At last Aragorn stood at the fringe of Mirkwood. It had taken him a grueling four and a half weeks of trekking over the Misty Mountains to arrive there; the harsh winds and freezing nights of fall were already long upon the peaks and valleys of his path. The forest, on the other hand, was only beginning change – its deep greens had turned to bright oranges, reds, and yellows, but leaves were not yet upon the ground.
Aragorn took a deep breath, letting the thick, woody air envelope his senses. At last, he was back, back where he knew he belonged. As he stepped into the forest, Aragorn shook all thoughts of Rivendell and Arwen, of Gondor and Elessar. He was prepared in his entirety to give himself to Legolas. Now only a day of travel separated the two.
More than halfway through the shortcut Legolas had shown him more than a year ago, Aragorn was forced to rest for the night. It wasn't until the dawn of the next day that Aragorn realized he only knew how to get to Legolas' hiding place and the river, not to Thranduil's kingdom. In fact, he had never been to the kingdom itself, only to its outskirts with the
Ranger, long, long ago.
Regardless, as day broke Aragorn continued on his way. The hope, however small, that Legolas would be there drove him to keep going. At midday, Aragorn reached the platform where he and Legolas had spent the night, only to find it empty. He quickly left there for the river, which was also deserted. Aragorn sat on the sandy bank, silently watching the water flow by.
Afternoon was fast giving way to evening, and the shortening days of autumn pressed Aragorn to make a decision. He had either to return to Legolas' platform, where he would spend the night and then head out of Mirkwood the following morning, or he had to take his chances and follow the river to wherever it may lead him.
Standing up, Aragorn brushed the sand from his pants, and glanced once at the setting sun before turning east.
Aragorn wanted to become a true Ranger, and now was the perfect opportunity for him to do so. With the sun at his back, Aragorn followed the river into darkness. He didn't stop until dusk fell and he needed to refill his canteen.
Aragorn knelt beside the river but was stopped before he had a chance to get any water. Something cooler than steel against was being held to his neck: an arrow of the Elves. Dropping his canteen, Aragorn lifted his arms in the air to show that he held no weapon.
"What is your business here?" Someone asked him in the Common Tongue.
"I search for the Kingdom of Thranduil," Aragorn answered in Elvish.
The Elf pulled his arrow away from Aragorn's neck, and took a step back. Aragorn stood and turned around. The Elf was fair in skin and hair, but he was not nearly so beautiful as Legolas. He now spoke in the Elvin tongue as well. "You are a long way from the Kingdom, stranger. Name yourself and your business in the Kingdom of Thranduil, King of the Elves of North Mirkwood."
Aragorn paused a moment to consider which name to use. "I am Strider the Ranger," he responded. "And I come to... to..."
Aragorn realized that he did not know how to put his feelings into words. He hardly knew what drew him to Legolas himself, but he certainly knew that he could not give that as a reason.
"Strider?" The Elf repeated. "The Ranger who rescued four Elves from the clutches of beasts in years past?"
Aragorn nodded. "That was a long time ago, yes. So long ago that I no longer remember the way to Thranduil's fair kingdom."
The Elf bowed. "Forgive me, Master Strider. You are most welcome in the courts of King Thranduil. I will show you the way to the kingdom."
Night was upon them when Aragorn and his guide arrived at the gates of Thranduil's kingdom. The Elvin city was alight with the soft glow of lamplight, making the entire city shine sliver.
"It is fitting," Aragorn breathed. "So fair a city for so fair a people."
His guide smiled. "I am sure the King will be pleased to hear that it has impressed you so. I will take you to the palace."
Aragorn looked about himself in awe as they passed through the outskirts of the kingdom. Finally they arrived at the steps to the palace. It was a large building of blue and gray silvers, and every curve of its turrets and arch of its windows gleamed in the light of the moon and the Elvin lamps that hung about it. The marble staircase gave way to large, slivery doors, beside which stood two guards.
"Come." Aragorn's guide began up the stairs. "I have a visitor for the king," he shouted to the guards.
Aragorn followed behind him at a distance to allow the Elves to speak to one another in private. A fourth Elf appeared from within the palace, and when Aragorn reached the great double-doors, they had already come to a decision.
"You will be led inside," the new Elf told him. "And someone will check to see if the king is awake. If not, you will be given a room and you will see him in the morning. Strider the Ranger is most welcome here, for his good deeds have not been forgotten."
Aragorn thanked the Elf who had been his guide, who bowed in return. "It was a pleasure, Master Strider." He then returned down the stairs to retire for the night.
Aragorn turned back to the other Elves. The guards opened the doors, and a magnificent hall came into view. Its walls were lined with the same mysterious lights common in Elvin cities, lighting the marble floors with the soft, silver-white glow of the rest of the city. Taking a deep breath, Aragorn followed his new guide into the hallway.
"Please, wait here a moment," the Elf said.
Aragorn nodded and the Elf disappeared through an open doorway off to the side of the room. As the doors silently slid shut behind him, Aragorn looked about himself in wonder. Why Legolas would ever want to leave such a place was a mystery to him, but now he could ask Legolas himself if he wanted to. Aragorn couldn't keep from smiling as he thought of the Elvin Prince.
It had been well over a year, yes, but Legolas himself had said that time was of little importance to Elves. It was far too late in his journey for Aragorn to begin worrying that Legolas, one so innocent and beautiful, could have forgotten about him, one so coarse and jaded. As Aragorn fought to shove those ideas from his mind, another Elf approached him, and informed him that he would be led to a room. It appeared that Aragorn would have to struggle with those thoughts until daybreak.
The sound of birds singing outside his window woke Aragorn. Shafts of sunlight filtered into his room though the gauzy curtains hung over the windows and bed. It was no wonder that he thought he must still be dreaming when he blinked open his eyes.
Despite being wracked with thoughts of Legolas forgetting him, Aragorn had fallen asleep immediately, so comfortable was the bed he was in. Now that he was awake, the thoughts began to return. In the light of day, however, the did not have as great a hold over him; the serene atmosphere of the palace reminded him of the dream-like quality of his encounter with Legolas, and that magic sustained him.
Aragorn stretched and looked around himself. Across from his bed was a table beside where a fireplace would have been in a man's castle. Being that the Elves felt no cold, however, there were no fireplaces even so far north. Aragorn noticed that the Elves did not use fire at all, which explained the amazing lights they used to illuminate their cities.
Seeing something on the table, Aragorn walked over. He was surprised to see that someone had left him breakfast. As he sat down to enjoy it, there was a soft knock on his door. His heart began to beat loudly, echoing in his ears with anticipation, but Aragorn tried not to get his hopes up. "Yes?" he called.
The door opened. It wasn't Legolas. "Master Strider, forgive me for interrupting you. Your bath is ready for when you are finished breakfasting. At dusk you will dine with the king." The Elf bowed and began to close the door, but Aragorn called out to him.
"What of the king's son? What of Prince Legolas?"
The Elf looked surprised that Aragorn knew the prince's name. "Prince Legolas is away from the kingdom."
Aragorn's heart fell. "Away?"
The Elf nodded. "The Prince often leaves for months at a time."
Nodding numbly, Aragorn thanked the Elf for the information. The Elf bowed and exited the room. Sighing, Aragorn looked down at his breakfast, feeling too sick to touch any of it. "What a waste," he whispered. "What a waste."
[END, PART III]
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Chapter notes: Still pre-LotR, Aragorn hunts out Thranduil's kingdom in an attempt to find Legolas again
NOTES: A major apology to Selene, to whom I promised this would be out some time ago. I'm afraid that I ran into some big-time writer's block while re-writing one of the sections here. Part IV will be out much sooner, I promise!
