Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. If I did, I would be dead… because J. R. R. Tolkien is dead… BUT FRODO LIVES!

Similarities

Legolas.

My name rings out through the forest. In the early morning, a voice so merrily echoes in my mind. I remember as if it were only moments ago that we played amongst the tall trees of Mirkwood, the sun shining through intertwined branches, in which I took cover from his eyes as he searched. It was a game that neither of us tired of.

Legolas.

My name again. I know it's not real, that it's my heart bringing forth memories, to quench my longing to see him again, to hear his voice, his laughter. Like that day, so long ago, when we were young.

-Flashback-

"Legolas!" he calls out. "Show yourself," he growls, attempting to mock the voice of an orc, (unsuccessfully, I might add) "for if you do not, your death will be one of suffering!" an impish grin curls his mouth as he hops from place to place, searching enthusiastically for a sign of the illusive elf.

The illusive elf, of course, is me, Legolas Thranduillion. And I hide directly above him, in the branches of the oldest tree in the whole of Mirkwood. I watch the top of his messy head of hair as it twitches this way and that, looking for me, but finding no sign. I watch him move, searching with a practiced eye. He is a most skilled tracker, though he's not the best at recognizing patterns, for this is the third time I have hidden in this same tree in the past week. I nearly laugh at this, but I bite it back as he turns in my direction. A look of realization crosses his face and his eyes fall on my exact place in the large tree.

The man learns.

The wide smile is there. That smile of certain victory. But he is sadly mistaken, if he thinks that finding me is enough to win. I leap deftly from tree to tree, as he follows with astonishing speed on the ground. So quick is he, that, at times, I forget that he is not also an elf, though I would never admit it to him.

He does not realize when I stop suddenly and begin to climb higher into a tree, causing him to have to double back, after going a fair distance ahead of me. He has spied me again, and a laugh escapes his lips. It starts as a purring rumble, low in his throat, bubbling up into a child like giggle. His laugh waxes and wanes like the moon. But the joyful sound is soon replaced, by his voice, singing in a slightly bemused key.

"Nimbly, nimbly the elf may climb

But I know he will fall in time."

My laugh is a short one, one completely different from his own. It ends on the same tone as it started, unchanging and steadfast. I counter with:

"You may lecture me of time, my king,

But it's not the humans' place to sing."

Too long have I wished to reach out to him and hold him, but I won't. I can. But I won't. Nay, it is this day that he reaches out to me. He extends his hand as high as he can reach.

"Come down, Mellon-nin. Join me for lunch and I will gain victory later."

I slowly begin my way down, not wanting to look too eager, lest I give away that I am actually quite hungry, "And what ever gives you the idea that you could be victorious, Estel?"

He smiles, but does not answer, and, distractedly, takes my hand as I make the final hop from the tree.

"What will we eat today, my king?"

"Why food of course!" he laughs, picking up a basket from beside a tree and holding it up to my face. It smells different from any food I've ever tasted.

My eyebrows furrow, and I say impatiently, "Well, what kind of food, then?"

"Peace, Mellon-nin," he says jovially, holding his hands up in surrender, "It is the food of the dwarves. Gimli stopped by earlier. He was disappointed that he missed you."

His smile remains fixed upon his face, and I can't help but return it.

We sit down and begin to eat. The taste is unfamiliar, but welcomed nonetheless. "So, how fares Gimli, Estel?"

"Gimli is well," he replies, through a mouthful of some kind of blue root. He swallows and flashes a sheepish smile. At this, I laugh and, without thinking, I reach over a wipe some remnants of the root from the corners of his mouth. His lips are darker than mine, though they don't seem so against his tanned skin. For a moment, my eyes linger there. Then, my gaze travels downward, to his delicate collarbone, next his corded arm, down to his bony wrist, and then to his long fingers, fanned out on the ground, supporting him.

"Too long…" I murmur aloud.

"Hmm?" He heard me.

I smile, "Too long has it been since I last saw you, Aragorn."

"You are troubled… What ails you, Legolas?" he tilts his head with evident concern.

He will hate me. I cannot tell him. He would never forgive me. Nor would Arwen. But I tell him any way, "I have forever been in want of something I can't have, Mellon-nin." He gives me a quizzical look and I continue, "Someone I can't have, rather."

"Who, Legolas?"

I hesitate. His eyes are piercing. He's looking through me. If I do not tell him, he will surely snatch the information from within me, "It does not matter now. They are a lost hope."

He will catch the hint. He always does. He will know. He will flee in disgust. He pauses in eating another bite of the blue root. He realizes.

"Me, Mellon-nin?"

I look away. I cannot meet his eye.

He and Arwen were apart for so long because of their differences. Her being higher status that him, him being the heir to the throne of Gondor, her being elven, him being human. So different were they. But so determined were they that they prevailed.

I cannot prevail. For I face a much worse foe.

"Me, Mellon-nin?" he asks again.

I get up and slowly walk away. We will not finish our game today. I am fleeing, disgusted with myself. It is over. I have told him and there is no going back.

-End Flashback-

Differences can be overcome. Differences were not what held me back for so long. Differences fall away with time. Differences did not keep me from reaching out…

It was similarities that stayed my hand.

A/N: Hey there, reader(s)! I made some revisions, because I was retarded and didn't read over it before I posted it the first time. Hope you enjoyed and I would appreciate feedback if you can spare some! I welcome reviews of any kind, and I would love some good ol' fashioned constructive criticism! Lord knows I need it... (head is larger than a pumpkin (a small pumpkin, mind you))