This is slash. Of the Legolas/Aragorn kind ( implied) It was written for a high school assignment on Choosing. Don't own them, Tolkien does. Don't make any money off them.


To choose, is always to leave something behind.

The ghost of a kiss, lips gusting over mine, and he was gone. Never to return. A single ghost of a kiss and hundreds of memories was all he left me with. Memories of kisses, of flirts, of sex, such a dreamlike existence, that I should have known it could not stay. One night was all he granted me. Was it my choice? I believe it was, in a way. I knew he could not stay, knew he would not, and I let him in, didn't force him to stay or go. The choice was his and mine. It always was. It always has been.

The flirtations were there from the first moment. A lingering gaze, fingers accidentally brushing. Too much of him to know the consequences, to recognize the danger. Always my choice. I let him in too far, I let him take too much. I knew he'd flee, recognize the love for what it was. He knew about me, he knew of me, he knew me. He was a danger of too great proportions to comprehend, too passionate. I spent the whole quest with him, the whole quest as friends, and one night as more. One night of being more, yet the whole quest spent wishing for it. I should have known.

Too young, too experienced, too sexy. In the lights or in the shadows. Acting or being. I knew us, me, him, like I knew the trees of my home. The trees still stand unchanged, but I do not. I remember other forests, trees I passed with him. I wonder if he thinks of the trees, whilst watching the rain from his castle. A land away in space, but light years in mind. I feel his presence in every little thing, every waking hour. Is it always like this, Aragorn?

I knew him, the ways of him. I recognized his movements, in action. His relaxed eyes, his long nimble hands. I was the older of us, but he was in control. Our friendship, the ghost of it, still exists, yet I dare not call on him, re-new it. Actions may ruin the little part of him I keep within. That one night, the quest years, and the memories, are all we share now.

From darkness I understand the night, Dreams flow, a star shines Ah! I desire...

Him. Only him. Has he found happiness with her ? I wonder if the real pain of this choice comes from the unknown, from the what-ifs. I wonder if I hadn't let him take from me, hadn't let him love me, would he still be here, all smiles and touches? Of course not, he would have returned to Arwen anyway. I should rejoice that I had the one evening, the one look into him. One chance. Did the others know? Did they know how I longed for him? The others who spent the quest with us, our friends. Did they see? Did he know, before that night? All the what-ifs, all the questions. Why did he kiss me, if he didn't know? Why, Why, Why. I must stop this torture.

The choice was mine to make. I could have told him no, could have pushed him away, he would have obeyed, and not touched me again. But my mind was made up from the first kiss, hell, long before then. I couldn't pinpoint a time, but it happened early on, that I know. Denying him what he wanted was never an option. My choice and his. Always was, always has been.

The choice was mine.