out his bow, but did not see where to level it.

The sound came closer and Aragorn followed its direction and turned slightly to his left as it neared him. Tôrann had moved farther into the trees and when Aragorn turned to follow his movements, he felt a thud upon his shoulder. He quickly reached up to dislodge whatever had landed on him and saw that it was a spider and larger than he had ever seen, perhaps two hands wide. Soon two more came out of the tree above him, relentlessly stalking and seemingly coordinating their attack. He drew the bow back and let fly, shooting one of them in its fat belly and he heard it shriek in its death throes. The other two came closer and Aragorn dropped the bow in favor of his sword.

He used the sword almost as a large knife, hacking and cutting. After severing several legs and slowing their progress he was able to dispatch them with relative ease, impaling each in their bulbous midsection. Green oozed from their bellies and he knew it was poison and he kicked them away in disgust. He backed into a tree and sunk to the ground, closing his eyes and willing his breath to come easily.

When he opened his eyes he was startled to see a hand reaching out to him. He looked up warily starting at ground level and saw two feet in soft suede boots and then the green leggings. His eyes moved higher and noted a deep green jerkin, belted with leather and the edge of a quiver peeking out from behind. His eyes rose further and his breath caught for a moment as a long fall of bright cornsilk hair came into his vision. Finally he looked into the face of the elf before him and saw the dancing blue eyes and wide grin.

"Mae Govannen," said Legolas as casually as if they were meeting in Imladris.

Aragorn's lips edged into a smile and just as casually he replied,

"Well met, Legolas."

He reached up his hand and grasped onto that of his friend and Legolas helped him up, but before letting go, Legolas turned Aragorn's hand over in his, eyeing the ring that encircled his forefinger. He raised an eyebrow in question which the man answered with a nod and then Legolas said one word more.

"Aragorn."

The name sounded different coming from this elf's lips, the r's softly rolling and the elf made it sound noble and full of subtle meaning.

"So you knew." said the man as he came to his feet.

"I did." answered Legolas, "But I am glad that there will no longer be the barrier of this secret between us."

Wishing to lighten this first encounter after so long a time, Legolas laughed and opened his arms, alluding to the dead carcasses strewn about them.

"So you have met our spiders, I see."

"Yes, you see," answered the man, "I heard a rustling from up high and then there wassomething in this tree that I have never seen before. Mirkwood spiders. Bah. Why did you not help me to dispatch them?"

"You were doing well enough. Why would I wish to interfere?"

Grunting and rolling his eyes, Aragorn looked around him for Tôrann, but Legolas stopped him saying,

"Your horse is in good hands and just beyond this small clearing. Come, I will introduce you to the rest of our company."

Soon Aragorn had met five others of Legolas' patrol and they began walking once more, Legolas explaining that it would be about three or four days walk until reaching his home. It seemed that Legolas' companions were just as curious about the adan as Aragorn was about wood-elves and much of the next two days was spent in quiet conversation between them. They were reserved, Aragorn noted, but not nearly as aloof or antagonistic as Aragorn had been lead to believe. Aragorn was pleasantly surprised by their easy camaraderie and resolved to try not to form impressions without having first-hand experience himself.

Legolas and Aragorn had not much time together to speak, but on the third day, Legolas' companions took their leave, melting back into the forest as they said their farewells. Legolas explained that they were within one more day's walk of his home and it was safe enough for them to continue on their own and that his patrol had gone back from whence they had come to scout the forest once more.

Once alone, the pair spoke first of family, Legolas eagerly inquiring after the twins as they had been good friends for many years and the trio had shared many exploits together. Legolas told of the Greenwood along the way, and periodically pointed out a particular tree and told its story, or let the tree tell the story through him by the touch of his hand.

If it were possible, Aragorn was even more enchanted with Legolas than before, seeing him anew among the trees that he loved. It was as natural to see Legolas here as it was to see Erestor with a book in his hand. As was ever thus when Legolas was near, Aragorn felt settled and content.

That night as they rested the conversation took a more personal turn. Legolas again took Aragorn's hand in his, looking closely at the ring on his finger. Though not as interested in jewels or gold as his father, the wood-elf was not immune to beautiful craft and he looked with learned eyes at the fine workmanship of the intricate design.

"We have many gems in my father's caverns, but none that have come from Aman as far as I know. It is exquisite and old. Have you learned of its provenance?"

"Yes." answered Aragorn, "I know that it was Finarfin's ring, given to his son Finrod, then it passed as a token of friendship to the man, Barahir and then to Beren himself. Through Dior and then Elwing and then on to Elros it passed and then down through the faithful to Elendil and his house. Though unlooked for, I am proud to bear it. It symbolizes the friendship between men and elves."

"Even so." answered the elf, who had not yet dropped the man's hand.

"And the sword?"

Taking his hand from the elf's, but not before gently squeezing it, Aragorn drew the hilt of Narsil from his belt. He held it out to Legolas who took it in his hands.

"Ah," said the elf, "So old and so famed. It is said that it shone with an inner light when it was whole and that Sauron feared it. Rightly so."

Aragorn smiled as he responded,

"But not too useful in killing spiders, I deem. I do carry my fighting sword also."

"You are at peace with this new knowledge?" asked Legolas.

"Not entirely. But I do not disdain it either. What I had thought of myself has been greatly altered, but now I know what I am charged to do. I am not yet sure of the pathway to take, and I would encourage your counsel. But for now I am more than content to be in your company, mellon. I would not speak of it further if that is acceptable.

"More than acceptable, mellon-nin. Consider the subject closed between us for now. But I guess my father will have something to say of it when at last you meet."

The elf reached out and traced over the man's beard with a long elegant finger.

"You are 20 years of the sun, are you not? I was not even considered more than an elfing at 100! Many still look at me that way, but you are considered a man full-grown among your people and past your majority. You have matured, mellon-nin, in body and in mind. Did you know that Elrond and Erestor think you have the look of your grand-sire about you?"

"Arador? I do not think I have ever seen his likeness." answered Aragorn.

"Nay, not Arador. I guess the one to whom I refer would be your grand-sire many times removed. I forget sometimes the many generations of men. I refer to Eärendil, your Adar's sire. It is said of him that a light was in his face as the light of heaven, and he had the beauty and wisdom of the Eldar and the strength and hardihood of the men of old. I see it in you also."

"Even you are not old enough to have seen Eärendil, Legolas."

"Nay, but the description fits, just the same. You have become handsome, mellon-nin, even beautiful. The mithril in your eyes matches that of your brothers. And you have an elven air, as if you have seen many more turns of the seasons than you have."

"Legolas...,"

"But lest your head swell, I will tell you that I do not understand the need to keep hair on your chin. Alas, is just comes, does it not?

Laughing Aragorn replied, "Aye. But does it not make me look handsome and manly?"

"Aye, it does, in a strange sort of way. And you do not have so much as Beorn's people or the Lakemen. It is softer than I expected." said the elf as he limned his finger over Aragorn's jaw.

Legolas took Aragorn's chin in his fingers and looked directly into his eyes. Cocking his head in a way uniquely his own, the elf looked deeply and his lips curved upward into a knowing smile."

"You are changed in another way, are you not?"

"What do you mean?" asked the man.

Legolas drifted his thumb over Aragorn's lips. "You have known pleasure at the hand of another. I can see it."

Aragorn grew suddenly serious and somewhat defensive. How did Legolas know? Could Legolas also see where his dreams had taken him? He did not want Legolas to think....well; he did not know what he wanted Legolas to think. He wanted, but could not want. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment and he opened his mouth to speak but could not form a reply.

Smiling gently, Legolas answered,

"You blush? It is nothing to be ashamed of. I can see it in your eyes. You have reached your majority and it is to be expected. Did you like it?"

"Aye." admitted the man.

"It is a setting free, is it not? A way of flying into the unknown and coming back changed."

"Valar, yes." whispered Aragorn as he closed his eyes and remembered for a moment his long night with Glorfindel.

"A way of showing love between two friends?"

So caught up in the elf's mellifluous voice was he that Aragorn answered before he could think of Legolas' implication.

"Yes."

"I would do this, if you wished it."

Legolas' face came nearer to his and he felt the elf's soft breath on his lips.

"Do you want me to do this? To kiss you? Perhaps more?"

"As a way of showing love between two friends?"

"Aye. I have thought of it since last I saw you, and now you are no longer a child. I would not have either of us bind ourselves before it is time and then only with one whose fëa we truly could hold. But I would share myself with you, Aragorn."

"Truly, I have dreamt of it, Legolas, but I would do nothing to put your soul in jeopardy. We have an understanding, then?" asked the man.

"Aye," answered the elf, "But do not think because I have said this that I would not bind myself to you in every other possible way. I am not an elf to share my body without care."

"And I am not a man to do so, either." answered Aragorn.

Aragorn fluttered his lashes closed and with slightly parted lips tentatively leaned into the elf's mouth. Legolas' lips caressed so sweetly that his heart nearly shattered at the feel of it, so much better the reality than his dreams. When they parted, a smile of acceptance came over his face.

They embraced tightly and Aragorn did as he had long wanted and pulled his fingers through the long fall of pale hair. Legolas had promised a warm bath and warm bed upon their arrival at his father's halls, and so they did no more but rest that night, content within the clasp of each other's arms.

*****

A/N: *Tôrannroch - I am not an expert on Sindarin linguistics, but the horse's name is put together from David Salo's A Gateway to Sindarin (The University of Utah Press, 2004), from the words, Tôr = brother, ann = gift, and roch = lit. "swift horse for riding".

All other Sindarin words are taken directly from A Gateway to Sindarin or Tolkien's works themselves.

Taur e-Ndaedelos - lit. Forest of Great Fear - Mirkwood
Mae Govannen - well met
Adan - man
Adar - father
Mellon - friend
Mellon-nin - my friend

Italized words or words between *** and *** (in plain text) is/are direct quotes from The Silmarillion, Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin.

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