NOTES: Legolas's POV

A Secret Shared - Chapter 5

Aragorn thinks he understands. But how can he, not knowing what it is to have such a prolonged life, know what it is to experience centuries of joy, pain, love and anger. One day, he will be gone. And again, I shall be alone. He doesn't know about my previous relations with humans. Maybe I should tell him about the human woman, found wandering the woods centuries ago, who I knew for many years, until she was captured by the spiders. Maybe I should tell him about the boy, who joined our trek for a short while on the road to Rivendell, the boy I fell in love with the day we met, who was slain by orcs before I had a chance to tell him so. Or the handsome old man I met on my travels, only for him to die from age months later. All these past loves, all destroyed by the things I despise, all who I outlived.

Immortality is a curse, the only ones who understand this are other immortals.

I walked through the trees mulling over this. Humans seem to think that we elves, living much longer lives than them, are wise and experienced in all matters. If only that were so. What I would give to understand love fully, to understand the workings of the heart and mind. But maybe this is something we are not to understand. I would like to know why happiness cannot be found in the form of a pretty elf maiden, why it has to be found in the arms of a mortal man, when we outlive them so easily.

"How dreadful it must be to be an immortal." A voice interrupted my thoughts with words I never expected to hear from anyone. I span around to the arrogant sounding voice, to see the Gondorian, Boromir- the last person I would expect to say such things - appear out of the trees, a sly look on his face. I felt a pang of annoyance. How would he know about immortality? How lucky is he, to be purely mortal, to be able to live and die and age. "What would you know about immortality, *mortal*?" I spat

"Oh I know," he replied, stepping towards me. "I know about immortality, *elf*," he came close, out faces inches apart. "So many love's lost..." he said in a tragic tone as he traced a rough finger along my jaw. I stood still, unsure what to do - or what the man wanted. "How many more will you lose?" his voice became a whisper as he leaned in closer and kissed me briefly but hard and roughly on the lips before disappearing into the trees. My heart thudded in my chest and I stood there for minutes trying to gather my thoughts and regain from the shock of this brief encounter. How could I have let that just happen? *Had* it happened, or was it just my imagination?

Boromir is rough and callous, but his charisma overshadows these negative traits. He is dangerous, not in a physical, violent way, but more in the way that during that brief encounter, my mind was only of him, I wanted to touch him, to hold him...and I had not a single thought of Aragorn. But this was wrong! I did not like Boromir at all, I almost despised the man! If I was not a guest in Lord Elrond's home I would not even try to be civil to him. Yet how I wanted him! As he stood so close, half of me was wishing for him to leave me be, the other half was begging for him to move closer. But he is slimy and calculating, he twists things to suit himself, how could I possibly feel those things? It was a moment of pure insanity, and it was his fault. He knows exactly what he wants and how he is going to get it, and doesn't care about who he has to go through to get it. I hate him.

Thankfully I did not see Boromir for the rest of the day. Any unfortunately I did not see Aragorn either, for he was the one I wished to see. I felt guilty about my encounter with Boromir, and bad about our earlier disagreement. After much thought, I decided he was probably right. We must keep our love secret, known only to ourselves and Arwen - none of us would dare say a word to anyone, not until the time was right. Which it probably wasn't. Aragorn was not at lunch, nor dinner. The elf sitting on my right during the evening meal said he had gone out riding, that he had something to do. This worried me, and after dinner, I stood silently in the shadows on one of the balconies of the house of Elrond, watching for his return. Only when I glimpsed him on his horse, trotting slowly into Rivendell, did I feel at rest. When I saw him coming towards the house, I made my way to his rooms to await him.

He entered several minutes later, looking tired and dishevelled from riding. He smiled when he saw me, and I stood and took wrapped my arms around him. He seemed to take to my embrace gladly, and I heard him sigh contentedly as he put his arms around my waist.

"I am sorry for our argument this morning," he whispered.

"It is I who should be sorry," I replied "For it was I who was wrong. You were right, we should keep our love secret, at least for now."

"Yes," he said "I do not feel it is the right time, yet."

"Well, you look as if you need much rest, so I shall leave you now," I pulled away gently. "Love you, Aragorn," I said quietly.

"Love you too my prince," he replied, kissing me gently on the lips.

And with that, I left, my lips still tingling with his kiss, his gentle, tender kiss; so unlike the roughness of the forced kiss I had received from Boromir. For whereas his kiss was one of contempt and discourtesy, Aragorn's soft kiss was one of love.