By: Dana
Summary: Legolas watches Aragorn and Boromir and tries to understand.
Characters: Legolas, Boromir, Aragorn
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: A movie canon inspired piece that delves into the depths of an Elven mind. It is written in a thoughtful sort of third person-present tense.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Legolas had lived a very long time and yet even now, at the end of an age, there were things that he did not quite understand. To an Elf, death was not something that was easily understood. Elven grief was cold and insubstantial like the starlight they loved, hard to take hold of and even harder to comprehend. Natural death was something unheard of among the Elves; even violent death, in the midst of a great battle, was rare enough among his. Legolas had lived a very long time, and yet Gandalf's fall had been a first. He was not sure if he would want to feel that pain again.

The Hobbits gave into their emotions easily and their grief had been hot and liquid and so much more real than anything Legolas had ever felt. But it was not the way of the little ones to dwell upon their pain. They would more likely remember the happy times than to linger upon the dark. That did not mean that they forgot; they simply knew that life was life and life would always carry on. But they were not the only ones to grieve, to mourn this loss. Gimli was not as easy to understand. The ways of a Dwarf were complicated, more so than Legolas could ever have imagined. To see Gimli give into his emotions so easily, and now he hid them behind a wall of stone. Legolas was not sure he ever wanted to understand what went on inside the head of a Dwarf. But that was as incomprehensive as what went on inside the heart of a Man.

Their grief seemed to go in cycles of bitter weeping, aloof blankness, looking down at the ground so as not to meet the eyes of others, all in a pattern that seemingly ran on chaos theory. You could hardly tell what emotion they'd show next, if they'd talk as if nothing had happened or begin to sob uncontrollably. This Legolas understood least of anything.

Which was why he watches them, the two Men of the Fellowship, from the blue shadows of Lothlorien.

Aragorn walks in the dim of an eternal twilight, and when he speaks, his voice is strong. "Take some rest, Boromir. These borders are well protected."

Boromir's reply is anything but. "I shall find no rest here," he says, and it's as if the weight of the world is bearing down upon him. It seems to last for only a fleeting moment but as he speaks his tone seems to drop deep into despair. "I heard a voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor."

Aragorn is silent, his eyes grow wide. He takes a seat beside Boromir on the elegance of the bench that Boromir had sat upon alone.

"She said to me, even now, there is hope left, but I cannot see it," Boromir bows his gaze, and sucks in an unsteady breath. "It is long since we had any hope." He lifts his head again and looks into Aragorn's eyes, unflinching. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing, and the people lose hope. My father looks to me to set it right, and I would do it, I would see the glory of Gondor restored."

There is a light in his eyes, then, a light that Aragorn for the passing of an instant finds fascinating. A proud and noble flame, the exultation of a man's love for his country, his home. "Have you seen it, Aragorn?" Boromir asks, and his voice catches and seems to swell. "The white tower of Ecthelion glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

So deep was the emotion in Boromir's voice, that Aragorn's own reply seems choked, stinted. "I have seen the White City, long ago."

The wonder in Boromir's eyes grew and seemed that it would consume him whole. There, something between them, something that they would both understand. Boromir reaches out and clasps Aragorn's arm. "One day, our paths will lead us there, and the tower guard will take up the call, 'the lords of Gondor have returned!'"

Boromir's grip is firm and his words would bind Aragorn to a path he is not sure he would take. Aragorn does not speak, he makes no promises.

Like waves rising and falling in an endless ocean, the emotions of Men swell and dissipate, Legolas thinks. And my own emotion...?

His silent watching of the Men continues, his own thoughts and feelings like a sea at tempest. Would he want this storm to be everlasting like that within Men?

He feels as if he is continuing the thoughts of someone else.... Had Arwen been thinking this? What had run through her mind when she pledged her love and life to Aragorn? Would he want to feel as she does, a love so powerful and overwhelming that she would face death? Would he want to give himself to the maelstrom of such a mortal love? He does not think that he could. Arwen is something and feels things that he could never comprehend. She has found her hope, has made her choice.

His attention returns to the Men. Aragorn stands, silent, and Boromir is left in the quiet of the glade. He does not watch Aragorn's departure, he looks instead to the weave of limb and leaf above. His gaze is solemn, his despair is heavy and he loses himself within it. But Legolas saw something he is not sure even Aragorn had seen. For a moment, and only a moment, the hope that swelled in Boromir's eyes. If Legolas could unravel the secrets of Boromir's heart then he thinks he would never doubt his understanding of a Man.

Legolas smiles and leaves Boromir like the passing of a shadow.

Boromir closes his eyes, and the umbra of the trees is like the pallor of death upon his brow.

Leaving Lothlorien was like stepping from a dream. The waters of the Anduin are cold and the air seems tense and foreboding. When night comes, the company makes their way ashore. When the moon is bright and shines down on the river, Boromir watches the water. The night is quiet, but for the sound that the river makes. Legolas stands his watch, and his gaze is upon the Man of Gondor. One hand rests upon a boulder at the water's edge. There is something in the water, and his gaze searches it out.

There is more within the understanding of a Man that Legolas can not yet comprehend.

Aragorn walks up behind him, like shadow given form.

"Gollum. He has tracked us since Moria." He pauses, takes a breath. "I had hoped we would lose him on the river." He turns, and takes a step away. "But he's too clever a waterman."

Boromir peers intently ahead. "And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts... it will make the crossing even more dangerous."

Legolas knows he is not the only one to watch, to listen to this conversation. Frodo listens with a pained expression upon his face. Even when he is approached by Sam, he withdraws into himself. There is something brewing behind the calm face of the Rin?-bearer.

Boromir turns, and walks from the rock. "Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that. From there we can regroup." The desperation in his voice grows stronger with each breath, each word. "Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

Aragorn's face is like stone. "There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us."

Now it is not desperation, but the cold heat of rage, in Boromir's voice. "You were quick enough to trust the Elves."

Aragorn's face is impassive, as though Boromir's words do not touch him. Legolas it touched, though, and in deep in his heart he knows that Boromir speaks truth. "Have you so little faith," Boromir speaks again, "in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honour to be found in Men. But you," and Legolas thinks he hears disgust in Boromir's voice, "will not see that."

Aragorn is silent still, and turns. Boromir's hand snaps out, grabbing Aragorn's cloak and pulling him back. Boromir's face looms near to Aragorn's, and the heat of his anger grows. "You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are."

Even this does not will Aragorn to speak. In disgust, Boromir lets go of him, and Aragorn turns, walking into darkness. He stops, though, turns and his face is a mask of distaste, of loathing. "I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city."

Nothing more is said, and Aragorn storms away.

Boromir turns, looks back to the water. Legolas looks away from him, and loses himself in his thoughts. Legolas knows that he will follow Aragorn, wherever he will go. He cannot help but feel, though, that there is more to Boromir's words than a desire to simply gain possession of the Ring. He is no evil man, simply one who is ruled by his emotions, his convictions; his emotions are tempestuous indeed.

Boromir will not be easy to understand.

But there will be time.

Time is something that Legolas never thought could come to an end. Time is something that an Elf takes for granted, because there is no definitive boundary that lies between this life and life after passing to the West. Death is not something he understands, something that Legolas has ever understood. He feels a pang deep in his chest, that he never would want to.

He feels that there is a void within him, a void that is reaching up to him and telling him that it doesn't want to be empty, not anymore, but that there is nothing he can do about it. It's as if it's too late for his heart to feel its own beating pulse, too late for his mind to go beyond thinking into sentiment and passion. But it is too late and there will never be anything more.

Boromir is dying.

He fought valiantly; the bodies of the Orcs that lay scattered in the autumn coloured leaves is testimony to his strength in battle. He is ashen and pale and it Aragorn who is at his side. Aragorn who seems to see something else, who seems to understand.

"I would have followed you..."

This is too much. Legolas will never come to terms with life and love and the rise and fall of the life of a Man. They slip away like fine grains of sand.

"My brother..."

You can never hold on. In the end, they leave you nothing to hold.

"My captain..."

Nothing more than memories. And the pain that seems to intertwine.

"My king."

Aragorn's lips press against Boromir's brow.

"Be at peace," he says, "Son of Gondor."

The life of a Man is but the passing of seconds in the eyes of an immortal. Legolas is sure he will come to terms with this loss, but that does not mean the pain is any less.

Aragorn wears Boromir's gauntlets now. The White Tree of Gondor honours Isildur's heir even as he honours and pays respect to Gondor's fallen son. They had been friends and they had been comrades in arms and there had been moments where it had seemed they were rivals instead.?Then there were moments where a deeper understanding seemed to exist between the two. As though, Legolas reflects, their bond was deeper than one he thought could be forged between two Men. A bond that was stronger than even love.

But Legolas could be wrong.

Perhaps there had been, in it's own way.

Boromir fell defending Merry and Pippin and it is Sam who will see the Ringbearer to the end of his quest. Aragorn will see that those lives that Boromir fought and died to protect will not be lost. And Legolas knows that he will see Aragorn through on it to the end.

What cannot be understood can still be appreciated.