Aragorn walked back into camp, careful to keep his footsteps quiet. The huddled forms of Pippin and Merry, under the large blanket stirred momentarily and then stilled. The Man let out the breath he had been holding as he delicately stepped between the slumbering bodies.

He exchanged nods with Boromir as the Gondorian took his station to keep watch for the rest of the night.

Slowly, trying to stay as silent as possible, Aragorn lowered his tired body to the soft mossy ground. He smiled slightly at the care the Elf had taken to unroll his blanket. Too often exhaustion had led the Ranger to simply settle upon the cold hard ground and take what rest he could for the scant hours he allowed it for himself.

This night Aragorn was grateful for the relative softness of the blanket, for the ground was damp and the air had a chill to it. He glanced at the blond tresses that spilled out from beneath the Elf's thin covering and smiled to himself. The Elf was turned to his side and although his face was hidden from the Ranger, Aragorn knew he slept with his eyes open, like all his kin. It was a sight, which the others among the fellowship had found disturbing but Aragorn, having been raised among elves, had grown to tolerate.

The Man laid himself down a few feet from the Archer and let sleep gratefully take him. He began to dream almost immediately. Horrible images of Sauron, the Great Eye, followed him. He cut his hands in branches and stumbled over thick overgrown and unfriendly trees in his efforts to get away.

A great precipice suddenly opened beneath his feet and as he scrambled to regain his balance, knowing full well that death was now inescapable, a portion of his mind noted the softness of the breeze upon his face.

Sauron's evil glare descended upon him as the ground began to give way beneath his feet, and even as Aragorn began to inhale, in preparation for the scream...again the breeze blew ever so gently upon him.

He turned his head away from the Great Eye and his own immanent destruction, toward the lilting sound of his name upon the breeze...

A sweet scent of flower petals drifted to him and the coolness upon his face was soothing, protecting. Sauron vanished and only the breeze remained, calling his name.

Aragorn opened his eyes with a small start to find himself gazing up into the blue depths of a concerned Elven gaze. By starlight the glow of the Archer's skin and draping curtain of hair made Aragorn think he was back in another dream. One far more pleasant, but disturbing for a completely different reason.

"Are you all right, my friend?" whispered the silken voice. So this was real.

Aragorn swallowed and licked his dry lips in dismay. Gods, what an awful dream. He hoped it was only a dream, feeling the grip of Sauron's evil glare still upon him.

Legolas reached a tentative hand and gently touched the Man's cheek. The sweet scent of summer drifted once more to Aragorn's nose and the cool touch brought him back all the way this time from the clutches of his nightmare.

He grimaced and slowly sat up, noting distantly a touch of disappointment as the Elf moved back to his sleeping pad. Aragorn shook his head to clear it. Damn dream.

He finally looked up at the Elf to find Legolas had returned with a water canteen in his hand. The Man smiled gratefully and accepted the container.

After drinking deeply, he smiled his gratitude to his companion. "Thank you, my friend. We humans are our own worst enemies at times. I long for sleep then give myself nightmares on the rare occasion that I can find it." Aragorn smiled ruefully, feeling a trifle embarrassed now that he was fully awake.

The Elf only smiled gently and did a surprising thing. He silently moved behind the Man and placed strong hands upon his shoulders. Before Aragorn could ask what the Archer was doing, the talented fingers went to work on slowly massaging the knots and cramps out of his tense shoulders.

Aragorn wanted to protest, his embarrassment deepening, but instead he had to stifle the deep sigh that tried to escape from the very depths of his being.

"Shhhh," whispered the Elf softly, as he slowly loosened the muscles on the back of the Man's neck. "Relax, my Captain. Nightmares are no surprise and of no consequence. Let sleep be your healer."

The Elf's melodic tones and the slow, rhythmic massaging of those strong fingers upon his rock hard flesh undid him. Aragorn allowed himself to lean back upon the Elf and smiled dreamily as his eyes started to close.

"Ah, Legolas, my friend. You always know what to do to comfort me," he whispered. He could almost feel Legolas' smile as warmth suffused his limbs.

"Sleep, my friend," was all the Elf whispered and the words were like a gentle breeze against his face. Aragorn let his eyes finally close, heeding the Elf's command, and fancied the feel of soft lips next to his ear.



When morning came, the Man awoke upon his sleeping mat, covered up to his chin with a blanket and feeling refreshed. He stretched lazily, the sounds of the others stirring to prepare breakfast bringing him to sudden wakefulness. The memory of the previous night came flooding back to him in a rush. With a deep blush, Aragorn sat up abruptly, letting the blanket fall to his waist.

He looked around dazedly. The Hobbits were all still asleep but Boromir and Gimli where seated around the fire, talking in hushed voices.

"Ah, finally awake I see," said an amused voice from behind him.

Aragorn turned a startled look over his shoulder to find the Wizard sitting on a rock, puffing gently at his pipe.

Aragorn felt himself blush again and stood up.

He pointedly ignored the Wizard's smirk and looked at the camp. Finally turning to Gandalf, he asked in a quiet voice, "Where is Legolas?"

"Off to catch breakfast for the Hobbits," the Mage answered carelessly. "I think today, Aragorn we will be able to clear the valley and make it into the hills before sundown. What do you think?"

Aragorn nodded, still casting an eye around the camp, he joined the old man.

"We have been fortunate that no trouble has found us yet," he said quietly.

The old man studied him silently and nodded. "The shadow grows, none the less. I can feel it getting stronger. Can you?"

Aragorn looked intently at the Wizard. Finally he shrugged and leaning closer, so not to be overheard, he confessed, "I had a dream last night."

Gandalf nodded with an astute look. "I heard voices," said the Wizard.

Aragorn swallowed, the dream coming back to him all at once, and paused before continuing. "I'm sure it was just a dream...but if Legolas hadn't woken me...I almost think HE would have gotten to me..."

The Man trailed off with a shudder. Gandalf peered at him through the smoke of his pipe. Then with a nod he stood and walked over to the sleeping hobbits, as if he needed to reassure himself of Frodo's safety.

"The Shadow grows," Gandalf repeated again in a whisper. "We must all now be cautious."

It was at that time that the Elf returned with two hares dangling from his hand. As if on cue, the hobbits awoke and serious preparations were underway for a meal.

Aragorn sat down next to the Archer, as the smoke of the cooking fire twirled in a gentle stream towards the clouds. "Thank you, Mellon Nin for your help last night."

Legolas looked at him and smiled gently. "You are welcome, Aragorn."

The Ranger watched as the Archer responded to a call from Boromir to help him with the gathering of their equipment. A fondness for the Elf crept through the haze of worries that typically occupied the Man's mind. He swept his gaze over the entire fellowship. The company had efficiently packed their gear and were now prepared for their departure. They looked to him, as their leader, to set the pace.

Aragorn stood with squared shoulders and took the lead, as usual. The familiar weight of responsibility settled over him like a mantel. It was many hours, a full day, when they finally stopped in a sheltering crag at the foot of the hills.

Dinner was eaten in near silence for all were exhausted. The shifts for the night watch were decided upon and Gimli was to take the early evening.

Aragorn helped the Hobbits to settle in. Gandalf was already sleeping with his eyes half closed. His own exhaustion hit him full force and he stretched to ease some of the tension out of his tight shoulders. He blushed to recall the gentle Archer's kind ministrations of the night before and guiltily wished for another opportunity to feel those talented hands upon his sore muscles.

Aragorn smiled ruefully to himself as he emerged from the cover of the bushes, having gone to relieve himself, as he contemplated the unlikely possibility of another massage. Perhaps if he had another dream...

He quickly squelched that thought with a shudder. No, his dear companion would not need to minister to him this night. Nor would Aragorn ask. The steadfast presence of the loyal Elf was reward enough in these dark days.

As Aragorn approached the camp, eagerly looking for sleep, he came to an abrupt and confused halt.

"Do you mind, Master Elf?" Boromir's voice drifted to him quietly from the other side of the camp.

The Elf was already on his sleeping mat when the Gondorian came to kneel beside him. Aragorn watched in a strange mélange of surprise, disappointment, and ...offence as the Elf shook his head.

"No, I do not mind, Boromir. Are you cold?" inquired the Elf politely, as the big soldier laid down right next to him.

"It is biting in the shade of the hills," came the mumbled reply.

Aragorn lingered for some unknown reason, almost unsure of where to go and, after chiding himself sternly, began to step around the snoring hobbits. Once again, however, he froze almost before he began.

"I have been wondering something," came Boromir's voice in the darkness.

"What troubles you?" came the soft reply.

"Elves, ...well, you seem so...that is I have heard it said..."

There was a long pause, during which time Aragorn could count the loud thumping of his heart. Should he turn to leave? And what precisely was Boromir doing over there with Legolas? Unable to move forward or to retreat, Aragorn stood frozen, apparently unnoticed by anyone.

"Boromir? Is there something I can help you with?" asked the Elf. Aragorn's body lurched forward, nearly coming out of his boots, at the question. Quickly recovering himself and cursing himself for being every kind of a fool, he told himself instead to leave and to leave quickly. But instead he remained, feet frozen to the ground, and aware of some indefinable feeling of...of betrayal? Anger? Panic?

On the heels of these came guilt and self-recrimination. He had no reason to feel either betrayed or angry. Did he? And still he remained and listened intently.

"I wanted to...to touch you. It is said the skin of an elf is like silk." The man's voice became more husky as he added, "And surely one as lovely to look at as yourself...I wanted to know if it was true."

The boldness of the man almost made Aragorn's mind up for him, to follow his first impulse, and charge over there.

"You may touch me. But only my hand, if it will satisfy you, Boromir."

Aragorn could almost feel the smile in the Elf's voice. Legolas was amused. Not interested, not even flattered.

Relief strangely washed over him and Aragorn let out his breath silently... until he saw Boromir suddenly lean up on his elbow and lean over the Elf, predatory intent visible in the lines of his body. Legolas may not have taken the exchange very seriously but the Gondorian was not to be dissuaded so easily.

Aragorn's feet suddenly became unglued and he stepped deftly around the fire and across the camp in a few long strides.

"Legolas," he whispered into the darkness, feigning ignorance. "May I speak to you a moment please?"

Boromir reared back in shock.

The Elf turned his head towards Aragorn with a faint look of surprise, although in the firelight the Ranger could detect the small smile that crept to the corners of the mobile mouth. In a fluid motion typical of elves, the Archer stood and walked to the Ranger, leaving the Gondorian alone under the canopy of trees.

They walked silently, shoulder to shoulder into the woods opposite were Gimli stood watch. The moonlight spilled through the sparse trees and created a lake of silver upon the dewy grass of the valley beneath them.

Legolas sighed as he took in the beauty of the night. Aragorn sighed also, the burning brick in the pit of his stomach having finally dissolved.

"Will you sit with me awhile?" the Man asked finally.

Legolas nodded and slid to the ground, leaning against a large flat boulder. Aragorn sat next to him, letting his shoulder come into contact with his friend. He sighed again. Guilt began to war with confusion once more. Was he really becoming so possessive?

After a long silence he glanced at the Elf, and finally ventured something in the way of an apology, "I am sorry if I interrupted your rest." He almost cringed at the rather obvious lack of sincerity in his words. He wasn't sorry at all and this confused him even more.

Legolas did not say anything for a while, but when he spoke, Aragorn could well hear the smile in the familiar voice. "I think you watched us long enough to know I was not resting, Aragorn."

It took him a moment to recover himself before Aragorn let his shoulders move in a silent chuckle. "You know me too well, my friend."

Legolas turned his face in the moonlight to look at the Ranger and Aragorn felt himself relax in the balm of a gentle smile upon the familiar face. Perhaps he had become too predictable, came an irrepressible thought. Equally irrepressible came a sudden desire to test that theory.

"Legolas," asked the Ranger quietly.

"Yes, Aragorn?" came the soft response as the Elf turned again to gaze out at the stars.

"May I touch you?"

The Elf's sudden wide-eyed stare in his direction almost made the Man chuckle once more. Instead, without waiting for a reply, Aragorn laid a gentle hand upon the curve of a white cheek. The eyes grew even wider as the Man, not so predictable after all, leaned closer until their faces were a mere inch apart.

The Elf gasped in uncharacteristic surprise.

"Aragorn?"

The Man could hear disbelief and something akin to fear in his friend's voice. "Shhhh..." he whispered consolingly, unsure of where his sudden courage came from. And then he felt the softness of Legolas's cheek beneath his caressing fingers and he realized.

A feeling of 'rightness' flooded him and filled him with a strange peace.

He leaned forward, even as the Elf's heart seemed to hammer so loudly that the world itself could be awakened by it, and brushed their lips together gently.

It was their first kiss. And always to be remembered, for Aragorn knew that it had shaken something in the world that night. That was the turning of the tide.

The rest was history.