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The atmosphere of the Golden Hall that night is joyous, albeit cautiously among most; the desire to celebrate the victory at Helm’s Deep great enough to warrant it, but the much larger battles to come weighing heavily on their minds. The celebration of their victory should bring some confidence, or at least some purpose to the men, Aragorn knows, and he tries to put the possibilities of it being their last victory out of his mind.
The majority of those in the Hall are occupied amongst each other, or captivated by the Hobbits, but Aragorn periodically notices some of them watching Legolas, who is engaged in discussion with Gimli and Eomer, with curiosity. He is, after all, the only Elf who stuck around after Helm’s Deep, and most are unaccustomed to seeing an Elf in their company. Perhaps they are only curious of him, or perhaps they believe the joyous attitude he is projecting to be unusual.
Aragorn knows this is untrue, of course. Legolas carries the burdens of his father, of being the Prince of a wood so devastated by Sauron’s forces, and those that only the members of the Fellowship could understand. For all the burdens that Legolas carries, however, he has always retained a youthful impetuousness, and a mirthful attitude, content to enjoy life in a way perhaps only an immortal could know how.
He has been different since the breaking of the Fellowship. They all have, Aragorn supposes, but Legolas has seemed especially conscious of how delicate their quest is, of the fact that even he can only do so much to help it, and that he cannot keep his friends alive. Aragorn also knows that he is only adding to the Elf’s burdens, and regrets it, but it is out of his control.
What is not out of his control is being there for support, and to keep Legolas’ spirits up, but lately he has seemed to fail in both regards. Aragorn finds he is grateful to Gimli for many things, not the least of which is the unique friendship he has with Legolas. Gimli has seemed to keep the Elf’s spirits up with silly competitions, usually restricted to battles, but now in the form of a drinking game with Eomer that Aragorn knows very well Legolas will win. Not even the celebrations of King Theoden can hold a candle to Thranduil’s parties, after all.
Aragorn watches fondly as Gimli determinedly gulps down drink after drink, taking each one progressively from Eomer, who looks increasingly amused at Gimli’s intoxication in contrast with Legolas, who drinks each mug with nonchalance. Although Legolas remains unaffected until nearly the end of their game, Aragorn can see the twinkle in his eyes, the light smile that indicates his mood, and finds he is more than grateful to see it.
Once Aragorn made his way back to Helm’s Deep after falling off the cliff, there was too much to be done in preparation for the fight to leave any time for him to really discuss what had happened with Legolas. He knows that they all thought him dead, knows that Legolas had felt despair, based on his outburst in front of all of the men just before the battle, but now that they have not discussed it, he is unsure of how to broach the subject, or even if he should at all. Aragorn’s mortality has always been a touchy subject, one that Legolas remains unwilling to discuss, for as little sense to Aragorn as that makes.
It is not a matter of leaving their feelings unsaid, if one of them were to die. Aragorn knows very well how Legolas feels about him, and he thinks – he hopes – that his own regard has never been in question. Still, their communication of late has been lacking, and Aragorn wants to speak with him, but is unwilling to interrupt when Legolas is enjoying himself, so he watches them.
-
Before long, Legolas meets his gaze, and smiles. His eyes are soft, still laughing at Gimli’s defeat. Aragorn watches and waits until Eomer has taken his leave of them before making his way over. He kneels to the ground and helps move Gimli to a more comfortable position where he is less likely to be stepped on.
“I fear,” Legolas begins, still kneeling, his gaze fondly on the Dwarf, “he was under a misapprehension about my tolerance to alcohol.”
“His father must have left out the stories of your father’s parties.”
Legolas laughs and turns his head to face Aragorn. “What is on your mind?” He must see the confusion in Aragorn’s face, as he clarifies, “I would have thought your priority tonight would be connecting with the men, solidifying the next attack. Instead, you have been watching me.”
“The war is the last thing on the minds of these men tonight, and I would let them continue, for just a while,” Aragorn explains, and then continues, “It is on your mind, however.”
Legolas does not deny it, but does not answer. “It is on yours as well.”
He grips Legolas’ elbow gently, the only touch he will allow himself in such a place. “Legolas,” he prompts, “there is much we haven’t discussed.”
Legolas begins to pull away from his touch, but, at the last moment, remains. “This isn’t the right time.”
“There is no right time,” Aragorn insists.
“Gandalf wishes to speak with you,” is what Legolas says in response, and when Aragorn turns his head to look where Legolas is indicating, he indeed sees Gandalf watching them. Legolas moves to stand, then, and says, “Come find me when you are finished.”
-
Aragorn finds him in an empty room in the Hall, one that will likely fill up soon as the celebration winds down and the people need a place to sleep. For now, however, they are alone. Legolas stands near a window, and briefly meets Aragorn’s gaze in acknowledgment when he hears Aragorn’s footstep before returning his gaze to the sky.
“What did Gandalf say?” he asks.
Aragorn does not answer until he is standing beside him. “Gandalf worries about Frodo.”
“So do we all,” Legolas concedes, and then is silent. There is no need for them to discuss Frodo and Sam’s journey into Mordor. Along with Gimli, they had spent many nights discussing it as they tracked down Merry and Pippin. Aragorn has accepted that it is out of their hands, even if the thought continues to bother him.
“You were wrong,” Legolas eventually tells him quietly, interrupting his thoughts of the Hobbits. Aragorn does not ask him to what he is referring, confident that Legolas will continue when he is ready.
Many minutes pass before he continues, “The war is not the first thing on my mind tonight, although it should be, perhaps.” He pauses, refusing to meet Aragorn’s eyes, and prompts, “Ask me again, Aragorn, what is.”
Aragorn places one hand on Legolas’ shoulder, and finds himself relieved when Legolas leans back into his touch rather than pulling away.
“What is it?”
“You,” Legolas replies, and Aragorn finds his hand tightening on Legolas’ shoulder. The Elf turns to face him, and he is blindsided by the grief in his eyes.
“I thought you were dead, and just when I learned you were not, you were – promising yourself to these men, to this battle – whether that meant your death or not, and I – “
He does not allow him to finish, opting instead to hug Legolas tightly to his chest, running his free hand through Legolas’ hair when Legolas turns his face into Aragorn’s neck. They do not speak for a long time. Aragorn finds the physical contact as reassuring as it is unsettling, and regrets that he had not taken the time for this before. They haven’t had the opportunity for intimacy in so long. He is secure in their relationship, and has been for many years, but the quest to destroy the Ring has shaken many things. The thought of them being one of those things leaves him desperate.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to Legolas, finally, and it is the truth. He is sorry for many things. “I did not say those things to hurt you.”
Legolas shakes his head. “This quest is your fate,” he whispers, “and as I pushed you for a long time to accept it, I cannot blame you for any of its consequences. But don’t leave me behind.”
Aragorn knows what Legolas refuses to say. There’s no guarantee, after all, that Aragorn will survive to see his fate, to reclaim the throne. There is no guarantee that Legolas will survive either, but that is not what the Elf fears. It is very much a fear of Aragorn’s. He wants to promise Legolas that he won’t leave him behind, and in turn make Legolas promise him the same, but he remembers being told to never make promises he can’t keep, so he doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “I’ll try not to.”
Legolas nods, as much as he can in his current position, tightens his hand briefly in Aragorn’s shirt, and then extracts himself from Aragorn’s arms. Aragorn keeps a grip on his shoulders, keeping him close when it is clear that his intentions were to move away.
“You were on my mind tonight as well, Legolas,” Aragorn tells him, “and this may be my fate, but it is not more important to me than you. You know that, right?”
Legolas frowns at him. “I have never thought otherwise.”
“Then please,” he says, wrapping an arm around the Elf’s waist, “don’t hide things from me.”
He feels Legolas tighten a hand in his shirt again. “I do not wish to add to your burdens. Not now.”
“You are never a burden,” he insists, fiercely, and then kisses him the way he’s been wanting to for days, since stumbling into Helm’s Deep, aching and exhausted, to see Legolas’ bright face waiting for him.
“I am sorry,” Aragorn continues when they break, keeping their faces close together with a hand on Legolas’ cheek, “if I had made you uncertain. I need you.”
And finally, Legolas smiles softly at him. “I know. I’m always with you, Aragorn.”
He kisses Legolas again, and settles. The people of Rohan needed tonight to reassure themselves, but Aragorn, in this moment, has all he needs.