See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Authors' note: Hey everyone! Sorry it took some time to update, we had plenty of such amusing (we couldn't be more sarcastic) final exams. So, to compensate, this chapter is really long... Like, really. Anyways, enjoy.

"Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more."

Galadriel, Lady of light.

The king could not help but to watch his fingers twitch on his ceaselessly bouncing knees. He had fought through war, death, fire... And yet, never in his life had he felt so tense and helpless. As he sat on a chair by the door that led to the room where his wife laid, he focused himself on staying calm, and seated.

"I am sure you will be a wonderful father." Faramir declared.

Since his arrival at Gondor, the heir of the stewardship of the city had befriended the king himself and gave his counsel if demanded which, in his superior's case, was often. In every little decision, Aragorn gave the best of himself and took the advice of many, considering his people's opinion. Nowadays, the monarch and the son of Denethor considered themselves as good friends. After all, Elessar had been a friend of Boromir himslef.

"Thank you, Faramir", Aragorn sincerely spoke with gratitude.

Although, he seemed untamable. Faramir, some time ago, had realized that Gondor's savior was the antonym of the sitting type. Would it be the ruler's choice, he would be by his beloved wife's side, supporting her through the painful process of giving birth.

Her first birth.

Elbereth, did he wish so strongly to run through the door shielding him from his lover and to hold her hand.

Of course, as a healer himself, Aragorn understood that his presence would be but a nuisance to the treatment...

A treatment which he could actually give to Arwen himself.

"I have to go." The once called Estel simply explained before standing quicker than what Faramir thought to be human capacity.

The steward knew that concerning this case, there was nothing to be done.

"Be safe." He simply advised, unable to do more.

His small lips spread in his usual wise, deep smile. The king nodded back returning his manner.

He opened the door smoothly to avoid disturbing the queen his heart beat for and could not help but to smile at the sight of her features, her sky blue eyes liberating deep untamable light. Although the man's smile was not a prepared and intended smile. It was an unpredictable, undeniable smile, almost too big for his own face.

"My king?", a young healer asked, taken by surprise.

"I came to give birth to my child", he said, his mouth ever widening.

All older healers smiled at his words, they understood him completely.

"Estel", Arwen's voice whispered.

The addressed man sat by her side and moved a strand of raven hair from her pale face.

"I am here, meleth nin, I am here." He slowly replied, his voice soothing as if he were comforting a child, which he was probably doing, partly.

The she-elf smiled back.

"I know."

The king then gently took her soft hand in his, a hand that was scared and rigid from decades of fighting. He couldn't believe they were here. He was the king of Gondor, married to the only woman he had ever truly loved who was about to give birth to a child he had never dared to wish about having. A serene happiness spread inside him, and seemed to travel through his hand to reach his wife's, because suddenly, a great calm softened the elf-maiden's features. Thus they remained, savoring every second passing while they knew they had a life of love and joy yet to come.

Suddenly, the soft elven hand clenched the man's. The queen's soft voice, tensed with pain, let out three simple words that set everyone into motion:

"It is time."

Somehow, mothers knew when their role became official. Fathers, though, could never be quite as ready.

Aragorn kissed her forehead before setting into action. Blankets, fresh water, everything was in place when Arwen gave her last, and small cries were heard in the large room. Aragorn held the newborn in his arms and cleaned him slowly while contemplating the tiny face that had just seen Anar for the very first time. He slowly paced to his beloved and laid by her side, before deposing a soft kiss upon her brow. His back leaned against the wall as Arwen raised to reach his height and leaned on her husband's large shoulder.

Aragorn observed the mother's reaction as she first laid eyes upon her child; watery eyes.

"He is beautiful." She simply spoke, speechless.

Of course, she knew her child was a boy.

The father's tears joined hers as they rolled shamelessly upon their cheeks out of pure happiness. Arwen then laughed softly before declaring sarcastically:

"Gaze upon his magnificence, my King. He definitely has your ears."

Aragorn chuckled as he saw the pointy ears erupting from the child's head. Aragorn answered in exaggerated manner, even though he could not help but to let his eyes fill with water.

"Well, my queen, I believe the lack of energy has reduced your capacity of observation. He definitely has yours."

They both leaned closer as they giggled in harmony. Arwen softly caressed the sleeping baby's forehead.

"This is what we have been fighting for, Estel."

Aragorn let out a sobbing laugh. Arwen had the gift of speaking aloud for his heart.

"Yes, it is meleth nin," Aragorn could not help but to laugh a wet joyous laugh. After some time, he regained composure and wiped

his cheeks,"You should rest, Arwen. I will stay with you."

The she-elf smiled softly before her eyelids joined.

"I am proud of us Estel." She simply said as she went to sleep.

Aragorn cautiously held the little hand in his, nowalone with the child . Valar did he wish that Legolas was here, sharing this moment with him, being one of first people to hold the child in his arms. But there was no answer, no sign, nothing. After all they had gone through, how could their friendship be based on silence and hope for the other's return?

At this moment, the baby cooed and waved his arms through the air, learning more about the new world as he lived his first moments of awareness.

"Shhh, it is alright", Aragorn whispered, "I am here."

Aragorn smiled softly before adding, full of affection.

"Eldarion."

Thus Eldarion, half-elven, heir to the throne of Gondor came to this world.

"Your presence is demanded amidst the walls of Minas Tirith at the soonest. Please arrive with your most trusted advisors.

Our regards,

The royal council of Gondor."

Legolas deposed the letter after reading it for what must have been the tenth time. He was now in his study, the queer events of the night not more than a distant memory in his distracted mind. He closed his eyes, trying to assess the fact that he was finally going to see Aragorn again. Although, he suspected the strangeness of the situation since it was not the king himself that had sent the letter, but Faramir, his trusted helper. He would be leaving with his team on the morrow, at dawn. His packs were already sitting in the corner of the room under his long white bow and sharpened twin knives. He sighed, looking over the murderous weapons, hoping they would for once be of no use in his short journey to the city of kings. The war had changed him, that he knew, but he was growing more exhausted and detached from reality. It was tiresome the longing, trying to keep his mind away from it's melody and then having to start the cycle over and over again. In the beginning, his mind was truly distracted by the renaissance of Ithilien, although, when thus was over, there was nothing but drudging papers to distract his thoughts from the calling of the sea. Albeit, it had grown not enough as a distraction and Legolas was quickly losing his grasp onto the reasons why he was still upon Middle Earth. Seeing his human friend would surely remind him of them. The blond elf wondered why he would be summoned to Gondor in such urgency. After all, these were times of peace. Unless it was a matter concerning politics between the lands, which would not be surprising in the least. He had decided to bring the whole elite team with him. After centuries of fighting by there side, Legolas trusted these warriors with his life. Of course they were far from perfect, beaten and broken by war, but he would never treat them for anyone else. He trained them, even raised some of them, to become the warriors they are today... He could not be more proud. After all, they had been chosen by the king himself and Legolas trusted the lord's judgment. When the decision of creating an elite team had been declared, warriors of all the land of Mirkwood trained themselves harder in order to have the chance to be chosen for the selections that would be hosted by the prince himself. Between these men-at-arms, few were chosen to be presented in front of king Thranduil, who made the finale choice concerning whom would have the honor to be a part of the elite team of Mirkwood. The platoon inherited the hardest missions, the ones that were judged impossible or simply reckless. Legolas had always been the leader, accompanied by a second in command. Tauriel had been the one to fulfill this role... But not anymore, not since The Battle Of The Five Armies, where he lost her forever. In fact, most of the member of the team had been lost, only few remained. And yet, not completely. They had been damaged, in a way or an other, some crafted to be person they were never before, like rocks sculpted by the continuing current of the water, dark waves that...

Waves.

He could almost feel them rocking his body when deep in thought. He could see them shattering on stone and flying in thousands of drops that shone like pearls. He could hear its melody, the first sound his people had heard as they came to this world.

Legolas

He could see Anar contemplating its reflexion in this endless mirror, forever in movement. He could imagine masses of water colliding, to become even stronger than before. He could visualize thousands of liquid protuberances, like colonies pressed against each other, sharing the infinity of water that knew naught of the rules of time, like Legolas himself, had he not encountered different types of existence.

Legolas

He knew that name. Was it his? Why? Greenleaf. He used to know nothing better than the sigh of the trees in his homeland. But since his acquaintance with the possibility of a world beyond the shores of Middle-Earth, his heart belonged to the waters sailed by his ancestors: he was bound to it, never to deny his deep love for Belegaer. Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more, was he told by the lady of light. At the time, he simply considered denying it.

Legolas?

There it struck him again, the use of his name that had lost its meaning, for his love for living things was hushed by the murmurs of his people, awaiting his departure. 'Although, they shall wait', Legolas would tell himself,' I made a promise'. Indeed he had. He had sworn, he had given his word...

Legolas?!

Then he heard a cry. Not thus of his people, but thus of one he cursed for its tempting existence thirty years ago. Without thinking, he covered his ears as he felt his very soul being stabbed by the restless, painful sound.

Since when did the seagulls know his name?

They cried it repetitively, drowning the lord of Ithilien with the sound that had compromised his very existence.

Legolas!

That time, he realized that his name was spoken with the voice of another. Another he knew but too well.

"Legolas! Please! You have to fight this! Legolas!"

Legolas snapped out of thought as he felt hands crawling and tightening around his contorted features. Legolas opened his eyes and Aewon could swear he saw the restless waves colliding inside his lord's orbs, as if the very ocean was locked inside the elf's mind. It took an indefinite length of time before Legolas' glaze seemed to finally clear when a word finally made it's way out of his lips.

"Aewon?" He murmured, as if the ordeal had left him completely drained from swimming through an endless sea.

"It's the sea longing, isn't it?" Aewon asked, even if it wasn't really a question. He had seen that longing look before, he did not even need Legolas' answer to confirm his suspicions.

The lord simply cast his eyes down, as if speaking of it only made him realize even more that is fate was sealed to thus of the endless Belegaer.

"Legolas, why didn't you tell us?" Aewon asked, looking close to desperate, "we could have helped you. You don't have to fight this alone, not after all that you did for us." He continued, Legolas's heart breaking at his friend's innocent but determined look.

"Aewon, mellon nin, I am fine... Please, do not tell the others. I do not wish for them to add my burdens to theirs." Legolas answered, softly but resigned all the same. He seemed resolute through the tiredness plaguing his senses.

Aewon understood his lord and companion's will. The way Legolas was raised and his lifestyle had given him the habit of suffering in silence and to avoid having the others reminding him of his hurts.

And that was probably why he seldom spoke.

The elf knew of pain better than most. But never, after his father's harsh way of stoicism and his lack of compassion, he had found his suffering worth sharing. The others, as he thought, did not need to know his weaknesses and pains. After all, they had some of their own.

Sometimes, it came to him that he was not worth it, simply there for his loved ones' needs. That thought was keeping him on these shores and so he believed it.

The blond elf took a few moments to compose himself and then raised from his wooden chair to walk to the door at the other side of the room, not even looking back.

"I will go take some air Nildë... Expect me in the morning, before our departure."

And just like that, he left. Leaving Nildë alone with his worries. Of course, he could talk to Arthon about it, but he preferred to avoid the apocalypse.

"Ai Legolas what have you done..."

The shining sun had just shown the peak of it's nose and the birds had been singing for some time when a voice rang through the forest of Ithilien, disturbing the calm ambiance of morning.

"All right everyone, this is not funny. Who took my travel tunic?!" Arthon exclaimed, walking shirtless around the team.

"I don't know Arthon... Perhaps it's travelling?" Declared Iareth, smirking.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." He laughed heartlessly, "I'm laughing my lungs out. Honestly, Iareth, where did you put my tunic?"

"I believed I answered that question already." She proudly declared.

"Iareth, if you don't give me my tunic immediately, I will slice your insides open and hang you with y-"

"Good morning." Legolas declared as he joined the team. "Is everyone ready to leav-" He sighed. "Arthon...Why aren't you wearing a tunic?"

"That is truly a good question... Perhaps Iareth could answer?" Arthon responded, his voice poisoned by annoyance.

"If it is to hear you two bickering again, then she won't. Arthon please just go and get yourself another tunic. We will be waiting for you before leaving."

Arthon stared wide eyed at him, not even bothering to hide his surprise. That, coming from Legolas' usually comforting and peaceful voice, was rude. Prevailingly, Legolas would never complain about the constant bickering between the members of his team. He would usually identify the source of their discomfort and help them fight it at the utmost of his capacities. Today was the first time in centuries that Legolas did not bother to hide a hint of annoyance. Today was the first time in centuries where Arthon wore a serious expression. He looked around him, seeing that the others were definitely thinking the same thing he did. Cadworon seemed uncomfortable, balancing his tall form from one foot to another. Iareth was staring at her lord, her expression indescribable and Nildë seemed like he was going to simply faint from astonishment. The silence became deafening as Helegon signaled Erwarth with practiced movements to come and packing the horses with him.

"I think I'll do just that..." Arthon declared as he threw a suspicious look towards Legolas.

He then left to his house amongst the trees to fetch a new tunic. Meanwhile Nildë, Iareth and Cadworon stood next to their lord in silence, until the she-elf accusingly declared:

"Oh well, that was gentle Legolas."

Legolas looked at her, his eyes softening and the she-elf could see how tired he was, which was worrying, knowing that elves barely needed to sleep.

"You are right, Iareth... Apologies. I do not know what took me. I will speak with Arthon later."

Cadworon cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the three elves around him.

"Legolas, I do not mean to intrude," he began with his gruffry voice, "but is there something we should know? You never act like this, in fact, you seem tired and that is worrisome."

Nildë suddenly seemed uneasy and mumbled something about going to help Arthon find a new tunic before leaving to find him.

Iareth turned to Cadworon, doing as if Legolas wasn't there.

"You know what Cadworon, we both know that Legolas won't tell us a thing before it kills him. So we'll go press on some weak spots to get the information we need..."

She ignored Legolas' glare as Cadworon questioned her.

"Weak spot?"

"And by weak I mean... Nildë."

Legolas turned wide eyes to her as if she had announced the death of some important lord.

"Why would you interrogate Nildë?" He asked, his voice still weakened by the past ordeal.

"Please... Do you think me blind? He obviously knows something."

Legolas was about to retort when Erwarth and Helegon arrived with the horses. There was one for each member of the team and

none were wearing saddles, only bags containing clothes,water and a little bit of food. Legolas' white stallion immediately joined it's master, letting him caress his mane. The blue eyed elf suddenly felt calmer in the presence of the son of Arod. Although, he knew by the push of the horse's head to his chest that the animal was worried.

"We now ride to Gondor my friends."

Anar had just finished her course in the sky when the company stopped for the night. The elves did not demand it, aside perhaps from Legolas, but they desired to spare the horses from any pain. They had stopped in the middle of a field, half a day away from Minas Tirith. All were grateful of the fact that they did not need to analyze each of their action by fear of being found by an enemy. Still, hundreds of years of fighting alimented their reflexes and looking around every time a noise would be too close, or too strange was involuntary. Yet, the peace that had taken over was now tightening its grasp on their hearts, as all felt eased and comforted. To share a now peaceful friendship with living things was, for the Eldar, the greatest victory of all.

The companions sat in silence as they contemplated the stars, pearls of light born from the voice of Varda. Their eyes raised to the sky as the sound of a nearby stream whispered in their ears.

Seldom did the wood elves see the stars.

Even as it may be their most precious light of all, the sickness of the forest had shielded them from the sky, emprisoning them in the sickness that spread in the earth. To now contemplate it freely felt like a dream, a constant reminder of the beauty they were unable to heed for hundreds of years.

They observed in true wonder, recalling the time when they craved for those restless lights of hope and memory, when it was shut out, torn from their hearts by a renewed darkness that had sent too many of their people to the world beyond.

How fortunate they were, to lay eyes upon the treasures of whom they called Elbereth, and how unlucky were those who did not have the chance. They felt angry and grieved to know that so many would miss the beauty and serenity of the earth, but to know them amongst their beloved gems of light soothed their hearts and silenced their guilt.

And some wondered what they were fighting for...

The voice of the stars mingled in true harmony with the lullaby of the water, the first sound ever heard by the Quendi: the first living who spoke.

Yet again, in the manner of those who were before them, the voices of the immortal company joined the melody of the earth, and their thoughts went beyond space and time.

Thus the elves had learned of true rest, without death or suffering. A moment of purity and resourcing from the earth, with which they had a bond none other could understand.

The elven group progressed towards the city of stone with light steps, looking forward with anticipation and excitement debating in their hearts. All of a sudden, Arthon stopped short and spun his horse around, heading towards a stream that lay by their path.

He stayed his steed, facing the flowing water with an expression of incredulity contorting his bold features. His eyes lowered to the pouring liquid, in which floated something like fabric.

The others slowed to a stop and turned around, wondering what had caused their friend's unexpected behavior.

"Is something wrong, Arthon?" calmly asked Legolas, "What have you seen?"

The addressed elf took a deep breath as if to burry a burning rage before addressing the she-elf by his lord's side.

"Iareth?", he seemed to filter a few foul words before continuing,"Would that dirty piece of fabric happen to be my tunic?", he finished through gritted teeth.

The elf maiden joined the angry questioner and followed his gaze before bursting into laughter.

Through water, forest and the foreign wild, the travel tunic laid in the water by a mischievous she-elf had found its way back to its owner.

Iareth's reaction seemed to make the same effect as if she had slapped her victim.

"Why is my tunic there, Iareth?!" Arthon's tone rose dangerously. But even in anger, the elf could not have his emotions taken seriously.

"Well, I believe that throwing it in the river did not suffice", she spoke with a provoking tone as if to herself.

"You did what?!"

The pair began to argue in their own elvish tongue as all others watched with perplexity.

Except Legolas.

He stared at the stream, his eyes deep into void.

The restless water, ever in movement, creating a song of its own. Its waltz always caught his body, making him crave to follow its lead. And its song, deep, truthful or abrupt, created its melody from a world the elf did not know, but knew all the same, as any Eldar did. It had stolen his heart, like a woman in a light blue dress, dancing and singing with the wind. Her stare could bare his soul, find his memory. She could put her salted water in his eyes, water that often proved hard to be contained. She would stride and turn, like her ever-changing mood, deep or bold. She held out her hand to him, hoping to tighten her grasp upon him, to bring him in her calm dance, their bodies making one, as he waltzed with her in the sunset...

"Hir nîn?"

Pulled out of thought, Legolas turned to face Nildë, that watched him worriedly. It took a certain time before he realized what had

caught the elves' attention. Arthon and Iareth were now off their steeds, their faces inches from each other. Legolas left his horse and strode towards them before separating the angry pair.

"Alright, that is enough.", he ordered.

"She threw my tunic! IN A RIVER!"

Legolas turned to Iareth with a hint of annoyance in his features. He had no time to waste. Gondor had summoned them in urgency and solving childish conflicts was not to be called "coming in haste".

"Just take it and bring it with you, Arthon. We will wash it when we arrive at Minas Tirith."

The addressed elf indignantly looked at his lord before speaking.

"What about Iareth?"

Legolas felt like leaving them behind to solve their problems like true grown ups. Although, never was he able to even give it a try. His team depended on him with every inch of their being. He had made them who they were, and had kept them thus when difficult events led them astray. All their personal confessions, difficulties were known by their leader, that knew all of their way of thought.

But also did the team know him. So, at Legolas' "pronounced" reaction, they ceased their rivalry and put aside their personal pride for his sake. Arthon reached for his wet, dirty tunic. The elves mounted their horses, their feelings still hot from the conflict, but tamed by the cold stare of their leader.

The rest of the ride towards Minas Tirith remained as uneventful as possible with seven warriors crafted by the darkness and despair from the old days. They stopped twice, only to feed and provide water to the horses. When the white walls of the city of kings came into view, it's massive form towering The Pelennor fields, a sense of gratefulness with a strange sense of foreboding sneaked into the lord's thoughts. The last time he had been here, the great sea had called to him...

As they reached the great gates, a guard came to them and showed them the way to the final level of the city. Following the guard's directions, the elven team spurred their horses forward.

As he passed through the city, Legolas noticed how much the people had changed since his last visit, that had been a unknown length of time before. Everyone seemed to be happy, burden less. Children and women were not hiding and crying in despair for the arrival of loved ones that marched to war. In fact, children were looking at the pointy eared beings with an expression of awe drawn on their smooth faces. They were seen as legendary warriors, warriors that had fought armies of Balrogs and orcs to forge the Middle-Earth that people knew today. Legolas spotted a little girl, partly hidden in the folds of her mother's dress, gaping at him. He drew a small smile to her, inclining his head and the child reddened before hiding behind her mother's leg.

"Getting familiar with the locals already, are we?" Arthon asked him from atop his brown horse. "She's a bit young don't you think? Personally, I would have gone for the mother...", he laughed jokingly and winked at his leader, satisfied by his reaction.

Legolas stared at him, discouraged by Arthon's humor and looked forward again. Gondor was effervescing with activity. Small stands stood everywhere, their owners selling fruits, vegetables or small wooden toys for children. A few guards of the citadel were walking around, blending in with the people they protected. Children were running around, chasing each other and hiding from their parents. Although, at all levels of the city where the elves passed, people were staring at them in wonder. Except for their beautiful queen, they were probably the first elves that the people ever saw. Legolas' sun like hair seemed to attract the attention of many and numerous Gondorians seemed mesmerized by the elves' beauty. Arthon passed most of the ride looking at all the people he could, winking and declaring "Hi, I'm Arthon" every now and then.

When they finally reached the last level, they dismounted their horses and guards took their mounts to the stables. Legolas gazed around, trying to find a familiar taller figure, but Aragorn was nowhere to be seen. Legolas began to worry even more: Would Aragorn not come and greet him?

A guard, probably in his twenties, led them to the royal court. As they paced across the stone floor, Legolas observed the structures decorating his surroundings. All walls, columns, doors were carved with extreme precision, illustrating patterns of true beauty. Baskets of flowers, tiny trees and different plants hung about contrasted with paleness and raw feeling of the white solid architectures. The help that the elves and dwarves had brought in the renewal of the white city had made its splendor even greater. The elf lord then turned his gaze to his right, contemplating the landscape that lay beyond. He imagined a rising sun laying its warm grasp of the cold walls of the city as night turned into day. He then knew where he would be found every morning.

The young guard continued his trajectory, the elves struggling to follow and see as much as they could at the same time. As Legolas followed closer behind the man, he realized he might have been wrong concerning his race. Through long and wavy, dark hair could be seen the sharp ends of pointy ears, though not as pronounced as thus of his people.

This could only mean he was not fully elven.

Legolas pushed away the thought, trying to keep his calm. Of course, it could not make sense. They had just wedded a few years ago...

"These will be the rooms assigned to you for your stay. You may choose that which agrees with your preferences. A supper will be served in the great hall at dusk. A bath can be found in your room with anything needed, and clean clothes can be found in the closet if a lack of yours is to show. Anything you will demand for is a pleasure to give. Any questions?"

His voice, also deep and light, his strong jaw, his grey eyes showing softness and empathy, his tall, muscular figure... It could not be.

Was he gone for so long?

Arthon stepped towards the guard to reach an alarming proximity before winking and declaring flirtingly:

"Hi, I'm Arthon"

The guard stared at him, confused, before slowly answering.

"Um... Hi, Arthon... I'm Eldarion. And I am actually,well do believe so, taken..."

The elf then entered a room with disappointment and loudly shut the door.

Eldarion. He had heard that name before.

"Well, marriage sounds wonderful, laddy. But I do not think that it should end there. Children are the key to the future lad. You could have one each year, perhaps make it a tradition..."

"Gimli," Aragorn interrupted, "I will not make Arwen live through the process of giving birth every year. That would be way too demanding."

Gimli mumbled something about dwarf women being tougher before Legolas stormed in the king's room, effervescing with excitement.

"Here is your crown. I also brou-"

"Laddy, we are going through a really important conversation."

"And what would it be?" Legolas asked Aragorn, eyeing him worriedly.

"Children, mellon nin, Children."

Legolas stared, uncomprehending.

"What about children? Is anything wrong with them?" Legolas softly asked.

" Having children, laddy," corrected Gimli,"You know, making a family of your own."

The elf nodded in comprehension. A silence followed all three deep in thought. Aragorn shifted on his seat before breaking the silence:

"Well, I will have your idea considered, Gimli. Though I do not have much skill with names."

"We knew that, Strider." Legolas friendly mocked with a wide smirk.

Aragorn stared at his friend in annoyance, then remarked:

"You know that this happens to be the new royal lineage's name? The house Telcontar, Legolas, should not be thus mocked."

Legolas cleared his throat to stiffen his laughter.

"Of course... My apologies."

Aragorn stared at the elf in silence, ready to react at any insulting behavior. Which came soon enough. Legolas found himself unable to hold a giggle that escaped his lips.

"Are you laughing at the royal kin's name?" Aragorn asked, "Well, if I lack of skill and choose names so badly, do you have any worthy proposition?"

Legolas' expression turned to concentration as he sought for a proposition.

"Well?", Aragorn asked triumphantly.

"Be patient," Legolas argued, "I am thinking."

A long silence settled in the room as Legolas searched his mind for a name worth his friend's child. Then there it was, crafted in his mind, ready to be told for the first time.

"What about Eldarion?"

"Son of the Eldar? Legolas, don't be ridiculous."

"It makes sense", interjected the elf.

Gimli, visibly annoyed by the fact that he had no place in the conversation, pulled out the pair from their moment.

"Well I suggest that you get ready Aragorn, being late at a wedding ceremony brings bad fortune."

Legolas raised his eyebrows before muttering to himself.

"Ai, Elbereth, will I ever understand dwarven superstition..."

He wished that he would not, actually, for his dwarf friend was full of surprises he loved to discover every day.

"He is right, Aragorn," Legolas advised,"here put your crown on."

"For the Valar's sake, Legolas. For the third time, I will not wear a crown at my wedding! " Legolas then grabbed the crown and threw himself on his friend, attempting to fit the royal heritage on the man's head. Both fell in loud laughter, Aragorn fighting hopelessly while he could only see golden strands waving about. In their frenzy, they did not realized that the crown of Númenor was now rolling slowly through the bars of the balcony...

No. He would have known. Aragorn would have written to him, invited him to see his first child.

If Eldarion was in fact, his first child.

Legolas swiftly walked to the first door he saw, before being called by the guide.

"My lord Beriadan, a room has been prepared for your purpose. If you would follow me."

The guard then resumed his walk down the corridor, before turning to face a door on his right.

"If there is anything that you may come to need, you can simply ring the bell and a servant will be at your service. Enjoy your stay."

Eldarion spoke sympathetically, not to say familiarly.

He turned to leave, but interrupted his movements as the confused elf addressed him.

"Please excuse me for being intruding if I am to be," Legolas started, "But your face seems to have, um... Familiar features. Which makes me ask myself of your lineage, could you perhaps enlighten me?"

The guards expression seemed to turn to compassion before he replied.

"I am Eldarion, son of king Elessar."

Legolas restrained his emotions as best as he could.

He had missed the birth of his best friend's child.

He had not seen him grow and had not seen Aragorn's fatherhood grow with him.

If the king's son now seemed to be in adulthood, how long had he been gone?

The next moment, Legolas caught himself asking the young man where he could find Aragorn. The corridors seemed to last an eternity as he followed the prince to his best friend. As they came face to face with two large doors of dark wood, Eldarion gestured Legolas to enter and left, understanding the need for privacy. The elf stepped forward and faced the door for a few seconds before knocking so softly he did not believe he would be heard.

But he was.

"Come in." Simply said the king's voice as if his best and most missed friend was not on the other side of the door.

Legolas found his hand shaking as he put it on the doorknob. He drew in a deep breath, without managing to even identify all the torrents that waged within him. He felt guilt for not having tried harder. After all, had he been so busy? He felt angry. Angry about the fact that he had not heard a word of him and had not given any from himself either as all those years passed under their separation. He felt fear, fear of not being forgiven.

Or of being forgotten.

Never had Legolas let his feelings restrain what had to be done, which was probably the only reason why he finally twisted the doorknob and push the heavy door.

Though not as heavy as his eyes, that were automatically fixed on the stone floor as if drawn to it by some unknown force. He fought to raise them and finally succeeded, to see his friend, sitting calmly with his back to him, finishing some sort of paperwork.

The elf could see silver strands in alarming quantity in his friend's hair. His breathing, that he tried desperately to keep quite, accelerated dangerously as the urge to run away grew within him. Of course, he would stand his ground, face his mistakes, and be true to his foolishness. How could he let such a thing happen? That was the treacherous gap when immortals and mortals bonded. Time would be nothing for one and everything for the other. As much as Legolas knew of time, he had never realized the strength of its grasp on men until now. In barely an eye blink, their stories could completely change, and there was no turning back if you had missed it.

"Yes?"

Aragorn spun on his seat to greet his guest, and froze as he discovered his identity. His grey eyes met the ocean blue ones he knew but too well. He realized how much he had missed those eyes, craved to look into them and find the trust he could get nowhere else.

Then the anger came.

And they meet at last.

Elvish=

Hir nin: My lord

Elbereth: Also known as Varda, she is the Valar of the stars.

Meleth nin: My love

Eldarion: Son of the eldar

Elessar: Elfstone