To Find a King

Aragorn adjusted the pack on his back. They had departed Rivendell at dawn, but already the weight of the load he carried was bothering him. Admittedly, it didn't really weight all that much, and almost all of the goods and provisions were for his benefit, but it was just annoying as much as it was heavy.

"Come on!" Legolas called, some distance ahead. The day was sunny and bright, though a fierce wind blew through the hills.

"We should have brought a pony!" Aragorn called back, the wind carrying his words away.

"We can always go back!" Legolas teased, his hair blowing away from his face.

Aragorn pulled a strand of hair out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear, despite knowing it would not stay. With every step away from Rivendell, the Ranger felt more relaxed. Perhaps he was running from his responsibilities, refusing to embrace his birthright, but it was nothing he wanted. "Keep walking!" he called ruefully. The Prince grinned, and continued on. Despite the pack, Aragorn was more than happy to be out in the wild again, dressed in his old, soft leathers, the wind tangling his hair, grass and rock underfoot. Out in the wild, he felt at home.

They reached the Misty Mountains in some days later, having taken their time whilst the good weather held, but now that they were in the mountains, Legolas did not wish to linger. Autumn weather could be unpredictable and change in an instant, and rain or snow on the rocks would become treacherously slippery, even for the elf. But there were things in the mountains even more dangerous than slippery wet rock, and Legolas wished to make the crossing as quickly as possible.

Legolas led the way along the narrow pass, high rock cliffs to their left, and a very long drop down the mountains to their right. "Something is on your mind," he said to Aragorn as dawn rose on their second day crossing through the mountains. The Ranger had been dawdling ever since they resumed their march at first light an hour ago. The snowy peaks glowed pink and gold as the sun rose, the winds having blown away all the mist, and clear blue skies were visible in all directions.

"I am fine," Aragorn said, continuing on.

"You are distracted. The mountains can be dangerous. You must have your wits about you," Legolas said, coming to a stop. He had already seen two orc sentries amongst the rock, quickly dispatching them with a well-placed arrow before the foul creatures could have so much as smelt the elf and man in the distance.

"It is impossible," Aragorn said, stopping beside Legolas, his voice as far off as his mind.

"Keeping your concentration?" Legolas asked lightly, "It is a long fall off the ledge."

"I told her it is but a dream," Aragorn said, not listening at all to the Prince's words, and looked earnestly at Legolas. "It can only be a dream."

Legolas bided his time before replying. He was not sure what to make of the relationship between Aragorn and Arwen. Could they both be serious? It was folly, surely. It could never last. That thought made Legolas's heart ache. The relationship between Aragorn and Arwen, whatever they thought it to be, could not be eternal. And neither could he range the wilds of Middle Earth eternally with his newfound friend. These morbid thoughts had passed through Legolas's mind before, but he preferred to ignore them. "Is it a good dream?" he asked finally.

Aragorn gave a wry smile. "It can't be. She said she," he sighed and shook his head, "Never mind. I do not wish to discuss it."

Legolas gave a nod, respecting Aragorn's privacy. "We continue on. It is morning is fine for walking. I had almost forgotten how beautiful an alpine sunrise could be," the Prince said, looking toward the sun, which was now appearing above the mountains in front of them.

"And I had almost forgotten how poetically annoying elves can be," Aragorn teased, forcing thoughts of Arwen from his mind.

Legolas smiled. "Come, mellon-nin, we still have many leagues ahead."

As they passed through the mountains the good weather had continued. Some days later the forest of Mirkwood came into view, and they entered it where Legolas knew they elven path to be. The pair had been journeying through the forest for some hours, Legolas moving at close to a jog, as he wished to get himself and Aragorn out of the sickness of the forest and to the safety of his father's Halls, even with part of him dreading the prospect of his homecoming.

Aragorn wore a scarf pulled up over his nose and mouth, but despite this, he was beginning to feel light headed. Legolas had forewarned him that the very air within Mirkwood was toxic, and now Aragorn fully believed him. "Legolas?" he asked, his voice sounding thick and far away, as if it came from another.

"Yes?" Legolas replied, slowing his pace for a moment, all of his senses fully alert, watching the shadows for any signs of spiders or creatures fouler still.

Aragorn closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and then opened them again. The world around him seemed almost entirely devoid of colour, yet much too highly saturated at the same time. He felt like swimming, jumping in the nearby stream in all his clothes and flying with the squirrels through the mountains made of long grass above the clouds of spring daisies - "Legolas!"

"What happened?" Legolas asked, stopping and turning to his friend.

"Talk to me. Tell me a story," Aragorn said urgently.

"What story?" the Prince asked, confused at the request.

"Anything. I don't care. A children's story. A scary story. A true story. Make something up. I just need you to talk, else I lose my mind. I need something to concentrate on."

"Aragorn, are you well?"

"Not entirely," Aragorn answered, deciding that honesty was the best course of action. There was no point in telling Legolas was fine, when his mind was spinning madly. "Let us keep moving. Move and talk."

Legolas turned back to the track and began slowly on. "How about the tale of Maedhros and Fingon?"

"That is fine."

"Do you already know it? If so, I can tell another."

"No, I mean, parts of, I - I've not heard it told by you. Please Legolas, this place is too much. Let your words take my mind elsewhere."

"Very well," the Prince said, again picking up the pace and beginning the story. Aragorn kept up with the Prince and hung of Legolas's every word, as though his words could carry the Ranger above the sickness of the forest. It was not until Legolas stopped talking did Aragorn notice that his surrounds were somewhat changed. The air felt lighter, the treetop canopy was not so heavy and some daylight managed to find its way through.

"Did you know them?" he asked Legolas. The way the Prince spoke of those ancient elves who had lived and fought and died millennia ago was as though Legolas himself had been there.

Legolas laughed. "No, I am not so very old, mellon-nin. My father did, however. I know the tales from him. He knew Maedhros reasonably well, I believe."

"It is impossible to imagine that your father knew both Maedhros and my father," Aragorn said.

Legolas nodded. "Lord Elrond knew them all too. My father and he are close in age. Close for elves, anyhow. There," the Prince said, coming to a halt. "Can you see it?" he pointed to somewhere up ahead.

Aragorn looked carefully in the direction indicated by the Prince. Through the trees he could just make out what looked to be a bridge.

"They know we are near," Legolas said, continuing on. "We shall arrive shortly."

Aragorn jogged a few steps to keep up with the Legolas and wondered for how long exactly the Prince had been telling the story. Had it not been night? What day was it now? Aragorn shook his head and decided not to think too hard about it. He still felt muddled and light-headed, even if they were now in a greener section of the forest.

"Welcome," Legolas said, unable to keep a feeling of pride from rising within him. They had rounded a bend in a track, allowing Aragorn a better view of the main entrance to the Halls of the Woodland Realm. "To the Realm of the Woodland King. Welcome, Aragorn, to my home."