AN: I really love stories that revolve around the every day interactions between elves and men. I want to do a series on it. If this receives enough good feedback, then I may just do that!

Summary: In the city of Gondor, after the war, men and elves meet in friendship. Oneshot.

He had never seen anything like them before.

Their long, rich hair was as glorious as a sunset. Some had the colour of the night sky or the darkness of the deep waters embedded in their strands, it's dark colour as mysterious as those long forgotten places he had only heard about in stories. Others had the colour of gold in their locks, shimmering under the sun as if in league with its brilliance. The air itself seemed to welcome their presence and their majesty.

They were tall and lithe, though he was sure that a great strength lay subdued in those graceful forms. Rich cloths hung from their frames, luxurious prints and colours that he only hoped to one day be able to touch. Such fairness in their faces he had never beheld, though perhaps he could make an exception in the case of his wife. Some of the elves were magnificent in their beauty, some subtle and with some, the wisdom lining their brows. The look of age and knowledge only enhanced their looks to such an extent that it was with a great sadness he would look away. It was with a great longing that he watched them pass, watched their magnificent forms ascend the city to the crowning of their new King. A King that was as majestic as the sea, with the strength and energy of a man and the compassion and command of a woman. He had seen him from his post, the tall form riding into battle without hesitation. Such a King they did need. It was long since he had known a leader that was so devoted to his people.

Beside many of the Elves, there walked Dwarves, magnificent in their own ways. Many were adorned in great layers of armour, their small forms shining with the amount. Their faces were not as fair as the elves, though they still radiated with the same ageless wisdom and grace. Thick beards hung below the penetrating eyes, some parted in the middle or braided neatly. They were more familiar to him then the Elves and he had once heard that the Dwarves were born of this land as men were. Elves were an otherworldly beauty; Dwarves were as earthy and as varying as the seasons.

His son pulled himself closer to his neck, having stubbornly refused to stand among the crowd as his other children did. His wife was carrying their youngest, but a few months old and already a witness to one of the most terrible wars of this land. His boy had not slackened his grip upon him since his return from the fields. He was lucky to have been spared the horrors or release of death. He had wandered heartbroken through the piles of his soldiers to the great-destroyed gates of his city. Blood had flowed as freely as a river down the once shinning stones of his city, mingled with the deeper, black blood of the Orcs. He had almost given up hope of finding his wife; to many bodies lay broken with her dark brown locks spilled around them. To many times he had heaved a grotesque body off a woman and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw an unfamiliar face stare blankly at the sky. It had not been until he was embracing her crying form that he dared to believe she might be alive. Even the sight of her beside him, smiling and laughing with joy brought back those dark memories of bodies and blood.

"Are they the Elves?" Said his boy, who was staring enthralled at the creatures passing in front of him.

"Aye, that they are," he responded, pulling the small form closer to him.

"They helped us didn't they?"

"That they did. They are our Allies now. We need not fear fighting alone anymore."

"Why did they not help us before?"

Frowning at the simple question, he answered slowly, "They had their own problems to solve."

"Oh. I like them. I like the Dwarves as well."

"As do I, little one."

He stared at their forms openly as he admitted this. His eldest daughter was cheering with the crowd, her cheeks red with passion and happiness. Her love had been murdered in the war, his body crushed by the falling towers and houses. He could still remember her screams of terror as she had seen his body, mangled and still among the slabs of stone. He had always been fond of the boy, he was a lad that had never been to hasty or eager to be away with his daughter but had respected his fatherly right to manage the relationship. He did not know of what his daughter's future would be. He was proud to say that she had shown a great interest in healing. She would do well at such a job.

"I want to go down!" Said his little one, his tiny body bouncing in his arms as if to emphasis the point. Feeling a pang of regret, he lowered his son to the ground, delighting in the way that he immediately grabbed onto his leg and wrapped an arm around it.

It wasn't long before the small arm had left his leg and the form of his son barrelled out of the crowd. Eyes widening in disbelief, he almost tripped over his feet as he followed his son. To his horror, his boy was heading straight for an elf, a noble looking one at that.

"Little one, come back!" He shouted as the boy stopped in front of the elf and tugged on his rich clothing. Such a scene would have been humorous if it wasn't for the humiliation of it. The elven lord looked down at his son at the small tug, his lips curving into a small smile. The elven lord was tall and lithe, his eyes sparkling with merriment and joy.

Scooping up the boy in his arms, he tried to control the stutter in his voice, "My Lord, he meant no offence, he was just curious is all!"

The procession of elves had not ceased its walk but the lone elven lord he had addressed had stopped to regard himself and his son. When he spoke, his voice was like the clear ringing of distant bells and the pleasant sound of running water, "There is no offence, my friend. You have quite the inquisitive child."

He could not say that he was not shocked at the calming manner in which the elven lord addressed him. He had heard stories of such lords becoming fierce and proud if forced to interact with humans. "He has always been such, my Lord."

The elven lord regarding the child with an even gaze, before raising his penetrating eyes to that of his own, "May I give your child a small gift," as he did not answer straight away, the elven lord continued, "… in honour of the great bravery he has shown?"

He had never seen anyone laugh through his or her eyes. That was, until he had spoken to this elf, "I could not impose on you so!"

"It would be my pleasure."

Stepping forward to the young child who was staring at him openly, the elf pulled from his deep clothing a small long package, wrapped with a thin string. His son, as soon as the elf had held out the package, darted forward quickly and grabbed it from his outstretched hands. He felt his mouth drop at the bravado the boy was showing and his lack of gratitude. A light laugh that sounded like the merry bubbling of a spring met his ears.

His son opened it and both of them gasped at the beautiful gift inside. It was a hand carved flute, its body carved from a rich wood and its form as smooth as polished stone. As they gazed in wonderment at the gift, the elven lord spoke, "I had wished to share our music. It will not be long before all sound of it passes from mortal ears."

He looked up at that statement and felt his eyes falter at the incredible sadness and weariness, which passed over the elf's expression. It was all that he could do to not console him, for he was sure that all elves regarded their future in the same way. A world without their graceful forms would be dark indeed.

"My Lord, I do not know how to thank you."

"It is but a small token of our alliance with man."

His little one, compelled by his strange sense of bravery, spoke, "But I do not know how to play the flute?"

The elven lord smiled, "Surely there must be teachers in this great city?"

"No. I don't think there is," said his little one, quite sure of himself. He was also sad to admit that there was no teacher of the flute within the city. Their population was greatly diminished, it would take a generation to build up the skills they once had. No longer would his city boast about their artists. His own daughter had given up her singing to join the healers. He silently thought that if they could just hear her voice with it clean crisp tones, there would be less to mend in the poor men's hearts.

"That is unfortunate. Perhaps I can suggest an alternative teacher then?"

"By all means, My Lord. It would be a great shame to have your flute stay as an ornament."

"Would you permit myself to teach your young one?"

"My Lord!" He said at the same time as his sons face breaking into a magnificent smile, "Oh father, please! I promise that I wont do anything bad for ever and ever!"

"It would be my greatest honour, My Lord!" He said, his feelings honest. He had never dreamed to be acquainted with an elf, let alone a Lord. He could feel a childish happiness bubble within him, such joy was he experiencing.

"Then it shall be. I must attend the King's crowning upon this day but I shall send a servant to ask for such a time that would suit you."

With a beaming face, he spoke, "My Lord, such an honour. Such a great honour. My house is small but we will welcome you with as open hearts as we can! Just send your servant to the house behind myself, it is were we live."

"You do me the greater honour of accepting my gift. It was nigh time that man and elf became acquainted again."

"You speak honestly, My Lord. Friendship has a great way of mending broken souls."

"The greatest Elven Kings could not have spoken truer words. Perhaps, by end I will be the student in these lessons," a kind smile accompanied these gracious words as the Lord spoke again, "May the sun shine on your path, my friend. I shall look forward to my second meeting with you and your son."

"I shall wait eagerly, My Lord!"

It occurred to him that he had been to forward with such a statement but his doubts were eased when he noticed the simple smile that continued to grace the glorious Lord's face. He was quite shocked at the small bow the elf made as he turned to continue his ascent to the heights of the city. The long procession of guests had not ended, though the last walked slowly and without haste. He felt that these last of the line were weaker then the fore, as they were silent and grave. He knew that these elves would be soon to leave for their land after the crowning, wherever that may be. Their eyes seemed distant, unfocused. Their energy faded, as with the radiance that encompassed the beautiful forms.

He watched the form of the elven Lord as he walked among his people. He could not believe that such a creature had sought friendship from himself, a simple man with a simple family. Turning back to the crowd, he saw this his wife and daughter were beaming at him, gesturing for him to hurry back. He knew that he would recount the story to them soon and that they would smile and glance at each in joy and disbelief. He knew that his daughter and son would lay in bed tonight and think of what luck they had been finally graced with and close their eyes to dreams of great, beautiful creatures singing to the moon. He knew that the next time his daughter cried for her lost love, she would be lulled to sleep by the sound of an elven flute, it's haunting sound reminding them that they were but tiny creatures next to such ageless beings.

For now though, he only knew that the smile on his families faces warmed his heart and reminded him of a time when they had little else to concern themselves with then the logs on the fire.

Looking down at his son, he allowed himself to smile.

Peace was his gift to him.

Hope you enjoyed my story!