Child Of The Light

Child Of The Light

Posted: December 2004
Title: Child of the Light
Author: Tindulaith
Type: FCS
Characters: Legolas/Aragorn and other Tolkien characters
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own the Tolkien characters, places or histories; I just like to expand on them from time to time.

Summary: It has been a subject of much discussion: Why did Lord Elrond choose Legolas to represent the Elves as a member of the Fellowship instead of an older, more experienced Elf?

*****

Galadriel's POV

I stared into the silvered image within the mirror and my eyes fixed, becoming slightly dilated as my breathing slowed. I allowed all errant and extraneous thoughts to flee my mind and concentrated on nothing but the glittering waters before me. The shimmering basin was as still as glass and reflected my face with stunning clarity. I slowly lifted my hand from my side and tentatively moved my fingers over the rim of the mirror. I barely traced the tips across the center of my reflection and gentle ripples undulated outward from my hand to the edges of the pooled water, distorting my likeness and replacing it with the beginnings of a swirling mist. I could feel my innate powers surge and brighten within me as I bent my head slightly, peering into the whirling maelstrom before me; and then the mists parted and I was given a vision of a lush, verdant forest that emerged from the depths of the mirror and flowed outward toward the rim. A beautiful golden Elfling suddenly appeared from out of the dense foliage and scampered through the woodlands, laughing gaily, singing to the birds and trees of the forest as he made his way from burrow to bush; seeking out the sylvan creatures that were his friends and playmates. I sighed contentedly and smiled as I watched the innocent youngling at play.

"Legolas," I murmured as the trance state overcame me and I was soon fully immersed in the vision before me; not just watching this scene as if through a window, but there amid the thick green trees; standing beneath the brilliant azure skies of a lazy summer's day. The youngling saw me at once and ran up to me, his tiny hands clasped tightly together and his laughing face turned up toward me all smiles and wonder.

"Look, my Lady," he whispered in awe as his little hands parted and a butterfly of vivid yellow-orange hues escaped his grasp and fluttered upward through the leaves and was gone. Gentle laughter overcame me, filling me with a childlike delight I had not felt in so long that I had forgotten the purity and virtue that once had been a part of all our kin. He took my hand and pulled me toward the fleeing butterfly. "Hurry, we must not lose sight of it. It will lead us to the bees and we shall have honey!"

His hand slipped from mine as he darted through the trees and as I followed I could feel the dense forest about me change and darken. It was no longer full of joy and happiness and a terrible foreboding fell over me. There was danger near – and death. I snatched at the flowing silks of my skirts and pulled them up, uncovering my bare feet to allow me to run through the woodland paths as I hastened after the youngling. I called out to Legolas, yet he gave me no answering hail. My fear increased as I reached the edge of a forest filled with ancient, gnarled trees, thick and tall; sturdy by the look of them, though they were deceiving, and I felt a menacing undercurrent in the rustling of their dark leaves.

A piercing scream suddenly rent the still air and I tried to hurry forth though the thick branches but I was no longer a participant in this scene and I could not move any closer. I could only watch in despair as a beautiful elleth fell to her knees beside the still body of a honey haired Elf, broken and pale in death as he lay beneath the trees. I looked up into the leafy boughs and saw Legolas clutching the wide trunk of a wizened oak. He was wailing with fear and confusion, staring down upon the two Elves below him as he held tightly to the tree's bark with hands that had gone white with tension and strain. Several Woodland warriors soon appeared and one brought the sobbing youngling down from the tree limbs to the safety of the ground. He ran at once to the Elf kneeling upon the grasses but was quickly pulled away by another of the soldiers. I felt the hot sting of tears pool at the corners of my eyes and I shut them tightly. The pain and sorrow that overcame me was all consuming and I staggered back away from the scene, stunned by its intensity. When at last I could regain my breath I opened my eyes once more and found that the vision had changed once more and I was now looking into the gardens surrounding King Thranduil's underground fortress in Mirkwood.

Legolas sat near his father on a stone bench that made his slight frame seem all the smaller. His beautiful face was filled with hurt and fear as he looked up at the imposing monarch seated next to him. The Elvenking's expression was stern and grim, devastated by a great sorrow and the evidence of tears still marred his handsome features. But when he turned his formidable gaze upon Legolas there was no love or compassion for the troubled Elfling in his eyes; and as he spoke to the pen tithen, I could see the panic rising in the youngling's face. He was pleading with his father; wanting the security of his mother's warmth; in need of comfort and tender kisses, yet Thranduil had none to give him.

I shut my eyes as my understanding of what was to come for the frightened Elfling filled me with great sadness. In his terrible grief and despair, Thranduil would now abandon Legolas, shunting him off to the care of the Wood Elves in the hope that he could forget the tragedy that had befallen his house if only the cause of that sorrow was no longer within his sight. Ever strong and prideful, the Elvenking would now become bitter and tormented. His eldest son and heir was dead; his queen, fading from the light of the Eldar, would ultimately sail, leaving the forsaken king alone and desolate.

A chill befell me and the air about my shoulders stirred as the mists of time parted and the mirror began to blur and mingle the images of Legolas as an Elfling, living among the Silvan Folk. The visions flew past my eyes with dizzying speed through his youth and past his majority; as a youthful warrior on his first patrol; standing in a secluded glade with a beautiful elleth, sharing a kiss, their faces flushed with new love…and then the next sight, this same beauty, slain at the hands of an orc, it's wicked blade dark with her blood and all those about her slaughtered like so much cattle. My hands gripped the edges of the mirror and I leaned farther forward as I felt the pull of the centuries upon my mind; the harrowing voices of the past, the piteous cries of the dying, and there amidst them all, Legolas – filled with an obsessed hatred of the yrch; slaying them without thought or mercy, a mindless, merciless killing machine of death.

I swooned as the waves of torment flooded through me though I could not tear my gaze away from the visions. They began to spin wildly and a devastating nausea came over me as I saw Legolas struck down and left for dead, lying amid his slain warriors while the yrch overran his patrol and left none living – or so they thought. The golden Elf did not stir until the Hand of Mandos touched his pale face and the powerful Valar spoke to Legolas, telling him that his life upon Arda had only just begun and that the peace of his Halls was not yet his to enjoy.

I jerked back away from the pool, my chest heaving and my hands shaking. The waters within the basin cleared and the visions ceased to be yet their lingering effect upon me was still a terrible shadow of dread. Much sorrow and pain would fill this wondrous Elf's life; I had seen only a portion of what was to come before the images had become too overpowering for even my psychic skills. I knew already the numerous tragedies that had befallen this youngest son of Thranduil; the torments of his life, the agonies of his own inner turmoil, struggling constantly to sort out his origins and the reasons behind his father's unrelenting ill favor. But I also knew the irresistible charisma of his beauty and his gentle quick witted humor; the depth and scope of his intelligence and the gracious carriage of his being; and most of all, the strength and honor of his character. Yet I wondered if this would be enough...

*****

It was some time later before the insistent voice calling to me penetrated my numbed consciousness and I blinked my eyes and tried to refocus upon the present.

"My lady?" a tentative voice questioned and I shook my head, clearing it of the last vestiges of the arcane imagery. I turned my head toward the maiden at my side and the elleth bowed again. "Forgive me, my lady," she said softly. "Haldir has arrived."

I smiled at her, hoping to ease her anxiety at having been forced to approach me while I was in one of my trances. I had given my handmaidens implicit instructions to fetch me as soon as the March Warden returned, yet I was aware that the ellethin still feared to near me while I was entranced by the mirror. "I shall receive him under the Whispering Willows," I replied and shooed the young maid away with the slightest wave of my hand.

The attendant bowed to me again. "As you wish, my lady."

As the maiden turned to leave, I again looked about my private bower and my eyes drifted unerringly toward the mirror. It sat upon its pedestal, solitary and silent in the shaded glade, secluded from all save me and my Lorien maids. The sacred waters used to fill its shallow bowl flowed from the streams nearby and gurgled through the rocks and fissures and the fresh scent of the clear, cold water drifted up to me. I breathed in deeply of the misted air and my eyes traveled upward through the great mellyrn toward the clouds high above. My gaze then turned to focus on the red and darkening skies of the southeastern lands. Mordor. The terrible evil that was Sauron was rising once again, unhindered and unchecked from the ashes of Mt. Doom.

"The Shadow grows ever stronger," I whispered as my mind expanded, gliding effortlessly through the ether, touching the souls of the trees and hearing the apprehension in their somber song; and then flowing deep within the heart of Eä. My eyes closed. "The time nears," I sighed into the slight breeze that played through the trees.

came the reply.

My eyelids opened and my gaze turned to the east, across the Anduin to the dark, shadowed forests of Mirkwood and then on to the Woodland Realm of Thranduil far to the north. I felt saddened as I moved away from the mirror and made my way up the stone stair toward the ancient gardens to greet my waiting Captain. There were stirrings and rumors abroad of strange yrch near the borders of the Golden Wood, creatures that did not shun the light of day and bore the white hand of Saruman. Saruman – once thought to be our friend and ally.

*****

I entered the sheltered garden of tall willows and my silver haired March Warden instantly shot up from his seat upon a stone bench, covering his embarrassment with a graceful flourish of his hand as he saluted and nodded formally to me. I hid my smile of amusement at having caught him taking his ease, off his feet and casually relaxing upon the chiseled stone seat while obviously still on duty. I returned his nodded greeting and motioned him to return to said bench with a wide sweep of my arm, but he tacitly declined my invitation to sit and color tinged his pale cheeks.

"It is good to see you, Haldir," I said quietly. "I only wish it were under more pleasant circumstances."

"The last of the patrols have returned, my lady," he answered. "We have confirmed that there has indeed been increased orc activity all along our borders; though as yet, they have not been able to penetrate the enchantment of the Golden Wood. Rumil and his warriors slew a brazen band trying to breech the outer forest rim this morning. They bore the white hand of Saruman upon their ugly black faces." He paused and for the first time in an age I saw real concern upon my warrior's face. "They were slain in the bright rays of the midday sun and seemed to have no fear of its light, nor any need to hide in the shadows."

"Isengard?" I queried him.

Haldir's lip curled in distaste. "The skies are black with the smoke pouring forth from the south and each day sees more destruction upon the land. We have received word from the Beornings that the wizard is uprooting the ancient trees surrounding Orthanc and burning them as fuel to stoke his vile furnaces."

I thought. Celeborn's awesome strength and protective warmth immediately flowed over me; comforting me; and reluctantly I turned my attention back to my Warden.

"The days to come shall be filled with darkness," I said. "The ring shall strive to return to its master and the creatures of Shadow shall awaken."
I looked back to Haldir. "Be ever vigilant, my Warden."

He nodded curtly. "Aye, my lady. I shall inform you personally of any irregularities." He bowed again and then took his leave of me and I was left alone once again with my thoughts; and as usual when I am confronted with difficult choices to make, my thoughts sought out the one who shared the lore and history of Middle Earth with me.

Elrond said.

At the mention of my granddaughter's name, a smile crossed my face and I sighed with pleasure. "Ah, yes," I beamed. "Arwen." But as thoughts of Elrond's only daughter and my beloved grandchild filtered out of my mind, that smile faded and my eyes hardened. Again I turned my attention to the reason I had sought out Lord Elrond's wise counsel.

I asked.

In my mind's eye I could see the Noldor Elf nod his head as he stood upon his balcony in Imladris, gazing southward and over the Misty Mountains.

My gaze drifted to the beautiful gardens surrounding this small arbor and my thoughts traveled back in time to the shadowed circumstances surrounding the conception of Legolas, when the Valar deemed it necessary for one of their own to meddle in the affairs of Arda. I forced my thoughts back to Elrond.

I noted the surprised tone of Elrond's thoughts and surmised correctly that he wondered at my reasoning for keeping this information from Thranduil for the past three millennia.

My eyes drifted south toward that uneasy land and I replied.

I suddenly touched the top of my right hand, needing to feel the presence of the ring of power upon my finger and a momentary glimpse of Nenya flashed in the bright sunlight and then it was gone, hidden once again. I felt a calm spread over me as the energy of the ring surged through me; and then the dark rustlings of desire for forces untold manifested itself within my heart and I quailed with real terror. Could I resist the power of the one ring, should it be offered to me? the question whispered through my mind pulled up from the very depths of my being. I turned from it moving on to other things. I dared not delve too deeply in this matter for I feared to answer the doubt in my soul.

*****

Legolas' POV

On the morning of the seventh day after parting company with my border patrol, I rode through the carved gates leading to the Halls of my father, sometimes called the Elvenking. As I cantered through the courtyards and across the narrow bridge toward the stables, I was greeted warmly by those few attendants of my father's livery that I met in passing. Many of the Elves that worked in the stables and cared for the fine Elven horses, as well as those who forged weapons and carved the bows and arrows that filled my father's armory and swelled the ranks of his army were Wood Elves I had grown up with and known from the early days of my youth; and more times than not I felt them more like family to me than my father.

After seeing to the care and feeding of my horse, I hastened to the Great Hall to report my return and give an account of the state of affairs that was demanded by my liege and lord whenever a scouting patrol returned from the spider infested southern forests. It had been several months since I had last been in residence and although Mirkwood's forests were growing ever darker and plagued by Shadow, here in the Halls of my father it seemed to me that naught within the Elven realm had much changed. The Great Hall was filled with countless Elves and ellethin, merchants and traders, artisans and vintners, Elven warriors and the rough soldiers from Lake Town, and of course, the ever present nobility of the court. After the peaceful solitude and quiet of the woodlands, this raucous bustle within my father's court left me cringing inside yet I compelled my outward demeanor to remain aloof and detached. I took a deep breath and strode into the sea of people all vying for my father's attention and favor.

I had barely reached the midst of the crowd when I heard my father's deep voice call out my name. "Legolas!" A hush fell over the crowd and all within the Hall turned to seek out the wayward son of the Elvenking. Murmurs and titters rippled through the huge hall and I froze in mid step, acutely aware of the curious scrutiny of all those gathered about me. I stiffly bowed toward the throne of my forbidding father and Thranduil motioned me forward with an impatient wave of his arm. I methodically made my way through the crowd to reach my father's dais and upon gaining the throne I dropped to one knee, palm to heart and bowed my head to my lord and regent.

"I have a task for you, Legolas," the king proclaimed his voice loud and thick with wine.

I lifted my head and looked up at my father's flushed face. As I rose to my feet I nodded slightly and spoke quietly, my voice even and noncommittal. "I am yours to command, my father," I dutifully replied. "What would you have me do?"

"You leave on the morrow for Imladris," Thranduil ordered. "You will head the Mirkwood delegation to Lord Elrond's summoned council as my official designate." I started to protest but the king continued. "You will also inform the Peredhel that the disgusting creature that meddlesome wizard Mithrandir and that scruffy ranger left here in my keeping has escaped."

"Escaped!" I exclaimed. Aragorn had told me of this creature. He and the grey wizard had been searching for it for months hoping to glean some bit of information from it regarding the ring of power. The ring was thought by many to have been in Gollum's possession for some time, but now it appeared that it had been either lost or stolen from this wretched thing and was now once again hidden from all who would seek it, most of all the Dark Lord. Sauron's minions were also searching for this creature to question him about the ring and Mithrandir had secured my father's word that Gollum would be held captive here and kept safe from the hands of the enemy.

Thranduil face clouded with anger at my impertinence and his displeasure was evident in the livid tone he employed when he again spoke to me. "It should never have been brought here. I am glad to be rid of it."

"I have been out on patrol for over two months, father. I have only just returned home, and now you wish to send me away again?"

"You will do as I command, Legolas," the king thundered. "The realm of Mirkwood shall be represented at this council. You shall represent us."

I gritted my teeth, biting back the angry retort that longed to spring from my lips. Instead I bowed my head. "As you wish, father," I answered.

"Leave us now, Legolas," the king summarily dismissed me. "I'm sure you need to see to your rest and the outfitting of your entourage. It is a long journey to Imladris."

I bowed once again, my back stiff and rigid; my hands fisted and pressed close to my sides. "By your leave, my king."

Thranduil's attention, however, had already moved on to another member of his court; his ill-gotten son no longer of any interest to him or worthy of his regard. I fumed over my father's humiliating dismissal of me and I turned sharply on my heel and strode from the Hall. I was all too aware of the penetrating stares that followed my retreating form; the whispered snickers and remarks the fawning courtiers thought I could not hear.

I seethed as my anger simmered and stewed within me. I stalked through the dark corridors of the underground palace past flickering torches and dancing shadows, heading purposefully toward the royal baths and the soothing hot springs that filled the subterranean pools. I was dirty and gritty with the dust of travel, over tired and now quite irritable. The thought of a fortnight's journey over the Misty Mountains to Imladris when the first of the snows was already dusting the peaks was not something I looked forward to at this moment. The only possible inkling of pleasure associated with this mission was the fact that I would again be reunited with Aragorn, if only for the length of this proposed council meeting.

A warm smile suddenly creased my pouting face as I thought of the ranger and just as quickly as it had been provoked, my peevishness faded away. I entered the bathing chamber with a renewed sense of wellbeing and found myself actually looking forward to this journey after all. At least it would be better than having to endure my father's constantly scathing tongue and sarcastic barbs; being ridiculed before his Privy Council over some minor misstep or faulty political action I had taken; or serving as the crude topic of lurid conversation among the bawdy guests that eternally filled his hall each night at table. I should be immune to my father's derisive taunts by now; I had suffered through them nearly three millennia, but I was not. I did not think I ever would be. Each new mocking sneer cut me deeply. All my long life I had tried to do whatever my father wished of me. I tried endlessly to be the perfect son; the most skilled warrior; the cleverest diplomat; each effort deserving of my father's praises. But it was not to be. Though I yearned for my father's love all I received was his ridicule and disgust.

I pushed these unpleasant thoughts from my mind and hurriedly pulled off my suede boots and then stripped out of my travel worn clothes and sank down into the hot springs of the baths, letting the heated waters swirl about my naked body. The scented oils and candles arranged about the bathing chamber soon enveloped me with their pleasing aromas and all thoughts of my father soon left me as I allowed the hot, steaming waters to loosen my tired muscles and soothe my aching and weary head. I leaned my head back against the side of the pool and closed my eyes. Tomorrow would come soon enough. Tonight all that really mattered was this relaxing bath and the thought of a soft bed to sleep upon.

*****

The hastily assembled delegation from Mirkwood left at dawn the next day. King Thranduil was not there to see us off and I was thankful for small favors. The two Elven nobles riding with me were taciturn and brooding and did not appear eager to engage in any type of meaningless or idle conversation, much to my delight. Our small party rode out without fanfare or flurry and it was not long before I found myself singing merrily as the morning sun broke through the russet leaves of the turning trees and bathed my face in warm sunlight. Just being out amidst the deep woods again lifted my spirits and my inordinately fey disposition soon held sway over the contingent of Elven warriors that accompanied us as a guard escort. They were soon following my lead and began to sing as well, boisterous fighting songs intermingled with romantic ballads. I laughed at their enthusiasm and joined in on the lusty soldier's songs I knew well from my years within their ranks and our small band set out upon our journey to Imladris with a lighthearted air that was filled with Elven song.

The fourteen day trip was relatively uneventful and the days passed one into another with boring regularity and little to hinder our progress or enliven our ennui. By the time we had reached the outskirts of Lord Elrond's realm, even the two elder ambassadors of my father's court found themselves thoroughly captivated by my natural exuberance and sunny manner. I in turn came to enjoy their droll humor and stimulating banter and found them to be excellent traveling companions. But the nearer we came to Imladris the more my thoughts began to drift and wander and all that I could concentrate upon was seeing Aragorn again; and when one of our party mentioned the troubled Steward of Gondor and the lost line of Isildur, a vivid memory sprang to my mind and would not be denied. As we reached the river valley and started up the slight mountain trail toward Imladris, I allowed my mind to travel back in time some sixty years…

*****

"You are being childish, Aragorn," I said sternly. "All this whining will not alter your bloodline."

"Why do you mock me, Legolas?" the young man growled at me. "You do no know what is has been like for me. You were born a prince and you have always known who you were. You grew up knowing that you were royalty, and that perhaps one day you might succeed your father as the ruler of your people. You have always been a prince."

I gritted my teeth and suddenly decided that now was the time to set things straight between us. This had weighed upon my heart, demanding utterance since the first time I had taken the human boy as my lover. It was time to tell him; perhaps past time, and the reasons to do so now two-fold. I turned in my saddle and looked him square in the eye. "I am not a true prince," I bluntly stated.

"What do you mean you are not a true prince?" Aragorn snorted at me as we rode side by side through the dark forests of southern Mirkwood.

I could not help but laugh at his unduly grim face even though I had thought to take this opportunity to teach him a harsh lesson in humility and duty. I had meant to be quite serious as I revealed to him the true nature of my conception and the events surrounding my birth; I wanted him to realize that not all is as it seems, but as I looked upon his youthful face, my desire for him raged within me and I thought it might be wiser to use humor to roust him out of his dark mood first. I placed a hand upon his thigh and leaned toward him, pressing down into the flesh of his leg as I did so. "My father is immortal. What good is a ‘prince' if the king will never die?" I teased and my hand idly traced Aragorn's muscular leg from mid thigh to knee and then returned to my own horse's neck where I affectionately patted the animal. I looked back to the ranger and grinned impishly. "You, on the other hand, are a king by birth and should one day take up the mantle of your rightful throne."

Laughter fled my face even as I spoke; the idea of what it would mean for him to take up his heritage was a stone in my heart. I was sure that he had not thought so far ahead as to consider what it would mean to the two of us should he relent and finally agree to shoulder the responsibility of his legacy. What use would a king have for an elven consort…especially if he had taken to wife the most beautiful elleth in all Arda?

Aragorn's frown turned into a sneer at the suggestion; yet there was a flicker of dread and self-doubt in his eyes that I did not miss. "I am no king," he spat out angrily.

I studied the last of the Númenórean line with a critical eye; no, he was no king – yet – but despite his rabid denial I could see in him the makings of what he would be and I knew already in my heart that not only would he be king but that he would be a great king. I did not wish to argue with him and so I did not speak further and we rode on in silence for some time. Finally, Aragorn gave me a side long glance and it seemed to me that he wished to voice a barrage of curious questions about the subject of my birth; and through our bond I realized that he had felt my intent to tell him something of great import. He also knew that something weighed upon my heart, but in spite of his youth and usually impetuous nature he held back, not wanting to intrude on my privacy. I grinned inwardly; he was making a bit of progress after all and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to throw myself headlong into his arms for there, I had learned, was peace. Without a word to him of my intensions I halted my horse near a cozy nook among the leafy boughs and ferns off the trail we followed. I slid from my steed's back with a fluid movement and ease of grace that I knew never ceased to amaze and annoy the ranger.

"Why do you stop?" Aragorn asked irritably. He was clearly in no mood for Elven displays of agility. I, however, was determined to strip this morose mood from him before I began my tale.

To those ends, I gazed up at the dark haired adan and turned my most stunning smile upon him. "I think this spot the perfect place to camp for the night. We shall reach the Old Forest Road on the morrow and there we shall be parting ways. I should like to spend this last night with you in ease and quiet comfort." I did not add how I dreaded this first parting from him. We had been constant companions since we had become lovers just before his nineteenth birthday. It was considerably past time for me to return home. News of my affair with the wild young ranger had likely reached my father by now and I shuddered to imagine his reaction. He would see it as one more failing on my part; that I would not even provide grandchildren for him. I had never confided in Aragorn how I hated to go home. I doubted I ever would, that burden was my own. As I looked to him I saw that my words had caused a shadow to pass over his face and I knew he dreaded this parting as much as I; but it had to be. There were things he had to do that I could not teach him or protect him from. I would be there for him again when he least expected it.

In spite of the shadow of our imminent parting, Aragorn could not help but grin; he had never been able to resist my charming smile – a fact I used to my advantage every chance afforded me. "Very well," he agreed as he dismounted and led his mount into the shelter of the nearby trees where I stood waiting.

We worked in efficient silence setting up our meager camp, going about our self appointed tasks with care and attention. By mutual consent and long habit I went in search of our dinner and Aragorn for the fire wood. By the time I had returned with a plump pheasant, Aragorn had a fire stoked and a pot of water boiling. He added fresh greens and seasonings into the pot as I sat cross legged upon the ground and started plucking and cleaning the fowl. Neither of us spoke. Our routine was a practiced one, perfected during the past year spent together in the wilds and we simply enjoyed knowing that the other was near; content to let our thoughts wander as they might. Where my thoughts continued to dwell this evening was completely unsettling to me. And with a silent sigh I decided that I had been right earlier and that the time had come for me to bring this matter to light. It was highly unusual for one of us to break this communal silence and so I am certain that it was indeed a shock to Aragorn when I spoke aloud; my normally soft Elven voice sounded overloud and foreign, even to me, as it shattered the stillness and hush of the forest.

"I have never told you the truth of my past," I began without preamble.

Aragorn's head jerked up from his pot of greens and he stared at me in surprise. It was true; he did not know a great deal about my past, only those few bits and pieces I had willingly shared with him or the stories, some quite unfavorable, related to him by the Sons of Elrond. He tensed and I knew that he was wondering just why it was that I seemed suddenly so intent on telling him about this.

It was a long time habit of mine to take refuge behind my hair when I was uncomfortable and leaning over my task I now let my long golden hair fall across my features. I knew that Aragorn could not see my face clearly, yet I knew that he continued to stare at me, until finally I looked up at him. My eyes held him captive and I could sense a profound feeling of trepidation sweeping over him as he gazed into the depths of my soul. I could see that he wished to speak, but drawing upon his newly discovered forbearance, he held silent, and waited for me to continue.

As I had begun, I spoke again without preface; my voice was melodious and clear, almost hypnotic and I knew from experience that I was lulling him into a sense of peace by my outwardly gentle demeanor. I allowed him as yet no hint of the torment I felt inside. Aragorn set aside the ladle he was holding and turned his full attention to me.

"I was never the legitimate heir to my father's crown," I said softly and forced another incredible smile onto my face before I formed the words that I had never said aloud to any other being. I could only hope that it hid how deep the reality of this matter tore into my heart. I forced myself to conceal from him completely how worried I was that this might affect his feelings for me. "I was never legitimate at all, really."

My blatant statement caught Aragorn completely off guard and he could not hold back the shocked gasp that issued from his lips. He stared at me, unsure that he had understood me correctly. I laughed at his startled expression and the sound of my laughter seemed to relieve some of his apprehension. I decided to intentionally make light of the matter; I did not wish to make him feel ill at ease, yet I felt that this was something personal about me that he should know. I wanted him to know. "It is no secret, though it is not oft spoken of either."

Aragorn was still at a loss for words. He knew some of the circumstances surrounding my early years: that my elder brother had been killed when I was but an Elfling; that my mother had never recovered from the tragic loss of her son and in her desolation and utter despair, had finally sailed, but the details I had previously given him were sketchy at best. The ranger finally found his voice and spoke.

"You have told me a little about the events following your brother's death; your mother's anguish…but…"

The compassion in his voice, in his expressive eyes wrenched my heart and my eyes suddenly filled with pain and I looked away. I had not expected the heartache of that past calamity to still be as raw a wound in my heart as it even now seemed to be; and it was very obvious to Aragorn that I was still greatly affected by this event. I saw his hand start to reach for me; then he hesitated and it fell back to his side. I set the plucked pheasant aside and drew out one of my long knives and prepared to gut the fowl. I hoped that this simple task would take some of the hurt from my heart and distract my mind from the sorrow and pain that I felt as I remembered seeing my brother fall to his death. I positioned the fowl on the ground squarely in front of me and concentrated upon the bird as I spoke.

"Thorfiniand was my half brother. Lady Aerlinde was not my mother, though she readily took me into her family as though I was one of her own." Thoughts of my mother…the only mother I had ever known, filled my mind and I could feel Aragorn's saddened heart wrench as he watched my eyes fill with tears at the memory of that horrific incident that had so molded my childhood. I could feel his compassion within my mind, suffused through our bond, not as words but as gentle caresses. I took a deep breath and continued on with my narrative.

"I never knew my birth mother. It is said that she was very beautiful. She was a Wood Elf of the northern reaches; someone who caught my father's drunken fancy while she visited the Halls of the Elvenking. She had journeyed to my father's keep with members of her kin to take part in one of our annual festivals." A sudden bitterness flooded over me at this statement and put a sharp edge to my words; and this time it was Aragorn who looked away and I realized that despite my earlier efforts at humor, he felt very uncomfortable with my telling him this most private of tales.

I slit the bird from breast to tail in one swift movement of my blade and drew out the innards of the fowl quickly and efficiently. When I spoke again it was as if I were merely discussing the weather. I had again built a wall over my emotions and buried them deep within me. I allowed absolutely no outward sign that speaking of this matter made me feel much as this bird would have if I had not mercifully killed it before gutting it. "Not long after I was born she was bitten by a spider. The poison was morgul; she lived three days before succumbing to an agonizing death."

Aragorn stared at me as I casually spitted the pheasant and propped it over the fire that he had started. I carefully cleaned my blade on a soft cloth and then returned it to its sheath. I looked up at Aragorn quite calmly but I knew that my expression was unfathomable. I had had thousands of years to perfect this mask of serenity. I could feel him gently nudging within our bond, urging me to allow him more fully into my mind. I was not ready for such an intrusion. He accepted my gentle refusal without protest though it clearly discomfited him and the ranger shifted uneasily on the moss beneath him and waited for me to continue. Why I was revealing this heartrending past to him in this manner was a mystery to him I was sure, but Aragorn knew me well and I knew that he suspected there was some hidden meaning behind my telling him this tale. I never did anything without reason or intent – for good or ill. Truthfully, I had more than one reason for the telling…as well as the manner. I feared that to attempt revealing these facts about my past in any other way than to disassociate myself from it as much as I could, would result in a total breakdown of my emotions. I had never permitted such a thing in the past and it would not happen now.

"I was brought to Thranduil's Halls by her father and brother. I am told that my father was not at all pleased with their gift of me to him." As I imagined exactly what my drunken father might have said at this presentation of his bastard son, a caustic smirk I could not withhold swept across my features, turning my normally serene face mordant. I could see Aragorn shudder as a frightening shiver rippled down his spine, but the unnatural look upon my visage was fleeting and my expression once again transformed itself into one of quiet dignity, no longer revealing any emotion or outward sign of my turbulent inner feelings.

"But accept me he did; though our relationship has never been one filled with love or affection. I was tolerated until my brother's death and then as you know, once my mother sailed, he sent me to live among the Wood Elves." I snorted in disgust and turned away at this last statement and Aragorn had to strain to hear my next words. "I found a small measure of peace there…until my father found a use for me." I did not reveal to him what that use was. I remembered with crystal clarity being recalled without warning from the home I had made for myself among the Wood Elves. I had been summoned without recourse back to the father who had so carelessly cast me aside. My first assignment had been as an emissary to Imladris and while there I had met the infamous twins for the very first time.

A heavy silence fell over us and Aragorn eventually spoke the question that I knew had been burning within him since the beginning of this bizarre conversation. "Why are you telling me this, Legolas?" His voice was no more than a murmur, but I heard him easily enough and a slight smile played upon my lips. Though my reasons for telling him were twofold, one reason would be revealed in its own time. He would think upon my words when he next thought to complain about his lineage and see that there were things in life that cannot be changed by either word or deed; they must simply be endured. This was not the reason of my heart.

This time when I stared into the ranger's eyes my own blue ones were intense and passionate and filled with my emotions. "I have told you this now because not telling you before has weighed heavily upon my heart; I do not want to have any lies or false assumptions stand between us, Aragorn. I want you to know and love me for who I truly am not some perceived and inflated image of me as a golden prince."

"Legolas," the man started to speak, but I halted his words with a slight gesture of my hand.

"Though you stand in denial of it, the fact is that you are a king truly born," I stated. "I am but one of the Silvan Folk."

My unassuming statement hung in the air between us for some time while Aragorn's mind reeled with the implications of those few simple words I had spoken. His dark gray eyes looked upon me at last and I could scarcely breathe as I awaited his reply.

"I already love you, Legolas, and whether you are an Elven prince or nay has no bearing whatsoever on my true feelings for you. And I know that your telling me this is somehow related to my childish petulance about being Isildur's heir, but believe me, I have no wish at all to be thought of as a king, meleth nin. I have abandoned that future and will not consider returning to it no matter the blood that courses through my veins. I am content to remain one of the Dúnedain; life is simple. I want no complications, no destinies. My life is my own and I will not be party to sagas and tales told to children about the fabled return of the king."

And though he had not spoken to me of this matter yet, I could not help the jealous thought from crossing my mind and I felt the sharp pang of remorse and pain that pierced his young heart as that unbidden question flitted through his consciousness. Arwen, sometimes called Evenstar, the beautiful and elusive elleth and daughter of Lord Elrond, had touched my young lover's heart when he had met her last year in a way that caused anguished fear within my heart. I was well aware that she would never truly be his unless he turned from his present course – turned from me – and yielded to those who would force his inheritance upon him. His face seemed to crumple in sorrow and I cursed my thoughtless insensitivity in causing him this unnecessary torment. And yet in that moment I felt a quiet pride surface for the man he was becoming for he did not try to turn away, nor did he deny what we both knew was a truth in his heart. The ever present love for him that burned within me flared even hotter.

I placed a gentle touch upon his forearm and drew him back from his tortured musings and he looked up into the deep blue of my eyes. I stared unblinking back into his face. His battle roughened hand rose up and touched my cheek and he smiled sadly. "You will always have my love, Legolas," he whispered.'

*****

I faltered in my memory for a moment. Gods, he had been so very young then. How things had changed…times had changed. I sighed in silent thanks for the one thing that had remained unchanged. The love we shared was more deeply ingrained between us today than ever and I lapsed back into memory, recalling how…

*****

'…my breath hissed out in relief at his promise and I leaned eagerly into the palm of Aragorn's calloused hand. My eyes closed as I reveled in his caress and then his thumb slid toward my ear and he gently began to stroke the delicate curve of its ridge. When our eyes met again, my passion was reflected upon his face and it was only a moment longer before our lips met and talk of kings and ill-sired princes was forgotten.

His mouth slid from my lips and began a trek down my neck and I shivered as the course hairs of his beard scratched against the sensitive skin under my jaw. He placed swift kisses back up my neck and across my jaw line until he reached my ear. His tongue flicked in and out and around the sides and I moaned and shuddered with pleasure until he drew the tender flesh of my earlobe into the hot, wet heat of his mouth and I cried out with my passion for him.

He pushed my shoulders back and I fell upon the grass where he landed atop me and I felt the heavy weight of him crush me into the mosses and ferns. Our leather covered groins rubbed together and I could feel the ache of my need harden immediately as the heat of him touched my eager sex. I pulled at the ties of his shirt while he fumbled with the laces of my leggings, until frustrated; he finally sat up, panting and pulling at his clothes. His boots were the first to go, followed shortly by his tunic and leggings. He glanced down at me with passion dark eyes and his voice was raw and ragged with desire.

"Undress, Elf."

The jolt that struck my shaft was unbearable and I groaned as my leggings drew tight up against me. It never failed to drive me blind with lust when he called me ‘Elf.' I sat up quickly and began to remove my clothes, for once not really caring where they landed. All that mattered in the world was this human before me. I wanted his hands on me, touching me, claiming me. My eyes feasted upon his broad shoulders and well muscled chest. My hand drifted outward of its own accord to touch his navel and then it traced the trail of dark hairs on his rigid abdomen that traveled downward toward his groin. He hissed and snatched at my hand, pushing me back down upon the ground as he slid over me once again.

I was normally the dominant partner in our lovemaking, but tonight I wanted him to take me, ravish me, make me his own and I allowed his rough treatment of my body; nay, I begged for it. He sensed at once my eagerness to submit to him and his eyes darkened even more. "Legolas," he breathed into my mouth and his tongue plunged into mine, demanding, seeking and I brought my hands up and tangled them within the dark strands of his hair, pulling his head down, crushing him to my lips.

His hand moved down my stomach and grasped my shaft in a hard rough grip that lifted my hips up off the ground. My knees rose up and he slid between my thighs, his own hard length pressing into my inner thigh. He squeezed my member tightly and I gasped, bucking beneath him.

"Tell me what you want," he growled into my ear as his hand moved up and then down the rigid length of my sex and his thumb pushed into the moist slit of my shaft and began to slowly move about the weeping head.

I could barely think of my own name as I lay beneath him, my pleasure surging into his hand, my lungs panting for breath between his rough kisses and his rougher hand. His moustache tickled my nose and distracted, my tongue darted out and licked at it. My teeth nipped at the fine hairs upon his upper lip and then I squirmed beneath him as his grip upon me tightened, warning me that I was being inattentive and had not answered his question.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"I want you to take me," I gasped into his mouth and I was rewarded by his grunt of approval and the feel of his girth pushing at my entrance. His hand left my sex and I moaned with the loss of his touch, but I knew that he was lathing his own length in preparation to enter me and I shuddered at the thought of his thick member driving deep into me and throbbing within my body.

He shifted his hips and I again felt the head of his shaft nudge at my sacs. My knees rose higher and I opened myself to him fully. This time he was the one to groan as he plunged into me with one swift, hard thrust. I saw lights explode before me as the pain of his entry wracked through my tender flesh, but he began to move almost instantly and his shaft brushed over that pleasure spot deep inside me again and again until I wailed his name to the skies above us.

My hands dug into his back and shoulders now slick with sweat and his musky scent drove me mad with desire for him. His mouth came down upon my ear again, his voice harsh and filled with his passion.

"Touch yourself," he ordered and my hand immediately moved to obey him.

I began to stroke my length in rhythm to his pounding and the sight of me pleasuring my body as he entered me seemed to increase his lust for he drove deeper into me until I had no breath left to cry out. He leaned down over my chest and took a hard nipple into his mouth and bit down on it so hard that my scream rent the stillness of the forest. My shaft erupted with my seed and his erratic pumping soon escalated until his own orgasm took him and he slammed into me one last time before the spasms of his release overtook him.

He fell upon me, spent and shaking and I drew my arms about him, holding him to me, never wanting to release him from my grasp. Oh, how this mere boy has stolen my heart! I shall never, never love anyone as I do him. My eyes shut as sudden, hot tears overcame me and I forced them to cease. I did not want him to see my tears, only my joy. He rolled off of me and his length slid from me and I felt the loss of him as a dead weight upon my soul. I pulled him toward me and he rested his head under my chin, and sated, sleep overtook him; his arm draped across my groin, possessive even in his slumber and I smiled with contentment.

"You are my king," I whispered into his dark hair. "And I shall love you forever."'

*****

As those words faded away with the memory, we crossed the Bruinen and I realized that it was already late afternoon. It was the last day of our trek and we were all eager for this journey to end. I greatly looked forward to sharing in the hospitality of Lord Elrond's home for I had come to love this Elven refuge for the beauty and serenity that it afforded. As we approached the Last Homely House the front doors opened and a severe dark Elf emerged from the dwelling. We were formally greeted by Lord Elrond's impassive adviser, Erestor, and once the proper formalities and pleasantries had been exchanged, we were ushered to our awaiting rooms. Erestor informed us that we were expected at dinner that evening but said little else and I nodded my thanks to him as I entered my quarters.

I was no stranger to Imladris and was pleased that he had given me the suite of rooms that had been mine on several of my former visits to this haven. The view from my balcony was breathtaking and no matter how often I traveled to this enchanted valley I could not help but compare its open aired grace and beauty to the somber darkness of my Dwarf dug home. The bed had been turned down invitingly and I plopped my body upon the fluffy mattress, clasping my hands behind my head and stared up at the carved and painted ceiling above me.

I had no more closed my eyelids, savoring the feel of the comfy bed beneath me when a knock sounded at my door. Thinking it one of my Elven ambassadors, I quickly swung my long legs over the edge of the bed and rose to my feet. "Come," I said.

The door swung open and Aragorn's trim frame filled the doorway. I smiled with delight at the sight of the ranger. It was obvious that someone had gotten him into a bath for his hair was glossy and neatly combed although those ever persistent stray wisps still framed his strong face and fell into his gray eyes. He was quite stunning in the velvets and silks of his Elvish clothing; quite a contrast to the dark leathers and mud of his ranger's attire and I felt the inevitable stirrings within my loins.

"Legolas!" Aragorn grinned at me as he stepped into the room and drew me into a crushing hug. His eyes devoured me and again my shaft twitched in response; it was impossible for me to be in his presence and not want him. I forced myself to focus upon his words. "How I have missed you. I hoped that your father would send you to this Council instead of coming himself."

I chuckled and then gave him an inquisitive look. "And just what exactly is the purpose of this meeting? My father did not provide me with many details."

"Ah," Aragorn's cheerful mood darkened as he placed an arm about my shoulders and drew me toward the door. "It is a matter of serious import, meleth nin," he said. "But I shall leave the telling of it to Lord Elrond." His smile returned as he closed the door to my room and he guided me toward the great Hall of Fire. "But not tonight," he grinned. "Tonight is for feasting and merriment." His lips brushed the point of my ear and I gasped. "And you."

I was speechless and more than aroused; I would have turned and forced him back into my room at that very moment had it not been for the sudden appearance of my two ambassadors at the juncture of the corridor. Aragorn moved away from my side but not before another whispered and wanton suggestion in my ear and I needed all my control to keep my face from turning several shades of crimson. He chuckled smugly as we fell into step behind the elder Elves and made our way to the sounds of laughter and excitement coming from down the hall.

I decided.

*****

25 October III 3018 – The Council of Elrond

I was stunned. The Council had ended hours ago and yet I still could not truly comprehend all that had been discussed within that select group of Men, Elves, and Dwarfs. The one ring was here; among us. I had seen the foul token with my own eyes as the Halfling Frodo placed it upon the table before us. I had felt its terrible evil grasping at my heart, my mind, even as Lord Elrond spoke to us, telling us that the Ring of Sauron must be destroyed or the fate of Middle Earth was sealed.

I had said little and had been certain that Lord Elrond would agree with the wise counsel of the Eldalie – Galdor and Glorfindel. They had spoken sagely and I assumed that these two formidable Elves would be charged with taking the ring west to the Great Sea; and once there, casting it into the depths of Ulmo's realm – but Lord Elrond had not agreed. Instead the Lord of Imladris had told us that the ring must be taken to the Land of Mordor and once there, cast into the fires of Mt. Doom. Erestor had loudly protested this course of action, calling it sheer folly and the ‘path of despair,' yet Elrond would not be dissuaded.

And then the unthinkable had happened: a Fellowship had been formed and Lord Elrond had chosen me to accompany this group as the representative of the Elven peoples. The task set before us was hopeless at best; the journey would be harsh and rife with peril – not to mention the fact that I would be forced to endure that witless Dwarf, Gimli. My mind was reeling.

I suddenly rose from my chair and headed out of my room. I must speak with Lord Elrond. I would not be able to rest until I had answers. I was certainly no coward. It was not fear that caused my anxiety and, in truth, I was a proven warrior in my own right; yet there were those Elves here within Imladris who were far more experienced than I. Surely Glorfindel would have been the better choice for such a perilous task as this.

I halted at the double doors leading to Lord Elrond's study and gathered in a deep breath, but before I could knock upon the wood, a voice called from the other side of the door. "Come in, Legolas. I have been expecting you."

I visibly started at Lord Elrond's voice and a twinge of fear ran through me. I placed my hand upon the brass door handle, but found that now that I was here, I was hesitant to face the Noldor Elf Lord. Suddenly I felt oddly foolish and second thoughts began to nag at my consciousness; but my innate curiosity won out and I pushed the door open and stepped into the spacious study. Elrond rose from behind his cluttered desk and came around the side of it to stand in front of me. He studied me carefully, his face impassive, though I am certain that he marked well my confusion and concern. When I did not readily speak up, he placed a hand to my elbow and guided me toward the open terrace doors.

"Walk with me, Legolas," Elrond said quietly and I nodded, moving without protest as the Noldor Lord walked me out into the sculpted gardens surrounding his home. When we had traveled far enough from the other dwellings to afford some privacy, Elrond halted and turned toward me.

"What is it you wish to ask me, Legolas?" he queried.

My normally calm and serene features were twisted with turmoil. Elrond watched as several emotions danced over my face only to be replaced with another and yet another. But even as he scrutinized me I stoically collected myself and regarded the Eldar Lord with growing confidence and self assurance.

"I am puzzled by your decision to place me among the Fellowship, Lord Elrond. There are a great many elder Elves here among your own advisers who would better serve you in carrying out this monumental task. I do not believe that I am the wisest choice to represent the Elven Folk."

Elrond smiled slightly and placed a hand upon my shoulder. "You are, in fact, the only choice, Legolas. There is no other among our kind who is filled with the power of the light." His gaze traveled over me from head to toe and then up again. "You are as wondrous as your mother; filled with her beauty and light. Each time I look upon her, I see your face."

"Forgive me, Lord Elrond, but I do not understand." My cheeks tinged with color and my confused embarrassment and I looked away from the Elf Lord's intense scrutiny. "My mother is dead, she was…"

"No, child," Elrond said softly. "The elleth who bore you is dead. Your mother is still very much a part of all that we cherish. Do you not feel her power within you?"

"Her power?" I questioned. "Who's power?"

Elrond stared directly into my eyes. "Elbereth," he stated calmly. "She came to your father three millennia ago in the guise of a beautiful young Silvan Elf; her sole intent to bear through him a child of the light; a youngling who would be the last hope of the Elves upon Middle Earth; an Elf who would help to shape the destiny of Man, here upon Arda." His dark, piercing eyes bore into me. "You are that Elf, Legolas."

I staggered back a step, overwhelmed by the words I had just heard spoken to me. Surely I had misunderstood him. "No," I whispered. "That cannot be. I am no such thing… I…" The ominous weight of this revelation fell heavily upon my shoulders and suddenly my knees felt very weak and watery. I sat down hard upon one of the stone benches along the side of the garden pathway and took in several deep, shuddering breaths. My heart was racing, my thoughts spinning madly within my head.

Elrond sat down upon the bench beside me and placed a comforting hand to my forearm. "You know this to be true, Legolas. Search your heart; allow the power within you to manifest, for you shall sorely need it in the days and years to come."

I turned anxious, frightened eyes toward the Elf Lord. "What have you foreseen?" I murmured.

"You must protect Aragorn at all cost, Legolas. He must fulfill his destiny and regain the throne of Gondor. There is no other who can unite the kingdoms of Middle Earth; no other who can withstand the might and evil that is Sauron. The time of the Elves is ending, young one. The Age of Man is upon us. You shall be Aragorn's eyes and ears; the sword at his back; the bow that strikes down his enemies. Your love and devotion for him, your dauntless loyalty and sound advice will help him to become the man he must be. Without you he will fail and the lives of all the free peoples of Middle Earth will be destroyed. Sauron will prevail and life as we know it shall end." Elrond paused and looked sternly upon my ashen face. "And you must never tell him the truth of who you are."

I was too overcome to speak and Elrond rose slowly from his seat beside me. He touched his hand to my chin and lifted up my face to once again gaze into my eyes. "He will love you, Legolas; with all his heart, but you will lose him in the end. You must surrender him to Arwen Undomiel. She will be his queen and bear his children. You must be the one to step aside, for Aragorn will not be strong enough to willingly give you up. You must forsake your own happiness for the future of Mankind."

I angrily pulled away from Elrond's hand and hot tears sprang to my eyes. No, never; I would never willingly give Aragorn up; not to anyone. I could not. This could not be happening; it was too much; too much. My heart was breaking even now at the very thought of losing Aragorn. I could not do this. I could not – and yet I knew that I must. It was true. I could feel the light pulsing within me; somehow I had always known that it was there. My duty lay clear before me though every part of my being screamed out that Aragorn was mine and I could never do what they were demanding of me. I found myself turning my tear-streaked face back up to the sad and forlorn face of Elrond and I nodded calmly. I revealed none of my inner chaos in my expression as I quietly made the only response honor would allow and my world was forever shattered.

"I understand."

*****

THE END