"Legolas, I can mend my own shirt."
Aragorn lunged and tried to grab the shirt out of the Elf's hand, but Legolas just laughed and danced out of his reach. He had Aragorn's torn shirt in one hand and a darning needle he had borrowed from Sam in the other.
"Ha, that's a bit unlikely. I've seen your mending jobs Aragorn, a blind Dwarf could do better." Legolas teased, eyes glinting mischievously. He had snagged Aragorn's shirt while the Man wasn't looking, but he'd noticed before Legolas could repair the tear in the sleeve.
"Hmph, a blind Dwarf is more than capable of needlework if he puts his mind to it." Gimli harrumphed good-naturedly as he and Boromir stoked the fire.
"No offense meant Master Dwarf." Legolas called as he jumped over where Sam was cutting vegetables to evade Aragorn's grasp. "By Eleberth, Aragon forget your pride for once and just let me mend the blasted shirt!"
Merry and Pippin were watching in astonishment as the future king of Gondor chased a Prince of Mirkwood around the fire all because of a shirt. Then Merry, ever the schemer, stuck out his foot as Legolas darted past and sent the Elf stumbling. Aragorn reached for his tunic, and Legolas recovered just in time to snatch it out of the Man's hands. He shot a glare at the laughing hobbit, then Legolas ran to the other side of the fire with shirt and needle still in hand.
Aragorn watched the Elf warily through the sparking fire, cursing the fact that his lover had such quick reflexes. "Legolas..." he said warningly, hoping the Elf would just give him the shirt and be done with it.
Unfortunately for the Ranger, Legolas wasn't going to cooperate. "Aragorn..." he said mockingly, using the same warning tone, then grinned. The Man was torn between anger and amusement, so he just glowered silently at the laughing Elf. Legolas seemed to take no notice of his lover;s displeasure and happily started to thread his needle.
"Aragorn, there's no use. Thranduil's Elves are as stubborn as mules when they stick their heels in. You may as well give up and save yourself any further embarrassment." Gandalf said around his short-stemmed pipe, smiling at the frustrated Man and gloating Elf.
Aragorn glanced at Gandalf then at Legolas, then grudgingly walked to his pack and sat down. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Legolas sat and began to sew, singing softly to himself.
"Strider, why don't you want Legolas to mend your shirt? He couldn't do any harm." Sam asked curiously as he threw his newly chopped vegetables into his pot.
"I don't want any floral embroidery on it, that's why Sam." Aragorn responded good naturedly, trying to avoid glancing at Legolas. He didn't want the Elf thinking that he needed to take care of Aragorn, if anything it should have been the opposite. And with Middle Earth in the state it was Aragorn didn't want Legolas to endanger himself just to look out of the Man.
"Just for that you're getting a bouquet up the arm" Legolas retorted, still bent over his sewing. Boromir threw his head back in laughter and even Frodo chuckled at Legolas's words. Aragorn shook his head ruefully and watched Legolas's quick fingers deftly mend the long tear in the sleeve. Given enough time and thread Legolas probably would put a bouquet up the arm, solely on a whim, and then force Aragorn to wear it. Well, that was Legolas, and Aragorn wouldn't have him any other way. Except, perhaps, shirtless.
A companionable silence fell in the camp, the only sounds were the slow simmer of Sam's stew over the fire and Legolas's soft song. Aragorn watched the lithe Elf as he concentrated on his work, dark hair dancing on the night breeze and green eyes focused on the shirt he was holding. Aragorn felt so blessed to have this ethereal creature, even it if was stubbornly refusing to let him mend his own shirt. The Man looked thoughtfully at Legolas, who seemed to take no notice of Aragorn's stare. The Elf was fully engrossed in his domestic task.
With a wild cry Aragorn rushed at Legolas, who glanced up in surprise. He leapt to his feet, but his lover had caught him at unawares. The Man snagged Legolas around the waist and pulled him close, the Elf's back against his check. He immediately relaxed into Aragorn's arms, but, the Man noted with a smile, Legolas kept his needle and shirt in a white knuckled grip. Gandalf was right, Thranduil's Elves were as stubborn as mules.
"~Give me my shirt back, Legolas.~" Aragorn told him in Elvish, trying to loosen the Elf's grip on the shirt without letting Legolas escape.
"~No.~" Legolas responded, managing to make even the lilting Elvish sound obstinate.
"~Give. Me. My. Shirt.~" Aragorn said, tugging at the shirt unsuccessfully. Legolas yanked it back losing his balance and falling against the Man in the process.
"~No!~" Legolas protested. "~And stop pulling on the shirt Aragorn, or you'll tear it again and there will be more mending for me to do.~"
Aragorn reluctantly released his hold on the shirt and put his arms around the Elf's waist again. Legolas was right, even if he was only saying that to get him to leave the shirt be. The Man rested his head on his lover's shoulder, and asked a question he'd been wondering since Legolas had grabbed the shirt when he wasn't looking.
"~Why do you want to mend my shirt?~" Legolas shifted in Aragorn's arms, and shot a glance at the other members of their Company. Gimli and Boromir were studiously ignoring them, and the hobbits all had identical embarrassed grins. Even when they didn't understand the language everyone seemed to know precisely what was going on.
"~I wanted to do something for you, that reminded you of your people.~" Legolas said softly, feeling a trifle embarrassed when he had to put his thoughts into words. It sounded so...insignificant. Legolas wanted to mend the shirt to show Aragorn how he felt when he was around the Man. Blessed, and usually a little giddy.
"~Why?~" Aragorn asked curiously, sensing his lover's discomfort. And, after all, Legolas was the one who had declared that the two of them being of different races didn't matter. His reasoning was that Aragorn acted as much like an Elf as a Man, and Legolas's temper was probably shorter then most Men's, so they balanced each other out.
"~Men's customs are different from Elves'. And...well, you are a Man and thus, think differently from Elves, which I am. I wanted you to know that I care for you...~" Legolas trailed off, realizing that he was babbling. He wasn't making any sense, Aragorn was well aware of how he felt, even if they hadn't taken vows or exchanged tokens. Legolas didn't have to do this, Aragorn could read his emotions probably better than he himself could. But he wanted to be sure that he knew, just in case.
"~So you decided to mend my shirt?~" Aragorn asked, sounding distinctly amused. Legolas flushed, and resisted the urge to turn and see the Man's grin. How did Aragorn manage to hold this much power over him? Legolas was more than four times his age, there was no reason for him to be embarrassed.
"~Yes.~" Legolas said, trying to sound dignified and as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Aragorn smiled and tightened his grip around the Elf's waist. Legolas was precocious, alive for over 500 years and he was blushing like a youth caught playing a prank. Aragorn felt the familiar flutter of desire in his stomach as he leaned forward to ask softly. "~Why?~"
Legolas felt his knees weaken as the Man brought them still closer together. He leaned against Aragorn's chest, trying to ignore the flush in his cheeks and butterflies in his stomach as he attempted to avoid his lover's question. "~Did you say something?~"
"~You heard me.~" Aragorn murmured in his lover's pointed ear. "~Now answer my question.~"
Legolas half-smiled guiltily, and snuck a glance back at the campsite. Gandalf looked to be contentedly puffing on his pipe, but his smile made it obvious he could hear every word of their conversation. The Elf turned away from his other companions and reluctantly answered Aragorn's question. "~I asked Boromir about Men's marriages and customs. He told me about his mother's and father's loving relationship when he was young. He, um, told me his mother would always mend Denethor's shirts. And Boromir suggested that I mend one of your shirts to show you how I felt. So...I did.~"
Legolas turned to look at Aragorn to see the Man's reaction. Aragorn was fighting a grin and his eyes were bright with surpressed mirth.
"~You...took advice from Boromir.~" Aragorn said, trying to keep his voice steady. The Elf blushed an even darker shade of scarlet, but proudly kept his head high.
"~I thought mending shirts was a bizarre Gondor custom!~" Legolas said, trying to defend himself. Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment, obviously trying not to lose control.
"~You took love advice from Boromir.~" Aragorn said again, still trying to process the information. He looked at Legolas with an open grin. The Elf was blushing to his ears and fighting a smile himself. It was beyond absurd. An Elf, who had seen more summers than any Man could dream of, asking an unmarried 41 year old for romantic advice. Mirth bubbled up in Aragorn and before he knew it he was laughing uproariously. Still chuckling, Aragorn leaned forward and caught Legolas in a sweet kiss, an action the Elf was more than willing to submit to.
After a moment Aragorn pulled away and looked seriously at Legolas. "~You didn't have to mend the damn shirt.~" The Man said softly, hazel eyes meeting bright green ones.
"~I know.~" Legolas said in an equally soft voice, a slight smile on his lips.
"~I know you care for me. Thank you.~" Aragorn told him, as his calloused hands crept up Legolas's shoulders.
"~I think I may have to have some words with Boromir, and teach him that-" Legolas stopped suddenly as the Man's nimble fingers found the seam of Legolas's silver tunic. With a jerk of his wrist Aragorn ripped a large hole in the shirt and met Legolas's look of surprise with an innocent smile.
"~Legolas! Why didn't you tell me you had put a hole in you tunic? You know, I heard it's a strange Elven custom to let one's lover do your mending.~" Aragorn said with a smile, pausing to savor the Elf's astonished expression before continuing. "~Well, then let's go. Off with the shirt and let me sew it.~"
Legolas glared at the smug Man for a moment, then sighed in resignation. He pulled the shirt over his head and grudgingly handed it to Aragorn before shaking his head, half-smiling again and returning to the hole in Aragorn's sleeve.
Aragorn watched him sit down with a smile, then turned back to the campsite. The hobbits and Gimli looked utterly bewildered, Boromir looked a bit worried after hearing his name, and Gandalf was beside himself with laughter. Aragorn looked down at the delicate clothing in his hands then asked in the Common Tongue.
"Sam, can I borrow a needle?"
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Domestic Duties (also known as The Mending of Shirts) by Quimby
Story notes: ~If something is written in these brackets it is being said in Elvish~
This is being written due to the severe lack of happy-ending or fluffy fics for our poor boys. Yes, I realize that they have wonderful angsting abilities. But come on. They deserve a happy ending every once in a while too. They need some domestic bliss, so I gave it to them.
