Return to Aragorn/Legolas by author, title, or rating. Poor Sport Rating: PG ~~~~ The young Ranger looked about in bemusement at the Fair Day throngs. There were a great many more people gathered to celebrate Lord Golasgil's birthing-day than his companion had led him to expect. To the Ranger it seemed as though all the folk of Anfalas had convened on the grassy plain of Langstrand. "Just a simple country fair?" the young Man mused aloud. Halbarad smiled at his friend who was known as Thorongil in Gondor, Estel in Rivendell and by yet another name in Rohan. However, Halbarad the Ranger had the right to call him by his given name. "Do not look so affrighted, Aragorn." Halbarad's habitual dour expression lightened in a fond smile. "The ladies do not seem to be planning a massed attack upon our persons." Halbarad surprised a laugh out of his companion and was glad to hear it. It was one thing for Halbarad to walk about with a grim mien more often than not, but Aragorn was still a young Man as the Dunedain measured such things. Halbarad wished that Isildur's Heir had more to be merry about, thus the archery competition. It had taken a lot of words and a little misdirection, but at last, Aragorn had been persuaded to enter. At the very least, Halbarad supposed, Aragorn would be among folk who were enjoying themselves. On all sides of them, the bright-eyed, predominately russet-haired people of Anfalas were patronizing booths of wares, entertainments and games of chance. Glad shouts and happy laughter filled the air, which was already crowded with the aromas of baked goods, roasting meats and the crisp, sharpness of ale. Surely, none could remain downhearted in such an atmosphere of celebration and good fellowship. "Come," Halbarad said, throwing an arm around Aragorn's shoulders. "Once you have won the contest, you will be able to take some rest and enjoy the delights of this Fair." Aragorn let himself be led to the level ground on which the archery competition would be held. Folk had already been seated on the tiers of benches that had been erected for the Fair. Many more spectators stood around three edges of the field. The fourth was lined with various targets from straw-filled bulls-eyes to metal rings suspended from scaffolds. Competitors were already limbering their bows and firing practice arrows. Halbarad snorted. "I should place a wager. By the looks of it, you will win easily." "That I would not wish," Aragorn said, as he unslung his gear and set it carefully on the grass beside his feet. "The wagering or the winning?" "It is your gold, my friend," Aragorn answered with a shrug. "Do not fret so," Halbarad said. "I am sure your fellow archers are not showing us their best before the competition begins. Likely they fire awry to give other false confidence." Aragorn shook his head. The young Ranger was a very direct Man with little patience for subtle devices. Stringing his bow, he tested the draw and pulled an arrow from the quiver. A burst of harsh laughter from the right turned both Rangers' heads. A group of rough-looking Men clad in furs was looking in the Rangers' direction. Noticing that they had been noticed, the largest, a red-bearded giant made a comment that had his companions guffawing loudly. Aragorn dismissed them from his regard, but Halbarad's pride was pricklier, especially as he was wearing his uniform. "Those trappers could use a lesson in manners," the older Ranger growled. "No doubt," Aragorn said mildly. "Before you commit yourself to their teaching, you might consider whether or not they can learn." Halbarad smiled in spite of his annoyance. "Likely you're right, lad, but it puts my hair up to suffer disrespect from Wild Men. Were it not for us…" "I know," Aragorn forestalled the well-worn speech that was coming. "By the blood of Rangers are these people allowed to sleep in ignorant peace. I know you do not really begrudge the price at which their lives are bought. Let it go, Hal." "Of course," Halbarad said with exaggerated dignity. "It ill becomes a Ranger to start a brawl at a fairground." "Aye," Aragorn smiled. "We are here to stop them and our hairy friends have found a new object of interest anyway." Another competitor had arrived and just in time. The officials who would judge the tourney had taken their places and Lord Golasgil was seated amongst his retinue. A herald in Golasgil's livery raised a silver horn to his lips and blew three blasts. The contestants formed a loose line and awaited the Lord's opening speech. All eyes were on the richly dressed figure of the ruler, save Aragorn's. The Ranger was still looking at the late arrival. The archer had not removed his cloak and the voluminous hood covered the stranger's head, throwing his face into deep shadow. It could not even be determined whether this was Man or Woman, unless one were a Ranger, trained to spot minutiae. Aragorn was certain that this was neither Man nor Woman. He was about to mention it to Halbarad when the herald called his name. Aragorn walked to the line and took his place. The next name called was that of Greenleaf and the mysterious, hooded archer came to stand next to the Ranger. Aragorn noted that the stranger had taken care to wear clothing with no betraying ornamentation and his bow and arrows had plainly been bought from a fletcher here at the Fair. There was nothing to identify the competitor and Aragorn thought he knew why. Such musings were forgotten as the first targets were pulled into place and the call rang out to let fly. Scores were counted, arrows pulled from bulls-eyes, and another round commenced. At last it came down to three competitors: a Ranger from the North, a Wild Man from the hills above Lossarnach, and the tall figure cloaked in dark green. New targets were set up. The contestants were expected to thread an arrow through a small ring suspended from a branch. The crowd roared as each archer performed the feat. The bulls-eyes were brought back and placed farther from the firing line. Again, each competitor hit the center spot. Again, the targets were moved back. On the next volley, the big shaggy Man from Lossarnach put an arrow on the edge of the ring while Aragorn and Greenleaf's stuck dead center. Now it was down to two. With an angry shout, the Wild Man threw his bow from him and stomped from the field. As the mark was moved again, the Ranger spoke to his rival. "I respect your wish for anonymity, but are you not a Sindar?" The stranger's head turned toward Aragorn and the Ranger saw the gleam of bright eyes in the shadow of the hood. "Sharp are the eyes of the Dunedain," was the answer. Aragorn blinked. The stranger Elf had neatly turned the Ranger's surprise back on him. "You know me?" Aragorn asked. Before the Sindar could reply, the trumpet rang out again. Both contestants looked down the lanes at the bulls-eyes and raised their bows. The crowd was silent, in awe of the distance at which the targets were placed. Aragorn shot first and his arrow struck the exact center of the mark. The throngs cheered the Ranger's shot, sure that he had won. The green-clad stranger drew and released; his arrow flying swift and sure until it thumped into the target. There was a short hush, broken by wild shouts of excitement and disbelief. Greenleaf's shaft had split the Ranger's cleanly in thirds and stood quivering in the middle of the center mark. "How shall we judge this?" Lord Golasgil called out as he rose to his feet with the rest of his folk. The official signaled the targets to be moved back again. Aragorn stepped closer to his opponent and spoke again. "I am not a betting man, but I wonder if you would be interested in a small wager?" Greenleaf did not take his attention from the sidelines as he answered. "What sort of wager, Man?" he asked in a voice like the first snowfall of winter. "If I best you, you must share a meal with me and tell me of yourself and your kin for I deem you to be from the deeps of the Woodland Realm where I have not traveled." "And if I defeat you?" Aragorn shrugged. "What would you have of me?" "Must I name it now?" "Nay. Think on it, if you will," the Ranger said. He did not fear that one of Elfkind would take unfair advantage. "Then we have a wager," the Sindar said as the herald blew his horn. To break the tie, it had been decided that each competitor would draw and fire three arrows as quickly as possible. The winner would be determined by speed and accuracy combined. An expectant silence fell over the crowd, as the official raised his arm. When the man let his hand drop, a great roar went up. Ignoring the noise and waving pennants, the contestants whipped arrows from their quivers and let fly. It was no contest. All three of Greenleaf's shafts seemed to sprout from the center mark at the same time. Aragorn was still nocking his last shot when the stranger's third arrow hit the target. In genuine admiration, the Ranger turned to congratulate his opponent only to find the Elf striding away. In consternation, Aragorn watched the victor walk quickly from the field. The multitude and Lord Golasgil shared the Ranger's surprise. Thrice the herald called Greenleaf's name, but the archer never slowed his step. As Halbarad approached to commiserate on Aragorn's defeat by an unknown, the young Ranger thrust his gear into his companion's arms. "Where are you going?" Halbarad called after his friend. "To settle a wager, Hal," Aragorn called back. Halbarad stood alone in the center of the field staring after Aragorn's retreating figure. Lord Golasgil was left holding the golden arrow he had meant to award to the victor. The crowd stood about for a time, buzzing with speculation, before wandering away. The nobles in the grandstand lingered a bit longer, discussing the bizarre conclusion to the match. Aragorn wound his way through the throngs on the sidelines, keeping an eye on the green cloak. The Ranger cursed silently, as a flock of dancers fluttered into his path. By the time he was clear of them, he had lost sight of the mysterious archer. Casting about, Aragorn's attention was drawn by the sound of angry voices. In the relative privacy behind a large pavilion, Aragorn found Greenleaf. The Sindar was facing five Wild Men, including the ill-mannered loser. It was obvious that the hirsute pack of trappers did not feel the stranger deserved the prize, which he'd not even accepted. "No one shoots that good," Redbeard growled ungrammatically. "He used bespelled arrows, like," like said a dark-haired woodsman greasier than the rest. "I am no sorcerer," Greenleaf said softly. "You are hiding something," Greasy said. "Else why cover your face?" "Aye," spoke up another trapper. "Let's see what's under that cloak." "Come no closer," Greenleaf said in a tone as sharp as sleet. Redbeard grinned. "Bark, wolf, or bite; I care not. We are five to one here, Sweetling." "Two," Aragorn corrected, stopping at Greenleaf's side. "This is not your fight, Ranger," the archer said. "Nor do I ask your aid." "Among my duties is that of keeping the peace," Aragorn answered. "A brawl on these crowded grounds would be certain to disrupt the peace and is therefore my fight." "You must do as your honor dictates," said Greenleaf. "However, I do not require your help." "Neither appeal nor permission is asked of you," the Ranger replied, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Finish your lovers' spat another time, Ranger," Redbeard growled. "If you stand with this trickster, we'll be seeing the color of your blood as well." Greenleaf's bow was in his hands with an arrow ready to fire before the last words left the Wild Man's lips. "You would have a bolt through your heart before you could take one step," the archer said dispassionately. "Told you he was a witch," Greasy exclaimed. "No Man is that fast." "I am no Man," the stranger said. "I am Elfkind." The Wild Men recoiled, but soon their brutish bravado returned. "Elf," Redbeard laughed. "I have trapped in the forest all my life and I have never seen an Elf." "That does not mean that Elves have not seen you," Aragorn told the Wild Man. "You do not frighten me with talk of wood sprites," Redbeard said. "Doff your hood, Elf. I would like to see one of the Fair Folk." Greenleaf tossed his head and the hood slid off, while his aim remained true. A spill of moonlight-colored hair unfurled over his green-clad shoulder as he raised his chin. For a moment, the Men stared in wonder at the beauty thus revealed. "Are you satisfied?" Aragorn asked the Wild Men, breaking the spell. The trappers exchanged dubious glances, pilfering sidelong looks at the Elf. Aragorn caught Greenleaf's eye and edged away from the Men. The Ranger would fight if it came to that, but he would prefer to avoid violence. It was the central irony of his life that he was a peaceful man required by duty and honor to be constantly at war. "Go back to Lord Golasgil," Aragorn said to Redbeard, "and tell him that the Elf and I have forfeited the prize to you." The big trapper narrowed his eyes shrewdly, imagining the arrow of gold in his hand. "I'll do that," he said. "And if I were you, pretty Elf, I'd not enter any more archery contests around here." "You may be sure of it," Greenleaf said. The trappers walked away as though they had won a great victory and were soon swallowed up by the masses. Aragorn turned to look at the Elf. "Will you stay away from here?" the Ranger asked hopefully. "Assuredly," Greenleaf answered. "It is poor sport competing with Men. My sire was right." Aragorn almost smiled at the Elf's tone. Plainly, sire being right did not please the archer overmuch. "Come," Aragorn said. "My companions have a camp not too distant. Let me offer you food and rest." "I am neither hungry nor tired," the Elf replied. "Then let us settle our wager, and you may be on your way," Aragorn said in disappointment. "Ah, I had forgotten," Greenleaf said. "As the winner, you must name your prize," the Ranger told him. "You would have bade me share a meal and speak of my home," the Elf recalled. "But I was not the victor," Aragorn answered. "What would you have of me?" They had reached the shadows beneath the sentinel trees of the vast forest that stretched north and west from this plain. The Elf stopped and looked back on the colorful, noisy sea of humanity. A small smile touched the Sindar's sweetly curved lips. "I would have your company for a few moments longer," Greenleaf said. "Walk with me into the wood, until it is time for us to part." "Gladly," Aragorn said without a thought for Halbarad. When they were some distance into the forest, Greenleaf paused again, looking up at the small pieces of blue sky visible through the canopy of leaves. "I have seen many Men," the Elf said, "but you are the first I have really spoken to. I saw many curious things today, too many to ask about, but I do not think Man is as hopeless as my sire would have me believe." "I am glad you do not think us hopeless," Aragorn said. "There is good in Man, if you search for it. You cannot judge the whole Race by a few Wild Men." Greenleaf's almost-smile curled the corners of his lips again. "You have great capacity for love it seems, a most passionate Race, though reckless with it." "I cannot deny it," Aragorn said, "but our passion is part of our strength." The Elf nodded, his cobalt eyes on the Sun. "I must go now. Hannon le, Man." Aragorn inclined his head. "Mae govannen," he replied. Greenleaf's intense gaze focused on the Ranger in surprise. Before the Elf could speak, two grey shadows emerged from the greater gloom of the wood. Aragorn's hand flew to his sword hilt, but the gentle touch of the Elf's fingers on his wrist kept him from drawing. "My companions," Greenleaf said. "They remind me that it is time to depart." Aragorn dragged his eyes from the two tall Elves in brown leather. "I would speak with you again," the Ranger said. "It may be so," Greenleaf said. "I cannot say. Let us settle our wager now." "As you wish," Aragorn replied. "I would taste a portion of the passion that burns so brightly in your Race," the Elf said. "I am not sure…" Aragorn paused in thought, and then continued. "Come closer," he said to Greenleaf, "and I will try to make you feel the fire." Willingly, the Elf moved closer, not flinching when the Ranger put a hand on his shoulder. Aragorn put his other hand on the nape of Greenleaf's neck, feeling the pale tresses slide like water under his touch. Delicately, the Ranger touched his lips to Elf's, waiting out the momentary startlement. When Greenleaf relaxed, Aragorn deepened the kiss, pouring all the desire a Man was capable of into the tender gesture. When their lips parted, the Elf looked at the Man in breathless wonder. "Hannon le," Greenleaf said at last. "I shall not forget you, Ranger." "Your highness," one of the grey-cloaked Elves said sternly. "We must go." Greenleaf saw the question in the Man's eyes, but ignored it. Instead, he accepted the exquisitely crafted bow and quiver that his companion held out and strapped them on. Turning back, the argent crowned Elf said farewell to the Ranger without words. Aragorn watched the three Elves fade into the murk beneath the trees. He was too stunned to follow and even a Ranger would have difficulty tracking Wood Elves who do not wish to be followed. Your Highness Aragorn mused over the title, certain now that Greenleaf was an assumed name. He was also certain that he had just met one of King Thranduil's sons. As he gazed at the space between the smoke-grey trunks where the Elves had vanished, the Ranger unconsciously raised his hand to his mouth. His fingers traced the shape of his lips, still tingling from the touch of Greenleaf's mouth. He would never forget the feel of those silken lips under his, or the thrilling way the Elf's mouth had opened slightly, seeming to invite a deeper caress. The Ranger stood there until true night had fallen and he could no longer see. Turning with a sigh, the young Man began walking in the direction of the Ranger camp. Before long, a gentle smile stole over his face. He had lost the archery contest, but he had won something of much greater worth than an arrow made of solid gold. THE END If you enjoyed this story, please send FB to Bailey. Return to Aragorn/Legolas by author, title, or rating. This page is supposed to exist within a frame, if it does not, please click here. |