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Few in Middle-Earth are used to travel of this magnitude, especially on foot. It does not bother Aragorn, however; he is a ranger and travel holds little mystery to him. The hobbits can only walk so fast, and so the pace is not particularly taxing despite the long hours and the distance. He is not afraid to rest at night either, for he trusts his companions to know how to keep watch. It helps that Legolas has come along on their journey; Aragorn has always slept better with the elf in his arms, and has missed him dearly over their long months apart.
Legolas requires very little sleep, and even when he is not on watch, he often remains alert - though relaxed - at Aragorn's side. The ranger says nothing of this; Legolas knows his own limits better than anyone. The elf is much older than everyone here save perhaps Gandalf and does not need to be told when nor how much to eat or rest. Aragorn trusts him more than he has ever trusted anyone, would put his life in the elf's hands without a moment's hesitation; he trusts Legolas not to push himself farther than he can handle.
Unfortunately, not everyone in the Fellowship know Legolas, nor do they have the advantage of understanding the inner workings of elves, as he does.
"I am tired, Aragorn," Legolas calls to him just before midday on their third day of travel.
Aragorn nods; Legolas had taken second watch the night before and Aragorn is unsure whether the elf had slept at all. The ranger says nothing, only slows his pace to take up the rear in Legolas' stead. Boromir looks at the other man expectantly, a frown slowly coming over his face as they continue their journey. Within a dozen minutes he is seething, glaring daggers at Aragorn though the ranger cannot for the life of him fathom why.
"Perhaps we should stop and rest for a while," Boromir calls out in irritation, shooting a pointed glance at Aragorn. The company slows and stops, all turning to look at the men save Legolas, who stands motionless a few paces ahead and stares somewhat vacantly at the horizon.
Bewildered, Aragorn shifts his gaze uncomfortably between Boromir and the others who look perhaps just as confused as the ranger feels. Boromir does not seem tired - in fact, Aragorn struggles to find a better word to describe his demeanor than irate - and he is relatively confident that the hobbits have at least another hour's walk before the midday meal calls to them; he sees no reason to stop now.
"It is not necessary," he answers, alarmed when his words only seem to anger Boromir further. "When the sun reaches its zenith, perhaps."
Boromir scoffs and Aragorn tenses when the warrior takes a large step toward him. "Did you not hear what your elf has only just said?" he spits, shocking the ranger at the sheer vitriol in his tone.
Aragorn's eyes flick to the company behind Boromir, Gimli and the hobbits looking on in confusion while Gandalf seems to be hiding a smile. Legolas still has not moved, which causes Aragorn only mild surprise; he tends to slip deeper when he is in the company of people he trusts, such as Aragorn and Gandalf.
"He only said he was tired," Aragorn replies after a moment's hesitation, his eyes meeting Boromir's heated glare.
"Then perhaps," the man replies darkly, "we should stop and rest for a while."
Understanding dawns on him then, the reason for Boromir's anger; the man from Gondor does not know. Aragorn opens his mouth to explain and hopefully clear what is obviously a misunderstanding, but the temperamental warrior does not give him the chance.
"I may not know much of elves, ranger," Boromir hisses, and Aragorn chooses not to be offended by the pointed condescension, "but I know enough to be aware that they are not indestructible fairytale creatures capable of walking three days without sleep."
"Boromir-" Aragorn tries to cut in, shooting a reprimanding glare at the wizard now laughing quietly in his line of sight.
"I see him lying awake at night," the man continues, voice steadily growing louder. "Every night, at your side, and rather than rest he watches over you like you are a child, and you say nothing. And now he asks for rest and you would deny him? How can you call yourself his lo-"
"He's sleeping!" Aragorn yells over him, cutting the man off before he begins attacking his relationship with the elf, which will not end well for anyone if Legolas wakes enough to process what is being said.
Boromir stops his tirade to glare at Aragorn in confused anger. "What?"
The ranger motions toward the elf emphatically. "He is asleep. Right now."
Boromir eyes him suspiciously, but his anger drops completely and abruptly to give way to concerned incredulousness when he turns to look at the elf surveying the horizon with vacant eyes, seemingly unaware of the conversation taking place.
"What's wrong with him?" he asks worriedly, glancing back at Aragorn with a frown.
"Nothing. As he said, he is tired, and wanted to sleep. I took up his position at the rear as this state dulls his senses considerably, though not completely," the ranger responds patiently, tension easing now that it no longer looks as though Boromir is seconds away from loping his head off.
The man only stares at him dumbly, eyes uncomprehending.
"Elves do not need much sleep, as men do, and they can sleep while they walk," Aragorn explains with insistence. "They also sleep with their eyes open, so he may look awake at night even when he is not."
Understanding blooms on Boromir's face at last, and his cheeks redden with embarrassment as he looks over the Fellowship now watching him with barely concealed amusement.
"I see," the man mutters, dropping his head. "Forgive me. I did not know."
Aragorn inclines his head as Gandalf resumes the party's journey onward. "No harm has been done," the ranger says kindly. He hesitates, but the teasing words escape him before he can stop them. "He could though."
Boromir shoots him another perplexed look. "What?" the man blurts.
"Walk for three days without sleep," Aragorn replies with a shrug, attempting with great effort to keep the smile off his face as he sees Gandalf's shoulders shake at the head of their company. "He doesn't, hasn't. But he could."
Boromir stares at him dispassionately for a moment before turning away, muttering to himself and shaking his head as Aragorn tries to contain his laugh.
Legolas wakes three quarters of an hour later, just as Gandalf announces a pause for the midday meal. The hobbits waste no time pulling small pots and pans from their supplies, already arguing vivaciously about carrots and potatoes as Gimli and Boromir set about building a fire pit and finding wood to burn. Aragorn makes his way over to where the elf stands watch vigilantly for any signs of danger, dropping a quick kiss to his temple.
"Did you sleep well?" the ranger inquires softly.
Legolas hums, leaning back into Aragorn. "Yes, though I had a strange dream," he replies absently.
"A strange dream?" Aragorn presses curiously.
Legolas nods, the side of his head brushing against the ranger's cheek. "Boromir was making a fool of himself in my honour."
Aragorn muffles his laugh in the elf's blond hair, wrapping his arms around his lover's lithe waist to steady himself.
"What a strange dream indeed."