Website: http://www.loverboys-blue.com/
Rating: PG-13
Main Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Archive: Ask, and ye shall receive.
Warning: Slash. Male homosexual romance, relationships, and sexual situations. The whole shebang.
Disclaimer: I own the Legolas action figure. Other than that, I own nothing.

Summary: The tale of how Legolas and Aragorn met, and of how Isildur‘s Heir saved the youngest Prince of Mirkwood‘s life. Prequel to "In the Fading Twilight", fourth in "No Ordinary Love" series.

Notes:
Again, please note that this is *movie-verse* with book-verse used at whim. Other than that, I have made up the majority of Legolas' and Aragorn's backgrounds for this story, and some of the mythology and characters for Mirkwood. It's more fun for me that way. So since this is based off of *movie*canon, please don't send me any emails telling me how old Legolas really is or how King Thranduil really acted, etc., because I don't care. That's the fun with movie-verse. More room to play with. This is the background story behind the whole "No Ordinary Love" series. And I'm pretty much making it up as I go along. Also please note that this entire fic transpires in the Elvish tongue, but since I don't speak Elvish, you're getting the translation. :) This fic is, for the majority of time, set with a lighter, more humorous tone than the rest of the "No Ordinary Love" series. If Aragorn seems a bit preoccupied with sex, forgive him. He's only eighteen in this story.

Samain Night

By Eruntalince

       

The Elves found the boy in the forest, weeping uncontrollably.

He was curled into a fetal position before a tree, sobbing. He did not respond or look up from his knees when Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, bent down beside him.

The Elf's brow was creased in concern. He gently placed a hand on the boy's arm, massaging the thin limb gently. After a few minutes, the child finally looked up, staring at Elrond with large gray-green eyes. The resemblance of his face to his ancestor's startled Elrond.

"Wh-who...are you...?" the boy asked in wonderment, taking in the ethereal beauty, and the pointed ears of the Elf before him. The fact that an Elf was before him had paused his tears. The boy could hardly be older than six, if that.

"I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. Who are you?" Elrond asked gently.

The boy swallowed, his black hair falling in his face as he withdrew. "I am the Crowned Prince of Gondor, Aragorn, son of Arathorn..." he said softly, reciting his title with the arrogance of a child.

Elrond's brows creased even farther. Glorfindel, his riding companion, looked sharply at the dark-haired half-elf.

"Where is your father, young Aragorn? Why are you out here in the woods, all alone?"

Aragorn burst into tears again. Elrond took pity on the sobbing child and drew the youth in his arms, cradling the boy, soothing him. Behind him, his twin sons, Elledan and Elrohir rode up to them. They had been scouting ahead. Elrohir carried a bloody crown in his hand.

"Prince Aragorn, tell me what happened," Elrond said gently, as Elledan shook his head sadly, producing a bloody ring.

"We were riding...and the Orcs...the Orcs attacked us...they...they did bad things to my mother...and killed my father...I ran away...I ran far away..." Aragorn sobbed into Elrond's shoulder, his small form shaking.

"King Arathorn was to visit us, Father. It appears that Orcs ambushed his retinue, but they were long gone by the time we arrived. Queen Gilraen was...sullied...before she killed. Arathorn was killed almost immediately...I think the Prince saw it all," Elrohir said very quietly.

Elrond choked for a moment, clutching the small boy in his arms. He rocked the boy for a long time before speaking, measuring his words carefully. "Aragorn...your father is dead...you are King now...we must take you back to your people..." he said softly, stroking the thick black hair of the child. Glorfindel turned his face, and Elrond's heart began to bleed.

"No...no...please don't send me away, Master Elrond...no..." Aragorn cried, clutching Elrond tightly, as if Elrond was the only thing he had left in the world. Which was not far from the truth.

"What should we do, Father? Ride into Gondor, and return the Prince?" Elledan asked.

Elrond held the boy tenderly, feeling the child's anguish keenly. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them. "He is Isildur's Heir, and heir to the throne of Gondor, its rightful King now. But he is also a child who just lost his parents. And is distantly of my blood. I will not let fools raise him," he said evenly.

Elrohir blinked. "Father, he is a human...you would bring him into your house??"

"Yes, my son, I shall. And when he is a grown man, he shall decide for himself when to return to his throne. I will raise him like my own child, and teach him the ways of our people. And teach him to rule with justice and strength that has left the Dunedan. He is the last of their kind. I will not abandon him to stewards who shall use him as a puppet to bend Gondor to their will."

Elledan and Elrohir exchanged glances. Glorfindel studied Elrond intently. Aragorn raised his head, staring with wide eyes at Elrond.

"Would you like that, Aragorn? Would you wish to stay in my house, amongst my people, the Elves?" Elrond asked. Aragorn nodded. The boy clutched onto the Elf lord's long hair, and then rested his head on Elrond's shoulder, his tears stilling, calmed by Elrond's offer to take care of him.

"I shall call you Estel, and amongst the Elves, this shall be your name. It means 'hope'. And indeed, little one, you are the last hope of your people. And one day, you shall return to them as not only king, but a great Man," Elrond whispered, and remounted his horse with the human child in his arms.

And indeed, Elrond raised the last of the Dunedan to be a great Man.

       

"So tell me again about this Legolas."

Glorfindel turned his glorious head over to Aragorn, a smile gracing his beautiful face. Aragorn found himself asking questions, just to hear Glorfindel's musical voice ring out. Glorfindel was said to have the most beautiful voice in Rivendell. Aragorn had yet to hear a voice that led him to believe the contrary.

"He is the youngest prince of Mirkwood, and youngest son of King Thranduil. He has five older brothers, and an older sister. They say he is the fairest Elf in Mirkwood, and his father's favorite," Glorfindel shrugged.

Aragorn shook his long black mane in disbelief. "Fairer than even you, oh shining one?" he smiled.

"Some say he is even fairer than the Lady Arwen, though I think perhaps they boast too much," Glorfindel said, sounding slightly irritated by this fact.

Aragorn laughed. "But I have yet to meet my Lord Elrond's daughter. Twelve long years I have spent in his charge, but not once have I met this infamous Elven beauty. She is still off at Lorien, being schooled by Galadriel herself. For all that I know, she may be a hag, with greasy hair and a green wart on her hooked nose," he said with a smirk.

Glorfindel blinked, as if trying to digest this mental image. "Twelve years is a long time to you? Ah, but I forget you are a Man, and do not live long. But you speak without knowledge. Arwen is as beautiful as Luthien. She is like a goddess of the moon. You would bow before her and speak love poetry at a mere glimpse of her, I know you would. Your eye is too easily caught by pretty things," Glorfindel said with amusement.

"Perhaps. But if this Legolas is fairer than even she, perhaps I will bow before him and spout off love poetry."

"I thought Men did not dally with their own gender?"

Aragorn shrugged. "From what I remember, no. I have only dallied with one woman. And I have yet to touch an Elf, regardless of gender," he said quietly.

Glorfindel raised a golden eyebrow, his smile as fey as ever. "Ah, last year, when Elrond let you visit a town of Men. You bedded one of their females, then?"

"I was curious, and she was more than willing."

"I have never been with the race of Men. Was it disgusting?"

Aragorn's jaw worked. Glorfindel did not mean to suggest that Aragorn himself was disgusting, and yet the insinuation that bedding one of his race might be repulsive stung the young ranger. Yet he kept his tone light, for Glorfindel was merely bantering as they rode through Mirkwood upon their mounts.

"Nay. But it was little better than the pleasure I can bring myself," Aragorn said truthfully.

"Ah, but you should try your pleasures with an Elf, Estel. Whether male or female, one of us could bring you to heights of ecstasy you can only dream of," Glorfindel said with a coy smile.

Aragorn cast a glance at the beautiful Elf, wondering if Glorfindel was perhaps making a pass at him. He admitted to himself that the thought of dallying with one as beautiful as Glorfindel was certainly not a repulsive thought. Glorfindel was certainly fair, with white-blond hair, sky blue eyes, and a face that shone with Elven beauty. And they had long been friends, ever since Elrond had brought him to Rivendell as a child. But, regardless of any sort of attraction, Aragorn had no desire to sully his friendship with Glorfindel for a single night of pleasure.

"Ah, but what Elf would have a shaggy, unkempt Man such as myself?" Aragorn laughed, rubbing at his face. He still felt self-conscious about the facial hair he grew, while all the Elven men were smooth of face. He still remembered when it first grew in, and how he had ran to Elrond, terrified he was cursed with some foul bewitchment. And then Elrond, looking bemused, had to explain to him that Men normally grew hair on their face.

Glorfindel's bell-like voice rang out in laughter. "You underestimate your own beauty, Estel. I know many Elves who would have you. Some from pure curiosity," he said, casting another coy look in Aragorn's direction.

Aragorn frowned. He did not wish to be some Elf's passing whim, a novelty. He remained silent.

Glorfindel also sobered. They were very close to Mirkhaven, the capitol, already deep into the forest of Mirkwood. Soon, they would reach their destination, and take part of the revelry for the next week. Prince Legolas was celebrating his three-thousandth birthday, and Elrond had sent Glorfindel and Aragorn to represent Rivendell in the celebration. Elledan and Elrohir would also be there, as well as a few others, but it was Aragorn and Glorfindel who were charged with the delivery of Legolas' birthday presents, and formal congratulations. Both of their mounts were laden with various gifts.

"Tell me, Estel. Why have you chosen exile?" Glorfindel finally asked.

Aragorn sighed deeply. He knew the question would come up sooner or later. Elrond alone had accepted his decision without question. "I...am not comfortable with the race of Men. Nor do I wish the responsibility of being King. I do not think I deserve such a position, nor could I carry it well, despite what Lord Elrond says. The stewards of Gondor have watched over it well these past twelve years. What do they need with the long-lost King returning to them? A fool who knows nothing, whose blood is weak and tainted? Nay, I choose exile. I choose Rivendell. I choose the Elves, my true family. My only family," Aragorn sighed. He had known Glorfindel since he was a small child. He owed him the truth.

Glorfindel did not know what to say to that, so he remained silent, casting Aragorn a sympathetic glance. Silence fell over the two.

It was soon broken by an arrow shooting past them, and a loud retinue of horses thundering before Glorfindel and Aragorn. Aragorn roughly brought his mount to a halt, to avoid crashing into the white stallion that was rushing towards him. The sounds of startled horses filled the small clearing.

Aragorn cast an angry glance at the rider of the white stallion, prepared to lambaste him for such reckless riding. And then he caught sight of the rider, and not only forgot what he was going to say, but why.

Upon the white stallion was truly the fairest creature Aragorn had ever set eyes on. He was an Elf with long golden blond hair, and seductive blue eyes. The Elf's face was full of smooth, soft curves, that conveyed emotions by a simple lift of a dark eyebrow far better than any human could by lengthy discourse. His lips were full and sensuous, parted slightly, giving rise to less than pure thoughts. His body was as lithe as any Elf, and even while leaning forward to calm his mount, his body spoke of grace and limberness beyond even most Elves. And yet, despite his beauty, there was no doubt of his gender, unlike more than a few of his brethren. His face was smooth and soft, yet filled with the wide, strong lines of masculinity. His body was lithe and graceful, yet corded with powerful, slender muscles. The curves of his body were the curves of a male, without doubt.

"You are a Man!!" the beautiful blond rider cried, his dark blue eyes widened in surprise. His voice was slightly musical, and deeper than Aragorn expected. The sight of him caused Aragorn to ache all over. Never had he seen one as fair as this blond Elven incubus.

"Prince Legolas!! Greetings from Lord Elrond!! This is Estel, ward of Lord Elrond. Estel, this is his highness, Prince Legolas Greenleaf," Glorfindel cried, riding beside the white stallion and smiling broadly at the long-haired Elf.

Legolas barely cast a glance at Glorfindel, his eyes fixed on staring at the Man before him. Aragorn was more than content to stare back. "Greetings, Glorfindel. You and Elrond's ward have just ruined my hunt, but it is of little consequence," he said without petulance, to Aragorn's surprise. Two riders rode up behind Legolas. One was a lovely blond Elf woman and the other an equally lovely blond Elf man. They both bore a strong resemblance to Legolas, but neither could compete with his beauty.

"Deepest apologies, my Prince. If there is any way I may make it up to you, you need only ask," Glorfindel bowed from his horse.

Legolas cast a glance back the platinum blond-haired Elf, smirking slightly. "It seems I have heard that line before. Isn't that what you said the last time we met, and you tried to coax me into your bed?" the beautiful blond asked haughtily, shaking his long, golden hair.

Glorfindel scowled, looking annoyed. Aragorn's face split into a grin at the Elf's embarrassment, all while wondering what such hair would feel like under his hands.

Legolas leaned forward, studying Aragorn intently. "Never have I seen a Man up close before. Why do you have fur on your face?" he asked.

Aragorn frowned. "All Men grow facial hair, Prince Legolas," he said evenly, trying not to be sensitive. Rare was the day that passed that Aragorn did not wish he had also been born to the race of Elves.

"Like dwarves then? Or Mithrandir?"

"Something like that," Aragorn shrugged.

Legolas reached out and ran a hand across Aragorn's jaw, causing Aragorn to jump back. He was not used to being touched. Legolas quickly withdrew his hand, looking surprised that anyone would withdraw from his touch.

"I meant no harm, Estel. I only wished to know what it felt like," Legolas said.

Aragorn nodded his head, but still brought his mount back from Legolas'. He was not used to being touched, and it made him nervous. Legolas drew himself up at Aragorn's retreat, looking mildly bewildered, and slightly offended. The complicated, and oft subtle emotions that played across his face fascinated Aragorn.

Legolas motioned behind, gesturing at the Elven woman behind him. "This is my elder sister, Leinaline, and this," he said, gesturing to the male behind him, "is my fifth-eldest brother, Madierin."

Aragorn bowed politely to Legolas' siblings, ignoring the openly hostile look of Prince Madierin and coolly aloof expression of Princess Leinaline. Glorfindel bowed as well, looking bored. His eyes never left Legolas. Nor did Aragorn's.

"Well, since you are already here, and have ruined my hunt, we might as well ride back to Mirkhaven together. If that suits you," Legolas said airily to both Aragorn and Glorfindel. Aragorn did not miss how Legolas, despite being the youngest, was without a doubt, in charge.

"Indeed it does, your highness. We would be delighted to accompany three creatures of such beauty we in Rivendell have not seen since Lady Arwen left for Lorien centuries ago," Glorfindel smiled, flashing his white teeth at Legolas. The youngest Prince of Mirkwood looked highly unimpressed by the compliment. Aragorn was not able to stifle his groan of exasperation at Glorfindel's blatant and undisguised attempts to gain him favor in Legolas' eyes.

Legolas heard the noise, and flashed a small, secretive smile in Aragorn's direction. Aragorn blinked, his heart skipping a beat, despite himself. Privately, he wondered if being raised by the sexually open race of Elves had affected his sexuality as well. He'd never heard of any Men who favored their own gender. But then, he had to admit he was a small child when he was taken in by Lord Elrond.

Legolas turned his impressive stallion towards Mirkhaven, and they resumed their journey. Aragorn remained silent, while Glorfindel kept trying to draw Legolas into conversation. However, the blond beauty studiously ignored Glorfindel, being far too preoccupied with staring at Aragorn with unabashed curiosity. Aragorn shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He hated being stared at.

Glorfindel soon gave up and started flirting with Princes Leinaline, who seemed pleased to have the Elven lord's attention. Prince Madierin was still snarling at Aragorn, especially when Legolas guided his mount to ride up beside Aragorn's.

Legolas was very close, his leg mere inches from Aragorn's as he rode beside him, watching him with interest. Aragorn could smell Legolas. The Elf smelled of summer blossoms and honeysuckle. Aragorn was well-versed enough in sexuality to wonder if the Elf tasted like honey, as well.

"Estel is an Elven name. You are no Elf," Legolas said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"I was born Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Estel is the Elven name Lord Elrond gave me when he brought me into his house," Aragorn responded quietly, wondering what sort of meaningless drivel Legolas would draw him into. It was Aragorn's experience that some of the most beautiful Elves were painfully dull to converse with. Glorfindel was the only exception Aragorn knew of.

"Then I shall call you Aragorn, for that is your true name. What does Aragorn mean, anyway?" Legolas asked.

"I have no idea."

"How could you not know the meaning of your own name?"

"I was six years of age when my parents died. That is young, even by human standards, your highness. Forgive me if I do not know the meaning of my own name," Aragorn said testily, wishing the dizzying beauty would leave him be.

Legolas' face fell. "I am sorry. My mother died giving birth to me. But I think to have known your parents and then lose them would hurt even more," Legolas said gently.

Aragorn looked up into Legolas' face, finding sympathy and comfort. It surprised him. He did not expect Legolas to have any sort of depth to him.

"So tell me, Aragorn, what is your profession? What has Lord Elrond taught you? He is a great man, of great wisdom."

"I am a ranger. I was taught not only by Lord Elrond, but by Glorfindel, and many others."

"Ah, so you keep company with that scamp?" Legolas asked, looking with irritation towards Glorfindel.

Aragorn shrugged. "His technique might have gotten a bit rusty over the millennia, but Glorfindel has a good heart. I consider him a friend," he said, a bit shortly. Aragorn drew himself up, prepared to defend his friend's honor.

Legolas must have sensed this. "Forgive me, Aragorn. I meant no offense. I have know Glorfindel for two millennia, and I know he is a good Elf. I just tire of his incessant empty compliments and untiring desire to bed me," he said.

Aragorn cast a glance at Legolas. "You are easily the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, and I have spent twelve years in Rivendell, surrounded by your people. You must forgive Glorfindel, Prince Legolas. He is dazzled by your beauty," Aragorn said gently.

Legolas snorted, a sound unbecoming to his beauty. "You speak too highly of him. Glorfindel, like everyone else, sees a bauble to be possessed, a pretty little toy for him to boast about bedding. I am naught but a bed warmer to him. He cares not for me, or what I think or wish. None of them do," he said bitterly.

Aragorn blinked and turned his face to Legolas. The Elven prince was frowning, a decided look of unhappiness on his face. "Do you not have any friends...?" Aragorn asked gently. "Someone who listens to you?"

Legolas turned his face towards Aragorn. "Nay. They all wish to play upon my father's favor by playing on mine. Yes, I have my father's ear, and yes, he favors me. Because I earned it, not because I am the fairest. The fact that I am his youngest might affect him, but I earned his favor. At just three thousand, I am a better archer than my eldest brother, who is two-thousand years older than I am. I don't follow examples, I set them. I can lead armies, defeat trolls single-handedly, and put an arrow through a grape at nine-hundred yards. But no one cares or notices, because they see me as the stepping stone to their position of power, or a new pet for them to play with. I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this," Legolas said sourly.

Aragorn smiled ever so slightly, his lips curving up on the right side of his handsome face. "Perhaps because your brother looks at me like I am an Orc who just propositioned him, or because your sister looks at me like I'm something rather nasty she found on her shoe. I'm used to not being understood or accepted for what I am. True, I may be a Man, but I was raised by Elves for most of my life. I know your ways better than my own. And I learn faster," he said gently.

Legolas smirked. "Perhaps that is it. It appears, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, that we have something else in common," he smirked.

" 'Something else'? Pray tell, what other things have we in common?" Aragorn asked, bringing his water skin to his lips.

"Glorfindel fancies both of us."

Aragorn choked on his water, spurting it out on his horse's mane. Legolas' brother scowled deeply at him for that, while Glorfindel blinked in surprise. Aragorn wiped the water from his chin, watching Legolas shake with silent laughter.

"Truly...?" Aragorn said.

"Truly. He gets the same look of desire on his face for you, as he does for me. Have you not noticed? His subtlety on the battlefield does not extend to his dalliances in my experience," Legolas smirked.

"Well, I thought perhaps I was placing meaning to things that should not have meaning," Aragorn said thoughtfully. "But, despite our friendship, or perhaps for it, I have no desire to dally with him."

Legolas fell silent, as did Aragorn. Aragorn kept watching the Prince, fascinated by the Elven beauty, and the expressive face. As they reached Mirkhaven, Aragorn marveled over the beauty of the tree city.

"You truly have as lovely a home as Rivendell, Prince Legolas," Aragorn said generously.

Legolas cast a sidelong glance at him. "Legolas. You may refer to me as Legolas. Honorifics are unnecessary for you. And I thank you for your sincerity. On behalf of my people, I accept your compliment for my home," Legolas smiled.

Aragorn nodded gracefully, and then withdrew behind the other Elves as Legolas led them to his palace, a structure carved entirely from crystallized tree sap. He received more than a few stares, so Aragorn put the hood of his cloak up.

And wondered privately at why Legolas seemed to have taken a liking to him so quickly.

       

Despite the haughty nature of his seven children, King Thranduil was as friendly as they came.

The King of Mirkwood was almost jovial in nature and doted on his youngest son constantly. He seemed thrilled and delighted to have a Man in his home, and peppered Aragorn with question after question of his people. Aragorn's back was starting to throb from all the times Thranduil had affectionately clapped him on the back. Despite his slender form, Thranduil was as strong as a bear. Legolas obviously favored his mother in appearance, as Thranduil was as attractive as any Elf, but didn't turn heads the way his youngest son did.

Legolas seemed to brighten around his father, and they obviously shared a rapport that made Aragorn rather jealous. Laughs and jokes came easily between them, and it was obvious father and son adored each other. King Thranduil seemed such a polar opposite to the dignified Elrond, the closest thing to a father Aragorn had. Aragorn's eyes nearly popped from his head when Thranduil goosed one of the pretty Elf girls who brought them dinner. Even the idea of Elrond goosing someone was so beyond Aragorn's comprehension that he couldn't even mentally picture it.

Aragorn stayed quiet after Thranduil lost interest in him and moved onto questioning Glorfindel about Rivendell. He found Legolas watching him during dinner, but Aragorn quickly looked away. He found his face growing hot, and his mind wandering down the road less traveled. Glorfindel was right. His eyes was too easily caught by pretty things.

Thranduil's loud, booming voice, a voice that seemed out of place on the fair race of Elves, startled Aragorn from his less than pure thoughts of Legolas.

"Ah, yes, it is a tradition, young Glorfindel. In two days is Samain Night, and part of my son's birthday celebration. Tomorrow morn we will travel to the southern borders of Mirkwood, and hunt the White Stag in his honor," Thranduil said.

"The whole court, your majesty? To hunt a single stag?" Glorfindel asked in disbelief. Aragorn blinked. It seemed a bit of overkill.

"Of course. You shall enjoy it! The White Stag only appears once every Elven generation. He is a spirit of the Mirkwood forest guardian, and a consort of Iluvatar. The object of the hunt is not to kill the White Stag, as a Man might do, but to simply hunt him. It is very symbolic. His appearance often heralds a member of the royal family falling in love. You've heard of the great romance of Queen Kasillia and Jullion the Fair, my mother and father? They fell in love during the hunt of the White Stag, as did I with my late wife, Queen Legalan. I hope that perhaps I can get a marriage for one of my children out of this," Thranduil beamed, smiling at all seven of his children, though his eyes rested on Legolas the longest.

Aragorn took a bite of his food thoughtfully, wondering what hunting a forest spirit would be like. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he missed how Legolas' eyes rested on him during the rest of the meal.

       

As a rule, Aragorn loathed crowds. And being surrounded by the boisterous King Thranduil and his entire court of Elven courtiers for the past two days was enough to drive him mad.

King Thranduil spoke to Aragorn like he was a child, and all but Legolas of his children sneered at Aragorn like he was a dog who thought himself worthy to sit at his master's table. Most of the court either ignored Aragorn, or whispered about him behind his back. Out of the entire court, only those from Rivendell would speak to Aragorn as an equal. And Legolas did as well, whenever the blond beauty could manage to detach himself from his attendants.

Aragorn was beginning to understand why Legolas was unhappy with his life. Night and day, Legolas was literally surrounded by courtiers who wished to catch his eye. To maintain diplomacy, the youngest Prince of Mirkwood forced himself to be polite and cordial to every Elf who clamored for his attention. Aragorn stayed as far away from Legolas as he could when he was surrounded by Elves, mostly to avoid the dark glares and poisonous verbal barbs he received the moment Legolas would smile at him and pay him a bit of attention.

Of course, the fact that Legolas seemed to go out of his way to talk to Aragorn was disconcerting. The Elf seemed to be making an effort to gain Aragorn's friendship. And Aragorn found himself genuinely liking the beautiful Elf. Though he seemed aloof and distant to most, Aragorn found that Legolas was not only intelligent and intuitive, but witty and even slightly impish. Aragorn and Legolas shared many interests, and Aragorn would have liked nothing better than to share a private conversation with Legolas, but the courtiers were making it rather difficult.

Night was falling on the Mirkwood, and the revelry for Samain had already begun. Since camp was made, and the hunt for the White Stag suspended, Aragorn decided to spend the party reading in private. He got up to leave camp with a book of Elvish poetry in hand, passing by where Prince Madierin sat with a few of his friends.

"I honestly think my brother fancies the Man! Can you believe it? My own brother, the fairest in all Mirkwood, wishes to dally with a Man? The filthy beast grows fur on his face. How can Legolas even consider the possibility of laying with such a loathsome creature? His whole race are naught but destructive wretches who tear down trees to build their filthy little hovels," Madierin hissed to his friends, and they laughed.

Aragorn paused, swallowing convulsively. The full light of the moon shone through the trees, and the sounds of Elven revelry floated past him. He felt as though he had been stung with a whip.

"And my father seems not to care. Legolas is his little pet, and if Legolas wishes to dally with a human man, my father thinks it is all well and good. I think my youngest brother needs to be reigned in. He does as he pleases, and to hell with the rest of Mirkwood, it seems. I am tired of being pushed aside in favor of the little brat," Madierin spat, oozing jealousy.

Aragorn left the camp, heading to a tree to sit by. He tried to open the book, but despite the well-lit night, Aragorn could not take his mind off the insults Madierin had dealt both him and his race. Nor could he stop wondering if Legolas did indeed fancy him. For Aragorn found himself fancying the Elven Prince, but had assumed he had little chance at interesting the blond beauty.

Aragorn mulled this over. He had never thought to be so caught up in anyone, much less another male. But Aragorn had long ago set aside the notion that gender affected a person. He found equal value in both men and women, though had not seriously considered another male sexually.

Until Legolas, with his smooth, male beauty, had come along. Talking to someone who was, by Elven standards, not far from his age, and who shared his interests was refreshing. An Elf who saw him not as a Man, but as a person. An Elf, who strangely enough, understood how he felt. Aragorn could not wholly attribute his growing desires and fantasies for Legolas to be a mere byproduct of his adolescent urges.

Aragorn sat up, hearing footsteps, however soft. He closed his book abruptly, and found Glorfindel wandering out into the clearing. Glorfindel looked unusually serious.

"Have you seen Prince Legolas, Estel?" Glorfindel asked.

Aragorn's brow creased. "Nay. What is wrong? Has something happened?" he asked.

"Legolas has been missing for hours. Since his bath. He never returned. His clothes are gone, as well as his stallion, Ivorymane. His father thinks he went to hunt the White Stag on his own."

"I shall begin looking for him," Aragorn said, dropping his book, and picking up his sword, grateful he had thought to bring it with him. Glorfindel nodded, and disappeared to continue his search.

Aragorn was a very skilled ranger. At the mere age of eighteen, Aragorn could do things Elves millennia older than he couldn't. Taught by Lord Elrond himself, Aragorn could track a bird, hunt a fox, and heal all but the most grievous of wounds. His observation skills, intelligence, speed, and strength were far beyond any normal Man and most Elves.

Which is why he found Legolas first.

       

The smell of residual sleeping powder caused Aragorn to narrow his eyes. It was far too weak and diluted to affect him, but the mere fact that he could still smell something that quickly dissolved in air indicated there had been a lot thrown around. Aragorn jumped off his mount, and tied the steed to a tree.

Trees had been felled, and the signs of axes in trees marked this area of the forest. Wary, and with every sense pricked up for the slightest disturbance, Aragorn slowly, silently unsheathed his blade and crept along the tree line, following the trail of corpses.

Aragorn counted seven dead Men, all with arrows sticking out of vital spots of their bodies. Legolas did not lie about his archery skill. He had not missed a single target. Aragorn plucked one of the arrows out the last body and tucked it away. They had not even buried their dead.

He found the camp of Men only a mere mile from the spot of where their dead lay. Aragorn hid amongst the trees, watching and scouting his enemy. He saw two Men laughing, while one hacked at a tall tree with an axe for the sheer fun of it. Ivorymane, Legolas' white stallion, was tied to that tree, and bore marks of a whip on his flanks. His ears were flattened and he pawed at the ground while watching the men hack at his tree. Aragorn gritted his teeth, finding himself loathing his race and their callousness.

Blood raced behind his eyes when he saw Legolas tied up like a criminal, thrown into the middle of the camp. Two Men poked at him with sticks, while another dozen or so watched in interest. Aragorn could hear them talking, and reached back into his mind to recall the tongue of his people. The accent was familiar, and Aragorn placed the Men to be from somewhere in Rohan.

"That horse will fetch a high price, I tell you," said a grizzled man in his middle years, with a scar over one dead eye, and a foul smelling pipe dangling from his lips.

"Not if you keep beating it when it bites you whenever you get too close, Nicodemus," another of the Men, a large, greasy man with a drooping beard sneered.

"Ah, shaddup, Monty. But this here Elf will fetch an even higher price, I think," Nicodemus sneered, poking Legolas again with his stick. Aragorn gritted his teeth. Slavery went against every fiber in his being.

Legolas seemed to be half-conscious, his face covered in yellow powder. No doubt they had thrown a full bag of sleeping powder in the Elf's face to knock him unconscious. If Legolas had been human, he'd no doubt be dead.

"Sure you want to sell him, boss? He's awful pretty..." a younger man with greasy red hair and shifty green eyes asked as he bent down beside Legolas, and started stroking the long, golden hair. Legolas struggled weakly, still too drugged to do much of anything but moan softly.

"Bando gots a point, Nicodemus," Monty said, sneering maliciously. "Never had me an Elf before. I want to know what it feels like."

"You can have a bit of fun with him if you like, but it's still a male. I ain't got no interest in him. But when you're done, we sell him. He'd be worth pots of gold to the right buyer," Nicodemus shrugged, poking Legolas again.

Aragorn felt bile in the back of his throat. What sort of Men did this? Destroyed trees and raped Elves? Sold them into slavery? Aragorn had never been so angry in his life. His hands shook.

But he had to control himself. He was up against over a dozen Men, all armed. He had to wait until just the right moment. Monty and Bando were preoccupied with arguing over who would get a turn with Legolas first, while Nicodemus sat down on a log, smoking his pipe while watching the other two without interest. Most of the other Men were watching Monty and Bando argue over Legolas. The man who had been axing the tree collapsed in a drunken stupor, while his friends laughed at him. Apparently, they had been having some sort of test of strength.

But still, Aragorn waited. Two many Men who were still too easily able to draw swords. Aragorn didn't honestly know if he was capable of fighting all these Men. True, he been trained by Glorfindel and Elrond, but he had never actually been in a real battle. Who knew how it could turn out? He could get both himself and Legolas killed. Maybe he could hold off until the Men had dropped off to sleep, and then sneak in and rescue Legolas. Surely Monty or Bando would wait until the others had fallen asleep...

But Aragorn realized how wrong he was when Monty decided to put on a little show. The large, greasy Man pulled Legolas up by the hair, causing the half-conscious Elf to whimper in pain. He yanked on Legolas' pants, sneering at Bando who withdrew, bearing a bloody wound on his arm. Legolas whimpered again, struggling weakly against his bonds as the Man pawed at him, trying to remove his pants while leaving him bound.

Aragorn's green eyes widened at the depravity, and a dark memory flashed across his mind. A memory of hiding in the trees his father had put him in moments before he was run through by an Orc's sword. A memory of the Orcs throwing his mother to the ground, and tearing at her clothes. The sound of Legolas’ pants tearing seemed to coincide with the ripping sound of his mother's dress in his mind. Though he had been young, and not entirely sure of what was going on at the time, even as a small child, Aragorn knew what the Orcs proceeded to do to his mother was horrible. And as his adult mind focused on the foul memory, and the realization of what could happen to the Elven prince if he waited even a second longer, drew Aragorn to action, heedless of precaution and safety.

With a banshee war cry, the dark-haired ranger sprang from the trees, startling the entire camp of Men. Monty dropped Legolas in surprise. In seconds, just as Aragorn reached them, the group of Men had all drawn swords.

Aragorn heard naught but the blood rushing in his ears. He was possessed by rage. It seemed the Orcs who had murdered his parents and raped his mother were reincarnated in human form, and stood before him. Aragorn didn't even realize he had killed three Men until he stepped before Monty, and noted that blood dripped from his sword.

A crossbow caused Aragorn to take a step back to avoid it, but with grace and speed that seemed more Elven than human, Aragorn stepped back, and brushed aside Monty's short sword with ease, and with one fell swoop he cut the man who had attempted to rape Legolas in two. He met Bando's blade, and despite the redhead's youth, Bando proved to be his toughest opponent yet.

Blood sprayed across Aragorn's face as he hacked past Bando's guard and removed his lower right arm. The redhead screamed, and Aragorn ran him through. The ruffians had fallen back from the sheer ferocity of Aragorn's attack, but were pressing back in. Aragorn bent down and quickly cut off Legolas' bindings, setting the Elf on his feet as he dueled with two opponents.

"Run, Legolas!! Get out of here!!" Aragorn cried, shoving the half-conscious Elf away from him as he kicked out to block another incoming attack. Legolas blindly stumbled away, lost in a daze.

Aragorn could vaguely make out Nicodemus screaming out orders to his men in the background, but he paid little heed. He was lost in a dance of death, his sword dancing from blade to blade, and Aragorn felt only half-connected. Everything Elrond and Glorfindel had drilled into him about battle ran on instinct for him. He felt he should cut to the right, he felt he should back swing, he felt he should kick the man to his left in the head and then remove his head. Every movement of his blade, every step, every kick, every twist of his wrist meant something in this fight. It was as if Aragorn was born to battle, and had never lived before this moment. He was in his element.

He was fighting against those who had fallen to evil.

Aragorn spun and cut into the shoulder blade of one of the Men, slicing downwards into his waist, and then kicked the corpse away from him as he swung his sword behind him, causing a knife thrown at him to glance off his blade. The roar of death, the screams of the dying, filled his ears with the sweet satisfaction of delivering justice.

And then there was only Nicodemus left. Aragorn met the older Man sword-to-sword, and stared in the remaining blue eye. The man's face was flecked with spittle and anger. His one good eye burned with hatred for Aragorn.

"Why are you here??" Aragorn cried, finding himself suddenly pressed backwards by the vicious assault of the ruffian's leader.

"You're a Man!!" Nicodemus cried, spinning his blade as he blocked Aragorn’s blade chop. He was close enough to see that this Man who fought like an Elf, was no Elf.

"Why are you here in this forest, you bastard??" Aragorn cried, trying desperately to block Nicodemus' strong blows.

"I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life locked up in prison for knifing some fool behind a tavern!! We all escaped the dungeons of Rohan. This forest seemed as good as any to hide in," Nicodemus snarled, ducking below Aragorn's swing, and managing to knee the younger man in the stomach before rolling away.

"Then you are twice a fool, old man. For this is Mirkwood. Even if you slay me, an entire court of Elves will hunt you down for your crimes. And they are not as merciful as Men," Aragorn hissed, sucking in his breath and trying to ignore the pain in his gut. Nicodemus' sword cut past his parry, and sliced open his shoulder.

Aragorn refused to cry out, or let the pain get to him. Nicodemus was clever, and was pulling feints and tricks that Aragorn did not expect. But Aragorn was not going to let some escaped convict defeat him, no matter how much battle experience the other man had.

"Tell me, boy, how is it that a Man can fight like an Elf?" Nicodemus growled, hacking at Aragorn's weakening block.

"Simple. By being taught by an Elf," Aragorn smirked, spinning like a dancer away from Nicodemus' blow. He swung around with lightning speed, faster than any normal human could muster, and hacked into Nicodemus' side. The older man cried out and fell to his knee.

"I doubt the people of Rohan shall suffer for the lack of your presence," Aragorn hissed, and drove his sword into the grizzled man's stomach. Nicodemus bent over on the ground, blood pouring out from his body.

Aragorn drew in his breath deeply and then exhaled. His limbs trembled, and he felt dizzy. He turned his head, looking desperately for Legolas.

The Elf was stumbling towards his wounded horse, moaning softly. He was completely out of it, unaware of everything that had just transpired. Ivorymane whinnied and neighed, tugging at his ropes as he tried to get to his approaching master.

Legolas held his hands out, smiling at the beautiful stallion. "Ivorymane..." he said softly.

The horse pulled violently at his bindings, trying to break free to reach Legolas. The tree had been hacked into halfway by one of the Men's axes, and trembled at the horse's struggling, threatening to fall.

Aragorn cried out, and dashed towards Legolas, seeing the fall of the great tree in his mind's eye.

"Ivorymane...come to me..." Legolas mumbled, stumbling towards his horse and then falling to his knees, his eyes fluttering in his drugged stupor.

"No!! Ivorymane!! No!!" Aragorn cried out, but it was too late. The white horse gave a great heave at his bindings with all his considerable might, trying desperately to reach Legolas. Just as his ropes snapped, the tree started to crash to the ground.

Aragorn screamed in frustration, and reached Legolas with blinding speed, crashing into the dazed Elf, causing them to both tumble away from the falling tree. Aragorn closed his eyes as he heard the horse's scream mix with the resounding echo of the tree crashing into ground. Ivorymane had not been able to escape the great tree, being so focused on reaching his master.

Aragorn sat up sadly, casting a glance at the fallen tree behind him. A white leg stuck out from underneath the mighty tree, twitching slightly and then stilling. Aragorn bowed his head.

Despite the daze Legolas was lost in, the sound of him keening over his horse's loss made Aragorn's heart bleed.

       

"I am sorry for the loss of your steed, Legolas," Aragorn said softly three hours later, as he laid Legolas' recovered bow and arrow at his side.

Legolas had dug Ivorymane free with his bare hands, and then buried the horse. He had not let Aragorn help him, or spoken to the Man at all. Aragorn had the feeling that Ivorymane had been the only real friend that Legolas truly had.

"He was the last of the breed. I'd birthed him, and helped him stand when he was just a foal. He was mighty, my Ivorymane. He could run as fast the wind, and there was many a time I would just ride him, when I wished to be alone. He would guard me while I slept, and nuzzle me when I felt down. I loved him more than I do my own brothers," Legolas finally said. He was still knelt before the horse's grave, and had not turned to look Aragorn at all.

Aragorn turned his face. "Would you rather I had saved him than you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You think too little of yourself, Legolas. A horse's life cannot compare to yours, even such a horse as Ivorymane."

"If I had only not called him, he would not have pulled at his bindings."

" 'If I had only' takes you nowhere, Legolas. I am sorry for the loss of your fine steed, but I am not sorry that I saved your life. I think you are worth saving. And I would sorely miss your presence in my life had you died, though we have only just met but a few days ago."

Legolas finally looked back at Aragorn, who stood over him, smiling sadly down at him. Legolas' face was wet with tears. On impulse, Aragorn reached out and brushed the tears from Legolas' face gently. Legolas closed his eyes at the touch, and smiled ever so slightly back. Legolas opened his eyes after a moment, but then they widened.

"You have forgotten one thing, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Legolas said gravely.

Aragorn blinked. "What..?" he asked. He blinked, and as he did so, Legolas reached down and picked up his bow and nocked back an arrow with speed befitting a Prince of Elves. Aragorn took half a step back in alarm, turning partly and catching the glint of metal at the same time the twang of Legolas' bowstring told of an arrow being loosed.

Time seemed to slow down for a moment, an eternity stretching across a second. Aragorn fell back as his equilibrium was thrown off. The whoosh of the arrow flying past him filled his ears, and he felt the wind of its passing cause his hair to blow about. He saw something metal and sharp arcing towards his heart, but it's movement was stilled as the arrow pierced the wrist of the hand that held the knife.

Nicodemus screamed and fell to his knees, clutching at his wrist. He turned his grizzled face towards Legolas in surprise, right before the second arrow hit him in his good eye.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

"That," Legolas answered evenly, and angry snarl formed on his lips at the sight of the evil Man.

Aragorn was silent, and suddenly realized with a drop in his stomach that he had been so absorbed in Legolas' pain that he had not noticed the Man sneaking up behind him. He had almost died, and certainly would have if Legolas had not been so quick or so accurate with his bow.

"When you run someone through, young Aragorn, make sure you run through their heart, not their stomach. It can take hours, even days, before your opponent dies of a stomach wound, if done improperly," Legolas said with the same air that Elrond took when Aragorn had a mistake.

Aragorn nodded, rendered speechless, the close call causing his heart to flutter.

"And thank you...my friend," Legolas smiled, and before Aragorn could even respond, the Elf had placed a gentle kiss on Aragorn's lips, before turning away.

Legolas collected his belongings, and climbed upon Aragorn's mount, after casting one last glance at Ivorymane's grave. After a moment, Aragorn climbed up after him.

"You are welcome...my friend," Aragorn said gruffly, touched. He put his arms around Legolas to reach the reigns of his horse, and had the pleasant sensation of the beautiful Elf leaning against his chest as they set off back for their camp.

For many, Samain is a time of magic, or of power. For some, it is a time of revelry, and of eerie happenings. But on that night, for Aragorn, it was time of lessons learned, and of friendships gained. He learned what was like to kill a man, and while he did not enjoy the sensation, he understood its necessity. Aragorn hoped he would not have to fight like that ever again. And he hoped Legolas might return his growing desires, and perhaps they could grow to be something more than friends.

But of course, fate had other ideas for him and Legolas both.

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