Legolas opened the door to find Elrond on his steps, smiling with wisdom and care.

“May I help you?” Legolas asked with confusion. He rarely get visitors at his cabin, for he does not socialize much with others, but the friends from the Fellowship. Even with friends from the Fellowship, they find Legolas at their doorsteps more than they knock on Legolas’s door. The last time Legolas heard a knock was from Gimli, and even that was almost too long for him to remember.

“I came to visit you, my dear child.” Elrond said soothingly, “It seems like I could never find you around. The last time we talked, if my memories are correct, was over two thousand years ago. I promised your father to look after you, yet I don’t even know how you feel about the life here.”

“I’m sorry.” Legolas mumbled, for he avoided the elder elf on propose. He cannot bring himself to be in the presence of Elrond, not while the guilt gnaws at his heart.

“No need to apologize.” Elrond waved his hand, the smile deepened at his lips as he asked, “Have you heard the news brought by the wind?”

“No.” Legolas denied, yet his averted eyes betrayed him.
“Legolas,” Elrond sighed, though he did not point out it’s an obvious lie, “Aragorn is alive again, on those foreign lands.”

Elrond paused, peered at Legolas, who is still not looking at him. Seeing that the younger elf has no intent to speck, Elrond continued onto his true propose, “I am planning to return to those lands. Legolas, do you want to come with me?”

“No!” Legolas whipped his glance back on Elrond, full of shock, as if that very idea terrifies him, “I cannot!”

“Why can’t you?” Elrond asked, patiently guiding the young elf to speak his mind.

“Because—— ” Legolas started, but he realized who he was speaking to and caught himself in time. He half turned away from Elrond, trying vaguely to hide his expression from the elder elf, “I’m sorry, Lord Elrond, I cannot accompany you back to the eastern lands.”

“Legolas.” Elrond called his name in a low voice, and took a step forward. Instinctively, Legolas took a step back, and shielded the doorway to his room.

“We’ve been standing here for awhile, are you not going to invite me in for tea?” Elrond asked, with an innocent smile.

“Eh......” Legolas showed clear reluctance on letting Elrond into the room, he bit his lip, working his brain for an appropriate excuse to refuse Elrond’s entrance. Yet, the elder elf did not intend to wait for a refusal, with nimbleness that showed his was also a warrior, Elrond slipped pass Legolas and made into the room before the elf prince could react.

“Lord Elrond!” Legolas was right after him, but he could not stop Elrond from taking the full sight of his room.

Turning around, Elrond fixed a stern gaze on Legolas, gesturing at the walls, “Legolas, do you still intend to deny your desire to travel back to the eastern lands?”

Knowing fully what Elrond means, Legolas bit his lip again as he looked at the ground.

Elrond sighed, understanding how stubborn the elf prince can be, his tone softened, “Legolas, you will not get another chance like this.”

“.....Arwen?” Legolas finally removed his gaze from the ground, and is looking at Elrond again. His expression showed pain, yet his eyes are calm with acceptance.

“My daughter is at peace.” Elrond said quietly, “But you and Aragorn lives, and the living is always more important than those resting in death. If Arwen can speak now, I believe she will also encourage you to pursue your heart, neither her love or death should be a hinder.”

Legolas fell silent and still. Elrond patiently waited for a long moment, then realizing Legolas needed a bit more push, he changed his tactics.

“Legolas, I will be very pleased if you accompany back to the eastern lands, to find your father Thranduil.” Elrond suggested, “The last elf from across the sea said that land went through much change, I am concerned for Thranduil.”

Legolas looked at him, stared right into his black eyes, as if searching for truth to his words. Elrond met his glance with peace, and stood there as the younger elf valued his honesty.

“Thranduil will be delighted to see you, it has been ages.” After another long stretch of silence, Elrond coaxed. Legolas’ body stiffen, and Elrond knew this words did the magic.

Then, very slowly, and very hesitantly, Legolas nodded in agreement.

“Thank you for the supper,” Aragorn set down his fork and knife, and sent a grateful smile to the older man cross the table, “Father.”

“No, thank you Aragorn, for not forgetting about our meet tonight.” Elrond joked. Aragorn coughed in embarrassment, knowing that Elrond is referring to their last supper together, when Aragorn was so caught up in his work and realized he had forgotten about their meet, half an hour pass the time. Elrond showed much understanding to his rudeness, but that just made Aragorn feel all more guilty.

“How much fast food did you ate lately?” Elrond started on his usual concern about the younger man’s diet.

“What? No, no, no I have not been eating any fast food!” Aragorn denied with big movements of his head and hands, and it’s just plainly obvious that he is lying.

Elrond sighed, “Aragorn, you look like you have not seen the sun for weeks. You really need to do a better job at taking care of yourself. Maybe you should find a working partner, or a housemate?”

Aragorn frowned at the thought, but he still nodded to accept the care from his father.

Elrond called in servants to remove the plates, then looked back at Aragorn, “Are you staying tonight, or do you prefer to return to your own house?”

“Uh......” Aragorn hesitated, peering out into the courtyard first, then scanned around the windows.

Amused by his actions, Elrond asked, “What are you looking for?”

Aragorn hesitated some more, then lowering his voice, he asked while his eyes darted around the room, as if he’s expecting to be ambushed anytime, “Is Thranduil......here tonight?”

“No.” Elrond laughed, as he finally understood what his son was worried about, “Thranduil is not coming over tonight, you can stay with ease.”

Aragorn breathed out a sigh of relief.

It’s not that he dislikes Thranduil or anything, it’s quite the opposite, Aragorn get the feeling that Thranduil hates his guts. Every time Thranduil looked at him, Aragorn have no words to describe all the heart felt despise and loathe Thranduil transmits to him. Even worse, Aragorn has no idea what he had ever done to Thranduil to cause all this hate from that man.

Elrond still have some business to attend to after supper, so Aragorn left him to his work and decided to head to bed early tonight. He just finished his new book before supper, and is in no hurry to start the next one. Before he engage himself with writing again, he need a good, relaxing break.

Catching up on his sleep is also a good idea.

Stifling a yawn, Aragorn suddenly got the feeling that he was not alone. Aragorn cleared the corner with soft steps, and, as expected, there he is again!

Down the long corridor was a slender figure of human, yet he walk with silence and his long, golden hair glowed in the dim lights. He seemed unreal, nothing more but a delusion.

This is the third time Aragorn had seen that figure in Elrond’s house, though he never had the chance to see his face, nor hear his voice. At first Aragorn had thought that figure was Thranduil, but he was quick to realize his mistake, for Thranduil was much taller in height with broader shoulders, even from afar his figure would not seem slim.

The glowing figure turned into another hallway, and Aragorn let out a breath that he just realized he had been holding.

Elrond never spoke of this mysterious figure in his house, and Aragorn never found it fit to ask. Besides, with each encounter, Aragorn doubts more of the reality in these encounters. These encounters are too similar to dreams, especially today, when fatigue is nagging at his conscious.

Feeling like he could faint, Aragorn headed for his room without anymore stops.

All he wants to do is to sink himself into the bed, and travel into his world in dreams.

******

It has been a month since the supper at Elrond’s, also a month since Aragorn is finished with his latest novel. He will have to start another one soon, but his muse refuses to cooperate.

Aragorn’s inspiration came from his dreams. Ever since he was a child he had these splendid dreams of fantasy worlds, where he would be a warrior on battlefields, or a ranger in the woods. Sometimes he had company, little dwarfs, or beautiful elves. He rode on an eagle’s back, killed ugly beasts. Aragorn pieced together the dreams, and filled in details with his imagination. He loved to write these stories, he felt a sense of belonging in those tales, none else had been able to offer. The closest has been Elrond, his foster father, who came to him when he was seven, but only adopted him when he was fifteen.

Walking in the chilly morning air, with the winter wind cuts at this face, Aragorn thought maybe it’s time he should try to find some warmth in his life.

Elrond is right, he should interact more with people. Though not a housemate, no, that would be a step too big, but a working partner, yes. Aragorn could use an artist, an artist should be able to help him grasp those vague images in his recent dreams, and he also really need some decent covers for his books. He is so done with that jerk who kept drawing weird and unrelated stuff, and declaring them as illustrations for his books.

Taping the last of his flyers onto a street light, Aragorn suddenly got the feeling that he is being watched. Whipping his head around, Aragorn looked at a nearby rooftop, but then he laughed inwardly at how overreacted he is. After all, who can be stalking him from a roof?

Aragorn started for home, and briefly wondered will these flyers find him an artist. This is a digital age, a post on the internet will be much efficient than flyers on the streets, but Aragorn is never fond of electronics. He insists to write and edit his story on paper, even if he have to spend time typing them into a computer again.

Aragorn quickened his steps as another gust blew in his face and snuck into his collar. Pulling the coat tighter, Aragorn felt a familiar sensation like gaze burning into his back.

This strange feeling started nearly three years ago, when Aragorn was twenty-seven, soon after his books got popular and his pseudonym was getting known. He had wondered if this could be some wild, persistent fan of his. Yet this explanation would not be logical, because Aragorn took special care to make sure his true identity stays hidden. He does not favor a life of a celebrity, Aragorn needs peace in his life.

Besides, this gaze-like feeling is much too devoted than any fans can manage. Plus most of the time when Aragorn tried to find the source of the gaze, he found himself staring at roof tops, even in the deepest winter snow. No one can stay up on those slippery roofs with wind going at what felt like fifty miles per hour, and not to mention moving without a trace.

Fifteen minutes from home, the northern winds brought snow. Flakes large like feathers danced across the sky, then gently finding a nest in Aragorn’s messy dark hair. Sighing, Aragorn give in to the cold, and pulled up his hood to shield his poor ears from freezing.

He like wind on his skin, icy wind though, is another matter.

When Aragorn reached home, he’s coat was cover by snow. He took care to shake them off before he entered the house, and hang his coat neatly away in the closet.

“I should post an ad on the internet now.”

Aragorn muttered to himself, running through what he should do in his brain, as he took the shoes off.

His distaste for electronics is one reason for why he loath doing that, but more importantly, Aragorn fancy the idea of being in the same city with his artist, if possible, the same neighbourhood. He likes to communicate with people face to face much better than across a pair of screens. Except, if he cannot find an artist with his flyers, he will have to use other means.

Aragorn barely made it to the stairs when the doorbell rang.

Who might it be? Aragorn wondered. He is not one to socialize with his neighbours, and his friends rarely visit without warning.

But, he lives in a secured community with door guards at the entrance, Aragorn is not too worried about strangers knocking at his door.

Therefore he doubled back and grabbing a light jacket to deal with the cold, Aragorn opened the door.

A young blond man stood at Aragorn’s doorsteps, his eyes blue as a clear sky, and his skin fair like milk. Snow rested on him, adorning his long silky hair and his dark green cloak. He didn’t seemed to be dressing in warm clothes, yet he did not appear to be bothered by the cold either.

The young man spoke with a soft voice, he sound like a clear stream in the forest, washing Aragorn from his weary.

Aragorn was so caught up in gaping at the young man, he completely missed out on the content of the voice.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Realizing his mistake, Aragorn asked the stranger with a hint of embarrassment and guilt.

The young man smiled, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

That expression struck home.

Aragorn believe he had just seen the most beautiful man in this world.

Yeah, even more so than Thranduil.

The young man handed him a piece of paper. Aragorn took it, without really realizing what it was.

“You’re looking for an artist?”

The blond asked with his most innocent smile.

Aragorn swallowed, his brain slowly starting to work again as it wrapped itself around the fantastic idea of this young man working as his artist.

The return of his senses also brought the understanding that they are still standing in the doorway, with the temperature racing towards a minus twenty and the poor young man is getting buried in snow.

Realizing how impolite he had been, Aragorn stepped aside and invited the blond into his house for further discussions.

The young man thanked his invitation and stepped inside after he brushed off the snow piled up on his shoulders.

Aragorn closed the door behind them, and turned to see the young man took off his boots, and untied his cloak. His clothing is not anywhere near modern, but it suited him so well that it was enough to make people forgive the strange fashion.

The young man folded his cloak with great care, Aragorn and easily tell this cloak had been with him for a long time. In fact, everything on him was old and worn down, only minor hints of their former glory was preserved.

Aragorn met glance with those delicate blue eyes again. This young man carries wind with him, Aragorn thought as he studied him more, he must have been traveling.

Aragorn guided the young man to the sofas, and observed with interest at the way the blond fiddled with his sling bag strap before he sat down. Even after he sat, the blond didn’t sink himself into the cushions, but remained on the edge of the seat, posture straight like a warrior.

“Do you have some work with you?” Aragorn inquired as they got down to business.

“Yes, mostly sketches and paintings on scenery.” The young man answered as he pulled out a thick, red sketchbook form the dark green sling bag resting on his thighs.

“I’m fine with those.”

Aragorn moved to take the book, but the young man suddenly withdraw.

“I’m sorry.” He shot Aragorn an apologizing smile, and move fast to return the book securely into his bag, before pulling out another jade-green coloured book, even thicker than the last, “I’ve got the wrong book, this is the one I meant to show you.”

Aragorn blinked with some levels of confusion, but still accepted the book with a polite thank you. He studied the hardcover for a moment, and noticed a name printed in elegant handwriting at the bottom.

“Legolas Greenleaf.” Aragorn read, then looked up at the blond, “Is that your name?”

The blond smiled with a nod, and Aragorn remembered he has not introduce himself yet, “I am Aragorn, it is a pleasure to meet you, Legolas.”

He held out his hand for the missed out rite, and Legolas shook it, “The pleasure is mine, Aragorn.”

Aragorn withdrew his hand while marveling at the sense of Legolas’s smooth skin, and the gentle way Legolas pronounced his name. He never thought of his name as beautiful, until today.

With those thoughts swirling in his head, Aragorn opened the sketchbook, and was immediately too shocked to remember anything else.

In front of him lays the most gorgeous painting he had ever seen, and it is much too wonderful for his now-frozen-brain to describe.

After gaping at it for what feels like a century, Aragorn flipped onto the next page with excited eagerness.

Legolas did not disappoint him. The next painting was equally brilliant, so was the sketch after. Mountains against the sky, river through forest, birds singing on branches, people walking down streets. At first Aragorn flipped threw the pages fast, with excitement at his finger tips, but then as he got through the book, he slowed. Aragorn marveled each artwork with care, even holding his breath sometimes, as if he is gazing up at a sacred treasure.

Eventually, he came to the end. Aragorn closed the book with reluctance, looked up at Legolas, opened his mouth to speak, but only to close them again as no words will come.

“What’s wrong?” Legolas asked with a little concerned frown, as if worried that Aragorn would not like his drawings. Aragorn’s heart prickled at that expression.

“No, no, nothing is wrong,” He said quickly, “I love your artworks, Legolas, they are beautiful, wonderful. They are so fantastic, I have no words to describe them. Legolas, I would love to work with you.”

I’m just afraid that I cannot afford your wage. Aragorn added in his heart.

This young man is a truly talented artist, these artworks will sell, and Legolas can easily make millions off them. Job is not a problem with this man, he will get every job related to drawing, if he is willing to try for them. Aragorn does not know what advantages he have, but he love those paintings so much. He cannot imagine himself being satisfied with another artist, no, not after seeing Legolas’ work.

He took a breath to to clam himself, yet when he asked the question his voice still quivered and betrayed his feelings, “Legolas, how much do you want as your payment?”

Legolas was momentarily surprised by Aragorn’s reaction, but he was smart enough to quickly figure out why. Holding back a laugh, he told the worried writer, “I only ask for a place to stay and nothing more, even your living room will do.”

Aragorn was surprised by this unexpected request. At first he suspected this to be a prank, but that thought was thrown away after he saw those earnest blue eyes again. Restudying the worn down clothes, Aragorn recognized it is true that this man needs a place to stay, wherever Legolas had been staying before, it was clearly not decent.

Even though Aragorn is astonished that this talented artist lives on the streets, he does consider the possibilities of having the artist in his house.

Except, I wasn’t looking for a housemate when I posted the flyers.

He thought as he recalled the painful memories about his university dormitories.

“Forgive my bold request,” Legolas suddenly said, “Let’s talk about other means of payment. How much are you willing to afford?”

He is so understanding it almost startled Aragorn. Looking that the young man again to confirm the truth in his words (and again those eyes held nothing but truth), Aragorn weighed the options in his mind.

He didn’t speak, and Legolas is not telepathy enough to read his thoughts. Silence stretched between them for a while too long, until finally, Legolas shifted a bit under nervousness. The tiny sound was enlarged by the silence, and Aragorn’s gaze turned to Legolas instinctively. The blond gave him a little smile, but betrayed much of his anxiety within it.

Aragorn felt his heart soften.

Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on to find a housemate, but I guess plans are made to be thrown out of the window.

“I can provide you a place to stay, if you don’t mind me as a housemate.” Aragorn told Legolas in a soft, low voice.

Legolas’ eyes widened, his surprised expression was so cute, Aragorn could not help but chuckle. Joyous hope flared in the blue eyes as he confirmed urgently, “You will have me?”

Aragorn nodded, this time it’s Legolas’ turn to search those gray eyes for truth, and Aragorn is determined to repay the blond with the same sincerity.

Legolas soon found those, and the smile at his lips made Aragorn’s heart skip a beat. He coughed to bring himself back onto topic, and mentioned the other problem at hand.

“I only have one bedroom up stairs. Legolas, well, you may need to share a bed with me. At least until we can clean out a room for you, anyways.”

He shrugged to shield his nervous. Aragorn rarely have guests who stays over, therefore he didn’t need a guestroom until today. He has three rooms upstairs, one is his bedroom, the other two he turned into libraries or storage room, stuffed with books and all the other things he obtained over the years. Both rooms are not in their best condition at the moment, they have lots of work to do before Legolas can get a room to himself. So until Legolas can get a comfortable bed in those rooms, Aragorn thought it would be best to share his own.

“You don’t need to do this, Aragorn.” Legolas’ eyes softened, Aragorn locked glace with the sky blue marbles and felt himself transparent in front of those eyes, “I can do with floor, or this sofa is cosy.” He patted the cushions under him to prove his words, “You don’t need to share the bed if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Aragorn breathed out a sigh of relief. He is glad for Legolas being so understanding, having a housemate is already a big step for him, a “bedmate” is just over doing it. But then he feels guilty for taking the bed while his guest and soon-to-be working partner sleeps down stairs in the cold living room.

“I’ve dealt with worse, your sofa looks much better than stone in my eyes.” Seeing through his concerns, Legolas reassured Aragorn, “Besides, it wouldn’t be forever, we are getting another bed, aren’t we?”

“I suppose you are right.” Aragorn smiled, delighted to have things worked out between them. Legolas is such a pleasant character to be around, for the first time in a while, Aragorn is looking forward to have another person in his life.

He stood up and stretched his stiffened limbs, then motioning for Legolas to follow him upstairs with a grin, “We better get started on that. Let me show you around the house, and you can decide which room you want as bedroom.”

“Sounds great.” Legolas returned the grin.

“Legolas!!”

The third day after Aragorn met Legolas in that snow-heavy morning started with a yell.

It is around nine in the morning, and yes, both living in the house was up by the time, but none really started their lives before Aragorn came storming out of the room. A few seconds ago, he was sitting in his pretty rosewood desk, staring the life out of a poor piece of paper, his pen repetitively dipping itself into his favorite dark-green ink.

Aragorn felt like he could stay like that for another two and half hours, then go down for lunch. But no, his peace was interrupted.

“Legolas! I can’t work like this.” Aragorn is leaning on the railing and screaming to get his voice across to the blond.

“Hum?” Legolas looked up at him, with a pair of cute, innocent, puppy eyes.

“Turn it off, Legolas!” Aragorn moved closer to the stairs, and kept on trying to get his voice above the deafening noise, “I cannot work while a vacuum cleaner is creating such a racket in my house! It chases all the muse away!”

“Aragorn,” Legolas turned off the vacuum, but Aragorn could tell by his expression and voice that this peace is only temporary. Legolas’ next words proved him right, “Your house is a mess, you cannot live like you haven’t cleaned your room for a year! Do you realize how dusty it is?”

“Yes, yes I realize.” Aragorn sighed at the truth, though he still tried to bargain with the young man as he descended the stairs, “But can’t you do it some other time, when I’m not trying to work with my muse?”

“Aragorn,” Legolas chuckled, “You’re not going to get a story by staring at paper.”

The young blond dropped the vacuum and came over to his side. Aragorn felt a pair of gentle yet firm hands on his shoulder, then he realized he was getting pushed to the door.

“Aragorn, you have been sitting in this house for three days, it is clear you’ve just been staring at paper. Go take a walk, find your muse,” Legolas’ voice is lively with pleasure, “Come back half past nine, and I’ll be done with my work. Though, if you’re willing to spent the whole morning outside, that’s even better.”

They got to the doors. Legolas pulled out a coat for Aragorn, then sent him on his way.

“Enjoy the morning sun, and that nice breeze blowing by.” Legolas happily waved him goodbye, and shut the door in his face.

Aragorn stood at his doorsteps, his mind working to grasp the situation.

“But, Legolas, that is my house...”

He spoke to the solid wooden door, unsure of that fact now.

******

Eventually Aragorn did what Legolas suggested. He spent the whole morning in the park, feeling the cool breeze on his skin and listening to the trees rustle.

Legolas is correct, the nature calmed him, and his anxiety for starting a new book faded away with the snow. As Aragorn strolled back to his house, he even got some ideas pop into his mind, that would serve very well for a story.

That young man works magic.

Aragorn sighed happily in his heart.

There was a variety of reasons for Aragorn’s delay on the new book, but mainly, it is because his dream of inspirations went sour. They were no longer adventures he was eager to go on, but nightmares that haunted him night after night.

The first night Legolas spent in his house, he caught Aragorn sneaking to the kitchen because he could not sleep.

******

“Aragorn?”

A figure sat up from the couch, he called softly into the dark. Even though the end of his name was raised into a question, Aragorn still felt like he had been spotted by those intense blue eyes.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Aragorn apologized for interrupting the young man’s sleep, though he thought he walked without a sound.

“No, I was never really asleep.” Legolas answered as he came over to Aragorn, it is middle of the night, but he still sound as awake as ever, “May I help you with anything?”

“It’s all right, I was just going to grab a cup of water.” Aragorn told Legolas, then headed into the kitchen, still troubled by the nightmare.

“Are you having trouble to sleep?”

Aragorn jerked at the voice and almost dropped his cup. He did not realize Legolas followed him into the kitchen, despite Legolas spoke gentle and soft, he still went near to a heart attack.

“Sorry, I should’ve given you more warning.” Legolas noticed Aragorn’s jolt and smiled, though more jokingly than apologize.

“You really don’t walk with sound.” Aragorn relaxed a bit, laughed at those words, and took a slip of water to calm his pounding heart. He step down his cup and said to Legolas, “Thank you for the care, but I’m doing fine.”

Legolas took a step closer, peering at his expression, “Are you sure?”

“Y-yes.” Aragorn stammered for only a second, he took a breath to determine his mind, then passed the young man to head upstairs again, “It is late in the night, I’ll disturb you no longer.”

Legolas followed him back into the living room without a word, but as Aragorn began to climb the stairs he suddenly asked, “Would you like a lullaby?”

“I’m sorry?” Aragorn thought he heard wrong.

“A lullaby,” Legolas repeated, confirming the word that sounded mysterious to Aragorn’s ears, “I can sing for you, Aragorn.”

“What? No.” Aragorn refused instinctively, “No, Legolas, I can’t let you do that.”

The blond only smiled and held gaze with him, dim light reflected in those blue eyes, like a pool of stars in the dark.

Aragorn felt like he was pierced by those eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need rest Aragorn, I can see it in your eyes.” That was the first time Aragorn saw the firm side of Legolas, he found himself marveling at it. Before he realized, he was guided towards his bedroom by Legolas.

“You don’t have to do this, Legolas.” Aragorn tried to refuse again as Legolas sat him down on his bed. He also struggled a bit, but Legolas was much stronger than he expected.

“Rest now,” Legolas laid him down and pulled the covers over him, “I am here, Aragorn.”

Though the actions taken by Legolas is not appropriate for their relation, Aragorn did not feel offended, he was just embarrassed, awkward being treated like a young boy. After all, Legolas is younger than him, right?

But Legolas started humming a beautiful tune, and Aragorn drifted off before he can resist, fallen into a dreamless, warm sleep.

It was a sound night.

Though the next morning, when he woke up to find Legolas sitting next to him was a bit startling. Aragorn snapped awake when he realized the young man was in the exact same position as last night, still humming a soft tune, like he never moved.

Aragorn clumsily apologized for falling asleep yesterday, but still thanked Legolas for his song and a good night’s sleep. Somewhere within that conversation the topic took a turn, before Aragorn realized, he agreed to Legolas’ offer to sing for him every night. Therefore, in attempt to remedy his mistake and repay Legolas’ goodwill, Aragorn shared his bed after all.

Although because Legolas always slept after him and woke up before him these past two days, Aragorn never really knew if Legolas had taken his offer or not.

******

Aragorn pulled himself out of the memory as he stepped into his house. He felt awesome, and full of energy, ready to start anything. All thanks to Legolas.

He even felt good enough to prepare a lunch for Legolas, though judging by the passion Legolas showed towards cooking, it’s probably the best if they do the meal together. Again, thanks to Legolas, now he doesn’t have to eat fast food every meal.

Then all his plans on lunch was thrown aside when he stepped into his living room.

“What, have you, done......?”

Aragorn’s jaw dropped in shock as he took in the whole view of his living room.

Legolas sat on a tall iron ladder that Aragorn was quite sure was not in his house when he left this morning. His arms are crossed on the top of the ladder and his chin rested on his palm. Head tilted and legs swinging through air, Legolas smiled with pure joy like a child.

“What do you think?” He asked Aragorn, voice like young birds chirping in the morning light, “Do you like it?”

“I was only away for a morning......” Aragorn took a step forward, mind still numb from the shock and he doesn’t know what he was saying.

Looks like he gotta get use to these surprises, if he still wants to live under the same roof with Legolas.