Media: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers; movie

Timeline: Parting Edoras for Helm's Deep

Genres: Brotherhood, Fantasy, Friendship

Summary: Éowyn is curious about the magic of Elves. Aragorn directs her to a certain Elf.

Notes: Not a ship fanfic. Aragorn and Legolas are a little OOC towards the end, but I couldn't help it.

"I have heard of the magic of Elves, but... I did not look for it in a Ranger of the North. You speak as you were one of their own."

Aragorn hid his amusement by the awe in Éowyn's voice. The Elves were indeed magical to other races. To them, it's the normal way of things.

Estel was familiar and educated in the Elven customs. Lady Éowyn was not. He had noticed how she would watch Legolas from a safe distance. She never approached or spoke to him, and her face betrayed her fear and lack of understanding. He was certain Legolas, who missed very little, had noticed, too.

"I was raised in Rivendell... for a time," he explained softly. Brego had calmed and Aragorn stroked the horse's long face soothingly. "Turn this fellow free, he has seen enough of war." He let her care for her late cousin's horse to relieve a saddle from someone. "If you are curious about the Elves, you should talk to Legolas," he suggested before leaving the stables.

* * *

The whetstone scraped against his sword with a sharp shing. The Ranger put away the stone and held his blade up to examine it. It caught the sunlight brightly, as if it was never stained black with the blood of evil.

The people of Rohan, Aragorn and his companions have traveled for many hours. The Sun hung high overhead. She shined clearly, but the wind was cold and strong. Again, Aragorn thanked the Valar for his layered Ranger garments and his cloak from Galadriel.

He smiled as the events of their journey played in his mind. Lady Éowyn had grown quite fond of Gimli, and he of her. He made her laugh, a sound that was rare and pure in these dark days. Aragorn had never heard Éowyn's laugh, and it was a joy to finally hear. He pitied her and loved her as a friend, though he noticed she might have stronger feelings for him.

  Speaking of friends, where has Legolas run off to? Aragorn wondered as he scoured the crowd of humans for an Elf. Last he heard of the Woodland Prince, he was protecting the front, using his Elven senses to scout for enemies. "That damned Elf better be taking care of himself," he muttered aloud.

Legolas, he recalled, had little to no sense of self preservation. He would run himself to the ground to protect the helpless. Aragorn knew of the seemingly limitless energy of Elves, but he was among the few who actually knew they have limits. Being the stubborn Elf's best friend, Aragorn was aware of Legolas' sleeping habits—or the lack of them—in Edoras. He knew of Legolas' discomfort in the town of Men without a tree in sight for miles, though the Elf refused to admit it. The Ranger hoped that, now they were in the open instead of confined in a building, Legolas would get some rest tonight. He will force him if he had to.

Throughout their journey, Éowyn avoided the Wood-Elf like she had when in Edoras. It was easier with Legolas at the front and the maiden with Gimli and Aragorn. The Ranger was still determined on helping Éowyn overcome her fear of Elves, and now seemed like the perfect time.

Noticing the Shield-maiden approaching, Aragorn cleaned his sword and put it away.

"I made some stew," she offered almost shyly. "It isn't much, but it's hot."

She scooped out the food with the bowl and handed it to him with a wooden spoon.

The Ranger accepted it gratefully. "Thank you."

He spooned up some surprisingly thin stew. Broth dripped onto his tongue and the spoon froze halfway into his mouth. His grey eyes observed Éowyn's expectant face and the gentleman reluctantly swallowed. A horrid flavor that he couldn't describe overwhelmed his senses.Trying his best not to cringe, Aragorn nodded in praise.

"It's good," he rasped.

A beautiful smile bloomed on her pale face. "Really?" She began to walk away, probably to offer others her stew. With her back turned, Aragorn poured the soup onto the ground. Being a wanderer, he usually didn't waste food, but this...

"My uncle told me a strange thing..."

Startled and not wanting to hurt Éowyn's feelings, Aragorn righted the bowl quickly, spilling hot liquid onto his lap.

"He said that you rode into war with Thenga, my grandfather, but he must be mistaken."

"King Theoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

Shocked, the young woman kneeled beside the rock Aragorn sat upon. "Then you must be at least sixty."

Aragorn smiled.

"Seventy? You cannot be eighty!"

"Eighty-seven."

Éowyn rose again as realization crossed her face. "You are one of the Dùnedain. A defendant of Númenor blessed with long life. It was said your race had passed into legend."

"There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago."

"I'm sorry," Éowyn apologized, noticing his sorrow. "Please, eat."

The smell of the stew made his stomach churn, but Éowyn would not leave. Aragorn racked his brain for an excuse for Éowyn to leave when he spotted, finally, a familiar figure guarding the edge of the camp with his back turned to the people and his eyes searching for Orcs.

"If you wish to know more about the past and the magic of Elves, you should ask Legolas," Aragorn suggested, nodding towards his friend.

Éowyn stared at the Elf, chewing her lip in hesitation. "Will I bother him? I know so little about the culture and ways of the Elves."

"The best way to understand is to ask one yourself. Perhaps you should offer him some of this stew you cooked."

Curiosity won her over and she trekked down the hill towards the Elf, kettle in hand. Aragorn poured out the rest of the stew. Then he rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands to watch.

* * *

"Master Legolas?"

Legolas had heard someone approaching, her skirt brushing past the tall grasses, but was still startled by her voice. He did not think she had come to speak to him. He turned. The Lady Éowyn stood before him, her eyes wouldn't meet his and the wind whipped through her golden hair, which was fit for an elleth.

"Just Legolas, please."

"Legolas, Lord Aragorn suggested that you might like some of this stew I made."

He found the smirking Ranger safely sitting at the other side of the campsite, acting as if he was watching a comedic show. He glared, knowing Aragorn could see his intense blue stare. The annoying human's smirk grew.

Legolas shook his head and focused on the woman again. "He is always mothering me," he sighed, "but I would be honored, my lady."

As Éowyn dished it out, Legolas thought it smelled... odd, but he couldn't judge because he has not tasted much of the food from the race of Men.

She handed him a bowl and a wooden spoon, which he accepted with a nod of gratitude. Warmth seeped through the dish to his fingers.

"It isn't much, but it will warm you from the chill."

"Is it chill? I did not notice."

  Éowyn's grey eyes widened in disbelief.

Legolas' expression softened. "We Elves can withstand the elements better than most races."

"Do you control them? My people have exchanged tales of Elven sorcery. I could never decide if I believed them or not."

He smiled. "Many stories have been told that Elves can do magic. I assure you that none of them are true. Most Elves, especially my people, do not have unnatural abilities. The few exceptions would be the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien and Lord Elrond of Imladris."

"Why are they different? What can they do?" Her voice echoed her awe and her expression radiated her curiosity. Amused, Legolas sat crosslegged on the grass, knowing that he had much to explain. Éowyn followed his suit, setting down her pot and folding her hands over her knees.

"They both possess two of the Elven Rings of Power. They use them to protect their realms from the Shadow. The Lady Galadriel is possibly the most powerful being in Middle-earth while Lord Elrond is a healer unmatched. Their abilities are difficult to explain and I am not certain if anyone knows the full extent of what they can do."

"Earlier you mentioned you have a people within the Elven race."

"Like your race, you have different peoples depending on where you live, but you are all human. It is the same for us Elves. I hail from Mirkwood; a more warlike race, a mixture of Sindar and Silvan Elves."

"Wood-Elves," Éowyn said slowly. "Is anything I've heard about your kind true? Such as immortality?"

"We are all immortal," Legolas confirmed, subconsciously stirring the stew with his spoon. "We also have longer endurance, sharper hearing and sight, are faster and stronger, are difficult to maim, cannot get sick, heal more quickly, can sense evil, do not need as much nutrients or sleep, and when we do sleep,—if you can call it that—we sleep with our eyes open and our consciousness wanders in dreams."

"You sound invincible," Éowyn remarked, sounding slightly wistful. Legolas wondered if she was thinking about her recently deceased cousin.

"But we are not," Legolas corrected, noticing the flash of surprise. "I said we are difficult to maim and heal quickly, I did not say we never get hurt. Especially my people, a warrior people locked in a battle against the Shadow for hundreds of years, are injured all the time. Our immortality does not make life a certainty. Lately, it seemed a curse more than a blessing. We cannot catch sickness, but we can die by poison, just as we can be slain in battle or die of a broken heart."

"A broken heart?" Éowyn repeated softly. The Elf nodded.

"And while we do not need to eat, drink, or sleep as much as mortals, they are necessary to life–" he glared in Aragorn's direction again–"which is why Aragorn insists I do so."

Taking is comment as a hint, Éowyn rose, brushed off her skirt, and collected her kitchenware. "Thank you for your time, Legolas. I understand your kind better now. Please forgive my ignorance and fear."

"There is nothing to forgive, my lady. It is easy to fear what you do not know."

Éowyn smiled, a beautiful treasure that the Elf had not witnessed until now, and walked down the hill with a tiny spring in her step and her golden hair, a crown to her head, streaming behind her.

Finally, Legolas spooned some stew into his mouth, then immediately spat it out. Muttering curses under his breath in his own language, the warrior prince spilled the rest of the revolting into the grass beside him and marched in the direction of his human friend.

Seeing the angry Elf approaching fast, Aragorn scrambled to his feet and walked as fast as he could away from his doom. He chuckled nervously, knowing that Legolas had a few choice words to say to him in a language only the two of them would understand. At least he could prolong the inevitable.

Translations:
Sindarin:
Elleth - Elf maiden