Chapter Text
Legolas quickly made his way down long white corridors to the chambers which Aragorn currently resided in as they awaited his coronation. Anyone who saw him on his journey seemed to make themselves scarce, the halls were empty in his passing. Though the elf under normal circumstances managed to keep his emotions stoic in an attempt to mimic his fathers regal attitude, today he seemed to wear his frustration all too freely on his face. Upon reaching his friend’s door, Legolas began light but (clearly impatient) rapid knocks. He had ignored the ‘one moments’ and ‘hold ons’, causing Aragorn to swing the door open with force and a rivaling look of annoyance and frustration.
“What? What could possibly be so urgent?” the ranger groaned.
“May I come in?” Aragorn heard the serious tone of his friend's voice, sighed, and stepped out of the doorway motioning for Legolas to enter. The elf’s pacing was almost immediate, nearly racing around Aragorn’s bedchambers as Aragorn, himself, sat down on the edge of the bed and contemplated whether or not to begin dressing for the day. He had hoped to sleep past dawn, if the hand staff had allowed him, but his plan was thwarted by his clearly anxious friend.
“Legolas, please, before I pass out from the dizziness in my head just watching you” Aragorn pointed to the two chairs by the fireplace, “sit down and tell me what has you behaving in such a manner.”
Legolas obliged his friend, taking a seat and immediately slumping in a very un-princely style, “I tried everything, and yet he responds to none of it!” Aragorn rubbed his hands across his face, bidding it to gain more consciousness.
“Ah, yes, how could I be so foolish,” he spoke lazily through his hands, “what else could have my dear travel companion up in arms, other than a certain dwarf?”
“Aragorn, please, I am serious!” Legolas cried, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve done everything I can, yet he pays me no more attention than a friend.” Legolas slumped even lower in the chair, legs now completely off his seat. “I worry that he does not return my feelings, that I am wasting my time and he is purposefully ignoring my attempts out of politeness.” The prince settled into a pout, hopelessness beginning to make a home in his chest.
“My, have you always been this dramatic?” Aragorn chuckled. He raised a hand before Legolas could protest the remark, silencing him. Aragorn stood, walking over to his trunk of clothing while the elf sulked. “What have you done so far that you accuse our dwarf of ignoring?” Aragorn asked as he pulled his cotton shirt over his head. Having spent long months with the elf left little proprietary between them, for they have seen each other bare during the journey countless times and Aragorn has long ago lost all shame of dressing in front of his fellowship. For this same reason, Aragorn knew that the elf’s worries about the dwarf were false. Spending so much time with the two gave Aragorn vast knowledge of their personalities.
He was a hunter after all, he was used to watching every movement, making note of every slight change in environment. Which also explains how he was able to spot the budding emotions sooner than the elf had even discovered it within himself. Aragorn had the utmost confidence that Gimli would sooner outright deny Legolas’s advances before politely leading him on. The dwarf was straightforward and honest; he would’ve firmly but gently turned Legolas down by now if he had known of the elf’s intention and wished not to entertain them.
“What have I not done? I sing to him and he takes no notice,” Legolas shot up in his seat, “the one time he commented on it, in such a mocking tone, he asked if the birds enjoyed my song!” Aragorn shook his head and smiled in response to the prince's outrage, and allowed him to continue on his rant, “The birds, the birds! I show off my skill, I have been shooting my bow at anything that dares cross my path, still he takes it as a challenge and tries to best me with his axe skills as if it’s some competition. He teases my weaving, says that my ‘crown of twigs is fair’ but I should come to Erebor so he may show me how a true crown is made.” The elf gives out a heavy sigh and leans over, setting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his temples.
“I ask him to go on walks with me, hoping he will bring up my efforts. Instead there is nothing but empty noise with sparing dialogue of ways our people may help Gondor. We never had such trouble with words before! Aragorn! I braided my hair in front of him! Oh what would my father say, behaving in such a disgraceful manner, so blatantly pining?” Legolas gave a defeated whine and flopped himself back into an upright position. He began fidgeting with the ends of his hair as he watched the ranger stride across the room and take the seat across from him.
“What would your father say after watching your desperate attempts to flirt with a dwarf? Quite a lot, I would imagine.” Aragorn smiled as the prince shot him a quick glare, then turned his attention back to fidgeting. “Though I don’t know if anyone else from your home would be surprised by your outwardness, you are quite a bit more expressive than the others.” The ranger gestured to the current posture of the elf.
While Legolas was closed off and guarded with the others from the beginning, Aragorn noticed very early on that he didn’t behave quite like other elves. Aragorn has attributed this to only knowing elves from Rivendell; he had thought maybe elves from the Mirkwood forest were like this. However, the longer he spent around Legolas, the more open he became. When the three hunters were traveling on their own, they often swapped secrets through the fire to pass the sleepless nights. There was true trust amongst one another, having been indebted and repaying the debt of lives saved multiple times over by this point in their journey. Legolas confided in his friends that he was always the odd one out in his fathers kingdom, and how much he appreciated having others close to him like this.
He explained that he was the youngest by many years, and there were no playmates of his age growing up. That mixed with his tendency of strange behavior and his royal status made it even harder to form relationships with the other elves even as he got older. Legolas revealed that he had mostly remained to himself, but never felt lonely in the woods surrounding his home. It had not gone unnoticed by Aragorn that Gimli’s dismissiveness towards Legolas’s love of nature had all but disappeared after that night, replaced by engaging questions of whatever Legolas was rambling about at the time with very few light hearted jabs in between.
“Let me ask you this,” Aragorn paused to yawn and leaned back into a stretch, “is there a possibility that Gimli, being very dwarfish and not at all an elf, does not know of the ways of elvish flirting?” Legolas froze, the size of his eyes told Aragorn that he didn’t stop for a second to think that maybe it was cultural differences that caused his problems.
“It’s alright, no need to respond, I can tell just by looking at you. At least the answer now seems simple enough. Surely Gimli would understand your feelings if you approach him in a dwarfish manner.” There was a long pause of silence after Aragon spoke, the two just staring at one another waiting for the other to break it.
“You wouldn’t happen to know..”, Legolas trailed off with a pleading look.
“I truly have no idea.” Aragorn gave the elf his sympathy as he saw the defeat in his friend. “Perhaps you would try Mithrandir? He seems to be well versed in multiple cultures across these lands.” The pair stared at each other in silence once again.
“I believe you are correct, I could ask Mithrandir, but..”
“But?” Aragorn asked, encouraging the elf to continue.
“But then Mithrandir would know.” Legolas said in a hushed tone.
Aragorn shook his head and laughed at his friend, “Well, I suppose you’re right about that, he would have to know of the intention to assist in the process. I would have you consider this Master Elf,” he leaned in and brought his voice down to a whisper, “I don’t believe you have much longer to keep this secret if you wish to be betrothed.”
Legolas again went silent, biting his lip as his eyes shifted, mentally weighing his options. Eventually, the debate in his mind seemed to have concluded and his gaze made way to Aragorn once again.
“Though it will make you a fine king,” the elf sighed, “I can’t help but feel distraught by the frequency in which you are correct.” Aragorn offered his friend another breathy laugh as they stood from their chairs.
“Always happy to serve the good folk of these fine lands,” Aragorn made a polite but firm gesture towards the door, “it was a pleasure to assist, but I believe you have another fellow walker to go berate for answers at this early hour.”
“Yes, yes, thank you mellon nin. The lengths in which I am indebted to you grow by the day.” Legolas threw praise over his shoulder as the ranger was all but pushing him out the door.
“The sentiment goes both ways,” Aragorn reassured, finally leading the prince back into the hallway, “but I would not recommend keeping track of such a thing, we would surely run Gondor dry of ink before the list finished.”
They shared one last smile before Legolas began a quick pace down the corridors in search of their wizard friend. Aragorn shook his head and closed the door, hoping to get some peaceful moments before anyone else could possibly need him.