SquidgeWorld Archive

A Song of Love
by Anne Higgins

No. Legolas stood on the edge of the cliff staring down at the water so very far below. Aragorn. No. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't. No. He wanted to howl his denial to sky, but he could not find his voice. No. No. No.

King Theoden and Gimli appeared on either side of him. For a moment they seemed to share his grief, but then they spoke of going on, of leaving the dead behind. He stared at Theoden in horror. They would not look for Aragorn? Would not make certain? Would not allow Legolas to at least look one last time upon him?

He thought to refuse, but even in his pain he remained a warrior and understand why they must go. Theoden walked away. Legolas knew he should follow, but he turned back to look at the river below.

Please, Aragorn. Please. His mind begged as his eyes strained for the slightest sign the Human had survived the fall. But there was nothing. A coldness gripped him, the beginning of an agony no Elf wanted to endure nor could survive. He almost stepped off the edge to end it quickly, but he was not so far gone yet to not know Gimli was too near.

If the Dwarf did not die attempting to stop his leap, he would blame himself for the rest of his days for not acting more quickly. No, for his friend's sake he must go on for as long as he could.

One last lingering look at the river and he thought words he'd never spoken, 'I love you. With all my heart, I love you.'

He turned away and followed Gimli to the horse they shared. He helped the Dwarf into the saddle, then took his place before him. The pain began to gnaw at the cold as he urged the horse forward. He would not last long.

Blackness blanketed Aragorn's mind, then slowly gave way to light. Images that should have been a dream, but struck him as real, played behind the curtain of his eyelids.

Arwen and Elrond. His lady and her father were arguing about her fate. She insisted she would stay here, but her father wished her to leave Middle Earth and travel to Valinor. As did Aragorn.

He had told her as much. Had said good-bye before leaving on the quest and had meant it. He loved her. He did. But if what he saw was true, he had erred in not sparing her pain. He should have told her the truth. He loved her, but not enough. If she stayed, he would marry her. What choice would he have? To stay with him would mean her death, he could not refuse her in the face of that. 'Go, Arwen. We are not meant to be.'

To his surprise, Elrond agreed. He told his daughter of her fate – to watch Aragorn age, then die while she remained young. Not mortal. In the end, she would wander the lands alone, without husband or her people to offer her comfort. Loneliness, not the pain of his death, would eventually claim her. No, they were not meant to be. Neither loved the other enough.

The images shifted and she was among the party leaving Rivendell for the shore. Relief swept through the darkness surrounding him. It was over. She would live among her people and find the love she deserved.

There was no sorrow within him. He knew death hovered around him and held to the comfort he would not cost Arwen her life when she learned battle, not age had claimed him.

'Come. Take me. I would see an end to this.' The dark closed in at his call, but the nothingness he believed would follow stayed at bay. Irritation flared. It seemed his destiny would not be thwarted.

Resigned, he began to struggle to wake. Perversely, the dark resisted him. Neither claiming nor releasing its hold upon him. An Elvish curse filled his mind. He had no time for this.

Arwen appeared beside him, began to kiss him. He could feel her presence more deeply than he should. Not a dream, but a connection. Having some skill in her father's healing arts, she'd sensed his struggle and had reached for him. No.

With his mind, he shoved her back. Their fates were no longer entwined. Tears filled her eyes, then she nodded and was gone.

Lips caressed him again, but without presence. His mind drifted to fantasy allowing him to surrender to what his fear for Arwen had forced him to deny. Legolas. A king must have a queen. An heir. He had accepted his destiny enough to evade a love that would leave him with neither and had turned to Arwen. But in his heart he had known some things could never be denied.

If he lived to claim the throne of Gondor, he would appoint an heir, not breed it. The line of kings would be broken, but he would have his heart's desire at his side.

The thought gave him strength and he opened his eyes to find a horse nuzzling at his face.

There was much to do at Helm's Deep. Tending the wounded, securing the defenses. The pain steadily grew within him, but he concentrated on what had to be done and managed to keep going.

Legolas dared dream of a swift death in battle, but suddenly he turned to help another and there was none left to help. Gimli patted his arm. "Time to take what rest we can, lad," he said.

Lad. At another time he might have laughed. He had seen more than 2,000 summers and this Dwarf called him a lad. He would miss him. He gave Gimli a sad smile. "I would have liked to see this through to the end, my friend," he said. It saddened him to think of the Dwarf left alone, but it was not enough to hold him here.

With a soft cry, he collapsed.

Darkness tickled his mind, but he had much to suffer before oblivion closed in.

Hands gripped him, half-pulling, half-carrying him across the floor, to where he could curl up into a corner.

"What is wrong?" Eowyn asked.

Gimli looked at Theoden's niece, then back to Legolas. "Aragorn."

His vision was narrowing, and the two faces before him seemed far away. "Yes," he sighed.

"Damned fool of an Elf," Gimli chided him across the growing distance, but there was sorrow, not ire in his words.

Legolas surprised himself, by finding the strength for a small smile.

"I don't understand." Eowyn again. Legolas had liked her, had shared her pain as she came to know Aragorn belonged to another. It was a pain he'd lived with from the moment he had first looked upon the reluctant heir to the throne of Gondor. But it seemed much older, as if it had always been with him. Yet it was not a fatal blow. He could live knowing his love lived and was happy. Friendship was enough for contentment if not happiness. Death held nothing but his own end.

"An Elf does not outlive the one he loves," Gimli told her.

Now who was the fool? He wanted to tell Gimli he had it wrong. Elves outlived their loves all the time. But every once in awhile, an Elf would suffer a pain to his soul so great that death followed. He wanted to tease him for getting it wrong, but he managed nothing more than a gasp of pain.

Eowyn looked stunned. "He and Lord Aragorn?"

"Yes. Never have I seen two fools so in love and so determined to deny it."

What? He mourned the lack of strength to manage one good indignant look. He had kept his secret well hidden, and Aragorn's heart belonged to Arwen.

Gimli patted his arm. "I wish you had known some joy together before you had to suffer this, lad."

Wish. So much too wish for. No more time. Aragorn.

Aragorn rode into the courtyard of the great fortress and eased himself off his horse with as much grace as his battered body allowed. The peoples' voices were a dull roar in his ears. Going on and on about how he was alive. He knew that. No dream or afterlife could ache so badly.

"Where is he? I'll kill him! Let me through!" Gimli's voice roared above the other voices.

Aragorn turned to face him as the crowd parted, then found himself in the vice-like grip of a Dwarf's embrace. But it lasted a mere second. "Hurry, lad, you must come quickly. I think there may still be time."

"Time?"

"Legolas. He's fading."

No. "He was wounded?"

"Only by your loss."

Oh, Gods, he'd been such a blind fool. "Where?" he demanded.

Gimli nodded upward, toward a heavy set of doors.

Aragorn found he still had the strength to run. He shoved open the great doors, his eyes wildly searching the hall beyond. A flash of golden hair drew him to the far corner where Eowyn sat beside Legolas bathing his face with a damp cloth.

Legolas' eyes were open, but they did not seem to see. His face was white and his body tucked into a fetal position. From all Elrond had told him, it should not be happening this quickly in the absence of physical injury. He should have had more time.

He stumbled across the room in the grips of terror. So close too death. Too close to call him back?

"Legolas," he moaned as he dropped to his knees beside the stricken Elf. "Oh, please, don't do this." How did he stop it? He did not know what to do.

Instinct made him pull Legolas into his lap and hold him close. He began to kiss cold, pale cheeks, to stroke golden hair and whisper pleas into pointed ears. "I'm here. Don't leave me. By all the Gods, don't leave me. I'm here. I love you. I'm here. Stay. I love you."

Legolas grew colder. Tears streamed down Aragorn's face and he kissed unresponsive lips. Nothing.

Terror turned to fury and his hands bore down on limp arms. "Damn you," he shouted. "Don't you do this!" He began to shake Legolas, the golden hair whipping around like flashes of sunlight.

His mind was wild with grief. He was Human. He would survive this and his damned destiny would not allow him to fall on his sword. No. No. No. "Don't. You. Leave. Me!"

A soft gasp that might have heralded the end made Aragorn freeze. "Legolas?" he whispered.

"Ar-Aragorn?"

No music had ever sounded sweeter to his ears. "Yes, I'm here," he groaned and pulled Legolas back into his embrace. He buried his face in the curve of the Elf's neck and began to sob when strong, slim arms moved to hold him as well.

He could feel the trim body in his arms shaking and knew tears did not stream from his eyes alone.

"How?" Legolas whispered.

"It's that damnable luck of his," Gimli growled, his voice sounding suspiciously damp to Aragorn's ears. "You should have known no stinking Orc beast could be the end of him."

He smiled and drew back to see Legolas' face. Sodden with tears as he'd suspected, but color had returned to his skin and a look of joy and wonder made him the most beautiful thing Aragorn had ever seen.

"You said you loved me," Legolas said softly, but the Dwarf must have heard.

"Now there is the worst kept secret in all of Middle Earth," he snorted.

Legolas frowned and Aragorn took a moment to cast a glare in the Dwarf's direction. Everyone was supposed to think he was longing for -

"But Arwen?" Legolas asked.

"Will always have a place in my heart, but, you are my heart."

"As you are mine."

Another Dwarfish snort. "Now that that's settled, do you think we might get back to the war?"

Aragorn sighed and spoke so softly none could hear him but the Elf in his arms. "I would take you away and make love to you for days if I could." But there was no time for it, and he lacked the strength even if there were.

"Soon," Legolas promised, then kissed him. A long deep kiss that did much to push the weariness from Aragorn's soul, then they helped each other stand. As Gimli had pointed out, there was an army descending upon them. All else would have to wait.

Legolas was afraid. He could see no future beyond death. It was if Aragorn's return to him were some cruel joke being played by angry Gods. A few moments joy to be paid for in blood and death. Aragorn would die this die. Everyone within the fortress would die. Except for Legolas.

A mad certainty that he would survive to once again feel his heart break had made him rash. He'd spoken unwisely, angered Aragorn and drawn not a small amount of ire upon his head from the other Humans. It hurt inside. Aragorn had walked away from him. Left him standing there among those he knew would not last the night.

The waste of it all made him ache and the heart he knew would be his own end beat far too rapidly in his chest. He wandered, trying to find some place to think, to find enough peace with his fate to apologize.

After a time he found himself back in the main hall starting at the spot where Aragorn had held him. It might be all they ever had. The thought made him shiver. A love so great he would die of it, yet no one would survive to tell the tale. There would be no song to pass through the ages and bind them together for all time.

Arms slipped around his waist and drew him back against a firm chest. Aragorn.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoping his fear did not fill his voice. "I was wrong to despair. Forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive, my love."

Legolas closed his eyes and wished when he opened them again, he would find they were far from here. Words flowed into his mind and he began to sing. Sing of Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, and Legolas, prince of Mirkwood Forest. Of a love denied too long, but found all the same. Then he stopped. "The song has no end," he said sadly.

"There will be. And I swear by all the luck Gimli swears I posses, we will live to hear it sung around a thousand campfires."

Legolas found it was indeed within him to smile. He turned within Aragorn's arms to allow the Man to see it. "You are my joy. As long as you are near, hope will remain."

"There is always hope," he whispered and stole one last kiss.

Part Two

Aragorn woke. The feel of a soft bed and clean sheets disoriented him for a moment, then he remembered. Edoras. The battle had been won – thanks more to Gandalf's arrival than anything he had done – and they'd returned to the capitol of Rohan.

They could not have stayed at Helms Deep. The bodies rotting in the rising sun would have done what living foes could not have. They had gathered their own dead – Human and Elf – as quickly as possible and abandoned the fortress.

Saruman's forces had been so intent on their destination that they had not destroyed much of Rohan beyond the Westfold. Edoras was exactly as they had left it. The dead were put to rest with as much honor as could be given to so many, and then there had finally been time to sleep.

He sat up and marveled at the lack of protest in his battered limbs. He glanced to the window and the sun high in the sky. He guessed it was not the first time it had reached that height while he slept. Four days by the healing in his wounds. He felt all but restored.

Getting out of bed, he rang for servant, then asked for a bath to be drawn and for some food.

"As you wish, my lord," the lad answered.

"One more thing. Tell Legolas I an awake."

The boy nodded, then left. He returned before Legolas.

Aragorn frowned as he bathed, then ate. Where was he? Even if he'd been in the middle of something important, by now he should have sent word.

He dressed, then went out onto the balcony, and watched the city while the wind dried his hair. The people moved about their business below, but it was all very quiet and subdued. They had won. Saruman's threat was at an end, but the price had been horrific. If his memory held true, a household that had lost but one member could count itself fortunate.

And it was only the beginning. He shook his head in sorrow. Sauron's forces were on the move and Gondor's fate still hung in the balance. His destiny weighed heavily on his shoulders. The blood of kings flowed through his veins, but would the people of Gondor follow him? Well he remembered Boromir's words during the council meeting. 'Gondor has no need of a king.'

"You worry too much, my young friend."

Gandalf, not Legolas, but glad of the company he turned. "Four days?"

The Wizard nodded. "It has done you some good, I see."

"Yes, but all the sleep in the world will not prepare me for what lies ahead." He had never wanted to claim the throne. Never. But it seemed he had no other choice.

"If Frodo succeeds, all will be well."

He said it so easily, as if the armies of Sauron would vanish with the ring's destruction. Aragorn doubted his luck ran that deeply. "And what then? Gondor and I will be stuck with another."

Gandalf smiled. "Perhaps, but I think it will prove a great alliance."

He shook his head. "For how long? The peoples of Middle Earth put great store in bloodlines. I will be the last of mine."

"So I have heard. But it matters not."

Aragorn stared at him. "I've spent my life being told how important such things are and you say it is of no consequence."

"Hmm. Well, what use is an heir to an immortal king?"

"Immortal? What are you talking about?"

Another smile, this one full of mischief and secrets about to be shared. "There are some things even those raised by Elves may not know until it is time. In truth, most Elves no longer know."

He did not like the sound of this. "I'm listening."

"Had you denied your heart and married Arwen, you would no doubt have sired a great king to follow in your footsteps. But even the best bloodline eventually runs thin."

Yes, such was his fear – that his blood would prove as thin as Isildor's and he would fail all who looked to him.

As if guessing his thoughts, Gandalf made a scoffing sound. "But you have chosen a prince, not a queen, and in doing so have found a love not seen in these lands for many an age." Gandalf all but grinned. "To see such magic restored to the world, the Elves who have not left will stay, the others will return from Valinor. All else will come from that. The Dwarves will not retreat into their mines nor the Hobbits vanish from all time and memory."

The Wizard seemed lost in a vision of some unending age of glory, and Aragorn deemed it best to bring him back to the point. "I love Legolas, and I know what we have is rare, but I do not take your meaning."

"Long ago, outside of any time remembered, the truth was known, but as happens with so many truths, it was twisted into something else. Many of an Elf suffered greatly because of it."

Damnit. "Because of what?"

"When a love between Elf and a Mortal is great enough, a bond is forged that ties the Mortal to the Elf's lifespan."

"Are you saying that if I make love to him-"

"No, that was the error. It is of the mind and soul, not the body."

A coldness swept through Aragorn as he understood what must have happened in the past. The quest for immortality through rape. It made his stomach churn and killed any hint of anger at not being told.

"Once love is acknowledged, it happens quickly enough."

Yes, that explained how he'd felt in the hall while Legolas sang and an awareness during the battle that followed. "How does it work, Gandalf? Do I live so long as he does or is it two-edged sword damming him to follow me should I fall in battle?"

"The death of one will slay the other. But this has been true for him for many years."

He hated it. And for one brief moment, he thought to carry Legolas off to some safe place where they could enjoy eternity together. If only such a place existed. He sighed. Fate could not be denied. They would die in this war or rule together for – Oh, Gods. "Can anyone rule forever?"

"No, but you can rule until Man no longer has need of a king."

Something about that sounded like a very, very long time. But if nothing else, Aragorn had learned the folly of denying destiny and all its scheming ways. "Where is he?"

Gandalf looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Um, the last I saw of him, he was in Theoden's throne room."

Aragorn nodded and went in search of the Elf who would be his partner for all the insanity to come.

"Good to see you on your feet again, lad," Gimli greeted him as he entered the throne room. Theoden was not present, probably still sleeping off his own injuries, but Eowyn was with the Dwarf.

He returned her smile, but their was a sadness in her eyes. In times of great woe, there was a tendency to latch on to any glimmer of something better, and he knew she had mistaken his offer of friendship for something more. He wished he had been wiser with her and spared her the hurt, but he could not even apologize without humiliating her.

"Gimli, Eowyn," he nodded to both. "I was looking for Legolas."

Gimli coughed. "Now, might not be the best time."

"What?"

"An Elf in a snit is not a pleasant experience."

"'A snit'?"

"Yes, well, as you know I don't speak Elvish, but I recognize a curse when I hear one, and a few words of Common did pop up." The Dwarf shifted uncomfortably. "It seems he's not too pleased with our 'antics' on the bridge."

"'Antics.'"

"Yes, that was the word he used."

"Where. Is. He?"

"Now, lad, in my experience it's best to avoid-"

"Where!" he roared.

Gimli gave him a look that said loud and clear he and Legolas deserved one another. "He went round the back way to your room when he heard you were headed here."

Aragorn spat an Elvish curse.

"He used that word, too."

He turned on his heel and stalked to the door. Gimli called after him, "He'll give you what you want, lad, but he means to make you bleed for it."

Does he now. Well, they would see who did the bleeding. Maybe he wasn't an Elf, but he knew how to handle one.

He all but kicked the door to his room open. Gandalf had gone, but Legolas stood near the balcony.

Eyes bright with anger, he whirled to face Aragorn, hurtling a curse at him which in politest terms translated as 'son of an Orc.'

"This is not how I would have it between us, Legolas, but so be it." He secured the door behind him. The Elf had not chosen well. Speed was his advantage over a Human's strength, but such an advantage was difficult to use well in close quarters.

Legolas all but snarled and lashed out at him with a closed fist.

He dodged, but speed won out and the blow glanced across his cheek. It stung, but he made it look worse reeling backwards, then ducking downward, to catch the Elf in an upward lunge.

His weight carried them both to the floor and he landed on top of Legolas. It knocked the wind out of the Elf long enough for Aragorn to pin him. "Enough," he snapped, his hands pressing trim wrists to the floor on either side of the fair head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Oh, now you care what happens to me," Legolas snapped. "Yet you gave me no thought when you leapt upon that bridge."

"I did what I had to do," he hissed. "You are warrior enough to understand that."

"You went without me!" He shouted, trying to twist free. "You left me on the walls to watch you die again!"

Understanding loosened his hold, but Legolas did not break free. Instead he lay there staring up at Aragorn, his eyes full of anger and hurt.

"There was no time to send for you," he explained, sitting up with his back against the footboard of the bed. "Gimli was near and you were not."

Legolas did not move, his gaze on the ceiling instead of the Man. "At least you do not pretend you knew I would save you."

He reached out and took hold of Legolas' hand. "But I think I did. Your bow above me, Gimli's ax at my back, I had no thought of meeting my end on that bridge."

"If I had not thrown you a rope, thought or no, death would have claimed you."

"I knew you would not let that happen."

"I didn't know where you were!"

He drew Legolas up and onto his lap. "Yes, you did. As I knew where you were. We are bound in a way I don't begin to understand, but we will not fail one another."

"Bound?"

"Gandalf did not tell you?"

A faint rueful smile graced Legolas' lips. "He tried to tell me something, but. …"

"You were too busy throwing a fit to listen."

"Something like that."

He pressed a brief kiss to Legolas' forehead. "A broken heart is not your fate, my love." Without the riddles and evasions he told his Elf what the Wizard had said. Death would take them both in the same moment or not at all.

Legolas stared at him in wonder. "Is it possible?"

"I knew where you were during the battle. Always."

"And I knew where to look when I sensed you needed me."

He nodded. "We are one, my Legolas."

Tears sparkled in bright eyes. "A fitting end to our song."

Aragorn smiled and caressed his face. "Yes, and a beginning to an even greater one."

"I love you."

"And I you."

"Show me. Let me feel it."

"Every chance I get, for the rest of our very long lives," he answered, then kissed him. Deeply. His tongue demanding then receiving entrance into a delicious mouth, and at last he knew the taste of it. He'd ached for it for so many years without allowing himself to acknowledge it. 'Mine,' he thought and moaned his pleasure.

Hands caressed him, undressed him even as he returned the favor. So smooth, so soft. He'd never touched such fair skin. Or was it no skin had ever been so fair to him? He could have explored it for hours, but the Elf had other ideas.

"Inside me, Aragorn," he urged, drawing his legs back and up. "Inside me before I die for want of you."

Not possible, but he understood the feeling. "We will need something to ease my way," he murmured while nibbling on the point of the nearest ear.

"Already done," he groaned, then blushed. "My need burned even hotter than my anger."

A mere shift of weight, then a gentle push forward and Legolas' body opened easily before him. So hot, so tight. So his. "I love you," he moaned and began to thrust. "I love you. I love you."

Legolas seemed beyond speech, his arms and legs tightening around the Human moving against him. He made little sounds of pleasure with each stroke, until even that ended, leaving only the look upon his face to assure Aragorn the ecstasy he felt was shared.

"Legolas!" he cried and spilled his seed into the heat consuming him.

A shudder, a cry and wetness flowed between their bodies. It only left them hungry for more.

Hours later as the lay entwined in each others arms, Legolas began to sing once more. This time the song had an ending. And a new beginning.

Note: This is the story that flashed into my mind the first time I saw Legolas look down at what he thought was Aragorn's watery grave. I also thought how ticked off he had to be that Aragorn had attacked the Orcs on the bridge without him.

I know I changed the fate of an Elf in love with a Human, but I think love should conquer all, not demand a lonely death.

End