Legolas had slipped from unconsciousness to sleep, without passing through Elven dreams. He had not dreamed them for quite some time. They contained all the beauty of old, and something more. The sea had entered his dreams, a pulling, tugging force which beckoned him with such eloquence Legolas thought he must obey, or be driven insane with desire.

The sunlight was warm on the bed as he lay, now awake but with eyes still closed. Legolas felt a surprising level of well-being. But Gondor was the last place on Middle Earth which held a living tribute to Elvenkind. The Men of Gondor did not forget them, and Arwen, though stripped of Immortality, did not forget the Elven songs and joys of old.

Legolas smiled slightly, feeling comforted by even the echo of his race. The doubts and rage which had plagued him last night vanished like footprints in tide-washed sand. His thinking was clearer, and the pain in his leg had nearly subsided.

Aragorn did not miss the smile which told him the Elf was awake.

"Legolas," he said, joy filling his voice. Until he had seen him, Aragorn did not realise how much he had missed his friend.

Legolas' eyes opened, and his gaze went straight to Aragorn's face.

"It's been some time," he replied.

"Too much time," agreed Aragorn.

Legolas eyed him sharply, noting the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

"You look terrible," he said frowning.

Aragorn barked a short laugh.

"You're hardly fit to speak!" he retorted, looking down at the injured Elf.

Legolas grinned ruefully, but refused to be sidetracked.

"What ails you, Aragorn? Caruon was right – Gods," Legolas broke off, eyes widening in remembered shock. "Aragorn…Caruon's dead….Wargs attacked us, and…."

Aragorn moved his hand; a slight gesture of dismissal. "I know that, Legolas," he said, voice suddenly remote. He turned and stared hard at Legolas, and it seemed to the Elf that his friend's eyes were the blue of the sea for a moment, before changing back to grey.

Aragorn sighed, and bowed his head with sorrow and respect for the dead. "He was a good man," he said. "The best."

The two sat in silence for a while.

"Are you well, Aragorn?" Legolas asked finally.

Aragorn was quiet for a little while longer before answering. "I am. It is you who I am concerned for, Legolas. My dreams are full of your pain. A warning grows in my heart." He paused, and their eyes met. "I do not believe it is safe for you to remain in Middle Earth any loner. You must sail for the West without delay."

He had summoned Legolas, so that he could give this warning to him. Why, now, did it taste so bitter as he spoke the words?

Legolas gasped as he had been struck. "West?" Twin desires pulled at him.

Aragorn forced himself to be strong. He could do this, for Legolas. He could, no matter how much it hurt.

"You are the last Immortal on Middle Earth, Legolas. The last link to the power of the past Ages. The light of an Elf could achieve much, if used in the right fashion."

Legolas frowned. "How do you know this?" He had felt nothing of this threat in all his journeys.

"It is enough that I know it!" snapped Aragorn, suddenly angry. "Heed my warning and leave, Legolas, before you bring darkness and worse upon –" Black lightning struck his vision, bringing the same agony of the night before.

DO NOT SPOIL MY GAME, NOW.

Aragorn sucked in his breath raggedly, and reached out blindly for support as the world fell from beneath his feet.

Legolas caught him as he stumbled, strong arms holding Aragorn tight.

Slowly, like ink draining from a glass, the darkness left Aragorn's vision, and he could see again.

"Aragorn," said Legolas softly, concern marking his features.

"Later," said Aragorn hoarsely. "I will explain it to you later. Be at the entrance of the Grove in an hour's time. There is a…meeting…that I must attend to now." He removed himself from Legolas' hold, and strode out of the room.

Legolas stared after him, helpless and worried.

*****

The Grove had been planted to help remember the forests of the Elves. Both Aragorn and Arwen missed them, and neither were truly satisfied with this imitation.

Legolas did not need the comparison to his ancient home to love the trees that grew here. He loved all trees, Elven-tended or not, and these young trees spoke eagerly and joyfully of tomorrow.

It had been more than an hour since Aragorn had arranged to meet him, and though Legolas was not annoyed, he was worried. He heard footsteps, and turned to find Arwen coming to him.

She was still more beautiful than any other woman or elf, but Legolas' heart almost broke when he saw her. Her Elven light was gone, if not her air of ageless wisdom. Her skin was still smooth, but Legolas' Elven eyes say the tiny worn lines that started around her eyes and her mouth.

"Legolas!" she called to him merrily. "I have missed you so!" And abandoning dignity, she ran to him and hugged him close.

"You haven't changed at all, Arwen," he lied, stepping back to look at her closely.

Arwen laughed. "Flatterer. I have gotten older, and worn . I am mortal now, after all."

"Does the thought of dying scare you?" Legolas asked.

She shook her head. "Not while Aragorn is here, and not when he is gone, for life will be as death to me, then."

"Do you know why he summoned me, Arwen? For thirteen long years, I heard not a word from him, and suddenly, he tells me that I must sail West."

Arwen frowned. "I did not know he told you to go West. He has been acting strangely of late." She shook her head. "I cannot place it. He is distant, and when he is with us, his thoughts seem to be far away, or drawn deep inside himself. I am afraid that…." She took a deep breath. "Aragorn is mortal, Legolas, and born mortal. We have had one hundred and ten blessed years together. I am wondering whether if this is the extent of our blessing."

Legolas did not answer. A new fear, never before conceived, grew in his heart. Aragorn, old? He had not thought of it before. Aragorn, to him, seemed as ageless as the Elves, as lasting as the sea.

Arwen gave another small laugh, though this time it held no mirth. "But I knew that when I promised to cleave to him, and I would not change that if I could. It's just…I didn't know it would be so hard…." He voice cracked slightly, before she controlled it.

"There are new clothes laid out for you in your room, Legolas, so you may change out of these travelling clothes. We will be dining in less than an hour." Arwen smiled warmly at him before returning to the palace.

Legolas barely heard her. He had cursed his dilemma before, caught seemingly forever between two desires. He had never considered Aragorn growing old and passing from this life before he could chose, even as he realised he was a fool for ignoring what should have been obvious.

He was thinking so hard that he did not notice the silent figure creeping after him. A booted foot caught him solidly in the chest, and another kick snapped at the side of his head.

Legolas reached for his knife, when he belatedly realised that it was still lying at their camp by the sea.

Still, a weaponless Elf was not a defenseless one. Legolas blocked the next kick from his attacker – aimed low, to knock his feet out from under him – and sent one back at the man's head.

Aragorn grunted, then stepped smoothly back. Anduril suddenly gleamed in the sunlight.

Disbelief barely had time to fill Legolas before the blade slashed at his torso.

Deep blue eyes stared deep into his own, as Legolas sidestepped, and began fighting desperately, hand and foot against a merciless steel blade.