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.
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I can be your Artist, and your Elf by Gladiolus
Chapter end notes: I cannot tell you just how awkward it is for me to write this chapter. Tried to make them sound like they actually know what they're talking about, I hope that worked out......
Still no beta, tell me if you find any mistakes QvQ
PS: Reviews are holy, I mean it
