A short fic/drabble/whatever you call it. LOL I never know the difference these days. It's short...
Title: Whispers in the Wind
Rating: G to PG
Notes: All mistakes are mine, no beta (but I ran a spell check at least!). I wrote this in like 30 minutes. Please forgive any errors.
Standing silently at the edge of the highest boundary of Minas Tirith, Legolas closed his eyes and stretched out his hearing towards the distant forest, wanting desperately to hear the sound of another living thing. Echoes of voices captured in the cold rock beneath his fingertips held no life, only shadows. He did not regret his decision to stay with Estel, in fact, it had brought him a depth and comfort within he'd never felt before in his long lonely years. Still, even after five years within the city walls. he missed the whisper of wind between green leaves and the rustle of dried grasses beneath his feet, both of which always brought him peace.
“Melancholy again my dearest?” Aragorn asked as he gently pulled Legolas back into a tender embrace.
Legolas smiled, his eyes remaining closed as he breathed in a scent more precious than any forest, that of his mate. “I am sorry,” He admitted quietly. “’Tis nearly the end of the warm season and these rocks will not shift or change the way the trees do. They will not hold life until the warmth of the sun brings it forth to live again. That is what I miss—seeing the changes and knowing beneath the outward appearance of death, life merely slumbers and waits for the warmth.”
“Ahhh…,” Aragorn signed against one pointed ear. “My elf doth wish to be mated with a tree then, eh?”
Legolas smiled broadly and opened his eyes. “Ah yes, I wish to be mated to a strong tree from which many saplings will spring forth to re-populate the forests at Isengard.” He barely held back an indulgent laugh before continuing. “I fear I have chosen my mate poorly and wish to thank you for opening my eyes to this grave mistake,” he teased, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.
Aragorn feigned indignation and moved to step back, bowing deeply. “The honor is mine, fair elf. I would not want you to waste away within a binding you did not thrive. City walls are ll too cold for your gentleness.”
Smiling tenderly, Legolas moved forward to close the distance between them once more and drew his face near his mate and whispered, “I have oft marveled,” he paused, his breath hot against Aragorn’s bare neck, “at the strength and majesty of trees. Their resilience, their ability to bend in a fierce wind, their willingness to conform to what is best for others around them that wish to grow and thrive, even during adversity. Strange,” he pondered, listening to the heartbeat belonging to his mate, “sounds like someone I know all too well,” Legolas nipped at his mates tender earlobe and added, “and would like to reacquaint myself with more… intimately.”
Drawing in a ragged breath, Aragorn turned toward the beloved face so near his. “Our teasing is pleasant, but I worry. Is Minas Tirith too cold and lifeless for you?”
Legolas smiled, his eyes filling with the depth of his feelings, “Never. Not with my heart residing within these walls.” Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on his lover’s lips. “Come now, my love. Let us share our warmth and sing our joy to the forests beyond. For with you, I have found my home and no forest could fill me with such love and tenderness.”
Aragorn smiled, lacing their fingers together and turning them back toward the palace where later, their cries of love rang out and the people of Minas Tirith new they were ruled by a king who loved more than any before him. And the people felt glad.