***

Author's Notes: Okay, this will be AU, slash, violent and so on. Pretty much every warning you want to slap on me will work. However, this will not be: grammatically nonsensical, creatively spelled, Mary-Sue plagued, or plot-less. Yay! Anyways, review me and I'll review you. Fair enough? I think so! :)

Story Notes: This'll be overlong. Don't let it scare you away, it's just for the nit-pickers.

I'm doing my best to follow the book, (although it's AU), but you might find the odd, harmless detail from the movies in here. If that makes you sputter with rage, run along! :P

This story assumes that after the end of all of the WotR silliness, (silliness being the Scouring of the Shire, and Aragorn's Coronation) the Fellowship (minus poor, dear Boromir) collect in Minas Tirith. The twin sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, (after playing their part), head back to Imladris via the Gap of Rohan. Once there, they meet up with Elrond, Arwen and Glorfindel, who then accompany the twins back to Gondor for Arwen's wedding.

Therefore, when our story starts, Aragorn's been King for a few months. They've been hectic ones, and the Fellowship has been extremely busy. As such, they're happy to share a breakfast in this first chapter. Aragorn and Arwen are to be wed in 8 months, after their year of engagement has passed and things have settled down for the new King.

I don't have a Beta, so if you spot anything, please let me know and I'll fix it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. It's all Tolkien, baby. ;)

Title: Chaos and Dirt

Author: Amia

Rating: PG13

***

Chapter One: The End, and The Beginning

***

Two figures stood atop the highest tower in Minas Tirith. The taller raised a hand to his weather-beaten brow, sharp eyes locked on the distant mountain-wall of Mordor. The Mountains of Shadow stood out sharply against the pale pinks of the morning sky, ominous despite the lack of Dark Lord Sauron behind them. They had done it; it was finally over. Turning to face his companion, the Ranger known as Aragorn offered a rare grin. "Tis a beautiful morn, Legolas."

The slender Elf at his side nodded silently, placing his pale hand atop Aragorn's on the railing. At long last he found his voice, "And I am glad that it is spent with you, Estel, and in peace." Clutching at the hand gently, voice faltering, he faced his friend. "But it is to be the last, for a time."

All traces of the Ranger's grin faded at once, and he took Legolas' hand between his two. "Must you leave so soon?"

Legolas laughed softly at the child-like pout that adorned his best friend's face. "Yes, I must. I fear father will pull out his hair if I do not return, and on swift feet."

Aragorn frowned, "Then I will come with you. Sauron may have been destroyed, but it still is not safe for young, handsome Elf-Princes to be wandering alone…" He followed the Elf's gaze to the north, where, if one's eyes were keen enough, the trees of Mirkwood stood strong and tall, freed from shadow at last.

"I will be fine," said Legolas, "your place is here, Aragorn. I will return with time enough to toast your marriage."

"If not for this damned title, I would not let you go, my friend." Aragorn glared at the crown he'd discarded by the stone steps. "Promise me that you will be safe, or better yet! Take someone with you. I'm sure Gimli would not mind the journey. It would give him a chance to spite your father for Gloin's troubles!"

Legolas laughed merrily, "And he would love it if I gave him the chance. Alas, friend Gimli has his own agenda. Mayhap the Hobbits or Mithrandir will accompany me."

"Mayhap. We shall talk with them over breakfast, then. You must give my regards to your brothers, and King Thranduil."

"Of course," Legolas smiled, before taking his hand from Aragorn's dark, callused ones. With a slight bow, the Wood-Elf stepped back. "Now, with your pardon, I wish to bathe and mend my arrows before our meal. Until breakfast, Aragorn."

The Ranger nodded, "Until breakfast." Faint foot-falls, a flash of green-gold, and Aragorn stood alone in the morning sun. His mind strayed to fallen comrade Boromir, and the promise he had made the dying Gondorian.

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail."

Looking out over the city—his city, Aragorn placed his hand above his heart, and smiled fleetingly. "O Boromir. If you could but stand at my side…" The wind whispered in his ears, and Aragorn's smile grew. Though he was not in the physical, Boromir did stand proud at his side, and he too was smiling.

***

"Good-morning, Hobbits!" King Elessar of Gondor descended into the hall with less-than-kingly grace. The long strides that had earned him the nickname of his Ranger-days, 'Strider', were a hard habit to break free of. Leaping over the remaining handful of steps, he took his place at the table's head and beamed at his friends. "Good-morning Gandalf! Master Gimli, and Legolas! How nice it is to eat in each other's company again, and for once eat well! I should hope you have room for second breakfast, Pippin?"

The grin on Peregrin Took seemed quite unproportional, given his small stature. "Aye, and elevenses at that! I've not seen a spread such as this since Lord Elrond's Homely House!"

"I hate to say it," began Meriadoc Brandybuck, tucking the silk tablecloth into his (for once) freshly-pressed collar, "But we'd best wait for Frodo and Sam. Have you seen them, Strid—King Elessar?"

"Merry, please… Strider will do, and if not; Aragorn. I feel not at all myself in the king's name. To answer your question, I roused Master Frodo and Samwise on my way here, they should be all but at my heels." Aragorn took a long drink from a handsome goblet, and turned to Gandalf. "You look young today, my friend!"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled beneath bushy brows. "And I feel it, in a way. A thousand cares have been lifted from us all, and if not for this rain I would be outside, dancing the Springle-ring!"

Aragorn chuckled, nodding to greet first Frodo Baggins, then Sam Gamgee as they passed to their places. "This rain will clear up, just as suddenly as it's begun. I hope you have not forgotten your promise, Gandalf?"

The old wizard leaned back in his chair, puffing contentedly at his pipe. A rather mysterious smile appeared beneath his long white beard. "No, dear Aragorn."

"Good. Now that we are whole, let us eat!"

The food was good and plentiful, and as such it was a long while before anyone made move to further their conversation. Finally, Legolas pushed himself back from the table. "I cannot possibly eat another bite. 'Twas wonderful, and thank you."

"The flimsy stomach of an Elf!" Gimli roared, a biscuit in one hand and a fork-speared sausage in the other. "I daresay you are watching your figure!"

Although a year back, Legolas would have been hard-pressed to keep his anger in check, he simply smiled now. "And I daresay, friend Gimli, that if you keep on as you are, you will soon become a Dwarf-cube."

Gimli glared over his high-piled plate, but said nothing further. Clearing his throat, the Elf continued. "My friends, today is to be my last in Minas Tirith. I shall return home to Greenwood, to visit my father and kin…"

"Greenwood?" whispered Pippin to Merry, behind his napkin.

"Mirkwood, Pip."

"…And I am reluctant to let him go," continued Aragorn. "It is safer now, but not wholly so quite yet. I would escort our fair prince myself, if not for my duties here… Would any of you volunteer?"

"To Mirkwood?" Sam looked up at Legolas, "It would take a year, and we have been travelling long already!"

"Not years, Sam, but two months on swiftest feet. I do not need an escort, but to ease Aragorn's mind. I do not wish to put any of you to further hassles, for it has been a wearying journey, even for tough Hobbit-feet. I shall leave at noon, upon my borrowed steed." Legolas replied, feeling as though the matter was settled.

"I will travel with you," came a voice.

All eyes turned in wonder to its source. "My dear Frodo… What an odd little Hobbit you are! Volunteering yourself for such long journeys," Gandalf shook his head. It did not seem so long ago when during the Council of Elrond, young Frodo had piped up, "I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor."

"I wish to see Mirkwood," Frodo explained, "I have heard many tales of it from dear Uncle Bilbo, and I wish to follow his path… Beorn's Carrock, the Old Forest Road, not to mention the Enchanted River and Thranduil's halls themselves. I should like to explore more of it than the dungeons, however."

Legolas laughed softly, "Indeed you shall."

Sam frowned, as he was not entirely keen on the idea of rushing off on another adventure. He too, however, had heard Bilbo's tales, and knew that he would regret passing up the chance to explore the forest. "In that case, I will come as well," said Sam, "If you will have me!"

"Of course, dear Sam!" Legolas smiled broadly.

"Do they have mushrooms in Mirkwood, Legolas?" asked Merry intently, before drinking deeply from his cup. If there was one thing Hobbits loved, it was mushrooms.

"Indeed we do, Merry!" said Legolas, "Larger mushrooms than I've seen anywhere in Middle-Earth."

"We're coming," Pippin exclaimed at once, as Merry nodded emphatically in agreement. "When do we leave?"

Legolas paused to think, before beginning slowly, "I had planned on leaving at once, but I should leave you time to prepare yourselves. How soon can you be ready to travel?"

"We must stay the night," Gandalf said, "and then tomorrow night as well. I suggest we leave in two days time, at the first stirrings of dawn."

"We, Mithrandir?" Legolas repeated, arching a dark eyebrow.

"We. I will join you on your journey, Legolas. It has been many years since I have spoken with your father, and I have much news and many questions for him," Gandalf replied, blowing colourful smoke rings down the table.

Aragorn rose, a broad smile on his handsome features. "It is settled, then! You should be thankful for the delay, Legolas, for tonight should be memorable indeed!"

***

That night, fireworks reminiscent of Bilbo's 111th birthday party lit Minas Tirith in flashes of red, gold and green. Dragons soared high overhead, only to come sweeping down over the bustling courtyard drawing 'ooh's and 'ahh's of approval from the Gondorians. "And this!" Gandalf beamed down at the littlest of his crew, and ruffled Pippin's hair fondly. "For Peregrin, Fool of a Took!"

At his words, there sounded a terrible screech as the firework raced into the dark sky. As the little ball of light hit its peak, it erupted into a giant, glittering blue mushroom. Pippin was beside himself with delight, and all Hobbits present clapped madly.

A little ways away, Aragorn and Legolas lounged on a grassy knoll, arms clasped behind their heads. Both wore content smiles as they watched Gandalf's masterful show. Finally, in the wake of a particularly loud burst of colour, Aragorn turned to his friend.

"I…" The King cursed himself for his blush, "I will miss you, nîn mellon."

Legolas rolled onto his side, dark brows raised at the sudden revelation. Aragorn, as a rule, was not one to announce his feelings, seemingly a Human trait. Seeing the sincerity in the Ranger's expression, he laughed softly and clapped a hand to his shoulder. "And I you, my friend."

Aragorn nodded hastily, and returned his face to the sky. Tears had begun prickling at his eyes, and he desperately fought to hold them back. "What is this? Legolas and I have been parted for years at a time, and at this briefest of aways, I weep? I am surely growing soft in my age…"

The predicament had not gone unnoticed. Legolas pushed himself up on the grass, and sat cross-legged at Aragorn's side. "What ails you, Estel?"

To his credit, the man managed to worsen his blush from an impressive red to an astounding burgundy. He wiped furiously at his eyes, and glanced sheepishly at the elf. "Nothing, Legolas. The lights hurt my eyes."

"The truth if you will," Legolas frowned, as another firework exploded without so much as a squint from honest King Elessar. "I will pry it from you if you do not give it willingly." The mischievous glint in his eyes earned a chuckle from Aragorn.

"Aye, I know it. It is nothing, worry not!"

With a playful battle-cry, Legolas pounced on his friend, straddling the Man's hips and pinning his powerful shoulders down. Grinning wickedly, he watched Aragorn's shock turn to annoyance at the long blond locks that now hung in his face. "Legolas," Aragorn scowled, puffing out a great breath to move the strands, "Get your filthy hair out of my face! I am a King now, you know."

"A lying king. I will remove my 'filthy' hair if you produce the truth. What troubles you so?" The Elf fluttered his hair about Aragorn's face for emphasis, laughing merrily at the frustrated growl the action earned him.

"I feared, quite foolishly," he added with certain sarcasm, "That I would miss my gentle Elf-Prince. Now it is clear," hooking his foot about Legolas' he flipped them over with a grunt, "That I will cherish the peace and quiet."

Legolas frowned up at Aragorn's triumphant smirk. "Peace and quiet are not in your nature, my friend. Chaos and dirt, I say!"

"Chaos and dirt?"

"Chaos and dirt," Legolas replied primly.

Aragorn laughed heartily, "Dirt!" he exclaimed, taking a fistful of the stuff from the ground. "Like this?" He dumped it quite unceremoniously over the Elf's pale face. Legolas coughed and sputtered, grey eyes wide in his surprise. It was not long before the Elf countered with a clump of dead grass, and then the battle was truly on.

***

The fireworks were long ended, quite unnoticed by the King of Gondor and the Prince of Mirkwood. Gandalf stood at the foot of their knoll, watching the playful antics of the pair he'd known all their lives. They did not seem the adults they claimed to be, but in fact the scruffy-haired boy and mischievous Elfling he remembered.

"Boys will be boys," came a soft, feminine voice.

Gandalf spun at once, not having heard her approach, and embraced the beautiful Elf. "Arwen," he beamed, holding her old at arm's length and looking her over. "I trust your journey was a safe one?"

"Of course, Mithrandir. With company such as this, it would be hard indeed to find trouble," over her delicate shoulder appeared her family; Lord Elrond, twins Elladan and Elrohir, and their closest family friend, Lord Glorfindel.

"I should think quite the opposite," Gandalf chuckled, bracing arms with Elrond and then Glorfindel in greeting. "The Moon smiles upon our reunion, my old friend."

"Indeed," Elrond smiled broadly. He looked down at the still-wrestling friends, and shook his head. "A Ranger and a Wood-Elf, they claim, but their senses are greatly impaired! Here we stand at their feet, and they are too caught in friendly play to notice us. If we were Orcs!"

At the foul word, both Legolas and Aragorn froze and leapt up, yet not in time to see Elladan's quiet smile, "There is more at play here than friendliness, father."

"Arwen!" Aragorn exclaimed, leaping to gather her in an embrace. He tucked his face into her silky hair, breathing in her scent. "I have missed you so!"

Arwen kissed his cheek lightly, "I have spent many sleepless nights in worry for you, Estel. Thank Elbereth you are safe and alive!"

Aragorn proceeded to greet his foster-father, elated brothers and then Glorfindel in turn, teary-eyed in his joy.

Legolas wiped what dirt he could from his face, and then grinned at his old friends. Dark-haired twins Elladan and Elrohir nearly crushed the slender Elf in a great hug, mussing his hair and pinching his cheeks. "Dear Legolas!" they cried in unison.

"You have got dirt on your nose," said Elrohir.

"And your chin," said Elladan.

"Aye, and some on your cheek," Elrohir gave a mighty pinch, and Legolas yelped as his skin turned red. "It has been too long!"

Legolas scowled at the pair, a hand on his tender cheek. "Has it?"

"Yes," Arwen giggled, planting a small kiss on Legolas' dirty face.

"Indeed it has. But we must gather to feast, for I have prepared a great meal for this night! It would be greater still had I known you were to arrive so soon," Aragorn explained, taking Arwen by the arm and leading the way inside. "What a wonderful treat!"

***

"And then brave Mister Frodo took up his sword, and stabbed it right into that Troll's best toe!" Samwise Gamgee was not used to being the centre of attention, and indeed not in the company of such noble Elven lords and the king of Men. He was delighted that they took such an interest, for all around the table hung on his words. "For the Shire, says he! And me too. The Shire! I do hope to see it again, and soon."

"We will, Sam," Frodo smiled, seeking out his gardener's hand beneath the table to give it a squeeze. "But off to Mirkwood, firstaways."

At this, Lord Elrond of Imaldris raised his eyebrows. "To Mirkwood?"

Legolas wiped his mouth on a napkin, setting his wine goblet down northwest of his plate. He smiled politely at the half-Elf. "Greenwood if you will, my Lord."

Elrond chuckled. "And so it will be. Middle-earth is different today, but I do not mean her sights or sounds, but her very feel. Our journey from Rivendell would normally be perilous, and yet at all times I felt the warmth of the sun upon me, and a smile on my heart. Your father has been in touch, Legolas, and he says the shadow is lifting from Eryn Lasgalen… The Wood of Greenleaves, and he impatiently awaits the arrival of his little Greenleaf."

Legolas blushed doubly, first in delight that his father had renamed their home-forest after him, and then in embarrassment at Elrond's use of 'little Greenleaf', which had, in centuries past, been Thranduil's pet name for his youngest son.

"That is the stuff of a good forest-name," Gandalf smiled kindly.

Elrond nodded sagely, "And you are to return home, Legolas?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond. I was of the mind to return at once, and at Aragorn's suggestion and the hobbits' eagerness, it has become a tour of old Bilbo's adventures. I am not starving for company, but I would be honoured if you would join us," he said.

"Nay, but my thanks. I have matters to attend to," said Elrond, and then he said no more. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a look, and with a nudge from his younger, the eldest brother spoke up.

"We would like to go," Elladan began, "If you would not mind us."

"Aye, if you do not mind," Elrohir nodded emphatically.

"Mind?" Legolas laughed merrily, "Of course not! Do you wish, really, to leave so soon upon arriving?"

"Aye," Elrohir grinned wolfishly. "Estel will not miss us all, with Arwen at his side… and under him, and sometimes on top—"

Arwen and Elrond gave the younger twin a resounding smack across the head, as Aragorn glared daggers at him from across the table. Elladan fought back a laugh in spite of himself, seeing the embarrassed fury in the king's eyes and the humiliation in Arwen's. Catching sight of Legolas, however, he sighed inwardly. The Wood-Elf had gone pale, a look of hurt in his grey eyes.

"You must excuse this one," Elrond scowled, "He is unlearned in the ways of tact and civil conversation. A fault of my parenting, I suppose."

"I apologise," Elrohir said quietly, "I meant no offence."

Clearing his throat, Gandalf pointedly ignored Elrohir's comments. "We are to set out after two moons, so be ready! I fear I yearn now for a puff of my pipe, so I will away to the gardens. Another fine meal, Aragorn! Even my dear Hobbits are content."

Aragorn rose and bowed to the old wizard. "My thanks, old friend."

"I think I shall join him," Elrond decided, also rising from his seat. He turned to his lovely daughter, and offered his arm. Slipping her arm through his, Arwen followed her father out of the grand dining room and into the cool night.

Cocking his head, Aragorn watched the pair leave. It had been ages since he had spent good time with his betrothed, and it was strange of her to leave him to sit in the cloud of Gandalf's pipe-weed. Shaking it off, he turned to the remainder of the party. "Well, I should like to read my book by the fire before sleep. Your pardon," he said, heading up the steps that led back into the main hall, "Good-night!"

"Good-night, Strider!" said the Hobbits.

"Good-night, Aragorn!" Gimli said gruffly, lounging in his chair and unbuttoning his breeches, which had become little too snug after such a fine meal.

"Good-night, Estel," said Legolas softly. Full-up and sleepy, it was not long before all of the Fellowship was nestled into plump feather beds.

***

Flopping onto the great bed with an audible sigh, Elrohir grinned at his brother. "Imagine, all the way to Mirkwood and back with Legolas! I shouldn't dare hope it, but was there not a sparkle in his eye for me when he welcomed us?"

Elladan raised a slender eyebrow, a splitting image of his father. "I saw no sparkle, Elrohir, but that which he holds for Estel. Do not hurt yourself so, brother. You know in your heart that Legolas sees you as only a close friend…"

Elrohir frowned, tearing the blankets back from fluffy pillows. "Nay, Elladan. Estel lusts for him, of that much I am sure… Did you not see the way he attacked Legolas in the courtyard? It was disgusting, the filthy Human… All over my Legolas like a Dwarf on mithril…"

The dark-haired Elf was attempting a look of disgust, but it came out as a pout, and Elladan put an arm around his little brother in sympathy. "Elrohir…"

"Nay, Elladan! If only Estel would quit pestering my dear prince, he would realize his feelings for me. I have seen it in his eyes, and felt it in his touch. If only I could taste it in his kiss—" Elrohir stopped and blushed, shying away from the amused smirk on Elladan's face. "Besides, Estel should have eyes only for Arwen."

"Aye, he should. Let us not speak of this now, Elrohir. I am tired, and I know you are as well. We have travelled long today, and have only two nights to recover. Sleep now, little brother." Smoothing his twin's hair, Elladan placed a kiss on Elrohir's brow and retreated to his own bed.

It was long before Elrohir slept, as for hours he lay simply staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Finally, with a sleepy puff of breath, he outed the half-melted candle at his bedside and fell asleep.

***

There were two doors to the king's chambers, one at the north, and one at the west, well hidden behind a tapestry. Unbeknownst to the sleeping man, both stood open...

At north stood beautiful Arwen, the morning sun casting warm light on her delicate features. The sight of the sleeping Ranger drew a smile to her lips, and she stepped quietly forward to smooth the hair across his brow. Asleep, Aragorn did not look his years. All age and cares were lifted from his weather-beaten face, and he seemed no more than the little boy growing up in the safety of her father's Rivendell. Now, that little boy was her betrothed.

The faintest of stirrings in the tapestry on her right caught her sharp blue eyes. Alarmed, she lifted the flowing skirt of her dress, and unsheathed the knife at her thigh. It had been a gift from Aragorn, who insisted one could never be too careful. Creeping forward slowly, she flung back the curtain just as an intruder stepped through the hole in the wall.

Slashing wildly at the figure, she cried out to the sleeping king, who was much more useful with weapons than she. "Aragorn! Aragorn! Ai! Estel!"

***

"Aragorn! Aragorn! Ai! Estel!"

Elrond nearly stumbled from shock at the cry, unmistakeably his daughter's. It had been only chance that he was passing the king's chambers, and he wished he had not chosen that path. He had had long talks with Arwen, and longer still with Estel, yet it seemed to have done no good. At further passionate shouting from the lovers, he raced around the corner and burst into the room in a rage.

***

"STOP THIS—!"

Arwen and Aragorn turned to stare at Lord Elrond, whose command had been cut short by the shocking scene before him. His mouth hung agape, and he seemed to have forgotten what he had begun to say.

"Ada," Arwen rushed to him, tears in her eyes, "It was an accident!"

Elrond's eyes moved across the room and settled on a figure on the floor, clad in brown and green. Aragorn, in his sleeping clothes, was crouched anxiously at his side, pressing a sheet to what appeared to be a knife-wound.

"Elrond," Aragorn's voice was strained, "Please help me… Legolas is hurt!"

That was all that needed be said. Elrond dashed across the room, and knelt at the blond Wood-Elf's side. A deep gash marred his fair face, from the bottom of his left ear to the bridge of his nose. It was bleeding profusely, and came dangerously close to his tightly closed eye. Aragorn lifted the bloodstained sheet from the Prince's chest, revealing another slash: this one deeper still, and nearly as long as his chest was broad.

"Elbereth," Elrond breathed, "What has happened?"

"Arwen happened," Aragorn could not successfully hide the anger in his voice. "She attacked Legolas without thought or cause."

Arwen's sobs doubled, "I thought he was an enemy! Sneaking behind the tapestry as he was, and I could not bear to see you hurt!" Elrond shook his head in amazement at the foolish act, gently applying pressure to Legolas' head wound. Arwen covered her mouth to muffle a wail of anguish.

Aragorn glared daggers at his betrothed. "It is a passage directly to my best guest-room! Why did you not look at him before you attacked? How you managed to hit dear Legolas twice is beyond me, for you must have had your eyes closed to not recognize him!"

"Quiet, both of you. Arwen, return to my room and fetch my medical supplies. Bring them back here, at once!" Arwen raced from the room at her father's request.

"I am fine, Lord Elrond. They are but scratches…" Legolas protested, startling the half-elf, who had not even known that Legolas was awake. Nevertheless, Elrond scoffed. Aragorn and Legolas were too much alike, in that aspect—never willing to admit when they needed help.

"They are not scratches, Legolas." He turned to his foster-son, whose face was grave. "Estel, help me with his tunic, it will be in the way. Do you have something to put under his head?"

"Of course," Aragorn nodded vigorously, leaping up to fetch the pillows from his bed. He gently lifted Legolas' head, and then settled it down again on the down-filled pillows. With Elrond's help, he divested Legolas of his tunic, and set it aside. The wound was not as bad as it could have been, and for that they were thankful. Clutching Legolas' pale hand, they settled down to wait for Arwen's return.

***

Elladan and Elrohir were heading down the hallway to wash up for breakfast, chatting cheerfully and examining the many fine paintings hung upon the walls. Suddenly, their little sister came around a corner at full sprint.

"Arwen!"

"What has you so rushed?" asked Elladan.

"Legolas," she panted, "Hurt. Which is father's room?"

"WHAT!?" Elrohir bellowed, "Hurt? How? Who would dare!?"

"What room, Elrohir?" cried Arwen impatiently.

Elladan took the lead, "Follow me."

***

Elrond finished the last stitch on Legolas' face, and gently wiped the area clean with a mix of water and crushed Athelas. Sitting back to admire his work, he wiped his hands on a cloth. "There you are, son. Good as new!"

"Thank you, my lord," Legolas attempted a smile, but succeeded only in a lopsided one; the stitches pulled at his slightest grin.

He moved to sit up, but Aragorn's hands on his shoulders held him down. "Rest now, my friend. I fear your trip to Mirkwood may be delayed."

Legolas sighed in frustration. Throughout the entire quest of the Ring, all of the Fellowship had pressed on with worse injuries, without so much as a complaint. Now in peace, he was treated like an invalid for a mere scratch? "I will not remain on the floor, Aragorn. Lord Elrond is skilled in his work, and I feel fine. Let me up."

Elrond chuckled to himself. Legolas was stubborn, but Aragorn was just as much. It would be a long argument before anything was settled, if anything indeed was settled. Rising from his spot on the floor, he ushered his children out of the room. "Come Elladan, Elrohir. The Hobbits will have your breakfasts if you do not join them quickly. Arwen, I would like a word with you."

Arwen nodded and followed him, rubbing her tear-swollen eyes. Elrohir's glare seemed to burn holes into her back, and Elladan slung an arm around his brother's shoulders, hoping to subdue the rage in his younger twin or at the very least, restrain him from attacking their sister.

"Poor, dear Legolas," Elrohir sighed, and then they were gone.

"Let me up, Aragorn!" Legolas demanded, straining against the powerful arms that pinned him to the ground.

"Alright," Aragorn sighed, but as he took his hands from Legolas' shoulders, he replaced them immediately under the slight Elf. Almost laughing at the look of confusion on Legolas' face, he hefted the blond archer easily and carried him to the bed. "No Elven Prince should have to sleep on the floor," said Aragorn, pleased with the exasperated sigh Legolas gave him.

"I do not wish to sleep at all!"

"Shall I fetch the soft-hearted Sam? You could tell him, and perhaps he would care." Legolas scowled, but the king continued, "But I fear I do not. Rest, fair Prince. I will not leave your side until you do."

Aragorn fluffed the pillows beneath Legolas' head, and pulled the burgundy covers up to the Elf's chest. A smile touched his eyes, as the archer pouted like a small child beneath him. Leaning in, he placed a small kiss on Legolas' brow, and took a seat beneath the window.

Legolas' face was one of shock, but it soon turned into a delighted smile. Risking a quick glance over at the man, he blushed deeply to find dancing, happy grey eyes locked directly on his own.

******

Well folks, that was chapter one… Hopefully in the next chapter they'll all set out for Mirkwood. I get carried away sometimes, hehe. Please review me! I'll love you forever!

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