Legolas' Dilemma: Aragorn
by SkyFire

Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were. Rabid plotbunnies are mine, all mine! Hahahaha... ahem!
Right. On with the show.

You know how when two people are talking and one says one thing and the other hears something
completely different? *g*

This is a sequel to "Legolas' Dilemma." You should really read that first, or you'll be totally
confused. Trust me. *g*

Thoughts are in / /.

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Legolas' Dilemma: Aragorn
by SkyFire

Aragorn came around the corner of a building on the seventh and topmost tier in Gondor's White
City of Minas Tirith, closely followed by a mob of fangirls. A smile crossed his face as he saw
the object of his search standing in a patch of sunlight by the tier's outer wall, the Sun that
shone on his hair turning the fine strands a shining gold. Next to his beloved stood another
man... no, a dwarf.

He vaguely recalled that dwarf from somewhere. What was his name? Gimlet? Something like that.

The new King hurried over to the two, partially-wilted rose bouquet in hand, vaguely aware of the
mob behind him spreading out to block every possible escape route the Elf could have taken.

Legolas, his beautiful Legolas, turned to face him, an expression Aragorn couldn't read crossing
the fair face.

"Legolas!" he greeted warmly, thrusting the bouquet at his beloved's face, even as he edged
closer and once again got in a good pinch of the Elf's tender flesh. "These are for you," he
said simply.

He saw a wild expression flash briefly across the Elf's face. /The girls were right!/ he
thought. /He *does* love me in secret!/ "What say you we retire to my chambers now?" he asked

/Apparently, the Elf has difficulty understanding subtleties,/ he thought to himself. /I hang
upside-down over his balcony reciting love poetry I wrote about him, some of my *best* work, and
he doesn't see it. I give him tender caresses at supper, and he doesn't see it. I get up before
the dark is gone in the morning, pick him roses and wait for him, and he doesn't see it. And
then he hides from me all morning. Maybe he can't tell that I return his love? Perhaps I will
have to be a bit more obvious in the future./

"I don't-" the Elf said. He paused. "Aragorn."

/I love the way he says my name. Aragorn./

"It doesn't matter that I saved your life those sixty-three times during the Quest."

/Sixty-three? He counted! He *must* love me!/

"It doesn't matter that over a hundred fangirls told you that I love you."

/Just *look* at those legs. Simply beautiful. Maybe I'll start calling him 'Leggy.' It suits
him as a pet-name. And he can call me Aragorn like he did just now./

"It doesn't matter, for you are fated to marry Arwen-"

/Arwen? Who is this Arwen?/ Aragorn wondered. /He has been going on about her ever since I
followed him out of the chapel. Maybe it is some sort of game? He's even *more* of a handful
than I thought! Now, if I could just figure out what he *really* means..../

Aragorn watched in disbelief as Legolas drew Gimlet into their little game by the simple means of
sitting on the dwarf's lap.

Legolas was speaking. "-Gimli and I are... close. We have been since Lothlorien. And we are
going away together soon."

/I see your game, Greenleaf,/ Aragorn thought triumphantly. /You want me to pretend to be
heartbroken and sad so that you can make me feel better later!/

"You are?" Aragorn asked, acting hurt with every deceptive skill he posessed.

"We are," Legolas said firmly. He hugged the dwarf.

He *hugged* the *dwarf*. Aragorn, at that moment, wanted to shove Gimlet off the wall, game or
no game.

"You wouldn't want to damage our relationship, would you?" the Elf asked.

/He said it! 'Our relationship!' He said it! I *knew* he loved me!/

"Uh, no, I guess not," Aragorn said, near-strangling with the effort to hold back his elation.
/Now who did he say I was supposed to pretend to love? Oh, yes./ "So I love this Arwen, hmm?"

"Absolutely. Go to her."

/Go? Oh. I see. You want time to ditch the dwarf. You do that, beloved. I'll get your
chamber ready for later./

Aragorn turned and walked away from the two, followed by the sullen mob of fangirls.

/I'll need more flowers,/ Aragorn mused. /I'll fill the room with them. And candles. And wine,
and food. Oh, and I can't forget my poems. I'll have the chamber all ready by the time he gets

Aragorn tossed the wilted roses absently to a passing Elf-woman with long black hair who was
walking with another Elf, an older man who glowered at the King as he passed. He started to
whistle cheerfully as he made his way to the palace.

Legolas would be so surprised!


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