A/N: This will be a Legolas/Aragorn fic, although not as you would fic. But you will see… J

Disclaimer: enough people have written fics on this web site. you should know that I don’t own any of the characters. Even Eldarion is the real name of Arwen and Aragorn’s first child J (lol, I looked it up), it shows how dedicated I am to this fic. But all right, I will stop rambling on, and let you read now J enjoy:

Swirling leaves

Chapter One - Painful Memories

By Bex


The tall, slender elf stood with his fair face turned toward the wind. His long, light-colored hair wiped out behind his shoulder blades like the golden banner of the king he would never become. He was the perfect image of a young explorer, gazing toward the still undiscovered lands, full of beautiful adventures. But his green eyes were turned inwards, on memories long past. Painful memories that time had done nothing to alleviate. He kept seeing one specific moment, branded in his mind forever.




Amid the songs and the merry-making, Lord Elrond of Rivendell stood up. Every one present quieted down, expectantly waiting for the announcement.

“My merry guests, I have the pleasure and the honor to announce to you the marriage of my daughter Arwen Evenstar to the Dunadain Aragorn, Elfstone,” he spoke with a clear and happy voice. As he raised a silver cup, so did all the guests, drinking to the health and happiness of the soon to be wed couple. That is, everyone except one shocked young elf, sitting at the edge of the long table of Lord Elrond’s royal guests. He kept a straight face and raised his cup, but did not drink any of the crimson contents, so inviting at that special moment for the solace they would provide. After an appropriate time, he quietly left the dinning hall, keeping to the shadows, until he reached the stables. Then he noiselessly galloped away on his dark horse.




The young elf sighed, a tear coming unbidden to his sorrowful eyes. But as soon as the first image vanished, another, no less painful, came to replace it.




The beautiful Arwen stood on the wide steps leading up to Lord Elrond’s house. Next to her, looking into her eyes was Aragorn, a happy smile playing on his lips. But it was the little bundle that Arwen was holding that kept a certain young elf’s attention. It was a day much celebrated: the naming day of Arwen and Aragorn’s first child. It was a beautiful boy whom they had named Eldarion.




Like in the precedent memory, the elf had been an unwilling guest, forced to attend the ceremony because he was the son of King Thandruil. A sad smile now appeared on his pale face. Soon, he thought, soon, taking a step toward the edge of the cliff he was standing on. Far away, his elven ears picked up the sound of hooves pounding the ground. A single rider, in need to get somewhere fast. For a moment, the elf closed his eyes and took one last step. At the edge, the warm thermals picked up his hair into a wild whirlwind. It lashed his eyes when he opened them, but he did not care and accepted the stings willingly, almost with pleasure. The rider was approaching the cliff and would soon break the cover of the trees not far off. One last step into emptiness. Yes, soon. And then it will be all over. No more pain, no more shame. The elf breathed in deeply, took a last glance at the trees he loved so dearly. And tensed his muscles for the final jump…when a familiar voice rooted him in place.

“Stop!” he could hear the rider dismounting and running toward him. And yet, he could not move, except to bunch his hands into fists, angry for this weakness that prevented him from receiving the final mercy of the hard ground, hundreds of feet below. After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, he felt a strong hand gripping his shoulder and roughly pulling him backwards. His knees felt weak and he stumbled, landing on his rear. But the rider continued yelling.


“What do you think you were doing, you idiot?!” he was panting with exertion from his long ride, but his face was pale and drawn.

“Admiring the view?” said the elf sarcastically.

“Don’t be a fool Legolas, we both know you were not.”

The elf stood up, brushed the dirt off his leggings, and finally looked into the rider’s gray eyes. “I am going away, Aragorn,” he said so soflty that the man had trouble hearing him. “Elves die of three things: grief, steel, and the elements. The first, although the least controllable, takes the longest, while the second is very unpleasant. Compared to those, flying for a moment isn’t so bad.”

Aragorn was shocked, although he already knew what the elf had been planning to do. He looked into his eyes, trying to find there the last remnants of a hope long gone, but he was met by resignation and a terrible sadness. Those eyes that had always shone so bright were now dull and bereft of life.

“Why?” was all he managed to say.

A long silence went by before Legolas answered.

“You of all people should know why, Aragorn,” the elf whispered. He surprised them both by suddenly pulling Aragorn into a gentle kiss then tripping him onto the ground. He leaped gracefully over the fallen man, and approached the edge of the cliff for the second time. With one last look at all he ever held dear, he stepped off the ledge, disappearing into nothingness, the cry of Aragorn pursuing him even in that last moment.





The wind rushed at his face, blurring his vision. For a moment, he spread his arms wide and glided like a hawk. But gravity soon claimed him, and he fell, closing his eyes. And even in that last moment, Aragorn’s face was in his mind. He simply could not forget him. Why?! He screamed in his thoughts. Why?! But no one answered, as the elf continued his fatal fall. But it seemed to take such a long time, a time in which Legolas could think about his life and his actions, and he hated himself for being so weak. I’m an elf, damn it! I should not have chosen suicide! But he was, and he did. He once more opened his eyes, and the ground seemed to be approaching less quickly, as if nature itself wanted to prolong this torture. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Legolas lost consciousness, falling into a deep darkness. He never felt himself touching the ground.


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A/N~ no this is not the end. If you review, you will know what happens to poor Legolas. I really don’t want to kill him (no way) but please review? This story will have a few more chapters before it ends, depending on the amount of ideas (and reviews) I get J *hint hint* J

This is my first, Legolas/Aragorn fic, although it isn’t one per say, but you will see soon enough J

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