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Title: A Secret Revealed (01/20)
Arc: The Secrets Trilogy
Author: K
Rating: R (for later chapters)
Fandom: LOTR
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Distribution: Just tell me where you put it
Notes: Aragorn's POV
Disclaimer: Not mine! Characters, universe & so on belong to the Tolkien Estate. The only thing I own is my mind.



I paced up and down in the hallway, unable to keep still, arms wrapped around my chest, holding myself, and wishing Legolas were there to hold me. Arwen stood nearby, her face ridden with immense anxiety.
"Father knows what to do," she said in an attempt to comfort me, but she did not sound too sure herself.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming, and stopped pacing for a moment.
"Its because of me, isn't it," I said quietly. "Legolas is dying and it's all my fault. How can I live knowing that I have caused the death of an innocent elf, let alone one I love so greatly?"
"He is dying, not dead," Arwen pointed out. "There is a still time for him to live."
"But how?"
The elf maiden shook her head. "I know not."
I began pacing once more. Elrond had spent a very long time in there, and we had heard nothing. Every second that passed was like a whole day. Lunchtime came and went, as did dinner; Elrond still did not come out of the room, and Arwen and I both stayed outside the room, anxiously awaiting any news he might come and give us.
"That is all I can take," I told Arwen, stepping purposefully towards the door.
"Do not disturb Father, Aragorn," she tried to stop me, but I would not listen.
I pushed open the door, and stepped in quietly. Lord Elrond sat next to the bed; hand on Legolas's wrist.
"You should know better than to disturb an elf lord's work," he said, without looking up. "Especially when he is trying to concentrate on a matter of extreme urgency."
"I'm sorry, I could not wait any longer...can you help him?" I asked.
"It is strange to me, the prince seems to have every symptom suggesting he is dying from grief, yet I see no reason why," Elrond looked up, the expression on his face suggested that he expected me to know. I dropped his gaze, and looked at Legolas.
"Is there any way we can help him, any way at all?" I asked, desperate to hear him say yes, and for Legolas to awaken from this state.
"We can only wait," he replied. "Wait and see what happens. There has been little sign of either a worsening or improvement of his sleep-like state, but..." he trailed off, and looked into the elf's eyes. "I have seen a very slight improvement. But only a glimmer. The flicker of life inside his eyes has not gone out yet."
"May I take your place by his bed, my lord?" I inquired, hoping I did not sound rude "After all, you do have many other things to attend to."
He looked at me sharply, and then rose reluctantly from his chair. "That is true," he said "I am guessing that from your actions since my daughter alerted us to our friend's state, you have forgiven him for what you fell out over?"
I nodded. "Forgiven and forgotten," I said, looking at Legolas. My words were for him, not Elrond.
I seated myself in the chair, and Lord Elrond gave me orders to send word to him if there was any change whatsoever in Legolas.
At long last, I was left alone with the beautiful elf. I looked into his eyes and saw the flicker of life in them as Elrond had mentioned, and Arwen before him. I thought for a moment that it flared, glowing brightly for a moment, but it must have been my imagination for when I blinked, it was the same tiny spark.
I do not know why, but for some reason a childhood story came to my mind, a tale of a wicked witch who tricked a beautiful princess; I forget what happened in the middle of the story, somehow she ended up in a slumber she could not be woken from; but I remember how at the end, it was the kiss of a prince that awoke her, and, in true fashion of such childhood stories, they lived happily ever after. The beautiful princess in her sleep made me think of Legolas, and I checked for the glimmer of life in his eyes again. Still there. Yet he still did not stir. I wondered if perhaps the princess was an elf. I think, in this story, she was a mere human, but undoubtedly Legolas was told the tale with the princess as an elf. An elf. I stared at Legolas, and suddenly a crazy thought came to me. In a lot of these children's stories, faerie tales, I believe they are called; it is a simple kiss that revives the sleeping princess. It must have been the lack of food or rest, as I thought, "If it works in faerie tales...why not here?"
Legolas was no princess, and I was hardly a prince, but it *might* work...
And before reason argued with my slightly illogical thoughts, I bent over, and pressed my lips to his, closing my eyes and feeling the coolness and softness of them for a long while before a sat up again.
I stared at Legolas's face, hoping for the slightest suggestion of improvement. Nothing. The kiss had not woken him, and I chided myself for even considering it.
I sat back in the chair, frustrated. Then thought, that if he were truly going to die, I wanted to speak to him before I did...even if he could not hear me.
"My beloved, I am here again...I just wish to say, even if you cannot hear the words I speak, that I-I forgive you for what happened with Boromir. It was not your fault, I realise that now. I love you, I never stopped loving you...I never will do," I whispered.
I stroked his soft hair again, feeling its lustrous texture beneath my fingers. As I caressed the beautiful blonde strands, I accidentally brushed against the point of his ear with my hand.
Legolas shivered.
I looked closely at him, wondering if I had imagined it.
And touched the tip of his ear again.
Another shiver.
"Arwen! Are you still outside?" I called, not turning my face away from Legolas.
Thankfully she still was, and came in hurriedly when she heard my call.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Watch," I replied softly, and ran my finger along his ear again. As I reached the tip, another shiver erupted form his body.
"The ears have always been a rather sensitive part of the elven body," Arwen commented. I was surprised at myself for not already knowing that.
"What does it mean?" I asked, unable to resist touching the tip of his ear again, causing him to shiver once more.
Wordlessly, Arwen reached over Legolas, and touched the tip of his other ear. Again he shivered. She began running her finger along the point, over and over. Seeing the effect it was having; his breathing had increased speed and I was certain the glimmer of life within his glassy eyes had grown, I held the tip of his other ear between thumb and forefinger, softly rubbing at it, running my thumb over the very tip of the point. He was practically shaking now, and Arwen, without stopping from running her finger along his ear, hitched up her skirts, climbing onto the bed and over Legolas, so she could kneel beside him. We both worked harder, neither of us wanting to give up hope in his life: she could see the growing sparkle of life within his eyes too. I concentrated hard on what I was doing, so hard I forgot about Arwen. So hard, I almost did not notice myself bend down and kiss the very tip of his ear. Strange thing to do, I know. I sat up again, and returned my fingers to the tip. Arwen caught my eye and smiled at me, my loving gesture towards Legolas completely understandable to her. Then she looked into Legolas's eyes, and murmured something I did not quite catch. I followed her gaze, and my heart skipped a beat as I saw they had become less glassy. We both pulled our hands away from his ears, staring intently into his eyes.
"Please, Legolas, wake up," I whispered, taking his shoulders and shaking him gently. Yet he did not wake.
"Wake up," Arwen aided me in calling to him.
Then without any spoken reason, she reached for the tip of his ear again, and squeezed it. Hard.
Legolas gasped and sat up, causing Arwen and I to jump back. His eyes were glassy for a moment, then they became clear again, seeing. I heaved a huge sigh of relief, and Arwen let out a joyful cry and reached over to Legolas, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. I joined her in embracing him, burying my face in his sweet scented hair and thanking my lucky stars that he was alive.
Eventually we both pulled away, and looked at the elf. He had not said a word yet.
"Legolas?" I asked uncertainly.
He turned his head and looked at me.
And opening his mouth, spoke slowly, as one that is speaking a language they were unused to.
"I heard you," he said.




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