A/N: Ah yes, I return. Don't shoot me for working on this when I should be working on my Harry Potter fanfiction but this caught my attention and would not release it for all my pleading. So I took up my pen and placed it upon paper and now you have what you see before you. I hope you will enjoy the journey for I have.
Word of Warning: 'Tis more movie-verse than book for it fit what I wanted to do. Also, Arwen will not be making an appearance. I'm afraid I have no love for that she-elf. I also hold no love for Boromir so sorry for all fans of these two characters!
Reminder: NOT SLASH! 'Tis Friendship, nay brotherhood.
Disclaimer: Much like the One Ring, 'tis not mine, nor shall it ever be.
Brothers, Eternally Bound
By Ankha
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken:
The crownless again shall be king.
-JRR Tolkein Fellowship of the Ring
Aragorn stared at the shards of Narsil that lie upon the silken fabric and felt a calling within him. Before he realized what he was doing his hand was nearly closed around the worn leather hilt. He snatched it back as if burned, forcing it down to his side. He could not, would not touch it, ignoring the call as fiercely as he was able. It was not part of him; he did not want it to be.
He was afraid.
:Mellon-nin: The soft voice of the Mirkwood Prince cut through his thoughts and drew his attention to the approaching figure. The Silvan archer took one look into the conflicting silver eyes and opened his arms. Aragorn unashamedly ran into the inviting embrace, burying his face in the archer's neck. Legolas turned his head slightly, resting his cheek upon the dark, tousled head. :What ails you, mellon-nin:
For a moment the elf wondered if the Ranger had even heard the question for he had yet to speak. When the arms around his waist tightened and a small sigh puffed against his neck he was reassured. "I am afraid, Legolas, very afraid," the Ranger answered at last.
This seemed only to confuse him but the elf did not release his hold, content to give his friend the support he needed. " 'Tis not the answer I had expected and leaves me curious," the Silvan elf remarked.
Aragorn let out another sigh, this time it was silent. He did not want to move from this secure place in his friend's arms but he owed him and explanation. Finally Aragorn loosened his hold and drew away so that he could look his elven friend in the eye.
Neither one of them was aware that they were watched.
Seeing his friend's still unsteady appearance the elf grasped the man's elbow and led him to sit on a near-by bench. "Estel, I do not like to see you like this. Please tell me what is wrong." Aragorn twisted his hands in his lap, worrying the hem of his tunic. Seeing this, the Mirkwood Prince clasped them in his own stilling the nervous gesture. "The last time I saw you this nervous was when you were meeting my father again after all those years; I was sure every elf in that hall heard your knees knocking together," the blond prince teased and felt mightily rewarded when the other let out a hearty laugh.
"I do indeed remember that and I had every right to be nervous. Your father was about the meet the one who regularly dragged his son off into danger and didn't always return him home in one piece."
The Silvan archer's laughter tinkled like silver bells in the Ranger's ears. "Dragged me? Nay, gwador-nin, I followed and I will continue to do so for as long as we walk this Middle-Earth." The Prince's midnight eyes shown with love as he rested his forehead against his friend's. Seeing the other's awe, he smiled. "Besides," he teased, "someone has to pull you out of the messes you fall into."
Aragorn's laugh was softer this time but no less full of mirth. "Which has happened a fair few times but I always remember to return the favor."
"For which I'm eternally grateful," Legolas deadpanned. Again he gained a laugh which served to soften the blow of his next question. "I ask again; what ails you, mellon-nin?"
Unconsciously Aragorn's eyes were drawn to Narsil's shards and his hands trembled within the elf's. Legolas followed his gaze and waited, knowing that his friend would enlighten him. :It calls to me: the Ranger whispered, unthinkingly switching to the Grey Tongue. His eyes never left the statue.
"The sword?" Legolas hazarded a guess and was gifted with a nod.
:Aye, I feel drawn to it; it whispers my name in my dreams, begging me to take it up as Islidur once did.:
The Silvan archer raised a curious eyebrow. :Then why not answer that call: He knew he was treading dangerous ground with this question but he needed to get Estel to admit his true fear or it would consume him and he would not let that fate befall his brother.
The silver eyes flashed with fire as he stood, attempting to draw his hands from the other's grasp but Legolas held fast. "I cannot! I turned from that path long ago! 'Tis not a part of me!" What started as a shout ended in a fierce whisper as he lamely attempted to tug his hands away.
Legolas renewed his grip a tad more tightly than he should have. "It is a part of you, mellon-nin, whether you care to acknowledge it or not." At the defiant shake of the other's head he went on. "You cannot always run away, Estel, for your destiny will catch up with and consume you. Why not face it head on and conquer it?"
The dark head hung low, hair hiding his expression. Legolas waited patiently, knowing that his friend would need time to battle with his emotions. Finally the dark head lifted and he was granted a peek of a silver eye. :Are you not afraid that I will fall:
The Elven Prince gently squeezed the other's hands in reassurance before resting his forehead lightly against the other's temple. :Nay, Estel, I have no fear of that nor shall I ever. You are Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself: the elf reminded.
The man let out a gusty sigh, his eyes never leaving the statue. :Perhaps: he admitted but still did not seem particularly convinced.
:Besides, your Ada can assure you that you look nothing like Isildur: The Silvan archer added. This earned him a chuckle and when the silver eyes turned to him they were clear of any shadows that might darken them.
Rising to his feet the Ranger strode over to the statue with the archer gliding slightly behind him. He reached out but hesitated before grasping the hilt. Legolas saw the hesitation and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. :I will always walk beside you, quel gwador-nin: he whispered in the Grey Tongue. The hesitation was broken and he grasped the hilt and lifted it from the satin. The blade still glowed as brightly as the day it was wrought, the jagged, broken edge gleaming in the sunlight that fell into the Hall. He laid his palm against the flat of the blade, holding it almost tenderly. Legolas was delighted to see the small smile and knew that although his friend was not completely cured of his self-doubt, he was on the road to recovery.
After what seemed like an eternity Aragorn sighed and replaced the broken hilt on its resting place. With a teasing smile the Ranger turned to his friend. "Hannon-le, Legolas, for banging some sense into my head."
The Mirkwood elf grinned before shaking his head in mock sadness. " 'Tis a burden; you have an unusually thick skull, more so than a dwarf's."
The Ranger scowled and swatted playfully at his friend who, with a laugh, dodged nimbly out of the way. "That is the pot calling the kettle black, elf," Aragorn growled amid the other's snickering. Swiftly sobering he asked, "Why were you looking for me?"
"Your Ada wishes for you to dine with him and since I have only just arrived, he thought it best that I do the searching for at least, as he put it 'You will return him in one piece,'" One blond brow rose, "Apparently he has forgotten all of the trouble we have been in since we became friends."
The Ranger laughed, clutching his sides at the seriousness in the other's manner. "Nay, mellon-nin, I just believe he thought me safer with you than the twins."
The midnight blue eyes of the elf sparkled. "Indeed, there was no guarantee what condition you would have been in had Elladan and Elrohir gotten to you."
" 'Tis true enough. Are you to dine with us?" The elf nodded. "Please, then, tell Ada that I will be along shortly, I just need to think a bit more."
"You mean brood a bit more," Legolas interjected, shaking his head. "Very well, mellon-nin, but do not brood too long for I do not wish to see you face the wrath of your brothers."
Aragorn grimaced at that thought. "Nor do I wish to suffer it. Do not worry, I will be along shortly." The blond elf nodded, reaching out to pull the other into a hug. Aragorn fell into it readily, accepting all of the comfort his brother was willing to provide. It had been so long since anyone had done so that he was nearly starved for affection. Reluctantly he released the other and, when he saw Legolas hesitate playfully shoved him towards the entrance. "Go take a bath, elf, you stink of horse," he remarked with a smirk.
This earned him an indignant scowl. "You would know, 'tis what you normally smell like." Again the elf had to dodge a playful swat and headed out. "Do not be long, Estel, or I shall send your brothers after you," Legolas threatened.
The Ranger rolled his eyes. "Yes, Amme, I will be there soon."
Legolas nodded and slipped away, content that his friend would be all right.
Boromir watched the blond elf disappear through another door in the Hall of Fire before breathing a sigh of relief. What he had witnessed between those two elves had left him most curious and slightly confused. Who were they and what had they to do with Narsil, one of the relics of his kingdom? This made no sense to him. Perhaps he should look into it, but more than anything he wanted to look upon Narsil. Taking a deep breath he walked through the archway and fixed his eyes upon the statue. At the edge of his vision he saw the Noldor elf (as he thought they were called) bent over a bound journal, writing quickly with a feathered quill which he dipped periodically into an inkwell that sat on the stone bench beside him. When he felt the silver eyes lift from the page the other was writing upon to look at him he barely stifled a gasp. This was no Noldor elf but a Man such as he. The silver eyes were large and held much hard-won wisdom within their depths. His hair was long and dark but he could not tell if it was black or brown. It held a slight wave to it and framed his heart-shaped face that was obviously used to smiling more than frowning. What set him apart and showed that he was not an elf as the Gondorian captain had originally throught were his dark beard that was only now beginning to show white and the very round ears.
Even with all his self-control he could not stop, "You are no elf," from spilling from his lips.
A small smile curled around the Ranger's lips as he gestured to the home around him. "The men of the South are welcome here," he said casually. His accent had a pleasant lilt to it and Boromir thought it sounded like that of the elves when they spoke Common. Whoever this was he had spent much time amongst the fair folk and the captain already knew he could speak their language.
Boromir nodded absently in response, tearing his gaze away from the mystery to look upon Narsil. Now that he saw the shards they held him in awe. There were so many and none of them were small; surely this had been the longest of the long swords. "So this is the blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand," he muttered more to himself than to the other.
The dark-haired man may have been no elf but his ears were no less sharp. Boromir could feel himself under the powerful silver gaze and had to repress a tremor of nervousness that arose because of it. Thoroughly chastising himself for such a reaction he reached out and grasped the hilt, completely missing the fire that ignited within the other's eyes, and ran his finger across the jagged edge. He jumped back in surprise when this action drew blood. "It's still sharp," he said in wonder.
The slight rustle of fabric reminded the man of Gondor that he was no alone. He turned slightly and was surprised by the intensity of the gaze that he was under. It made him feel as though he had crossed some invisible boundary line and was make a dangerous encroachment into this man's territory. Boromir had been in many battles and knew when to make a tactful retreat and this was definitely one of those times.
"It's nothing more than a broken relic," he replied to the challenge in the other's eyes. Hastily he threw the hilt back but missed and it clanged to the floor, echoing loudly within the Hall. He paused a moment in his retreat and glanced back but upon seeing the other's furious gaze hurried on.
Aragorn took a deep breath to calm himself after the steps of the Gondorian man faded. The man's actions and airs incited a deep dislike within the Ranger. Boromir had had no right to handle Narsil in such a manner! Taking another breath he closed his journal and reached out, retrieving the forgotten hilt. That sword was the key to his destiny and for the first time since he'd discovered his lineage, he realized that he was at peace with it. With a small smile he headed toward the family dining room where Elrond was no doubt waiting. He would have to find a way to thank the Elven Prince; the smile turned to a grin. Perhaps he would enlist the help of the twins, he was sure that Legolas had not been swimming lately and there was such a lovely little pond not far into Rivendell's forest.
With the evil plan growing in his mind he chuckled, greeting his Adar with a smile. Yes, he would have to thank his brother.
End of Chapter 1
A/N: This is not going to be very long, but I hope that you all will enjoy it. Please, I would very much like to know what you think. Thanks to Sentimental Star who unknowingly inspired this with not only his/her work but for leading me to the Mellon Chronicles.
Gwador-nin: My sworn brother
(quel) Mellon-nin: my (dear) friend
Hannon-le: Thank you
Ada/Adar: Papa, Father