Hello! Just a reminder that this is completely from my own mind and is very loosely based on the books/movies. I watched the trilogy recently but haven't read the books in ages so just ignore any incorrect details and such. I tried to keep it basically to the books, but there are obviously deviations. Hope you enjoy!

"The battle for Helm's Deep has ended, but the battle for Middle Earth has just begun."

Gandalf's words echoed flatly in Aragorn's ears, his mind still wandering back to the day of sorrowful victory. It had been many days now, Helm's deep was secured and the people of Rohan were returning home. After journeying to Isengard and finding it destroyed by the Ents leaving only Merry and Pippin safe behind, the fellowship had once again been divided. Gandalf and Pippin had departed for Minas Tirith, home of the steward of Gondor while Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Merry stayed behind in Rohan to await Gandalf's call.

"Gondor will call for aid to Rohan, the beacons will be lit within a fortnight, come then." Gandalf had said to Aragorn shortly before departing with a bewildered Pippin.

Now there was little to do but wait. And Aragorn was growing restless. More than a week had gone by, and the summon from Gondor had not been received. Aragorn paced restlessly on the edge of Rohan's village, the ground had been worn from his relentless footsteps over the past days. He had a perfect view of the mountaintop from here, the mountain where any day a light would shine, symbolizing Gondor's call for aid. But as of yet, nothing had stirred in the distance, no light shone in the golden spring dusk.

"You grow anxious." Legolas' clear voice cut into Aragorn's frenzied thoughts, stopping his pacing mid stride, his pipe halfway to his lips.

"Only in waiting does a man see the true meaning of haste." Aragorn replied somewhat vehemently, he sat heavily on the stoop of an abandoned house, pressing his shaking fingers to his temples.

Legolas remained silent as he stood before the man, he tilted his head ever so slightly. He was a Mirkwood elf, a prince in fact. With so many years of life experience he was accustomed to feeling poised and sure of himself. He knew himself and the forests of Middle Earth and his kinsfolk well, his bow and arrows better. But more often than not recently, he'd found himself growing unsure. It was often around this lone ranger that he felt himself second guessing and doubting his actions. There was a strange relation—Legolas had purposely not thought about this possibility too much—to Legolas' own uncertainty and Aragorn's return to his life.

Oh yes, the forming of the fellowship at Rivendell had not been the first time the lonely ranger and elfin prince had met. They had met before, many years ago when both of them were younger and less wearied by time's unforgiving hand.

Before the forming of the fellowship, Aragorn and Legolas had met a total of three times. For many different reasons and incidences, maybe brought together by fate, or maybe by their own actions. Whatever the cause, they both sensed the strong bond that grew between them over their many shared journeys. Legolas kept no secret of the admiration he felt towards Aragorn's deep sense of justice and bravery, and likewise Aragorn often celebrated Legolas' success and skill with his weapon of choice—the bow.

They worked together many a season, their ability to sense one another's presence enviable by every other scouting team known. They communicated wordlessly, seemingly reading each other's minds in battle and out. Their shared looks betraying little to anyone else, but to them a glance conveyed thousands of words.

But before their third meeting—the second time they met had been left unresolved and somewhat angrily in departure—when they were reunited something had changed. Legolas could feel a difference in the way Aragorn carried himself, the way he spoke, the way he brushed off Legolas' advances. It didn't make sense, but neither knew how to breach the wall of silence that stood between them. So they parted once more, for the longest time since they'd first met.

Many years passed, and they did not communicate. Eventually, word of Aragorn son of Arathorn diminished and the elves retreated into their woods, for a new evil was entering the world. Until one day at Rivendell, when a lone ranger rode into the city of rivers with three small creatures accompanying him.

And here they were again, sitting before a blazing Rohirrim sunset. Legolas would never in a thousand years imagine he would be here again with Aragorn son of Arathorn, on a quest yet again. But after all the perils and danger they'd faced over these past months, Legolas and Aragorn had come to a new understanding, the wall still stood between them but they seemed to have found a way around it for now.

Legolas took a tentative step towards Aragorn, who still sat with his head in his hands, before closing the distance between them and sitting carefully beside the ranger. He didn't know what to say, a feeling quite foreign to the usually eloquent and precise elf, but his thoughts for the past week had been confirmed when Aragorn began wearing the Evenstar around his neck.

It hung there now, swaying ever so slightly in the wind, its delicate, crystalline form stood out against Aragorn's dust and rough clothes. But somehow it fit, like it was meant for Aragorn to bear. Legolas thought back to the third meeting of theirs, where Aragorn seemed distant and distracted, and almost guilty. It made sense now, Legolas should have seen it sooner, but he guessed he just had chosen not to acknowledge it.

"What is her name?" Legolas asked, breaking the silence. He didn't look at Aragorn, but kept his gaze on the distant mountains and fields. "She must be quite beautiful."

Aragorn looked up sharply and turned his penetrating gaze to Legolas. He paused before answering, his voice quiet when he did. "Her name is Arwen." He turned his gaze away from the unblinking, unmoving elf.

"Did you think I would not know, brother? Did you think I would never figure it out?" Legolas kept his voice quiet, his emotion only conveyed by the almost indiscernible way he pursed his lips.

While Legolas kept his head bowed Aragorn let out a sigh. "I am sorry." He said, looking weary. "I just wished it would never change—our adventuring. She stole my heart but only when I returned to you I realized not all of it had been taken."

Here it was. Legolas was staring straight at the invisible wall that had stood between him and Aragorn for years now. It was all he'd thought of, yet now that he was face to face with it, he didn't know what to do. "I know of the lady you speak of, she is fair and noble. I am glad you are happy, brother. I am only disheartened by the fact that you could not be honest with me." He stood up suddenly about to turn and leave.

Aragorn stood up too, reaching out to calm or to contain Legolas. He caught Legolas' arm in a firm girp that was all too familiar. "I thought you knew why I chose this path." He said almost pleadingly. His eyes found Legolas', searching for something—forgiveness? Anger? Understanding?

"Well you thought wrong." Legolas said unfeelingly, he stepping out of Aragorn's now slack grip and retreated into the lengthening shadows. Why had he lied to Aragorn? He felt sick, but also a sick sense of elation from having hurt Aragorn as he had hurt Legolas. He paced on the outskirts of the town, thoughts worming their way around in his head. This was the closest Aragorn had ever been to admitting—confessing that there had been something between them in the past. But now he had her, he could have a life with her, and Legolas knew it would be better this way. For the both of them.

Aragorn watched Legolas' retreating back as the elf quickly faded into the shadows. He felt like running after him and stopping him, calling him coward for not confronting his emotions, for keeping that façade of emotionless poise. But he knew nothing good would come of it. Legolas had just admitted that there was nothing between them, at least nothing like there had been once.

What had happened to the carefree, young elf and younger, reckless ranger of the past? Had the pain of time passed really taken such a toll on the two that they no longer remembered the strange newness of a clumsy and uncertain partnership?

Whatever the case now, there was certainly no chance of going back. Aragorn knew he should feel relieved that the nights and days of long ago were seemingly forgotten by Legolas, for he was now completely free to pursue the love of Arwen, but all he felt was a deep and aching sadness. A sadness for an unforgiving past, the troubled present, and the lost future.

Later that night Aragorn was sitting under the full moon smoking his pipe when Legolas found him. This time the elf did not sit; instead he stood slightly away from Aragorn, separate, as he spoke. "Forgive me for my abrupt parting today. However, this is not a time for personal affairs. I made a promise to what is left of this fellowship and I will maintain my word until the duty is done."

When Aragorn searched his eyes he found nothing. The elf, while holding Aragorn's gaze, kept himself distant, protected far out of reach. Much like when we first met, Aragorn thought bitterly. "Alright, brother. But just know, I never meant for things to end this way."

Legolas felt a pain in his chest, searing like a blade entering his rib cage. If he believed in human metaphors he would say that his heart was breaking, but he knew that it was merely remorse and regret. "I don't see how it could have ended any other way."