Part 1

Posted: October 2003
Title: Reflections
Author: Inwe Saralonde
Type: FCS
Characters: Aragorn/Legolas; also Aragorn/Haldir
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Wish I could say that I own them, but I don't. Characters are courtesy of the wonderful imagination of J.R.R. Tolkien
Beta: Yvonne – without her too many glitches would get through.
Timeline: Set before LOTR
Author's Notes: My first attempt at writing any sort of fan-fic, so any feedback would be appreciated.

Summary: The relationship between Aragorn and Legolas changes from friendship to something more, but the path to love is rocky and full of misunderstandings.

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‘Every time our eyes meet
This feeling inside me
Is almost more than I can take'
‘Amazed' – Lonestar

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Part One: The outskirts of Mirkwood

Aragorn's POV

"Aragorn!"

Disoriented, I could not place the voice.

"Aragorn…Aragorn!" The voice was becoming more insistent.

I groaned, trying to clear the fog that seems to have permeated my head. "Wha…what happened?" I managed to say, at the same time trying to sit up, only to find myself flat on my back again, my head spinning.

"You fell and hit your head, Aragorn. You were out for quite some time."

Oh. That explains why my head was pounding – it felt as if there was an army of Orcs running through it.

I opened my eyes to find a pair of cerulean blue eyes looking down at me in concern…and anger. "Legolas…" I tried to sit up again, leaning on my right elbow; good, I managed to get half-way this time.

"Fortunately, you managed to kill the Orc before you slipped and hit your head against the rock, otherwise you would not be awake at all."

Was that a hint of sarcasm I heard in your voice, Elf? I looked at him, noting the faint look of disapproval on his face. "I take it then that there were no other Orcs left to try and dispatch me as I lay unconscious on the ground?" I asked. "There is no need to be sarcastic Aragorn. The remaining Orcs were slain. You may consider yourself fortunate that we arrived when we did." That hadn't exactly answered my question, Legolas.

This conversation was going nowhere. I sighed, prepared to be humble. "Hannon le, Legolas. Your timely arrival with your patrol was opportune indeed. I am grateful." I winced as my hand felt the lump on the back of my head.

"I was worried about you Aragorn. When you fell and hit your head…" Here Legolas' voice trailed off. I looked at him. "It's all right, Legolas. I have a hard head it seems. Apart from this lump, I will be fine."

Blue eyes looked at me, trying to find reassurance in my words. I looked back, but avoided eye contact. Lately I had been unable to look into those deep blue pools for fear of drowning in them. There were times when I tried to avoid Legolas altogether. His presence only invoked feelings in me that I could not place, and I feared their true meaning.

"Come then," he said, getting up. "Let us remove any traces of these creatures and find a camp for the night," then moved away quickly. I struggled to my feet before slowly making my way to the Elves, helping them to pile the carcasses of the Orcs, ready for burning.

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Legolas' POV

"Aragorn!" I could hear the desperation in my voice.

"Aragorn…Aragorn!" Thank the Valar, he moved!

My heart was pounding – to see him fall and hit his head like that, rendering him unconscious…I was so very thankful that it was nothing more. I don't know how I would have taken it if it had been.

"Wha…what happened?" I watched him as he struggled to sit up, only to fall back again.

"You fell and hit your head, Aragorn. You were out for quite some time," I said.

"Legolas…" He struggled to sit up again, partially succeeding.

I continued. "Fortunately, you managed to kill the Orc before you slipped and hit your head against the rock, otherwise you would not be awake at all." I could not help but be a little sarcastic – it helped to hide the tumult of emotions that I was feeling.

"I take it then that there were no other Orcs left to try and dispatch me as I lay unconscious on the ground?" he had asked. I chose not to tell him that another Orc was standing over him, ready to inflict the killing blow.

When he told me that he had a hard head and that he would be fine, I could not help but think ‘Hard head indeed. You can be hard-headed in more ways than one, my friend, and as stubborn and foolish as only a mortal can be.'

"Come then," I said, getting up. "Let us remove any traces of these creatures and find a camp for the night." Moving away quickly, I felt frustrated – at Aragorn, at my inability to control my feelings around him.

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I had known Aragorn since he was a child. Growing up amongst the Elves of Imladris the foster-son of its Lord, Elrond, he was known as Estel, ‘Hope' in the Elvish language. Reckless, impetuous, carefree as a child, it all changed on his 20th birthday when he was told by Elrond who he really was – Aragorn, last in the line of kings, Isildur's heir, heir to the throne of Gondor. It changed him. Overnight he became introspective, the ready smiles not so forthcoming, as if he had a great weight placed on his shoulders which, to a certain extent, was true. Shortly afterwards he left Imladris to take up the life of a ranger, turning his back on his heritage, preferring a life of exile.

We met up on occasion, such as today, when he was at the borders of Mirkwood. The years had not been kind to him. If anything, his ‘burden' was greater now than it was before – the rise of the Shadow, the increase of the Orcs and other dark creatures only brought home to him the folly of his ancestor and the One Ring. I knew he feared that the paths he had taken would lead him inexorably to something he does not want. Yet, while I did not have the gift of foresight as some of my people had, I could sense that Aragorn would be king; even now, his demeanour, his actions were of a regal nature, though I did not tell him that.

Nor did I tell him that every smile he bestowed on me I treasured, for I knew that my feelings for him have changed over time. And I did not tell him that his avoidance of me, of even looking at me, hurts me, for I did not know what I could have done to warrant this.

‘Aragorn, meleth-nîn,' I whispered. In my heart, he was my love, the only one I could love. How my feelings changed from friendship to love I did not know. All I knew is that I would follow him, even into Mordor if necessary, just to be close to him.

"Legolas?" Startled from my reverie, I looked up. "What is it, Silinde?"

"The Orcs are now burning. Let us move away from here and set up camp elsewhere for the night."

Sighing, I get up. "Come, Silinde. We will need to move quickly to find a suitable camp before night falls."

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Translations:

Hannon le – Thank you
Meleth-nîn – My love

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