Rating: NC-17, PG this chapter
Summary: See chapter one.
Disclaimers: I am NOT Tolkien. All known characters are his and the names of most or all OCs are Tolkien’s as well.
Warnings: Remember, this is slash; Very AU Aragorn/Legolas Mpreg fiction. Major angst; un-betaed, all mistakes are mine. Please read chapter one for full warnings.
A/N: This chapter will deal with Aragorn and Legolas in Edoras; Éowyn, Théodred and King Théoden will be present, adding to the angst for our lovers. Just a brief explanation about two things: The first is that I was recently made aware that one ‘Elvish’ phrase that I have occasionally used i. e. ‘coramin’ (endearment/my heart) is not a Tolkien word, but one termed ‘Grelvish’ which is not actual Elvish (I never heard this before). So, I would like to apologize to my readers for any mistakes in Elvish or English, etc. that I make from now on.
The second point I’d like to put forth is this: When I use a word like slighter or slender when referring to Legolas, it does not mean that he is short or delicate or effeminate, etc. I only use these to show that compared to Aragorn and mortal men, his build is not broad, but like all Tolkien elves. In Faramir’s case, he is slightly shorter than Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas and Éomer for instance, so for him, ‘slighter’ or slender will be a bit different, but not effeminate in any way (I am basing most of the main characters on the movie actors portraying them—more on this in later chapters). One final thing about Éowyn; remember that she is 18 years old and since Sauron and most of the Evil that plagued Middle-earth were defeated during the Last Alliance, she is not as war-minded as or as grim as in canon; but her fascination with swords and being able to protect herself is still present. In many ways, she is like Legolas (sheltered and somewhat naïve). Thanks.
Thoughts and stressed words denoted by * *
The trek from the White Falls was as a funeral procession. Horses and riders moving slowly and two-deep in a near straight line save where the two princes rode—their guards flanking protectively. Somber faces were worn by all (mirroring Aragorn’s and Legolas’) and talking was kept to a minimum except for the occasional order. And the only noises were comprised of the clip-clopping of shod hooves and the braying of their horses.
Aragorn glanced to his side to where Legolas rode astride a gray mare. Cerulean blue eyes met his briefly before turning away to stare ahead once more. The turmoil the Peredhel witnessed tore at his soul and he cursed himself for being the cause of it.
Legolas closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to push back his tears. The pain in his heart was nearly unbearable; he hated making Aragorn suffer. Desperate was the elf’s desire to feel the Dúnadan’s arms around him, holding him close as they often did atop Brego. But his guilt and shame kept them apart. Every moment Legolas spent wanting Aragorn was as a slap across the faces of his ada and muindeir who were so concerned for him. As they suffered, so must he and Aragorn—there was no other solution.
The Rohirric soldier riding up front the procession gave a glad whoop as the chief city of Edoras came into view. The delighted sound brought his companions out of their grave moods and the other Eorlingas soon followed suit upon seeing the welcome sight. Even Legolas and Aragorn forgot their troubles briefly and the group unconsciously hastened their pace. Seeing Legolas’ smile as he watched the blond riders cheer, made the Gondoran Prince smile too and he joined in on the raucous cheering, spurring Brego into a gallop.
Less than an hour later, they all were passing through the city gates. From his position, Aragorn grinned widely as he spotted the Royal Family waiting atop the porch leading into Meduseld, King Théoden’s Golden Hall. He could see Éowyn as she jumped up and down much as she always had since she was a small girl the closer the group came. His elvish sight clearly caught Théodred’s roll of the eyes as well as Théoden-King’s fond, indulgent smile at her delight.
Not able to stand it any longer, Éowyn tore down the stairs coming to stand atop the last few steps still bouncing and waving.
“Aragorn! Aragorn!” She shouted in joy.
“Éowyn,” the Dúnadan said tenderly as he hopped down from Brego.
He had only gone two steps before he found himself with arms full of laughing Éowyn. Chucking in response, he swung her around and around before he kissed her forehead.
“Oh come now, Your Highness—you can do better than that!” Éowyn declared before kissing Aragorn squarely on the lips.
Aragorn laughed delightedly, spanking her bottom before setting her back on her feet. Legolas’ heart tripped at the display, thinking that this girl had some claim to Aragorn. *What a fool I’ve been,* he thought. He had no way of knowing that Éowyn and Aragorn were making fun of Théodred and Boromir, both having witnessed the two in one of the stables a few years back as Boromir uttered those very words to the Second Marshal of the Mark before pulling the younger man into a passionate kiss.
Aragorn was sixteen at the time and Éowyn fourteen and they both found the show highly amusing and proceeded to act out what they had seen at dinner that very night to Théodred’s and Boromir’s chagrin before Aragorn and Éowyn fell to the floor laughing. The two didn’t realize it, but their little play also saw the beginning of King Théoden’s plans to make Éowyn Gondor’s next queen. But the Greenwood Prince knew nothing of any of this and he nursed his already aching heart, reinforcing his vow to keep Aragorn at arms length.
“It is so good to see you again, but we did not expect you back for another month or so—where is Faramir?” Éowyn inquired, barely taking a breath.
“He said that he was going to join you, Boromir and Éomer at Outpost 40—did you see him?” She began looking behind Aragorn to check that she had not missed the handsome young man.
Spotting Legolas, her pretty blue eyes grew wide. “Who is that?” She blinked, smiling kindly before moving stand by Legolas’ horse reaching her hand up the blond wood-elf.
“Hello there; my name is Éowyn and what is yours?” Legolas looked from the pretty young woman to Aragorn and back again.
He took her hand as he had recently learned was the way most men greeted each other, but he did not speak at first. Thinking that Legolas may be apprehensive to see his first ever mortal female, Aragorn came forward, followed by King Théoden and Théodred.
“Éowyn—I’d like for you to meet Prince Legolas of Greenwood the Great. Legolas—this is Lady Éowyn, Princess of the Riddermark.”
Legolas smiled at Éowyn; he could not help but like her. “Hello, Hiril-nin—I am pleased to meet you,” the wood-elf said in his heavily accented voice.
Aragorn stared at Legolas with naked love in his eyes; he could only see his beloved as everyone else melted into the background so he did not see Théodred’s reaction to Legolas. The young, dark-blond stared with wide eyes much in the manner that Éowyn had; but there the similarities ended. Legolas was simply the loveliest being he had ever set upon and his attraction to the elf was instantaneous.
“You know, Aragorn—for a man of noble birth, your manners are sorely lacking!” Théodred quipped.
“Théodred!” King Théoden uttered, placing his hand on his son’s shoulders.
He was used to Théodred, Aragorn and the rest of the Princes Band speaking thusly to each other, but he did not think it appropriate to do so in front of Legolas who was an Elven prince from afar.
Aragorn chuckled, for his friend was correct; he seemed to have forgotten his manners so he made up for it by introducing Legolas to Rohan’s King and Heir.
“Here, Prince Legolas—let me help you down from there,” Théodred offered as he reached up both hands to encircle the Sinda’s waist, picking Legolas up and off his borrowed steed before he could say yea or nay.
Taking his sweet time, he finally set Legolas to stand on his own, but did not immediately release him—pretending to steady the beautiful elf.
Legolas blushed deeply as he stood before the handsome young man of Rohan, saying meekly, “Hannon le,” stepping away.
If looks could kill, then Rohan would have been short one Second Marshal. Aragorn frowned darkly, eyes boring a hole through his dear friend. Not caring if Legolas protested or not, Aragorn grabbed his hand, pulling the slighter male close to him and away from Théodred.
Éowyn—ever the sharp one—observed the maneuver and smirked under her hand. Now how to act out this little scene to Faramir, Boromir and her brother when they returned, she pondered. This will be good!
“Legolas and I are a bit tired, not having slept much these past days, so I will escort him to the guest manor.” Aragorn draped his arm protectively across the wood-elf’s shoulders, turning him towards the afore mentioned domicile just to the left and beyond the main hall.
“I’ll come, too!” Éowyn stepped next to Legolas, linking her arm with his, effectually pulling him from Aragorn’s embrace.
A short time later in the Guest House...
“I hope these rooms are to your liking, Your Highness,” Éowyn gushed. “I’ve never before met an elf nor have I ever been to an Elven realm—which is redundant, isn’t? Of course, if I’ve never met an elf, then I certainly wouldn’t have visited one of your realms without running into at least one elf; unless you count Eregion that used to be an Elven realm, but isn’t anymore—of course I haven’t actually been there, but I did pass there once on my way to Tharbad when I was an infant with my parents; but of course, I don’t remember that as I...”
Aragorn shook his head as he tried in vain to suppress a laugh at Éowyn’s long narrative to Legolas. And Legolas smiled warmheartedly at her as she continued.
“...Is Greenwood as beautiful as I’ve heard? I mean, I have heard that it is incredibly beautiful so, is it? I’ve heard that it is so very green—which is why your father (or was it your grandfather) called it Greenwood in the first place—I’ve read that the mallorn trees have grown much larger there than those in Lothlórien; have you been to Lothlórien, Prince Legolas? What is wrong? What did I say?” Éowyn’s eyes flew to Aragorn’s in concern when Legolas made a cry of distress at the mention of Lothlórien.
“I think that perhaps we should wait until later when King Théoden and Théodred are with us to explain everything fully, but Legolas was on his way to the Golden Wood when he became separated from his brothers.” Aragorn explained.
“I am so sorry—please forgive me for upsetting you!” She embraced Legolas catching him a bit off-guard, but it brought a smile to his face if only briefly.
“Yes, My Lady?”
“If Legolas’ brothers were on their way to Lórien when they lost him, why is he here in Edoras instead of there?” Éowyn asked logically.
“That will take some explaining as well, so I’d only like to repeat it once for all—is that alright, love?” He touched her cheek tenderly making her blush.
“Of course. I made sure that everything was readied for you after the messengers arrived with your instructions. There is fresh water, some food and the tailors and seamstresses worked tirelessly all night to get those garments you ordered ready—they are in your room, Aragorn. We didn’t know about Legolas, so we may not have food to your liking, My Prince.”
“I am sure all is fine,” Legolas assured her quietly.
“Would you like for the servants to run bath water now?”
“Nay, Éowyn—I will help Legolas get settled.”
“Very well, My Lord. I will see you later, Prince Legolas?”
“Please call me Legolas,” the Elda offered, smiling.
Éowyn positively glowed before saying her goodbyes.
“She is lovely,” Legolas said simply, but with a touch of sorrow.
Not understanding, Aragorn believed that his emotion was due to Éowyn’s mentioning of Lothlórien. This only served to make the Dúnadan’s guilt recur. He could not know that Legolas was under the impression that Aragorn and the Princess were involved.
“If you would like, you may have my rooms for the duration of our stay here; they are quite roomy. Or you may take the largest suite of rooms that are reserved for my father and Queen Gilraen, but neither has visited here since before...” Aragorn’s pause was brief, but Legolas noticed, feeling sad for him. “...Since before I came to Minas Tirith. Either rooms would be suitable, Legolas.”
“I do not wish to be a bother, Ernilen. I could take one of the others.”
“Then I would suggest you take the one that Faramir uses—he is quite orderly and affable about sharing. Boromir is affable as well, but he is notorious for misplacing personal items and you may end up stepping on or sleeping on something dangerous. I swear, the poor servants here and back home take their lives into their own hands just entering a room he’s in possession of.” Aragorn’s voice betrayed his great love for his cousins. And they loved him as well.
As much as King Arathorn loved his son and his nephews, he was guilty of not giving them as much attention as he should have as they were growing up. As for the Queen, her pain and bitterness left her with no love left for either child, especially Aragorn whom she deeply resented. This left Lord Denethor. While he claimed great love for Boromir, Denethor’s affections bordered on avarice and arrogance where the young man’s natural prowess as a soldier and leader of men were concerned; as if somehow Boromir’s accomplishments here his.
And as for Aragorn—Denethor respected his position as Heir-Apparent and he admired the Prince’s abilities that were similar to his eldest son; but Denethor never found it necessary to shower Aragorn with affection anymore than he did Boromir. Then there is Faramir. He of all was left with nothing in the form of parental love and devotion after his mother and then his grandfather King Arador died. So it fell to Boromir (a small child himself) to give Faramir the love and attention he needed and as the three lads grew, they became more dependent on each other. Many in the Kingdom wondered how they managed to be as goodhearted and caring with only themselves as guides; but they managed to do just that.
Legolas nodded and Aragorn showed him Faramir’s rooms. As Legolas glanced around, Aragorn waved one young servant girl in with the wood-elf’s meager belongings. He whispered instructions to her and she left the room, returning within minutes carrying a large stack of neatly folded garments; following her were two other servants with more clothing draped over outstretched arms. Seeing what the two men and young woman were delivering, Legolas looked askance to Aragorn.
“Once we arrived at the White Falls, I had two messengers sent here to make these rooms ready for our arrival; I also sent instructions for some clothing to be made for you. You should not have to continue wearing Faramir’s borrowed things.”
“But, how would they know these would fit me?” Legolas ran a pale hand down and across the lovely garments, touched beyond imagining at Aragorn’s thoughtfulness.
“Some may need adjusting as I suggested they make them in Faramir’s size, but to make allowances for your height which is nearly the same as mine.” Aragorn watched the play of emotion across the blond’s features.
“Thank you for your kindness...your thoughtfulness.”
“You are most welcome, Pen-vuil.” Aragorn thanked the servants, closing the door to the bedchamber after they left.
“Why don’t you try some of these on to wear for tea this afternoon and for supper this eve? If any adjustments are needed, I can send for the Royal Tailor. In the meantime, I’ll go run a bath for you.” Aragorn said, turning towards the bathing chamber inside Faramir’s suite.
“Nay, Aragorn—you should not wait upon me like a servant!” Legolas was scandalized at the notion.
“Tis a little thing for me, Legolas. As a healer and a Prince, I am trained to serve as well as to lead; but in your case, I *am* your humble servant as well as your slave.” Aragorn made his statements sound as a jest, but the look in his eyes showed the truth in his words.
“You must not say such things, Ernilen—not even in jest for I cannot bear it!” Aragorn came to his side immediately, taking Legolas’ smaller hands into his own.
I do not mean to cause you stress; but I cannot lie about my feelings for you even if you have none for me.” The Dúnadan cupped Legolas’ lovely face, his thumbs wiping away errant tears.
“You should not be saying this to me nor touching me thusly; what of Éowyn?” Legolas attempted to pull away.
“What of her?” Aragorn was truly puzzled.
“She loves you,” the blond Prince said, becoming angry on Éowyn’s behalf.
“Aye and I love her, but so what?”
Legolas pushed Aragorn away from him, glaring in much the same manner as he had at the Falls after they had made love the day before.
“Is this how you treat those you love? Will I be next when someone else takes your fancy?”
At last Aragorn understood. “Legolas—why do you think that Éowyn is in love with me?”
“She kissed you before all just a short while ago and you laughed in joy—did I imagine that?”
“Nay, you did not. But t’was a game she and I have played before since we were still children.” He could see that Legolas did not believe him, his explanation incomplete. So, Aragorn recounted the tale of Boromir and Théodred kissing in the stables and how he and Éowyn had witnessed it.
“So, you see, Legolas—it meant nothing. I love Éowyn, but like the sister I never had and he feels the same for me—another big brother to pester and make fun of before the whole world. I’m afraid that she is in love with Faramir, which will cause her great heartache before long.” Aragorn said in sympathy.
“Why is that?” Legolas asked in curiosity.
“Because a marriage between a Dúnadan male and non-Dúnadan mortal woman is forbidden especially for the nobility and the Royal Family as we stand to lose the most by giving up our titles and any claim to the Throne of Gondor.
“A long time ago—from the time of Elros and then later after the Fall of Númenor—the Dúnedains have treasured the gift of long life granted by the Valar; considering it sacred. We have vowed to preserve that Gift and any who break this vow by marrying lesser mortals, loses their birthright as a true Child of Númenor. Any union where there will be offspring must be between two mortals that are Dúnedain or the Gift will be diminished by each generation that indulges until the blood of Númenor is forever spent.”
“So, Faramir cannot marry Éowyn? Does she know this?” Legolas asked.
“She knows and King Théoden knows as well. It is a complicated situation because there is another who loves Faramir but has yet to say so.” At Legolas’ eager mouthing of ‘who,’ Aragorn smiled and said, “Éomer; and Faramir loves him, too.”
“But would not Faramir be forbidden to wed him as well?”
“Nay, Legolas—it is not the same with those two. As the second son, Faramir does not have to produce an heir unless Boromir does not; and since both brothers are so young, Faramir could marry Éomer (whose life span is so much less) and still have as many as 300 plus years to beget a child with a Dúnadan female. His union with the 3rd Marshal would not bring forth any children to diminish the bloodline.”
“I see.” Pausing in thought, Legolas asked finally, “Since you are Peredhel, these rules do not apply to you, is this not so?”
“Only if I choose immortality. If I choose to be mortal, I would not be able to marry a non-Dúnadan female for the same reasons as my cousins; especially being Gondor’s Heir. But even if I were to choose immortality, I would not marry Éowyn or any other person be they male or female; Dúnedain or Rohirric.”
“But you must marry, Aragorn—your station demands it.” Legolas pointed out.
“There is only one being that I would marry, but he does not love me—I do not believe he even likes me. So you see, I will never marry—ever, unless he deems me worthy of that love.”
“Do not say this, Aragorn—saes...” Legolas shook his head, bringing his hands to his face as the pain and guilt he already felt doubled.
“I speak the truth. As Heir, I am expected to produce to further the Royal line, but that will never happen. My father may be forced to make Boromir his Heir-Apparent in my place. I would not oppose this as he would make a fine king.
“You may think that as a Peredhel, I could choose the life of the Eldar which would mean I could rule forever; but I would not choose to live so long if I cannot have you in my life—I would surely fade, Legolas. I still may, but I do not say this to hurt you or to put pressure upon you. I cannot make you love me if you do not and you cannot make me not love you, either. It is a cruel fact, A’mael—one that I must live with.”
Aragorn walked to stand before Legolas again, reaching to finger a strain of silky, blond hair. He then turned towards the bathing chamber once more. Legolas stood trembling, hot tears running down his face.
“What have I done?” He whispered, covering his mouth with both hands as he felt a scream rise from deep within him.
Clutching his chest, the pain became too much and he collapsed onto the soft carpet, making not a sound as he stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it. All he could see were his ada, his brothers and Aragorn—he had hurt them all. He wanted desperately to die, but he knew that to do so would cause more pain to those he loved. He felt cold all of a sudden. Is *this what it feels like to fade?* He prayed for release of some sort; but he knew not if it would come or in what form it would take. *Forgive me—please forgive me!*
Inside the bathing chamber, Aragorn poured some bath salts into the hot water. He ran his hand through it as tiny bubbles foamed, filling the room with the smell of chamomile. *Perhaps the scent would calm Legolas. I am sorry for making you sad, Melethron—but I could not lie to you.* Turning off the taps, he opened the door to let the wood-elf know his bath was ready. But his words died before he uttered them as he saw Legolas lying on the floor. Aragorn fled the bath to kneel at Legolas side, pulling the elf into his arms.
“Legolas? Valar, no! Legolas, beloved—please speak to me?! Please...please...please?” Aragorn repeated over and over.
“It...it...hur...hurts...” Legolas said barely above a whisper.
“Forgive me,” Aragorn said, his mouth against Legolas’ brow.
“Do not...toss away...your birth...right, *please?*” Legolas looked into Aragorn’s eyes, begging him.
“I will not throw it away—worry, not.” He scooped the smaller male into his arms and carried him to the bed.
“I am so cold—please hold me for a while.”
Pulling a blanket over them, Aragorn held his love close to his body sharing his warmth. “I will you hold for as long as you wish; even until the ending of the world. I will make a promise to you Legolas; from this moment onward, I will put you first. No more selfishness on my part.”
Aragorn looked into Legolas’ eyes, but the wood-elf did not see him as he had slipped into reverie. Aragorn prayed to the Valar that he would find peace there. Legolas had not heard the Dúnadan’s declaration, but Aragorn meant what he said—from that moment onward, he would put Legolas first no matter what this meant for him personally for he had resigned himself to a future with or without his beloved. One meant life and the other death—and Legolas would decide which.
A/N: I had hoped to have A/L finally consummating their love fully this chapter, but they would not cooperate; but at least they ended up in bed together! Next chapter there will be more angst and hopefully sex. Also, the elves will return, too.
Middle-earth Phrase and Term Glossary:
Ada – Daddy (familiar form of adar/father)
Muindeir – Brothers
Eorlingas – Sons of Eorl/name referring to the Rohirrim or Horselords of Rohan
Hiril-nin – My Lady
Second Marshal of the mark/Riddermark – Prince Théodred’s title as Heir (Théoden being 1st
and Éomer 3rd)
Ernilen – My Prince
Pen-vuil – Dear one
Saes – Please
Melethron – Male lover