Time and Again

Sometimes it's important to be there. Legolas is at the deathbed of Aragorn. Companion piece to Joined. Angst. POV. Post-Lord of the Rings

Disclaimer: I own my fingers.

Sometimes it's important to be there, at the end of all things. Aragorn was my closest friend, it is natural that I feel pain. But when you know this is going to happen, it's easy to prepare yourself.

I've watched him grow old, as I watched him grow up. Now, I'm watching him die.

It's so pitiful, to see that old man lying there and remember what he was. Those times on the Fellowship… are they now faded memories, Aragorn? Withered leaves?

He can't answer, he won't answer, but I know he desires this more than anything alive. Even Arwen.

I feel sorry for Eldarion who stands next to his mother; his face a mask, hiding his true grief. He wants to comfort his mother, more than any other impulse.

I feel sorry for Arwen, also. Her time upon this earth is over, but she chose this path and she must now walk upon it. Maybe she didn't realize quite how painful it would be. Aragorn will always be with her, but never truly again. Never truly in the sense that they touch, that they kiss, that they speak. She's bought herself into a half-life, Arwen.

And I, standing there isolated from the nobles of the court, tears are streaming down my face. Soon the flames will burn and it will be farewell. I step forward and take the old king's hand. He looks up at me and he's smiling, just about.

He gives me a weak pressure with his last strength and I step back, severing forever any connection between us. It's as though there had never even been one.

He knows I thought of him at the last, that I cared. That means more than the world to him and to me too.

I can go to the Havens in peace now.

There's a commotion outside the door and Gimli, last of the Fellowship left on this part of the earth flings himself in, as usual with a lack of decorum. He sees us all and stops, abashed, before taking a place by my side.

Someone steps forward, a young boy not much over fifteen bearing a lighted taper. Arwen gives a cry of muffled sorrow, and Eldarion is by her, holding her, letting her cry. We are silent, saying our farewells, saying goodbye.

The flames roar and the smell of Aragorn's body fills the air.

Then, he is gone. It is over.

-End-