They were back in Edoras now. The battle was over, the Hobbits were safe, and the warriors had a small moment of peace before they had to leave again. Rohan faced no further threat with Isengard destroyed, and the citizens had little to worry about anymore. But Aragorn knew better.
He would have to leave for Gondor eventually. His people faced the largest threat, with Mordor practically on their doorstep. And however much Aragorn was loath to accept it, he was their king. Minas Tirith would need him before the end.
What have I gotten myself into? I am no king. I have no desire for power. Yet, Gandalf tells me I must claim my birthright before the end. I must become the king I was born to be. I wish it were not so; I do not want to be king.
The Ranger sighed dejectedly and looked up at the nearby mountains. No matter how many times he thought it over, there was no way he could avoid his fate. It was then, as he stared up at the frosty peaks, that he noticed it. A fire, a huge bonfire.
Aragorn leapt to his feet, spilling the bowl of stew he held and dropping his pipe in the process. Without a second thought the man sprinted up the stairs toward the king's hall. he burst through the doors, no doubt interrupting, but he didn't care. "The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit!" he called, skidding to a stop before the king, "Gondor calls for aid!"
The hall was silent, all it's occupants stared at him. Then all eyes turned to Theoden, awaiting his decision.
"And Rohan will answer."
So again we've found ourselves rushing off to join a battle that we are ill prepared for, and in which we shall be hopelessly outnumbered. There is little chance for victory; but I suppose, since that did not stop us last time, Aragorn and Theoden will not let it stop them this time. Perhaps the miraculous victory at Helm's Deep has gone to their heads.
Even if every citizen of Rohan were to head into battle we would still have no hope of breaking the lines of Mordor. It is hopeless; we are going to our deaths.
I dread leaving tomorrow, and yet, all the same, I want this war to be over so badly I would do almost anything to end it. I would follow him to my death if I had to. And right now, it looks as though I may do just that.
"Aragorn?"
The man looked up from packing his bag to see Legolas standing at the entrance of his tent. Aragorn wondered how long he had been standing there. "What is wrong?"
The Elf hesitated, biting his lip and looking down at the floor. "I am worried," he admitted.
"About what?" the Ranger questioned, standing and crossing to his lover.
"Us," Legolas murmured.
This concerned Aragorn. He had thought their misunderstandings had been cleared up. He gently ushered the Elf into his room and checked to see if anyone had noticed, but there was no one out this late; especially on the eve of battle. "Tell me what is wrong," he urged, sitting the Elf down on the floor.
Legolas would not meet his eyes, but kept his gaze firmly locked on his lap. "I am worried," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "What will happen when we arrive in Gondor? You will claim the throne, and I understand your choice to so do. It is yours by birthright, but... What will happen to me?"
Aragorn, truly, had not given it much thought. That time still seemed so far away. The Ranger was still unsure if they would win this war, but Legolas was right to worry, he realized, because that was a possibility. Slowly the man knelt down before his lover. The Elf's crystal blue eyes flickered to his for an instant, then fell again. "Truthfully," Aragorn began, "I have not thought much of it. We had agreed that your father need never know."
"But Aragorn," Legolas started, and then s topped. He seemed hesitant to speak what he wished to say. "Estel, I do not know if I can do that anymore." He looked up again, this time locking his blue eyes with the Ranger's gray, "I do not think I can leave you when this is all over... I love you, Estel. More than I thought possible."
The Ranger stared at his lover. He had not known how much he wanted to hear those words spoken aloud. "I do not want to leave you either," he replied softly, "But could you stand your father's banishment?"
"I do not know," Legolas murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face as he looked down again, "I am so confused, Aragorn." When Aragorn took the Elf's face in his hand's he could see the tears forming in his lover's eyes, and it made him sad as well. Knowing that in the end he must chose between his love for the man and that for his family must be tearing him apart. "I cannot imagine life without you, Aragorn... But I cannot bear never seeing my home again. What am I supposed to do?"
Aragorn quickly moved to sit beside his lover. They both knew there was little hope of swaying Thranduil's opinion of humans. Even Aragorn's position as king would have little import to the strong-willed Elven king. So the man merely wrapped his arms around the blond prince and held him close. "It will all work out in the end, I promise."
"How?" Legolas choked on the tears he was holding back as he sank into the man's embrace. "I know Lord Elrond was here, and that he spoke to you," he said softly, "I do not know what he said, but I can tell it was grave." The man stiffened for a moment, and this worried Legolas. Had he said something wrong?
Aragorn was silent for a long moment, then pulled away from his Elven lover. "I will take the Paths of the Dead."
"What?" the Elf exclaimed, looking up at him worriedly.
"It is our only hope for victory," Aragorn insisted, "Rohan alone will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor, not when they have reinforcements on the way."
"But you cannot expect to make it out alive."
"I can," the man assured, "The dead will follow the Heir of Isildur if it means they can finally rest in peace."
"Then I will come with you," the Elf decided.
"No," Aragorn replied sternly, "You will stay here and ride with the Rohirrim."
"I will not leave you Aragorn," Legolas argued.
"You will," the Ranger insisted, "It is too dangerous."
The Elf huffed in annoyance, "You think I cannot take care of myself?"
"No, that is not it, Legolas," Aragorn assured, "But-"
"I am going, Aragorn," the Elf interrupted, determined, "And that is that."
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