Title & Chapter Number: De Profundis 1/6
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom:
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer:
Warnings: Slightly OOC Legolas for bitter drunkenness, but that's explained away in the story somewhat plausibly. Elves are, after all, intensely passionate creatures when roused from their normal placidity. Don't believe me? Can't hurt to have a looksie.
Betas:
Cast: Aragorn/Legolas
Timeline: Post ROTK
Spoilers: RotK, sort of
Summary: What's in a name? Aragorn finds out the hard way, the long and hard way (eventually).
Notes: For one, I've tried to at least make my prose recall an older, more literary style if it does not completely emulate Tolkien's own writing style. I hope it doesn't come off asbeing stuffy, stilted, and overly affected. It's something I know I need to work on.
Secondly, this story is kind of a happy blending of canon and movie-verse, but there is the issue of Legolas' age that I must address since it violates both. I am aware that movie-verse places Legolas at a little under 3,000 years old, which is just blatantly made up without any basis, seemingly pulled from the air. Canon scholarship, however, has guesstimated him to be around 500 years old at the time of LotR, his begetting thus dating to around the beginning of the time of the Watchful Peace over Dol Guldur, Sauron's dwelling in Mirkwood when he first crept back into the world and prior to his resuming residence in Baradur. For the purposes of my story, I'm following fanon thought that Elvish majority is around 200. Also for the purposes of this story, I'm saying that he was born towards the middle of the Watchful Peace, thus making him 300 years old when he first meets Aragorn and around 370 years old when the actual story takes place - ten years after the events of LotR, where Aragorn would canonically be 98. Yeah, Aragorn's old, but that's because he's got that potent Numenorean blood that allows him to live a long time.
But Basically, what I'm saying is that Legolas is a little bit young either which way you look at it, either canonically or through movie-verse, but that's what worked for this story, and the age thing really doesn't make a big difference in his character here anyway.
Oh, BTW, major props and lots of cookies to anyone who knows where I got the name of Trystan from and why it's an appropriate choice for the name of an elf (hint: it's in literary and linguistic keeping with what Tolkien might have chosen). If anyone can answer both questions satisfactorily, I owe you a kiriban gift, an Aragorn/Legolas ficlet or PWP written for you with your specifications!
Chapter 1: A Twilight's Tale
"Love," said the elf lowly in a deep, drawn out tone sickened with contempt. "Humph. Would you like to hear a little story about love?"
Wide-eyed with dismay, Aragorn took mental note of yet another topic of conversation not to be broached with the unusually temperamental elf.
Upon finding Legolas precariously perched on the rail of the balcony outside the elf's chambers and looking coldly out into the motley-colored veil of twilight spreading softly over Gondor, Aragorn had thanked the Valar that he thought to bring with him a bottle of wine. And then, as he approached his friend with cautiously measured steps, he noted the several bottles already strewn haphazardly about the terrace and the many fragments of what had been bottles. Odd, indeed, that one of the fair folk would imbibe so imprudently. He could count on his hands the number of times he had seen an elf truly drunk, his twin brothers accounting for most.
Though, he bethought, by now nothing should surprise him in Legolas this time of the year. It was again that time when all the world bedecked itself gaily, rejoicing and singing in memory of the victory over great evil. And Gondor added to this joyful noise the remembrance of a king's coronation and the wedding of his bride, and Legolas came to the festivities from his neighboring elf colony in Ithilien – and withdrew into himself utterly. There was little that Aragorn could say in these summer months that did not seem to displease his friend.
"Legolas," he had called gently, "come down from your height and deign to have a glass with me. Do not pine for the forest. I am sure you shall soon enough tire of my company and be back in your leafy bowers again."
Aragorn's attempt at levity had no apparent effect on the elf's demeanor, though Legolas did swing his legs around and down to meet the floor, allowing the man to exhale the breath he had not realized he held. Sauntering up slowly, Legolas sank next to Aragorn, drawing his knees up and pressing his back tightly to the wall, his shoulder almost grazing the man's.
"What shall we drink to?" he had said.
"Let us drink to Love. Tonight it is the tenth anniversary of my wedding," offered Aragorn, attempting to steer the conversation to light-hearted subjects.
How wrong he had been, judging from the elf's coldly questioned reply.
Pouring for the two, Aragorn settled back and offered a glass, sickened at heart but eager to take advantage of his friend's loosened tongue and to hear what might perhaps hold some clue to the secret of Legolas' grief.
"It is a long, sorry story that may pain you to hear. Are you sure you wish it?"
"I have time enough and interest," said Aragorn. "Be the story worthy of song?"
"And lament."
"Is it sublime?"
"It is pathetic."
"A story of valor?"
"And fear."
"Hope?"
Here, Legolas froze suddenly, deathly still. When he spoke, it was slowly and in a deliberate voice. "Oh, yes. It is of that. And despair."
"Well, go on then," the man urged, breaking under the intensity of the elf's level gaze and looking away to the horizon. "I am riveted."
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