The way to Gondor (Aragorn and Legolas fanfic)

Time lapse

78 years later:

Where in the history of Middle-Earth are we? (Catching up with time)

Bilbo had left the Shire to spend the rest of his life in Rivendell, putting his adventures on paper. 

Frodo had also left the Shire with Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. They were on their way to Bree with the One Ring, where they met Strider.

Gandalf had been captured by Saruman, who had betrayed him.

Aragorn had been in Bree on Gandalf's wish. He had captured Gollum, who unluckily escaped. His task now was to bring the Hobbits to Rivendell.

Legolas was in Mirkwood.

Legolas POV

My horse flew over the roots and fallen trees in Mirkwood forest. He must have sensed my energy and excitement which made him run faster. I was glad, because every lost minute made me even more jumpy.

This morning my father had received a message from Lord Elrond of Rivendell, who sent for an elf to represent Mirkwood and the Woodland Realm in his council. It was something about the One Ring, whatever that might be. My father had said it was serious business, and in the next sentence chosen me to make the way to the council. 

Of course I had gladly accepted the task, because Rivendell was a magical place for me. Not just because it was beautiful, but also because of some other events I happened to be involved in many years before. They included a certain ranger from the north, whom I didn't get out of my mind since then, even though so much time had passed. But I also remembered the way we had parted, and my heart ached a little bit about it. 

"Mime melin", I whispered into my horse's ear. In front of my inner eye I saw a blurred picture of Aragorn, with his curly brown hair and his warm and carved face. It had been so long since I last saw him, too long. After I had come back to Mirkwood, I had kept myself busy with work. There was always something to do as a prince, and I had even taken the night shifts on the alarm posts. My father had not been very glad about that, because I was a prince and he thought I shouldn't bother doing the hard work. But at the same time I had earned his respect, because he seemed to think I really cared about the kingdom and was aching to serve it and taking on my duties.

However, what he didn't know, was that I just did that to keep my head from thinking too much about the past. My heart ached every time I thought about what could have happened back then in Rivendell, if I hadn't fled. Because flee had been exactly what I had done. I had been scared about this pain in my heart, that I had never experienced before, and thought, that if I escaped the source of it, it would go away. But it didn't. My heart still hurt if I didn't have my feelings under control, and thus I had been forced to occupy it with something else.

Right now, I didn't know what I felt. It was joy and excitement on the one side, but fear and hurt on the other. I really longed to reach Rivendell and hoped to see Aragorn again. But I still dreaded the encounter. I hadn't forgotten the third wheel in this relationship. I was sure Arwen had reached out to him and tied her ropes around him to bond them together. I knew I shouldn't think badly about her though. She was a princess, she was nice and smart and beautiful and a lovely woman. But she had chosen the wrong man, and I couldn't make myself like her.

---

I travelled for one and a half week until I reached the Ford of Bruinen. Even there I had memories, so I hurried on to not pain myself even more. 

The sight of the beautiful elven city between the mountains made me as impressed as the first time. The valley strechted itself through high stone walls and rough cliffs on both sides, and ended in a tiny gap, where just the river faced the outside world. It was autumn again, and the trees shone yellow and orange and brown and the river was coated with mist on both sides. Still, the safety of the place made me calm down and gather my thoughts, so I could ride the last bit of the path like a strong and proud elf. 

When I rode onto the courtyard of the palace, I immidiately saw the many other horses and the air was filled with activity. In a distant corner I spotted a bunch of dwarfs, who suspiciously held their axes and shot dark glances at everyone who passed them. Other elves were checking their horses and talking to them in their own languages. Servants were hurrying around, bringing buckets of fresh water and oat for the horses. And in the distance lingered a man, his hand on his sword, and watched the whole scenery out of dark eyes. Could it be him? 

But at a closer look I knew it wasn't. This must be a represantative of the men of Gondor. I gave my horse water, then entered the palace to ask a servant for a room.