.|. Seeking Harmony .|

1. Seeking Harmony

~

Could you let down your hair and be transparent for awhile

Just a little while to see if you’re human after all

Honesty is a hard attribute to find when we all want to seem like

We got it all figured out

Let me be the first to say that I don’t have a clue

I don’t have all the answers

Ain’t going to pretend like I do

Just trying to find my way

Trying to find my way the best I know how

Well, I haven’t got it all figured out quite yet

But even if it takes my whole life to get to where I need to be

If I should fall to the bottom of the end

I’ll be one step back to you

                  - Trying - Lifehouse

There’s a place somewhere where every creature, be it mortal or immortal, can find peace; complete harmony.

Elven people say such place is bound to be found neither on earth nor in mortals’ afterlife, since such realms are forbidden to Elves, but inside the soul.

Trapped in a mystical moment, glittering and perfect like a crystal of snow. Snowy and ethereal like the light of dawn. Frozen in time, paused in motion, silent in sound, translucent in sight and ghostly to touch.

A single moment of singular perfection, that if kept in the heart could everlasting bring joy

Legolas Greenleaf wondered if he’d found his Harmony.

Wondered if it resided in the depths of the forest he was in; in the alluring glow of the night enclosing him; or in the gentle whisper of the wind streaming through his hair.

And at the same time he knew it resided both in all those thing as well as in no one, for his harmony couldn’t have been chiselled in the folds of that night if time had changed its flow just the tiniest bit.

And more than all if that man, that mortal, hadn’t been there.

The shallow clearing the Fellowship had taken sanctuary in was brightened by nearly millions of fragments of light only a trained eye could tell to be fireflies. The little lights, the children of flames, danced sinuously around the fair elf, silently, not daring to even brush the pristine velvety of the Elven beauty.

Ancient trees crowded the clearing, their fronds intertwining and overflowing into a patchy blanket far above him. Vines looped down from the mating branches, dark companions to the milky radiance spilling hesitantly through the leaves to shine on the golden silkiness of Legolas’ hair and the snowy velvety of his pale visage.

The limpid blue pools of indigo the Prince of Elves had stolen the Ocean to witness the world rippled and danced, as wonder shimmered underneath their clearness. Harmony, yes. His harmony resided there, in that one place, that one minute, that one person. Yet, it was clouded by feelings of confusion deeper than the Elf allowed himself to admit.

How could that have happened? The Nine had become Eight, and the Eight had left one behind to become seven just before splitting in Three and Two and Two.

Gandalf the Grey had perished in recent times, so recent to still stir mute grief inside the Elf’s heart; but something apparently less important, something no one would have dared think to trouble him, had set his heart into swirling confusion, because *his* heart was plagued by similar –although more painful- feelings.

Never had Legolas seen such a thing, not in the eternity that waited for him he would again. He had seen Boromir, the son of Gondor fall, reaching the foreign lands were his ancestor dwelled, if only in spirit. And he had seen… Aragon, Strider, shed tears for him, lie over Boromir’s cooling body and cup bloody hands around his dirty face, touching his lips to the high forehead.

Such behaviour from their collected leader had puzzled the Elf beyond words.

Those moments, those minute, infinitesimal moments, were seared in his mind forevermore. The elf had wandered into the battlefield riding the wind, only to screech to a sharp alt, time itself halting with him. Crystalline blue eyes huge, he’d blinked, feeling the depths of those unbelievable orbs fill with confusion.

Caught; caught like a deer in front of unforeseen light, the Elf had tilted his head, lost in that strange moment were time preferred to flow slower than allowed, and golden locks waltzed around his face, sunlight reflecting off every shimmering strand. Lips puckering slightly in a frown of confusion, the wise eyes of the Elf darkened to a sapphire blue, like those of a puppy.

And it was with all the innocence of a newborn that the Elf had witnessed the last farewell Aragorn gave his brother, the son of Gondor, Boromir. The palpable sacredness that last touch, that faint brush of bloody lips over bloody temples, held, had been enough to made the wood fall silent. And even the heart of an Elf filled with aching sadness.

He’d just stood there, his natural glow somewhat paler, bow held loosely in a fair hand, looking like he’d stand there until the end of the world, while the heir of Isildur kissed his brother farewell. Even the Dwarf, who’d stumbled into the clearing without grace had succumbed to the silence of pain, enthralled by the sanctity and hurting quality of the scene in front of him.

Legolas could not bring himself to say he’d understood that extreme exchange of affection, for his Elven nature prevented him to fully understood human hearts. Elves understood the language of nature and shared its deepest pains, as well as seeking solace only in other Elves, if not in those their hearts beat alongside.

But the pain of men and their displays of sorrow are foreign realms to Elven people, and thus Legolas could just watch as the ritual took place, and the two sons of Gondor were divided forever.

Even thought Legolas meant to bid farewell to such brave warrior as Borromir had been, truth must be told that touch his forehead with his Elven lips was not in his intentions. And he wondered, in strange quietude, about that act of affection and respect bind together, and about the pain craved in their hearts.

Boromir was dead. Legolas had watched him fall. All of the Three had watched him fall. Nothing would ever change that fact that he was gone, and, accepting his death as a means of letting the Fellowship continue, and the world not end, they should lay his memory to rest.

Lowering his eyelids partly Legolas gave his head a slight toss. There was no point in languishing over what couldn't be reversed. It was logic. No matter how much the heart hurt, they had to let go.

Yet he couldn’t. Neither of them could. The Dwarf was doubting his strength. The Human was haunted by pain and guilt, and would be for long times to come – having lost a fellow son of the same mother Land. But the Elf…

The Elf just could not wipe from his mind the remembrance of Aragorn’s last farewell to Boromir.

Long black lashes swept down onto pale cheeks as sapphire eyes disappeared behind their lids for the longest of moments, a strange feeling seeping into the Elf’s mind. And when his allowed his lids to flutter up, Aragon was there, like he was.

Legolas knew the man would be out there when he came back from the forest. How, he didn't know. Strong of this sureness of his Legolas had walked with sure steps toward the clearing, fully intending to put a stop to that wonder of his.

But once he reached his destination, the Elf found out that he couldn’t; for something was whispering him to wait a little more –only a little more- before daring make a sound. And that indeed had been a wise suggestion, whenever it had come from.

Gazing at Aragorn’s features relaxed in sleep the Elf had found something he didn’t know he was searching.

Infinite peace, serenity of mind and soul.

That was his Harmony.

Amazed at he was, it was a surprise how it took the noble Elf only few hours to slowly will himself out of his blissful reverie- he fully expected to remain in the trance-like state that had caught him for days. His Harmony had been found –and that was amazing for itself- but, incredibly, it resided outside of him, and in an mortal as well.

Leaning closer to the man sleeping next to him, until their faces were mere inches apart, Legolas titled his head to one side, golden strands getting caught in the breeze and gleaming in the silvery light, and studied the mortal’s features closely.

His skin, tanned and dirty, looked almost lucent bronze in the pale moonlight. His hair was dark chestnut, burnished to copper in some places. The mortal’s outward appearance was pleasing to the eye and, from time to time, breathtaking; but this wouldn’t count in the eyes of the Elves if his heart hadn’t been just as handsome as his features.

Not even half of the admiration the fair Elf had for the Man would have been born if he was just slightly less brave, less pure.

Hovering above the man whit his legs in a crouch, Legolas had stared at his face for so long that everything else but him had blurred in his vision. He felt content just to stand in that clearing, feeling the breeze gently blow his hair, watching Aragorn sleeping form with intent.

Even in such a dire situation as theirs, he’d left hours fly by, hardly noticing. But doubts seared his mind in an iron grip now, and the Elf knew he could not wait anymore.

He’d accepted to wait, to question his own heart instead of Aragorn, but time was drifting away, and he knew. What if they never were to speak again? What if their ancestors called one of them in the morning, to leave the Fellowship to shatter furthermore? There was no certitude of tomorrow, thus he had to act, if he wanted his doubts dissipated.

Legolas had sought Aragorn with his eyes since they’d left the river to enter those woods. He ached for knowledge. His spirit would not allow him rest if the Elf didn’t came to know the way of mortal hearts.

Would Aragorn explain him, he wondered. And would he be able to understand, once told?

In the midst of his thoughts Legolas had failed to notice dreams crawling to Aragorn and filling his mind until he saw those dark eyes move restlessly under their lids. Silently, the Elf reached down, and brushed a stray lock of hair away from the now slight clammy forehead.

Whatever dream the man was having was shattered, but for Aragorn it was like waking from a dream to another dream, maybe more beautiful even.

Above him, Legolas’ pale visage gleamed, ethereal under the kisses of the moonlight, a fine mantle of golden silk glittering on his shoulders. Like a star, he was. Luminous. Beyond reach of mortal hands. And just barely within the one of mortal eyes.

For a moment there was nothing but silence, and all that could be heard was the singing wind. Then,

“Legolas…” Aragorn ventured softly, alarmed, but very well aware there was no danger if not the sadness in those blue eyes.

“What do you dream of, when sleeps carries you to its lands?” Legolas inquired gently, his voice as soft as the wind. It filled Aragorn with a sense of confusion and melancholy, his mind drifting back to their recent losses. Although the Ranger moved his lips, the Elf did not want an answer, already having one to give them both.

“Of Arwen, yes? And our lost Gandalf, Boromir and Frodo. Do you ever see me in your dreams?” Legolas’ question was filled with both curiosity and gentleness, but again his own voice answered him. “No, of course you don’t, but that’s the way things have to be.”

Raising himself up on his elbows, Aragorn studied Legolas’ eyes, meeting questions the Elf himself was unsure how to voice. Legolas felt ashamed, somewhat, of his wonder; of his need to know. Yet, he could not hope to tame it.

“It’s so hard to find a balance when you’ve to decide between mind and heart.” The Elf began, even if somewhat hesitantly. “Our mission, our pain… which one is more important? Such paradoxes proceeding side by side… which one guides us…?” Legolas shook his head, distraught. “I don’t understand. If our friends fell, it was to allow us to go on. Then why are we hesitating, death in our hearts? I seek answers and yet find none. How come I can’t find peace?” Legolas raised his eyes to Aragorn, barely blinking. “How come you can’t either?”

Instead of answering Aragorn touched the Elf’s hair, gently, offering comfort. Again Legolas lowered his head.

“I shouldn’t question matters. I’m an Elf; I’m not like you humans yet… I can’t help but wonder. Curiosity and confusion are diseases that plague mortals, not the people of my race. And yet… wherever I place I eyes I find questions, and not answers as it should be.”

The elf fell silent for a fragment of moment, and the added, “But whenever my eyes fall on you, albeit my confusion does not lessen, for I wonder about your heart and your own burden of pain, in you… in you I find serenity.” Shaking his head the Elf diverged his focus on the ground, his voice growing reluctant with his next admission. “In you I just found my Harmony.”

“Legolas…” Aragorn said softly as he rose to a seated position, awed as well, and brushed the hair out of the Elf’s face. The human sensed the golden Elf’s uncertainty as it simmered, churning, under the pale velvety of his countenance; and the man almost growled when their eyes met briefly and he saw just how wounded the Prince was by such confusion.

…friendship…duty…responsibility…rings…hurt…pain…death…obligation…hope…confusion…sorrow…trust…helplessly…

Anxiety filled his heart hastily. Aragon knew he had to stop that shimmering confusion. He needed to. For Legolas and for himself as well. He had been entrusted with the mantle of leadership, and would make sure to deserve it. All he could do, though, was be there for him, offering as much comfort as his own confused soul could muster. Nothing else. After all, there was no way for him to be the fair Prince’s Harmony.

Believe that was folly, pure folly.

After moments of silence, Legolas finally raised his eyes to his, gazing into the burnt brown depths.

“Would you dream about me, if I died too?” He whispered at last, eyebrows drawing together as he lowered his lids partially, and Aragorn’s fine features twisted into a worried frown. The flaxen Elf… die. That would be a crime in the eyes of every race and deity.

“Would you touch your lips to my skin, as you did Boromir, if I left this lands, or that’s something an Elf can’t receive from a Human?” Wonder filled his voice, and for once even his eyes, the only trait of his features that gave away his real ancientness, were young and troubled.

Aragon breathed deeply and stared at him in wonder. So luminous. So far more luminous than anything he’d ever seen, and yet cloaked in the shadow of doubt. So fair, so fragile, and yet so strong. Like a diamond, a combination of perfection, strength and delicacy that gleamed entrancingly. Something to cherish and protect. Something that needed reassurance and answers like never before and never again.

“I cannot explain… I’m not sure I ever will. I’m not even able to speak my mind. I just want to

understand. I want to see what’s inside human’s hearts, what leads them to be what they are. Cruel, and unruly, and yet tender, and soft… I want to know about the secrets of the magic of their touches. About the sacredness they held. About the Harmony they seek and yet seem to naturally posses. I need so badly to know human hearts, and human feelings as well.” Legolas whispered.

Mutely, Aragorn nodded, silently confirming he understood something Legolas himself wasn’t sure about. Removing his blanket the Man took the Elf’s hand and gently guided him under the warmth of the old, tattered cloth. Legolas wanted to just lie in the man’s arms but was confused, dared he say afraid, of such thing.

“I’ll let you in my heart,” Aragon breathed as he wrapped his arms around the hesitant Prince. “I’ll let you see what I see. Hear what I hear. Feel what I feel.” Legolas quietly snuggled deeper into the man’s warmth, every doubt fading into trembling mist he could focus on afterwards. Around them, a colder wind picked up, moaning like a lost soul. But the elf could not think about either the coldness or the wind. With the man’s arms wrapped around him, and his scent to fill his nostrils, he felt safe.

Legolas’ arms tentatively moved around him, and in return Aragon squeezed him with rough gentleness, explaining, demonstrating, until the Elf’s arms tightened around him, slowly; gently at first, and then with renewed and renewing strength.

Share such intimacy, such closeness, with a man –with *that* man- felt good. Natural, even. The elf could feel the heart that so much had confused him pound against his own, and he doubted for a moment if their hearts weren’t, in fact, just the same. By the sound of them, it just seemed so, since they paced themselves at the same, harmonic rhythm.

Was that the secret of human’s magic? Have no secret at all? Or there was something more to those soothing and yet astounding touches of Aragorn’s that Legolas yet had to understand? His doubts faded, to make room to soft wonder; And since Elves’ nature leads them to search for answers, answers Legolas did seek.

The Elf leaned his head in the crook of the Human’s neck, and Aragorn tensed momentarily, once understanding he was being smelled, tasted. Afraid for a moment he might actually be shattering the perfect little synchrony they were creating, and ashamed of having dared too much in his eagerness to understand that one man’s heart, Legolas retreated shyly.

Sensing the Elf squirming away Aragorn touched his lips to Legolas’ forehead in a protective gesture, wrapping his arms tighter around him, like he’d never let go. As if assuring him with the fact that they could take as long as they wanted, that he could do whatever he wanted, because that mortal would never step back. As if he could, by sharing more of his body’s warmth with the Elf, made the promise of more warmth to come and melt his confusion.

Any uncertainty was washed away instantly, as if a secret had been revealed to both of them, and they listened in blissful silence to the other breathe as the day fast approached.

The mortal wasn’t concerned with daylight –whatever it may bring, be it pain, hurt, loss, friendship, or love. At that moment, only Legolas mattered. Whatever was ahead of them, Aragorn was not concerned about.

Why should the Elf be, then?

- Fin

looks around* Uhm… well, yeah, all right. That was my first Aragorn/Legolas. Did it suck too much? Or do you think I should write a sequel to this? Drop me a review, but please do not be too harsh on poor lil’ Necchan here… ^^;;