The final part/Epilogue will be posted tomorrow, which is my deadline. Thank you for the feedback. Your encouragement has helped me with this challenge, and has given my inspiration/ideas to start another story after this one is complete.

Thank you Trin... God Bless my Beta.

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Legolas moved quickly along the river, trying to ignore the sounds of the battle. As much as he wanted to jump in and fight, his top priority was to find Aragorn, dead or alive.

"I hope he is alive," he muttered to himself, continuing along his path until the water rushed up and over his boots. He let out another cry, much shorter and not quite as full of pain as his first. It was a cry of complete dispair.

If he hadn't had his elvish sense of hearing, he never would have heard the choking gasp. Legolas turned, his eyes searching out the sound. It came to a figure wearing muddy boots, half dragged in the river.

Legolas moved quickly to the side of the figure and bent down. It was Aragorn. He quickly pulled the man from the water and propped him against the rock.

He gently tipped Aragorn's face to the darkness. "Aragorn, please. Wake up." The man's head fell heavy to the side.

The elf rose, his chest rising and falling as his heart raced. Aragorn looked terrible, his face bloodied and bruised, his eyes closed and swollen. "I need to get him out of here," he said to himself.

Legolas bent down and pulled Aragorn over his shoulder. "If I could give the world, I would give it to the King of Men. Give him my strength, my sorrows, my joy, and all that I have to give. Bring him back to life." His words eased into a soft elvish lament.

Aragorn didn't stir over his shoulder. Legolas could feel the weight of the human on his body. "Hold on, Aragorn," Legolas muttered as he moved gracefully to the edge of the hill and looked downwards.

The elves and what few men remained were engaged in a battle with the guarding orcs. Legolas quickly set Aragorn back onto the rock and took his curved, elvish knife. He turned, eyeing a possible attack when he could feel the air stop behind him. He turned his head slightly, crooking his knife.

He turned to attack the first orc which approached him. It was a quick cut to the throat. Legolas tossed the dead orc aside and fixed his gaze. The elves and humans were running back to the mountains, trying to trap the few orc that remained.

Legolas turned in anticipation back to Aragorn. But the moment his eyes laid onto the soft, pale face, his stomach froze. "No," he whispered, quickly moving to him. "Aragorn, no!" He quickly laid his head to the man's chest, listening for any signs of life. "He is fading."

His words were in desperation and he slapped Aragorn for the second time. "Please, wake up!"

But Legolas was strong enough to know when one was dead. And glancing at the lifeless form of the ranger, he knew that Sauron had cost him the life of his dearest friend.

--

He could feel the cold mists around him. He glanced about, trying to take in the aura of completeness he felt within himself. He could not remember how he had gotten to this place. All he knew was he felt a sense of innermost calm, almost like an inner peace.

He let out a long breath as he continued down the white path. An infinite expanse rested before him, covered in waterfalls, mountains, and sun-tainted leaves on large trees that fluttered in the wind.

Aragorn was confused now. Even though he felt he belonged there, he also felt that there was someplace else he needed to be. He stopped, his vision acutely aware of the light, of the sounds, of the purity.

It made no sense to him.

"Where am I?" he asked the still air. He turned briskly and tried to walk away, but saw nothing of the path he'd come from. "Why am I here?"

He lowered his gaze to a reflecting pool of water. He stepped over to it and glanced at his face. He was a youthful, handsome figure, he realized. He was not old, grey and stiff-boned, as so many men had he seen in his age.

Was he a man?

His questions went unanswered. Aragorn continued on the path, his mind growing more and more aware that wherever he was, he would not be leaving soon.

Almost like a whisper in the winds, he heard it. It was a soft, feminine voice. It was spoken in the ancient tongue. As he listened, the voice changed distinctly, becoming his tongue.

"You are passing into the great halls of Kings..."

"A King," he muttered to himself. "I am a King!"

Suddenly a flash of light hit before his eyes. A pure white light followed. He saw a tall elvish man, in a green cape, fighting with a curved knife. After his enemy had been killed, he turned back. His eyes were full of deep concern.

The flash came again. Aragorn fell to his knees, his hands covering his eyes. "Where am I?" His voice had more anger this time.

It was then there was a hand upon his shoulder. "Anirach, nui lu gwannad uin gwaith lin?" It was a soft, familiar feminine tone. He understood her completely.

"I have no intentions of leaving anyone behind," he replied quietly. The hand on his shoulder did not move, and provided a feeling of comfort.

"Boe ammen veriad lin..." the voice trailed off. "Telin le thaed."

"How can I protect you when I do not understand this?" He turned, anger brimming in his eyes until he saw the figure before him. She was elf, and he recognized her, with his entire heart. "Arwen."

She touched his face. "Shhhhhhhh."

There were tears in his eyes as he glanced into hers. "I ned ol reniannen?"

She shook her head as they both rose on their legs. "I have come to take you back to your reality."

"I have passed the light on to those that wait in darkness," he responded. "I have fought my battles, my wars, and my pride. I have completed my journey."

"You have given up," she replied, taking a step back. The stunned look in her eyes grew with every realization she took. "You have lost the faith I have given you."

"I will never lose that faith," he said, putting his own hand on her shoulder.

"Who will fight for them if the King of Man falls?"

"Arwen..." he turned his head away and stepped from her. "How can you ask me to return to a world that so desperately wanted me here?"

"It was never the intention for you to die," Arwen whispered sadly. "Many have given you the good grace and fortune of life. But you need to take it. You need to take the breath of life."

Aragorn turned back to her, a tear rolling down his cheek. "And you, will I see you again?"

"Our time will come." She stepped up to him, closing her hands around his. "Unto my promises, I hold. Estelio han. Estelio ammem."

He closed his eyes.

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The Elvish I used in this part is translated (sometimes roughly) as follows:

Anirach, nui lu gwannad uin gwaith lin? = Do you wish before it's time to leave your people?

Boe ammen veriad lin... = We need your protection

Telin le thaed = Come back to the light

I ned ol reniannen = Am I in a dream

Estelio han = Trust this

Estelio ammem = Trust us

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