Work Text:
Aragorn tossed and turned on his “bed” (a thin blanket spread on the ground- not at all a protection against the roots currently digging into his back), exhausted from the day’s activities and yet restless at the same time. A mistake, as he came face to face with the cause of his anxiety: Legolas.
Oh, yes. That loveable, affectionate, perfect ellon. His best friend and his worst tormentor. Also very creepy. Aragorn had gotten used to elves sleeping with their eyes open after years of living in Rivendell, but he had not gotten used to Legolas pretending to be asleep and then scaring him. Sneaky little bastard…
Of course, Legolas was not little at all, being well near 3000 years old. He also was not a bastard, being the heir of a highly revered king who wouldn’t hesitate to chop his head off if one strand of Legolas’ golden hair was tainted. Both very logical points that Aragorn tried to make to himself to get rid of his strange thoughts about the elf. Both still not enough to sway his heart.
Now, what were these strange thoughts, and why was the great leader of the Dunedain acting so odd? Well, to be honest, he didn’t quite know either. He was onto something, which made him even more anxious and restless, which led to him spending many sleepless nights pondering this issue until his head felt like it was exploding. And what could possibly be better for a mortal man than not being able to sleep?
Aragorn sighed again as he laid on his back and draped an arm over his eyes, trying to forget about all of this and sleep for a change since… Oh, Eru. When had been the last time he’d gotten a solid, good night’s sleep? He couldn’t even remember.
“What troubles you, mellon?”
“AH-bsolutely nothing, why do you ask?” Aragorn tried to cover up his yelp of surprise, blushing and resolutely facing away from the elf next to him. All futile attempts and an insult to the wit of Legolas and that of elves in general, as both of them realized. Legolas, deciding to be polite, held his silence, knowing that Aragorn would confess willingly in 3...2...1…
“Legolas?” Aragorn turned to his side to face Legolas and tell him the truth, his heart triumphing over his head in his sleep deprived state.
“I am here, Aragorn,” the Elven prince smiled reassuringly at his friend, waiting patiently to hear whatever the ranger had to say. He’d been taught by his naneth to be there for his friends in times of need, and he wouldn’t dare dishonor her memory. Besides, he cared deeply for Aragorn.
Too deeply, perhaps. Legolas mentally rolled his eyes at the dry voice in his head which sounded remarkably like his father. Now is not the time to be in your head, Legolas. Listen to your friend and offer him some sound advice like the elf that you are meant to be.
“You know that I care deeply about you, Legolas. Don’t you?” Aragorn stared straight into Legolas’ eyes, stamping down the insecurities that attacked him as he tried to speak.
Legolas frowned, suddenly having doubts and insecurities of his own. Still, he managed to nod and assure his friends that the feeling was quite mutual. After all, slaying orcs and other foul creatures while travelling in the woods tended to have a strong bonding effect between most people.
“Well, I do sense that, but I… you are very dear to me, Legolas. More than I imagined you would be. Alas! I am but a blip in your very long life, and my passing will be nothing to you…” Aragorn said bitterly, but Legolas sensed true hurt in his words, and knew that these were more than midnight ramblings. Still, he was surprised. Aragorn was a very stoic man by rule, and it had seemed to Legolas that his mortality did not bother him. Perhaps it was his doomed love for the Evenstar that made him think of such things.
“You pine for the Evenstar. It’s understandable, of course. She is the most beautiful maiden born since Tinuviel, and her heart is made of gold,” Legolas relayed his conclusion, feeling a tinge of disappointment even as he reassured Aragorn of his good choice. Fool that I was… He would be repulsed by me if he knew...
“N-no! You misunderstand! I… I cannot put into words…”
Aragorn was quickly becoming frustrated. Did he truly have to profess his love in Elvish poetry before Legolas could finally understand? He could not find a way to express how he felt, so he did what any desperate man would do.
“Elbereth help me.”
He kissed Legolas.
Thoughts and emotions- from relief and love to anxiety and embarrassment to euphoric passion- swirled through his mind in a wild hurricane, racing with an unstoppable energy that made him forget to breathe.
Neither of them really noticed how long they remained in that position, nor did they stop and think that they might get caught by Elladan and Elrohir who were keeping watch. There was only the two of them, enveloped in each other’s arms, silently confessing long hidden feelings under the starlight.
Soon after, Elladan and Elrohir made their way back to their travelling companions to wake them for their watch, but let them be once greeted by the beautiful sight of Legolas’ elven fairness in contrast with their adopted brother’s rustic, human appearance as they slept together.
“Let them rest tonight,” Elladan said to his younger twin, a kind smile gracing his Noldor features and making him look eerily like their father.
“Yes, but I will be very sorry indeed if I miss the opportunity to mercilessly tease the two of them come morning,” Elrohir grinned in mischief, already formulating his plans. Elladan, instantly reading his mind as twins are bound to do, smirked in agreement before they made the necessary preparations.
To this day, there is still in the household of the descendants of Aragorn a painting of a man and an elf locked in an embrace on the ground, covered in nothing but pink flower petals. “A work of art”, as its makers proclaimed, but one that was not showcased in Rivendell due to the embarrassment of all parties. Well, except for that one time when the twins sent a replica of it to Mirkwood...