FIC for sillyshy
Title: Upon the Western Wave
Author/Artist: tears_of_nienna
Recipient's name: sillyshy
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters/Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating and Warnings: PG for kissing and corsairs.
Summary: If Legolas is going to sail into the west, he'll have to learn how, first...
Notes: Thanks to chionis for the lightning-fast and fabulous beta.
But just possibly with you on a high hill, first watching lest any person for miles around approach unawares,
Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea or some quiet island,
Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you...
--Walt Whitman, "Whoever You Are Holding Me Now In Hand"
It was late spring, four winters into the reign of Elessar, when Legolas asked his comrade and king to teach him to sail.
He was hesitant at first, loath to abandon his kingdom even for a few short weeks, but Arwen saw the weariness in him, the silver in his hair that had not been so plentiful at his coronation, and she persuaded him. After all, had he not the finest councilors in all Middle-earth? Would not Faramir hold the city well in his stead? And of course he must not worry on her account, for Eowyn would surely come to Minas Tirith with her husband, and so Arwen would hardly be lacking in company.
"Besides," she murmured, kissing him softly, "I know you miss him."
Of course she knew--he had no secrets from her. But to hear her acknowledge it, approve it, was another matter entirely, and it warmed his heart. They would start from Dol Amroth and sail around the coast, north to the Grey Havens, for it had been long since they had seen the Halflings.
They set sail on the first morning of summer, a bright, clear day that promised a hot afternoon. The breeze was light and steady, and as they set out from the harbor at Dol Amroth, Aragorn found there was little teaching to be done. Instead, he watched as the coastline faded from sight, as the party that had accompanied them slowly vanished into the distance.
"Can you see them still, Legolas?" he called over the noise of the snapping sails.
"Aye," he replied, "and your lady is standing in surf to her knees, still waving."
Aragorn raised his hand once more toward the shore, though he could no longer see it. After half an hour's time he left the helm and stood beside Legolas in the stern of the grey ship. "And what do your elf eyes see now, my friend?" he asked softly.
"Only the sun upon the waves."
"Good," he growled, then turned and kissed Legolas hard.
Aragorn had expected surprise, questions, perhaps a token protest for Arwen's sake, but he had underestimated the intuition of the Eldar. Legolas did not hesitate, but returned the kiss with equal desire, with a hunger that belied his ever-calm demeanor.
Together they slipped down to the sun-warm boards of the deck.
The next few days continued in a similar fashion. Aragorn taught Legolas how to steer, to trim the sails and make fast the lines, and while the breeze held, they would seek other occupations. By the evening of the third day, Aragorn's face had browned in the sun; Legolas' skin had simply acquired a pale gold tan that made him look even more otherworldly.
On the morning of the fourth day, while they were passing near the coast, the frayed mainsheet snapped. Aragorn disappeared belowdecks in search of a new length of rope; Legolas took the helm to steady the ship, but a sharp cry froze him.
Away off on their starboard side, he could see the coastline and, hazy in the distance, the foothills of the Eryn Nimrais, the White Mountains that stretched away to the east and into Gondor.
But in the air above the coast itself, gulls were wheeling and crying. Legolas' breath caught. Of course there had been gulls at Dol Amroth, but the roar of the surf and the prospect of weeks alone with Aragorn had kept him grounded.
Now, alone on deck, he felt the longing wash over him once more. His hands tightened on the wheel. Aragorn had taught him how to plot a course; it would be a simple thing to change tack, to steer the ship into the West and never again look on the shores of Middle-earth. He thought of those he would see again when he arrived--Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Frodo and Bilbo if they yet lived.
He heard Aragorn's tread on the deck behind him. His grip on the wheel slackened, but he did not turn.
"So you've not taken the helm and set a course for the Undying Lands, I see."
"I considered it."
"It's well you didn't," Aragorn replied mildly. "After all, that would be mutiny--it would mean the lash."
Legolas spun to face him. "As though you would dare," he challenged.
"Perhaps not. Perhaps I would only confine you belowdecks. We have no proper brig, of course, but there is plenty of rope on board. I think it would be enough to...restrain you."
"And I think," Legolas said wryly, "that you've grown entirely too fond of this idea."
Aragorn's smile faded. "You mean to sail, then," he said gently.
"I have always meant to sail," Legolas replied dismissively, his voice light and impish. "But I do not think I will leave tomorrow, nor even next week. Not while you yet cling to life."
Aragorn hesitated, and did not smile. "I would not have you stay for me. Not if what you truly desire lies across the sea."
Legolas shook his head, fondness in his eyes. "What I truly desire is standing before me," he said. "I would not leave these shores while you are yet living."
The thick coils of rope slithered down onto the deck as Aragorn crossed to the rail and covered Legolas' mouth with his own.
Later, they replaced the line together, Aragorn standing on the deck and Legolas ascending the ratlines as though he were born to the sea. He had just pulled the last knot tight when a shape on the horizon caught his eye. He frowned. "Aragorn!" he called.
Aragorn looked up from below. "What is it?"
"A sail, away to the northwest. The ship's hull and sails are dark--not grey like an elven ship."
"Come down." Aragorn picked up a spyglass and stalked up to the bow of the ship. His heart sank at the sight: it was indeed a black ship, with fanned sails that could mean only one thing. "Corsairs," he muttered. "I had thought we were rid of them."
Legolas climbed gracefully down the ratline and joined him. "And what shall we do now?"
"Hope that they have not spotted us," he replied absently. "I'll have to draft a letter, send it to Dol Amroth and the other ports along the coast." He sighed. "If the wind changes, keep her on course," he said, then disappeared belowdecks.
Legolas decided to give Aragorn an hour before relieving him from whatever duties were preoccupying him. The wind remained constant, and he spent the time gazing out to the West, thinking Someday...
He had thought it had been but a moment, but suddenly the sun was beginning to set. He looked away from the horizon, shocked at his own carelessness, and saw that the black ship was drawing nearer to them, though it was still far off to the north. Setting the wheel quickly, he turned and sought out Aragorn belowdecks.
Aragorn was sitting at the map-strewn desk in his cabin, feverishly composing a letter that was no doubt intended to alert all of Gondor and Arnor to the renewed threat presented by the corsairs. He wore a frown that deepened the faint creases on his forehead and around his eyes.
Legolas let his step be heard as he approached, but Aragorn did not look up. "You know, it is worry such as this that has put that frost on your hair, my friend."
"It is worry such as this that keeps my people safe from attack," he returned sharply.
"And what do you plan to do with your letter once it is finished? Tie it to a gull's leg? Put it in an empty wine-jug and set it adrift?"
"When we get to the Havens I will have a rider carry it back to Minas Tirith."
"Very well, then, if it will let you sleep more easily. When you are finished, would you care to join me on deck to examine a rather more pressing problem?"
Aragorn sighed. "Legolas, please. While I certainly see how such could be considered pressing, this is hardly the time for--"
"You misunderstand me. I merely thought you might be interested to learn that our corsair brethren have altered their heading and are now set to intercept us before dusk."
"What?" Aragorn snapped, finally looking up. Legolas tossed him the spyglass and led the way out of the hold.
Upon emerging from the hold, Aragorn found that a damp breeze had sprung up from the west, and the ship was indeed on a course to intercept them. He did not even need the spyglass to see that now. He sighed. "We must confront them. We cannot run--corsair ships are built for speed, and if we were to turn tail and flee, they would catch us astern."
"Why would they seek to pursue us? What can they think to gain? We are flying the standard of Gondor--surely they are wise enough to let a ship of your realm be."
"They must have taken us for a merchant vessel--they'll hope to relieve us of our goods, our provisions...and, in all likelihood, our lives."
Legolas smiled thinly. "They will be surprised, then, to find the fight that we will give them."
Yet he was not altogether sure it would be much of a fight. Aragorn had his sword and bow; Legolas had his bow and a pair of long white knives. Each silently hoped it would not come to knife-work; they would be badly outnumbered. How badly, though, remained to be seen.
Legolas shaded his eyes against the sunset. "How many men would crew a ship of that size?"
Aragorn shrugged. "Eight, twelve, twenty-five--their boarding party might be any size."
"Twelve to one, then, at worst. I can take fifteen; could you dispatch the rest?"
Aragorn rolled his eyes in a most un-kingly fashion. "Someday, perhaps, we will fight a battle in which ours are the superior numbers."
"Ah, but the best songs are always sung about the small, valiant army that vanquishes the massed enemy."
"Or dies trying," Aragorn added darkly.
Legolas only laughed and shouldered his quiver.
The westering sun slid lower, glimmering over the water, and the corsair ship still drew nearer. Legolas and Aragorn stayed in the bow; Aragorn set them on a course to meet the black ship head-on, and Legolas kept watch and sharpened his knives.
Soon the corsairs were close enough to hear, to see the dark shapes moving about, silhouetted by the sinking sun. Legolas, watching them, laughed suddenly. "Perhaps I will not have to sail after all," he said, good-natured irony overlaying the taut battle-readiness that Aragorn recognized from Parth Galen, from Helm's Deep, from the Black Gate. "Perhaps the Valar have chosen a swifter passage for me."
"You never spoke so mordantly before you met the Halflings," Aragorn chided. "Remind me to scold them for divesting you of your elvish mystery."
"You, scold the Halflings? I'd as likely scold you for divesting me of my garments."
"Which I devoutly hope I will have an opportunity to do again."
"You will," Legolas promised. "At dawn, when this is all over. Consider it an incentive to survive."
Just before dark, the ships began to draw alongside each other. Legolas could see the dim shapes of men, could hear the sharp crack of a whip and shouting in a rough, unfamiliar tongue. "They are close enough, now," he said softly.
"Very well, then," Aragorn said. "Give them a taste of Greenwood marksmanship."
Legolas loosed five arrows in rapid succession, throwing the corsair ship into chaos. A flurry of arrows rained back, nearly all falling short of the ship; one thudded into the hull, far off target.
Aragorn set the wheel, then left the helm and drew his bow; together they fired another barrage into the dim shape of the corsair ship. A number of cries rose in the darkness; the return volley was thinner this time, but the remaining archers were getting better. An arrow passed by Legolas' face close enough that he felt a passing breeze, but he did not flinch.
Five of the corsairs, braver or more foolish than the rest, swung across the small gap on ropes. Their landing would have been all but silent to human ears, but they had not counted on an elf among their victims. Legolas turned and sent one knife spinning through the air to bury itself deeply into the first man's chest. He dropped without a noise.
"Aragorn!" Legolas shouted. "Behind you!"
Without hesitation, Aragorn turned and caught a corsair blade on his own. Holding the corsair at bay, he drew a dagger from his belt and dispatched him.
Two of the three survivors advanced on Legolas, whose remaining knife was hardly an ideal weapon for fighting two enemies at close quarters. He parried and ducked swings from their broad, curved swords, waiting for a chance to strike. When it became clear that the chance was not coming, that they were slowly backing him up against the rail of the ship, he changed direction and let them back him up against the wheel. As they raised their blades, Legolas reached back and yanked the wheel hard to starboard. The boom swung around the bow of the ship, knocking the larger corsair cleanly off the boat. Legolas heard the splash as the second corsair advanced on him.
Now the field was level. The corsair was grinning at him, laughing and taunting him in an unknown language. Legolas stood completely still, and waited.
The corsair charged him almost immediately; Legolas stepped aside, parried the wide, jarring sweep of his blade, then reversed the knife and hammered the hilt hard into the base of the man's skull. The impact knocked him unconscious immediately, but the corsair's momentum sent him over the rail just like his comrade. Before the corsair had even hit the water, Legolas was already sheathing his knife, casting wildly about for Aragorn.
Aragorn was standing at the stern, bow at the ready. He had taken care of the last corsair on their ship and was sending arrows back at the corsair vessel, but it was now full dark and he could see very little. The angle he had was now poor, as well; when Legolas had turned the wheel he had put their stern in range of the corsairs' broadside, and arrows were embedded in the wood all around Aragorn. As Legolas watched, he yanked one out of the deck and fired it back on the ship. It flew true, striking down one of the remaining archers.
Although his instinct was to race down and fight beside Aragorn, Legolas instead turned to the mast. Pausing only to retrieve his thrown knife, he clambered up the ratlines, all elegance forgotten in his haste. Standing on the narrow masthead, he found a far better angle for arrow-work. There were eight corsairs left; he felled five of them while Aragorn dispatched the other three.
In the silence that followed, all Legolas could hear was the rapid pounding of his own heart. He climbed down from the cross-tree and strode across the deck to where Aragorn was pitching the remaining bodies over the side. He turned to Legolas with a mock-glare. "You might have warned me you were going to try to capsize us," he admonished.
Legolas grinned and, abandoning all restraint and elvish mystery, swept forward and embraced him.
It had been just so after Helm's Deep, in the pale light of a dawn they had not expected to see, as they ascertained with hands and mouths what their eyes vouchsafed. Legolas made good on his promise, and they lay on the deck together as the sun rose high and hot in the east.
They made it to the Havens. Eventually.