Submitter: Pecos Date: 2005/12/29 Views: 3241 Rate: 7.00/10

“The future isn’t what it used to be.” – Variously ascribed


The world seemed different in the early light of morning. Legolas’ keen eyes had watched over his lover’s safety during the dark, fading at times into a brief respite in the void of reverie, but now with the coming of the sun all things came into focus. He had a purpose and a mission again. No longer doomed to mere survival, Legolas had found reason for his presence in this alien place and time.

He lay tangled with Aragorn in a way that implied far more than shared warmth or comfort. This was the way that lovers entwined, and the Elf blinked at the realization that the Man in his arms had brought a missing part of his heart back to him. He slowly extricated himself from the bed, rising to stretch, letting his gaze travel the body of the Man who’d followed him here. Aragorn’s face showed deep contentment, his face once again shadowed by beard and the lines of worry and fear eased by the passing of the night – and all that had passed within that night. Legolas forced himself away from the inviting presence and sorted through the clothing available to him. He pulled on a garment that provided a bare minimum of modesty and let himself out of the room, monitoring everyone else in the house and the area enough to know that he was leaving Aragorn in safety. The Elf went out into the garden to tend to his own morning needs.

His voice rose in song from the moment that his bare feet touched grasses and healthy dirt, and his fingers caressed the bark of familiar trees. He kept his song soft and light, but the world took notice, as it always did, of the ethereal presence in this tiny corner of England. Birds joined the chorus, and small creatures stirred in the thickets. Legolas bathed himself and rubbed sweet grasses through his hair, moving into the first rays of the rising sun to plait the long strands of gold. He felt the approach of a Man, and waited patiently, nimble fingers doing quick work.

“I remember when they cut it off,” said Colin, his voice softer than usual. “In the hospital...it was the most brutal and cruel thing I’d ever seen.”

“I have seen true brutality in times of aggression between Men, and even worse from one race to another,” Legolas told him, shifting his squat to face Colin as the Man sank down to sit on an exposed rock, trying to make himself comfortable in surroundings that were not natural to him. “The loss of one’s hair is hardly a matter of concern. It was the loss of my personal dignity that cut deeply. Elves have a strong sense of their own...” he searched for the right word, sorting through his English vocabulary, “...their place. Their fit within the weave of the fabric.” He finished another braid, and started plaiting the strands at the back of his head.

Colin seemed uncomfortable within himself. He finally spoke, his words carefully chosen. “I had not realized the, er, the depth of your attachment to Aragorn. You two are obviously, uh, rather, a couple, and....”

Legolas took pity on him and interrupted. “I am not bonded to Aragorn as a life-mate. He is bonded to another, and if we had succeeded in our quest and alliances they would become partners in the raising of children and sharing lifelong plans and passions...well, for the duration of Aragorn’s life. But I am bonded to him in love and companionship. There is not a word in English which describes this adequately, but I reason that you could say that we are friends and lovers.”

Colin was clearly remembering some evidence of their passion the night before. “Yeah, lovers. I rather caught on to that bit. Is this...common, amongst Elves?”

Legolas had reached the end of his final braid, tying it off and running his fingers over his hair to smooth it one last time. He dug his bare toes into the dirt and let his eyes lift to the brightly colored morning sky. “Elves live for a very, very long time, Colin. To your understanding we would seem nearly immortal. We have many lovers and many lives to share. We connect from one similar soul to another, in sympathy for feelings which may be obvious, or subjective.” He stopped himself, realizing that he was trying to communicate things that were too profound for this language he’d so recently acquired. He refocused himself on Colin, and Colin’s needs and understanding. “I do love Aragorn. And it is common amongst Elves for love to be from one male to another, female to female, threesomes, small groups...there are many ways to love, as there are many around one worthy of love.”

The look of wistfulness on the comely Man’s face was fleeting, but it told Legolas much that he’d failed to comprehend before. “I didn’t know, I guess. What you two...well, you know how you had lain with me and....”

It wrenched at Legolas’ soul to suddenly realize that Colin had perhaps hoped for more. He had failed to give his friend a true explanation of his own feelings toward the Man. The elf quickly rose and moved the short distance between them, a gulf that was in reality so far that the Man could never have reasonably expected to cross it, although his heart had evidently made the trip already. Colin had risen quickly as well, his motion seemingly defensive, and Legolas’ embrace was met with resistance at first. But Colin eventually softened into the Elf’s arms, and found himself cradled against the strong chest.

“I do care very deeply for you, Colin Farrell, Man of London and Ireland and protector of innocent and lost peoples. You saved me from an evil doom and aided a stranger at risk of your own life. You are a good and loving Man, and your soul is a joy to behold in friendship.” The Elf hummed his feelings lightly, trying to comfort the fluttering heart so near his own. He spoke again only when he thought that Colin was ready to hear him. “I would be proud to love you for the length of your life...but I will not be here to share it with you. Whether or not I am able to return to Middle-earth, my destiny is not to remain here in England. I would do you greater harm by truly loving you and leaving, and I could do you no harm.”

He focused on the keen eyes meeting his own, and then he gently bent to meet the soft lips, and he kissed Colin deeply, and with much heart if no passion. And Legolas prayed that he was giving understanding as well as some small measure of comfort. When he finally pulled back, the Elf smiled, and a smile greeted his own, and he could only hope that the Man’s soul had heard the meaning of the kiss. Legolas turned to meet Aragorn’s eyes where his friend had drawn near.

Aragorn’s puzzled face eased, and he nodded. “I thought to find you here, Elf brother,” he said in English, mindful of the policeman in Legolas’ arms. “The flowers are all turned they faces from the sun.”

“More empty flattery!” Legolas laughed, and he made to gather Aragorn into his arms without releasing Colin, despite the Englishman’s obvious confusion. “I am trying to ease Colin’s sadness at his discovery of the depth of our attachment.”

“Have you done this?” Aragorn asked, meeting Colin’s gaze squarely, as Men were wont to do.

“I’m wrapping the idea ‘round about my mind,” Colin said.

Legolas then gripped Colin tighter yet and turned his mouth to Aragorn’s, and their souls meshed, breath stilling for a long moment, passion flaring instantly to life. The Elf broke the kiss to move his lips to the place behind Aragorn’s ear where a small scar marred the Man’s flesh, and his spirit soared with a light song, and the birds fell silent to hear him in the morning air. Aragorn breathed deeply of the Elf’s love, then finally pulled away, and Colin was there as well, a new appreciation in his eyes.

“I understand now,” the Englishman told them. “I can't say that I'm not jealous, a bit. But I guess I can see that this depth of attachment is something I could never have.”

“Do not be sad,” Aragorn told him. “Be glad that I can give comfort, and Legolas to me. There is love meant for you as well. You are a good Man, Colin.”

Legolas held both of their jaws cupped in his palm, and Colin drew away of his own accord. The Elf met his eyes one more time, and touched the Man’s soul. Colin smiled wistfully, and withdrew. Soon the birds were silenced again as the Elf’s song rose once more, but this time Colin’s joy rose with them, his fondness for them enough to overcome the feeling of loss for himself.

Breakfast was held on the lawn, as usual, though the table was quite full. Professor Tolkien reached for the toast and got his fingers on a warm slice, but the conversation was so utterly fascinating that he just held the toast over the rack as Legolas and Aragorn talked. The languages were being bandied as freely as comments on the weather, and Tolkien was utterly in his element, just this side of giddy over the turn of events and the opportunity to learn.

“Saruman is making war devices,” the Ranger was explaining, his eyes narrowed with contempt and anger.

“He was in Germany before the last war started, years before I arrived,” Legolas told him. “Colin found this in records of the conflict.” Colin’s eyes flicked over to the Elf, hearing his name, but the two from Middle-earth were currently speaking Elvish, so he had no idea why he’d been mentioned. Mrs. Tolkien was lecturing Christopher about the proper use of a butter knife, completely unconcerned about the grave issues at hand. “There are many records made of historical happenings. You would scarce believe the use of papers and the machines to impart them.”

“Becca says the Americans took him from Germany as a scientist for the Manhattan Project,” Aragorn said.

“Is Becca a policeman too?” Legolas wanted to know.

“She teaches the young.”

“Ah, even more important then,” Legolas decided. “What is Manhattan Project?”

“Manhattan is part of the city of New York,” Colin inserted, trying to catch up.

“A-bomb,” Aragorn said. “Do you know A-bomb, mellon-nin?” He was speaking English now, but with Elvish endearments.

Legolas’ nostrils flared, and he gave a look so dark it could only be described as disgusted. “The light which unmakes all things. It is a great evil.”

“Great? I am told this. I do not understand it, though Marvin has tried to tell me. My mind cannot grip it.”

“Remember the wall of the Hornburg? How it was breached in fire and the roar of breaking rock?” Legolas asked, then switched back to Elvish again. “That was but the flick of a sparrow’s wing to the stoop of a thousand Fell Beasts. Imagine whole cities turned to dust in the space of a breath. The stars weep at this adulteration of their brilliance, and the sun hides her face in shame. People are smitten so horribly that they just disappear, or are burned as if by invisible flames. This thing is blacker than even Sauron’s heart.”

Aragorn nodded slowly. “It would seem that the many-colored Wizard of Isengard has been wreaking his havoc amongst these Men as well.”

“Pass the rashers, please, Professor?” Colin asked, a bit annoyed at not being included.

Legolas was speaking more quickly now, and with an angry tone, and Tolkien was unhappy to discover that they’d switched to yet another tongue, and one that he hadn’t learned. The vowels seemed to be something that might have come from the Men of the North, perhaps a Ranger language. Aragorn seemed just as excited, and their hands described great agitation, leaning toward each other as if in conference on a hotly disputed topic. Lyric and distraught voices rose, and the Elf was more animated than the Professor had ever seen him. This was a streak of the Prince of Mirkwood showing.

“Please...please...what are you saying now?” Tolkien finally asked, unable to restrain himself despite his natural reluctance to interrupt.

Legolas drew a sudden breath and seemed to catch himself. “My apologies,” he addressed the table. “We are being impolite during the breaking of fast.”

Mrs. Tolkien quirked a smile. “Don’t worry about it, luvvie. We’re getting pretty used to Elvish ways hereabouts. You just get things settled with your...uh, your friend.”

Legolas reached out and took Colin’s hand, surprising everyone. “Aragorn and I must go to America now. We must find Saruman and make an end to his machinations.”

“You’re leaving England?” the policeman questioned. “So soon?”

“I will slay him with my own hands, if needs be,” Aragorn said in Elvish. He snatched the forgotten toast from the Professor’s fingers and crammed it in his mouth.

Legolas frowned at him, as one would with an errant child. “My liege?”

Tolkien had finally caught on to their relationship sufficiently to let himself laugh. The meal continued more normally, Aragorn consenting to answer questions which had haunted the Professor for a long time. He found the Ranger to be different than he’d supposed, with a surprising streak of liveliness for one who was older than he seemed. There was wisdom as well, and Tolkien could see that he was going to make a great King, should they ever return to their places in Middle-earth and succeed in the mission they had before them. Who knew what had happened during their absence?

“I do not know how I will finish the books,” Tolkien finally complained aloud.

“Finish them as you hope that our story will unfold,” Legolas urged.

“Give them a happy ending,” his wife urged, taking the jam jar away from the Elf.

Aragorn gazed into the sky, seeing things in the clouds, then spoke in Elvish again because he needed to make his meaning clear. “Please let Frodo succeed in his impossible task, for if it did not come to that end in truth it was not for lack of heart and will. I would that he succeeded at the cost of everything I hold dear...everything.”

Legolas smiled slowly. “The most far-sighted of men.” He turned to Colin and said as an aside, “you see why I love him?”

“I do,” the policeman admitted, having got the gist of Aragorn’s words, if not the details. He slipped the jam jar off the table and passed it to the Elf beneath the cloth.

“Write for me a lover worthy of my passions,” Legolas urged. “For my future holds mysteries only in the details. Galadriel has assured me that I will be loved deeply for all of my days, until I sail to the west, so I think that I will be able to fulfill my longings and bring peace to my countries.”

“Make him fall in love with the Dwarf!” Aragorn laughed suddenly. “Please! I give to you two bits to do this!” He fumbled an American quarter from his pocket and offered it to the Professor.

Tolkien raised his brow, suppressing a giggle.

“You would not dare,” Legolas proclaimed haughtily. “Gimli is a worthy companion and a stout-hearted fellow. But to touch his hirsute person in passion?” He shuddered, his manner inferring all his princely prissiness in high Elvish fashion. “I should have to live many thousand more years to find sexual attraction there. I am not so hard-pressed for lovers, in truth.”

The Professor grinned wider, remembering some of the jokes the Elf had played on him through their years. It would be fair revenge.

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