A friendly trip 2

2.

Aragorn awoke to an empty patch of grass, where his friend once had been laying. Sitting up he looked around himself to see him far away, at the edge of the small lake they had passed yesterday. The muscles on his back stretched as he reached down to wash his face, which was shielded by a curtain of golden hair. For a moment Aragorn let his eyes linger on the pale, angelic skin before he looked away and turned his back to pack their bags. To his surprise, packed bags and saddles greeted him, along with groomed horses happily munching on the green, damp grass. Smiling he shook his head and leaned back against the tree Legolas had been sitting against the night before. For a moment he could swear the heat from the elf's body still remained, until the thought made him want to wash his brain with soap. He shook the thought away and had to laugh about it. He lit his pipe and took a deep inhale as he waited for Legolas to return.

When he did, he was fully clothed and hopefully blissfully unaware that Aragorn had ever seen his skin. The man wasn't going to say anything. Not that he had never seen another man's skin before, but it felt different with Legolas. He deserved his privacy, and guilt already gnawed at him for having even looked. It felt sinful, even though it was never his intention.

Now it was Legolas who had a disgusted look on his face, mirroring what Aragorn felt. His hair, which was free from braids and hung loose, was a little damp at the ends. He looked different. It was a good difference. He looked free from burdens and responsibilities. The braids were associated with fighting in the man's mind and seeing his locks free made him look not only younger but freer. An intrusive thought crossed his mind of taking the hair and cutting it by his ears, and he wanted to smile.

However, instead, he raised his eyebrows to challenge the disgusted look. Taking a deep, grinning inhale from the pipe he made Legolas shook his head with a grin forming. Aragorn knew that Legolas knew it was a useless fight, but that did not mean he would not voice his disgust.

"You should wash as well." He said as he poured water on the fire from his waterskin, watching the last embers die with a soft frizzle. "The water was warm. Not to be rude, Estel, but you could need it. You haven't washed in the last couple of days. "

Aragorn raised his brows again and picked the pipe from between his teeth to speak. "Excuse me?"

Legolas smiled at him. "I think you heard me well enough."

"If you give me one good reason to wash, I might."

"I only now gave you one very valid reason."

Aragorn gave in. Not for Legolas sake, mind you, but because a warm wash sounded too good to refuse. So he stood with a grin, gave Legolas his pipe to put in the bag, and left for the lake. It was quite close. He looked back as he felt a gaze on him, but Legolas was too occupied with brushing the horses once more. So he took his shirt off as quickly as he could to wash.

Legolas had lied about the water. It was freezing, but somehow it still felt good on his skin. He rubbed the soap between his hands and washed quickly, feeling his hands glide across his skin. For a moment he could imagine it was the hands of his friend, rubbing his skin like he would his bow. With those fond movements, like he treated something valuable to him. Then, when he put his shirt back on and tied his belt the illusion was broken. It could never be, after all. This was a fairytale, a story Aragorn told himself at night to ease the aching of longing for an elf who could never be his. After washing his face and rubbing his eyes he returned to camp, feeling fresher than he had done the night before, and more awake and aware from the freezing water.

Legolas caught the soap he tossed with graceful reflexes. It made his hands sticky, Aragorn noted. It served him right, as he had lied about the water.

"Was the water to your taste, my highness?" He asked with a glint in his eyes as he put the soap back in the cloth.

Aragorn laughed then as he wiped his hands on the grass. "That was a low lie Legolas. You should be punished for that."

Legolas smiled at him. "Forgive me, my King. I don't suppose you'll let me live?"

"I suppose not. Justice must be served, after all. What kind of King would I be to let traitors live among us?"

"A mad one."

Aragorn's cheeks aced as he turned to Brego. He stroked between the horse's eyes with a soft hand, meeting the dark eyes. He would not give Legolas the satisfaction of seeing his stupid grin. However, he thought, Legolas needed to know how happy he made him. He rolled his eyes at the emotional thought. 'Another time.'

The rain began as the sun had just reached the top, and instead of continuing like planned, they sat back down under the trees, watching the heavy fall and breathing the air. It smelled like wet moss and sweet water. Forbidden mushrooms, and colonies of tiny creatures under their feet. In one word, the forest had a scent of life. Of beating hearts, and tiny toes, moving to the tones of the crickets and the birds' lonely song.

Some drops made it through and hit them in the face. Even as he shuddered, Aragorn didn't mind. A few times he even got the urge to walk into the rain, and just feel the water hit his skin. Like somehow it would clean him of all the blood on his hands. Unconsciously his hand moved out into the rain, and he watched the drops hit his hand as he flexed his fingers. It was cold, but it made him feel alive. Legolas grinned from across the wet fire, eyes squished to tiny streaks.

So, when Legolas rose and walked into the rain Aragorn couldn't hold himself back. He didn't know how long he stood in its way, only that the feeling of the cold water hitting his face made him regain some space in his naturally tight chest. It opened some room for his lungs to expand as he took the deepest, most freeing breath he had gotten since he could remember. It made him feel like the only thing that mattered was that he was here, with his dear friend, in the rain, in a forest. Then he heard a laugh and looked up at Legolas, who was as drenched as he was. Wet strands of hair lay against his neck and over the side of his face, and still, he managed to look beautiful.

"You look like a child." He said with the purest smile he had ever seen on the face of an adult. It made him smile as well, even though the water made his eyes sting.

"I feel like one." He looked up at the sky, blinking against the water and light. Raising up his hands he stood like an elven scarecrow for several deep breaths, and the man found himself looking through locks of his drenched hair. That would surely attract birds rather than scare them, he thought with a huff. Surely, birds would find him as attractive as Aragorn did. Like everyone did. How come Legolas did not yet have a lover?

Thunder was heard before lighting lit up the sky, and the spell was broken. They retreated to their camp under the tree, and the feeling slowly returned to their limbs. Aragorn shuddered a little as he sat down, to what he was sure to be Legolas amusement. They couldn't light a fire either on the wet ground, so they curled up in two balls, gazing at each other. No words were necessary. They were lucky their fathers would never see them like this. It would be a shame.