Title: In the Dark Places (part 3)
Author: Glorfindel's Ghost(Glorfindels_ghost@yahoo.co.uk)
Pairings: A/L, F/S, M/P next chapter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien's, but there's really no
point in suing a student, trust me
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas clash in a battle of
wills whilst Sam feels the pull of a force even
greater than the ring

Not a lot happens in this chapter but it is important
honest! Anyone wanting Merry/Pippin will have to wait until
chapter 4, sorry!
Disclaimer: all these characters belong to JRR Tolkien
but he’s not doing a lot with them so I’ve borrowed them.
AN: Boromir is already dead ok? (his death didn’t
really fit with my story)
 
Sam, eyes narrowed to slits and jaw set determinedly,
was beginning to realise why, as a rule, hobbits stayed in 
the shire. They just weren’t designed for this 
kind of thing he decided as he trod rather painfully
on another stone and stopped to examine the bloody mess his 
feet were in.

Frodo appeared beside him, looking even worse than Sam 
felt.

"Oww…urgh…stop?" he managed breathlessly. 

Sam nodded in reply and the two hobbits sank down to the 
ground simultaneously. They were silent for a long 
while until Frodo’s stomach grumbled. Sam responded by
starting to dig around in his pack for some food but Frodo 
laid a hand on his arm to stop him.

"No don’t-we have to save it." 

Sam looked so glum that Frodo couldn’t help but 
laugh, a chuckle at first that grew into great
helpless guffaws which made his chest hurt. Sam looked more 
than a little worried about his friend’s behaviour 
and muttered something under his breath about finally
beginning to see why everyone thought that the Bagginses 
were odd. Frodo heard this and it made him laugh all the 
harder. Eventually it got to Sam-his lips started to twitch 
and before long both he and Frodo were sitting with tears
of laughter streaming down their cheeks.

But then as abruptly as he had started, Frodo stopped
laughing.

"Just think about it Sam," he said in a voice full of
trepidation, "the future of middle earth depends on us." 
Sam attempted a comforting smile and failed 
dismally.

"But you were chosen," he pointed out to Frodo, "so
you are obviously thought worthy of the task." 

Frodo sighed and pulled a face in return. 

"Oh Sam, you can say whatever you want but I think we both 
know that I have been worse than useless so far...." 

Sam opened his mouth to protest but Frodo put up a hand to
keep him quiet, "...and yet all depends on me. It makes no 
sense-perhaps Aragorn should have taken the ring?" 

Sam saw several fundamental flaws in this reasoning, the 
first being that as Isildur’s heir Aragorn was particularly
susceptible to the ring. 

Secondly, Sam had a feeling he probably would have
given the ring to Legolas by now, such was the fervour with 
which he was pursuing the elf. And thirdly...well, 
Sam hated to admit it but he was perhaps just a little
jealous of Aragorn and how highly Frodo held him in esteem. 
Aragorn was brave, noble, valiant....

Sam gritted his teeth-he never got such praise. Never
mind that here he was following Frodo into Mordor-to almost 
certain death-and did he get any thanks? 

Almost as quickly as these disquieting thoughts surfaced, 
Sam banished then to the back of his mind. He was a friend, 
that’s why he was there, he required no thanks and nothing 
in return. Right?

Tied up in knots by his thoughts he decided that it
was time to get going again. He turned to Frodo and sighed 
deeply-the hobbit had fallen asleep using his cloak as a 
pillow. He slept soundly for once, his dark curls ruffled 
in the breeze. Sam had not the heart to wake him. He smiled
grimly, gathered his cloak around him and settled down to 
keep watch, trying to keep his mind on things like 
gardening and food. Inevitably they wandered to
things Sam knew he could never do or say. Sam was not 
regretful- perversely, he was gaining courage and 
heart from Frodo’s despair as it only made him more
determined. And if they should succeed…he bit his lip…well, 
if they could save the world then surely anything was 
possible?

 
Gimli had fallen asleep almost as soon as he had lain
down but Aragorn’s attempts to do the same had been 
severely hampered by Legolas on watch, as the 
elf wandered around and hummed softly to himself.

Aragorn would have been most displeased to learn that the 
elf knew fully well that he was awake and was just 
trying to torment him. Eventually, he gave up on the
idea of sleep and sat up, only to find himself staring at 
the end of an arrow. 

"No," Legolas told him firmly.

"What?"

"In advance-before you either start complimenting me or 
declaring your love for me again." 

Aragorn glared at him.

"I understand that I need to be punished but how much
longer are you going to keep this up for? And would you 
please put that thing down?"

Legolas lowered the bow and arrow but shook his head
sadly.

"You just don’t understand do you? You really think
that I could come to love you after what you did? You’ve 
spent your life concealing who you are but you 
cannot conceal what you are from me- I have seen you
stripped bare and it is an ugly sight indeed."

Aragorn was surprised at the passion with which the
elf spoke, emerald eyes flaming with anger.

"I am truly sorry," Aragorn attempted, knowing his
words to merely be an echo of those he had uttered before. 
Legolas laughed bitterly.

"That will not do either. In your mind Aragorn it is
clear that people should forgive and forget so that they 
may enjoy the short time they are given. But I am an elf-I 
cannot forgive you for something which I know will haunt me 
for the rest of my immortality. Do you not see?"

And finally Aragorn understood. He nodded in response
to Legolas’ question and then posed one of his own: 
"What do you feel for me in your heart? Hatred? Anger?
Please tell me."

Legolas’ brow furrowed as he thought about it.

"For your race I feel pity," he concluded, fiddling
with his tunic and not meeting Aragorn’s eyes, "I pity your 
weakness and your greed. For you personally I feel nothing-
you are nothing to me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to 
go to the toilet."

He rose and made to leave. Aragorn sensed it all
slipping away from him and grabbed his wrist.

"You’re lying."

"Excuse me?!" Legolas was flabbergasted by his impudence.

"Even if it is hatred it is something-you speak to me
with too much passion for me to believe that you feel 
nothing. And hatred can turn to love in the blink of 
an eye."

"You believe what you want Aragorn-I am tired of
playing this game. Become king, marry Arwen, live happily 
ever after but please do not pursue me-I am not in 
your destiny."

"That is for me to decide. I shall not give up on
you-we make our own destinies."

"Yes-and you are not in mine." The look that Legolas
was giving him suggested that as far as he was concerned 
the discussion was over. However, it had given Aragorn 
heart.

"Legolas," he stood up, grasped him by the shoulders
and planted a kiss on the elf’s forehead.

"Idiot," Legolas frowned and tried to swat him away, "have 
you heard nothing of what I have said?"

"Oh, I’ve heard - I’ve just chosen not to listen."

The smile crept across the elf’s face involuntarily,
the thing that gave Aragorn the greatest confidence. 
Legolas hurriedly wiped it off his face but the damage 
was done.

"You will not beat me in a battle of wills," Legolas
told him warningly, sensing that Aragorn had somehow 
managed to wrestle the upper hand away from him. 
Aragorn grinned.

"We’ll see."

Legolas pulled away from the Ranger’s grip and stalked
away into the woods muttering to himself, leaving Aragorn 
standing in the middle of the camp, a faint smile playing 
across his lips.