Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien, and, in one way or another, Peter Jackson.
Not really a shipping fic. Semi-AU, as in, changes in some details compared to the original. Thus, no spoiler.
Review, if you'd be so kind.
When Aragorn first met him, he was clad in brown and green and golden sunlight.
"A dangerous warrior, and a trusting friend," Gandalf told him. "He will take great care of you."
Of all things he could forget, that he remembered, just like how he remembered the man's name meant green leaf and the man's life could very much rival his worthy name. Legolas was forever young, or so they said, at body and at heart, which made the young Aragorn back then envy. How could he not? For all he knew, death was not something that desirable.
And immortality was so rare a gift that he didn't understand why Legolas seemed unhappy every time he mentioned it.
Nevertheless, the time they spent together was pleasant enough, and before he knew it, they were already friends. Legolas was like a surreal dream and at the same time was not, because how could he be if he was right here, next to Aragorn? It was very quiet whenever Aragorn was with him, and sometimes Legolas spoke with such wisdom that Aragorn had no doubt the man had been around ever since Middle-earth was found.
"There's no such thing, my Aragorn. We are but fleeting existences."
"Yours seems long enough for me."
"There will come a day it ends, young one. I just do not know when."
.
As Aragorn was growing, learning, reaching and going through his youth, Legolas nevertheless stayed the same, and sometimes it made Aragorn think about how it would be when he got old. There would come his sons, and grandsons, and great-grandsons, who would no doubt be raised by Legolas, just like how Aragorn was raised by him.
It would be such a burden, and Aragorn started to think that maybe he was content with his mortal life.
To him, living was also dying.
But did Legolas truly live his life if he were never to die?
.
He never aged, for all the time Aragorn had known him; hair never grew and bright blue eyes still held the gaze from the day they first met. Unwavering, unchanging. Ethereal. Legolas was the only constant in his life, and although sometimes Aragorn wished he could be the same to Legolas, he knew that it was never something within his reach.
"Men come and leave. But Elves remain." Arwen told him once.
Sometimes Aragorn questioned himself: how much, really how much had Legolas seen? How many times had he stood side by side with another Man and made vows that lasted a lifetime? Foolish of them to think that a life-long companionship was strong enough against time; for those who had eyes so worn from seeing too much a hundred years were somewhat a blink of an eye. It was saddening, and Aragorn wondered to himself, was there anything else in this world that can stir up something in the white-hair prince anymore? Anything that made life worth living, anything foreign? For someone who had all the time in the world, after witnessing so many sprouting and withering had he once thought about how it was to die. Aragorn didn't know any, and suddenly he didn't even want to know, just standing there and keeping all his musings inside and feeling empty for the first time in many years of his life.
"Aragorn, did something trouble you?"
He glanced sideways, caught sight of Legolas – lips thinned and eyebrows furrowed in concern – and realized for once how far from each other they actually were.
"No. Nothing."
.
"If I asked you to die with me, would you agree?"
"Rest assured, my friend, that I will not have you die."
.
Every decade or so, Aragorn mused about old friends.
"I want to know how Gimli is doing."
"He is at Valinor now. I'm sure that Lady Galadriel and our friends will take care of him just fine."
"And our Hobbits?"
"Flourishing at their homeland. May Valar's grace be with them till the end of their days."
"Soon everyone will die, Legolas. You will be left alone. Why don't you go to Valinor as well? That's where you belong to, not this lonely, changing world."
"I have my reason. And please don't be concerned, my friend, I am used to seeing people off by now."
.
They talked on a fine day, thirty years after he claimed his throne.
"You can always choose a mortal life."
"For what purpose, my king?"
"I don't know. Aren't you tired of living?"
He smiled.
"Say, if I were to die, who would come to aid youngsters like you?"
"There will be other people. Like Elrond. Or Gandalf. You don't have to shoulder it all."
"For all the years of my life, I have but one duty, Aragorn. That is, not to die."
And Aragorn said no more.
.
"If I offered you immortality, would you accept it?"
"...I'll think about it."
.
They talked again, years later, after Arwen's death.
"She has had a good life," Legolas said. "I never doubted her decision being with you. Thank you for taking care of our lady."
"She was taking care of me," he replied. "And all she had was a mortal life."
"You do, too, it seems. For once I thought nothing could defeat our almighty warrior."
"Don't be ridiculous, even Gandalf surrendered to Time."
He heard a low chuckle. "Yes, Gandalf. It's hard to imagine him to be anyone else but the old man we knew, no? I'll have you know, the wise man was not nearly half as wise a hundred years ago or so – still a very yọung and innocent child when we first met." After a while, he added. "Just like how I first met you."
Those words recalled many things, from fields of flowers to skies of the bluest nights. Being young. Being carefree. He had changed, all had changed, hadn't they?
"Reminiscing, are we? I'm not calling you here to talk about the old days."
"It is the job of the living to speak of the dead."
"What for?"
"So that they will remain alive."
.
When Aragorn thought about old things on his deathbed, he knew that his time had come.
"My offer still stands. All you have to do is ask." Legolas told him, on a fine day.
He could barely make out the outlines of his old friend's face now – his white-blond hair seemed to blend with the colorless surroundings and blue eyes held all the light in this world. He looked ethereal, as always. Out of reach. Legolas was the only constant in his life and at the same time was not, because how could he be if he never belonged to Aragorn's life to begin with?
It was just a journey they shared, that was all.
"You did say that you would not have me die."
"I did, and I will not. Please ask, Aragorn."
It was strange to him how the only thing he could remember now was not his friends' laughter, nor battles won, but the unanswered question on the mountain peak that day – after witnessing all sprouting and withering, had the man once thought about how it was to die? How did it feel like, to always be the last one to remain, always be at loss? Even until now Aragorn didn't know. It was too late now, anyway, and he had no intention to –
"My king?"
"...Say, Legolas, if I asked you to come with me, would you agree?"
The elf was surprised, no, taken aback – funny how one of the wisest could be disturbed by the smallest thing. But Aragorn kept that to himself, because Legolas was looking at him right now, eyes suddenly full of emotions that made him feel never more alive.
"I wish I could."
With that, Aragorn smiled, and said no more.