The story: A short interlude and the eighth part in the Mithrin series. This piece picks up almost immediately after 'Knowing You' in which Estel and Legolas finally, hrm, did that thing you do in bed.

Timeline: This takes place in the Third Age (III) 2951. Aragorn has turned 20 and come of age, and Elrond has revealed his ancestry to him. Also, those who have travelled far return...

Warning: This is an Aragorn/Legolas pairing, which means slash. Implied, this time, but nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Master Tolkien owns them all.

A/N: I think, my friends, that only one more part remains to be written. I have not begun working on it so I can't say for sure, but right now I think the next part will be the last.

The Brightest Stars

The hidden valley of Imladris

Tuilë, III 2951

What calls to me as a grey twilight seeps into the bedchamber I cannot say. The night is old but dawn is yet another hour away. There is no movement, no noise and no dark dreams to disturb me, but still I rise from the depths of reverie into the waking world.

You lie on your stomach, with your legs spread wide as if you have conquered the entire world, but your arms are neatly folded beneath you, not claiming anything. Your head is turned to the side and your sleep soundless.

They seem now strange, even alien, to me, the events of last night. You wielded a great power then and every moment was alive with tension and expectation; I am sure that if air carried colour, it would have sparkled like a rainbow over Anduin. Now all is quiet and the greyish light of dawn holds you in a bleak embrace.

To say that my heart is mourning would be untrue.

Yet it hangs heavy in my breast and it weighs me down. I rise from your bed and my bare feet touch the floor as you exhale deeply in your sleep. Clad in my leggings and tunic, I slip out of your room.

o.O.o

Dew covers the grass and there are shreds of mist weaving around the trees. The faint sound of trickling water is the only song that is sung at this hour in Imladris. I wander aimlessly, seeking comfort and answers to the questions that vaguely dance at the edges of my mind. There is in me a sense of loneliness and sorrow that will not pass, and I wonder if this is the shadow of the glory of being with you: when I am not, I shall feel divided and sundered.

And I know that perhaps it should not be so, but the Valar hold the power over my heart, not I.

There is a place in Imladris where I played as a small elfling, eagerly entwining with the vines that still cling to the slender, arched vaults of wood placed there for this very purpose. New shoots and leaves that have no memory of me now move in the breeze, but there is in that place a strong magic: the sense of belonging. Many sunrises have I seen from that place, half asleep, hidden in the foliage, and thither I wander now.

When I am almost there – just as I imagine the morning growing a little warmer – I realise that I am not alone. I squint in the dim light but what my eyes cannot see immediately, my heart already knows. Ahead of me, the slim form turns around and the gentle sweep of soft fabric blends with the singing waters of Imladris' many rivers.

Welcome home.

Many years of forgotten laughter and play come rushing back to me as I am enveloped in a sweet embrace. Sleeping memories of golden days awaken within me as I breathe the scent of the loveliest one I knew as a youngling. Love will not disappear, only transform.

"Most precious Legolas!"

I feel my smile growing wider as I am released a little but still held securely.

Her dark eyes are sparkling like the stars themselves but I can see that the years have affected her too. However, I am sure, age could never diminish her beauty.

"Arwen..." I smile still, amazed at this meeting and not quite ready to accept it. "You are here..."

She quirks an eyebrow and flashes me a teasing grin. "You were always the intelligent one."

"I was! I am!" I correct myself as she laughs and pulls me close once again.

"Ai, Legolas..." She whispers into the dawning day. "How I have missed you."

We sink down upon the grass, leaning into the vines as we did all those years ago, hiding from the world and grown-up eyes. She wears a light cloak that she pulls around herself and I stretch my legs out in a sort of compromise between my days past and my current age.

Before us the sky is slowly brightening and far off in the horizon a hint of red is spreading above the lands. I wish to ask where to begin – which tale to tell first, but instead we sit in silence. It is only when a lazy breeze stirs the grass that she speaks.

"It seems to me I have come home to much pain, Legolas."

I raise my eyes to find the remaining silver stars above. The image of Elrond's face, lined with worry, comes to me instead and I sigh. "I know not all of it..." I say, meaning to explain in some way the events I do not understand myself but no more words come to me.

"I arrived three days ago," she says softly after a while. "For long have I desired to journey home but it did not happen for one reason or another. When it was time, I longed so for adar... and even my brothers."

I cannot help but smile and nor can she.

"But Imladris is quiet now Legolas... The very air itself is hurting, and father is deeply troubled."

In the end I know it is unavoidable but your name simply will not slip off my tongue. When I say nothing, she continues.

"I know he has been aiding them for many years," she says, thus echoing my own father's words some weeks ago. "It did not occur to me that this time it was... real. Elladan and Elrohir know more of this I suppose since news of the Dúnedain reached not me in Lórien..."

Her words carefully circle the burning centre that is the truth. It is a truth I will not have, in some way hoped I would not have to deal with. Now, as the reddish hues far away pushes the night to the ends of Arda, my shoulders slump and reality finally crashes down upon me.

"He is human," I whisper, not choosing my words but letting my desperate heart speak. "I wished he would never have to kill, never be drenched in blood, never hear death call his spirit into the darkness where dirty claws tear you to pieces... I wish him free from all that, but it cannot be... It cannot be."

As she gathers me up in her arms, tears begins to flow freely from my eyes. Their force crack open the doors to my quenched despair and I see clearly at last. As Arwen's hands gently run up and down my back to soothe me, I let it all go.

It begins somewhere in my soul - that dark path that l feared so much to tread. Now I throw myself onto it, out of frustration and anger. If you are willingly walking into the shadows, why could I not follow you?

"It is unfair!" As the words scorch my tongue, I feel it, though I know it is not my place to judge the Gods. "It should not be him the whole world relies on... He is only human."

I taste the bitter truth again and again. Where I before lacked courage, I am now reckless. Souls should not be harassed with darkness, but I have no light with which to counter the attack. Fear rises within and like a raging storm it picks up speed. My own tears burn my cheeks and I shake wildly in Arwen's arms.

I will burst from this crying, I will shatter completely but no dawn can chase my nightmares away.

"He will die, Arwen. He will die... and leave me..." And I who have chosen shall be alone.

If there is a beauty in this I cannot see it. How can love that has such a dreadful destiny be a blessing? Wherein lies the promise and the hope?

In the face of doom, how can I be thankful?

You will die.

And I fall.

o.O.o

As if afraid to disturb, the morning light stays away and the sky remains dark. My crying slowly fades and my head rests heavily on Arwen's shoulder. Her hands are still stroking my back in the same calming rhythm. I feel empty, utterly empty.

"They say he loves you." Her voice is low.

"I love him."

Time stretches and floats around us. In the east, golden oranges and reds gradually drift across the sky, but above us the stars are still looking down upon us. My senses are dimmed and as my breathing grows softer, even the grass upon which I sit is somehow distant to me. I do not think, I do not ponder and I do not worry. In this moment I can do no more than exist.

Somewhere in this stillness Arwen shifts but this movement does not bring awareness back to me. If I were left here, I would never leave. I would become one with the vines and this reluctant sunrise, forever lost in a haze of memories and unfulfilled destinies. But no darkness would haunt me here. When she shifts again, however, I am forced to surface.

With eyes that wish to see no more I make out a shape in the surrounding shadows. It steps forward and stretches out a hand, but at Arwen's soft-spoken words the hand is withdrawn, thoughtfully and slowly.

"He knows, adar."

So this first form steps aside and reveals another one, someone who hesitates and is perhaps scared to the very core.

I know, for I am too.

I feel her lips leaving a kiss on my brow and then her arms loosen their embrace and she stands; she has always moved like the waters, with grace.

I close my eyes and so I do not see you, but you wrap yourself around me cautiously. Fresh tears will come very soon, when I realise that I have nothing to set against the Gods. I have nothing that will tempt them to change your fate. I have only my love and you need that.

Together we watch Anor rise as the last star glimmers in the West.

Fin

adar – father

Arda – the World

Anor – the elvish name for the Sun.