To Find a King

Shortly before dawn, during the darkest hour of the night, Aragorn and Legolas returned to the village. They had easily dispatched the band of orcs, Legolas having taken out the most of them with his bow before the witless creatures had even realised that the elf and the Ranger were nearby. Legolas's skill with his bow had more than impressed Aragorn, though he would keep such observations to himself, and from the few moments of hand-to-hand of fighting which had occurred, Legolas had seen enough of Aragorn's movements to learn that the Ranger was a keen swordsman.

Upon returning to the village, the two returned to the inn and reported what had occurred. All of the orcs had been killed and their remains burnt. They had also found the body of a man, and had left his body wrapped up in a blanket in the house for the family members to bury or cremate as they saw fit. The family, though distraught, were grateful for that much. The townsfolk wished to hear more of the gory tale, but Legolas and Aragorn knew that as the sun rose, the townsfolk would begin to ask questions as to what a band of orcs were doing in these parts, and suspicion would fall upon the mysterious Ranger and the newly arrived elf. So Aragorn and Legolas settled their respective accounts at the inn and headed west toward where the rivers Bruinen and Mitheithel met.

Throughout the day they walked in companionable silence. The scenery was mostly unchanging, with rocky rolling green hills, small twisted trees, and the roar of the river Bruinen never out of earshot for long. They did not stop until nightfall, when Aragorn, tired after two days without a proper rest, stopped their hike.

"We make camp for the night," he said dully. Elves may be able to march for days without food or rest, but regretfully, Aragorn thought, men were not so durable.

Legolas nodded in response and they set about lighting a fire and foraging for any foods to supplement the lembas bread, finding a small cranberry bush still with the winter berry, and tart green apples.

They ate their meal sitting either side of the fire; once finished, the Ranger sat picking at a bit of apple peel out of his teeth with his thumbnail. He looked at the elf opposite him. Legolas might be a fine archer, Aragorn thought, but he neither wished for nor needed a partner. The life of a Ranger of the North was supposed to be a lonely one. Wasn't it?

The Prince had folded his legs and settled down to the rhythmic motion of making new arrows. He had found a suitable piece of wood for the task whilst searching for fire wood and was eager to replace the arrows he had used the previous night.

"What do you know of recent happenings in the east?" Aragorn asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He had heard word of dragons and dwarves and mountains full of gold, but they were little more than rumours and strange whispers in these parts.

"You have heard?" Legolas asked, his eyes flicking up briefly from his work.

"Very little," Aragorn said, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "Rumours. Gossip. Nothing from anyone who's word I'd be willing to trust. Do you know more?"

"I was there."

"So it's true?" Aragorn asked, eager to hear more, "About the dragon?"

Legolas nodded and proceed to tell Aragorn his part in the recent happenings on the other side of the Misty Mountains. He told the Ranger of dwarves in Mirkwood, of Bard the Bowman, orcs at every turn, the dragon Smaug razing Laketown, of Gundabad and the army of orcs. Of arriving in the destroyed city of Dale, ready to fight, and finding his father ready to flee. Of Ravenhill. "But in the end," Legolas said, choosing to stare at his handiwork rather than look up at Aragorn, "I - one more shot," he sighed and swallowed. "One more shot. I couldn't help her. One more shot and - well, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Legolas's mind running over the events of Ravenhill while he worked methodically at his arrows, Aragorn feeling awkward and confused as to why he had had become the Prince's confident. He did not feel as though he deserved such an honour. He had heard many tales of the Woodland Prince, and more of his famous warrior father, and now to be trusted by Legolas in such a way seemed quite surreal. "I do not believe that you would have given anything but your all," Aragorn said at last, hoping it sounded a thoughtful and diplomatic thing to say. Hoping it was right.

Legolas continued to look down at the arrow he was making. He did not know why he had confided so much in this relative stranger. He had not been comfortable telling any of his friends at Rivendell whom he had know for millennia, yet his had just told everything to this man whom he had know for but a day. "For as long as I can remember, I have followed everything my father told me. Every order, every direction, every piece of advice. Then I just could not any longer. I refused a direct order. I suppose I thought better of my own judgement than that of my father and King. I believed that one wholly blind would see the situation at hand better than he." Legolas paused for a moment and sighed. "I cannot go back. Not yet," the Prince said, dejected. He put down the arrow in his hand, learnt back and looked up at the silver stars twinkling overhead, letting their bright, shimmering light fill his mind. Both he and the Ranger, without saying, were thankful for the clear skies, for although the night would be cold, there was little protection to be found from rain in these parts. Besides, Legolas had always liked stars, full of memory and wisdom as they were. Too little of the stars he had seen in the past decades.

"I suppose I can trust you to keep watch whilst I sleep?" Aragorn asked, a yawn escaping him, and stretched out his legs. He wondered if the Prince realised he'd been staring at the sky for half and hour and guessed not.

"Of course," Legolas said, roused from his dreaming, placed the new arrows into his quiver and stood up. He did not wish to sleep; watching the stars would prove rest enough. There would be no disturbances tonight.

Aragorn watched as the elf found a place to stand as sentry a few feet away with his back to the campfire. The Ranger lay down, and wrapped his cloak around him. There was something about that elf, Aragorn thought, although he could not quite put his finger on it. He wanted to trust the Prince. He may not need a partner, but he could definitely do with a friend.