'He's not going to kill me,' thought Aragorn desperately, trying to convince himself. He lifted his eyes to look at King Thranduil, how was sitting across from him, behind a desk, and watching him fidget. 'He's like a spider watching an insect that got caught in his web! No, don't think like that. He won't kill me, not if he wants to maintain peace with my ada. But Ada doesn't know where I am and no one knows when I'll be able to go back home! By the time he hears about anything, King Thranduil will think up a believable story and all that's going to be left of me is a skull on a stick that's used to warn people about what happens to those who touch his son! I'm going to die!'

"Well," said Thranduil, interrupting Aragorn's silent, panicked ramblings. "You know why I wish to speak to you."

"You want to know what I was doing with Legolas," he responded in a shaking voice.

"My wife hasn't been away for that long," said the king sarcastically. "I know what you were doing with my only child."

By the Valar, when did it get so hot in there? "You want me to explain why I was doing what I was doing with Legolas," Aragorn said timidly.

"Unless you are missing some essential body parts," replied Thranduil, still staring at the terrified young man, still not moving, "I also know why you were, as you put it, doing what you were doing."

'Okay, so he's not like a spider. He's like a cat, playing with a caught mouse before he tears it to bits.' Aragorn flushed. "You want to know my feelings toward Legolas."

"Now that I don't know," Thranduil said, his voice mingling sarcasm with condescension. "Though I daresay I could easily guess. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Aragorn steeled his nerves and looked the king in the eye. "I love him," he declared.

Thranduil didn't look impressed. "A lot of people think they love my son," he said dismissively, "but they don't grope him in a public place."

"They don't love your son," blurted out Aragorn.

That got Thranduil's attention. He gave the ranger a sharp look. "What do you mean by that?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

'This may be your only chance. Don't blow it!' Aragorn took a deep breath. "They love the Sun Star," he said, recalling Legolas' words. "Many admire him for his beauty the same way they admire Caradhras for its beauty; as something to admire only from afar. Others love the creature who sits quietly on that stool and smiles serenely at their songs and poems. They think he's always like that and don't bother to see beyond that mask. I love Legolas, not the Sun Star. I love how he teases me when I get too flustered, how he chooses the horses that are brown, or smaller, or more spirited, because he likes how they stand out. I know that smirk that he gets when he's pretending his archery targets are the people and things that are annoying him at the moment; the way he wrinkles his nose when he reads something fascinating; how he spreads his arms a little when he's surrounded by green, living things, like he's absorbing them into his body. I love his sarcastic nature and how his mind is still firing away even when he's silent. I know your son, my lord, and I love him. I'm in love with him."

Thranduil stared at him for a long time. "You are sure you're not just attracted to him because of his beauty?" he finally asked. "You don't want him just so you can have the glory involved with bedding the Sun Star?"

"He is very beautiful," Aragorn replied. "I do have eyes, and I 'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to him in that way. But no one can fall in love with someone for their beauty alone. Not in the way I'm in love with Legolas."

"I don't doubt that you believe you're in love, Aragorn," said Thranduil. "You seem like a true and honest man. I didn't believe such a thing still existed. I am sorry for you."

"Sorry for me? Why?"

The king sighed. He did look very sympathetic. "My son has yet to reach the age of majority," he told the man. "He still needs my permission to be with someone and I can't allow him to be with you. I cannot give your relationship my blessing."

Aragorn's blood burned and he forgot all about being civil and respectful. "Why?" he spat out. "Are all mortals not good enough? Or is it just me?"

"Do not take that tone with me," growled Thranduil. "It is true that the love of an elven prince is beyond the reach of all mortals, but that's not why I can't let Legolas be with you. Like I said, I don't doubt that you believe you love my son, and I'm sure he thinks he loves you, but what do you two know about love? Young love always feels intense and real, but almost always it withers as you get to know each other. How much time have you actually spent together?"

Aragorn fell silent.

"And even if this love stands the test of time," the king continued, "there are still complications neither of you have considered. You are mortal. To be with you, to be bound to you, Legolas would have to give up his immortality. What could you offer him in exchange for giving up the eternal peace and joy that Valinor offers? Would he have to live the nomadic life of a ranger, owning nothing but what he can carry on his back, facing the scorn directed at all rangers in the north? Or would he live in a hut in the wilderness where you would visit him every couple of years, when time allowed. Perhaps he would live in a dirty room in an inn, surrounded by drunks, and possibly worse. The very best you could offer is to live with him in Rivendell, among the shadows of things passed and abandoned homes that will remain when those who dwell there now depart for the Undying Lands. No, Aragorn; I cannot and will not give up Legolas to any man less than the king of a renewed Gondor and Arnor. Nothing less would do."

Aragorn's breath hitched. "I understand, my lord -"

The door crashed open and Legolas burst in, his fury evident on all his features. "You understand?!" he roared at Aragorn.

"What have I told you about listening at my door?" scolded Thranduil, looking only mildly surprised by his son's sudden entrance.

"I'm not just going to sit there like a piece of luggage waiting to be taken to wherever you two deem is best," snapped Legolas. "How dare you presume to dictate who I'm going to be with?"

"I dare because you are still underage," said Thranduil through gritted teeth. "The law of every land says that as a minor you need my permission to wed, or to do anything else that married people do."

Legolas ignored his father's response and turned his wrath on Aragorn. "And you!" he fumed. "How can you say that you're in love with me and then accept that we can't be together with an 'I understand'?"

"I am Isildur's heir," Aragorn said calmly.

"How could you not even try to put up a fight - what?"

Aragorn squared his shoulders. "I am Isildur's heir," he repeated, looking at the stunned look on Thranduil's face and the thoughtful one on Legolas'.

"Lord Elrond always sheltered the heirs of that line," said Legolas as understanding dawned on him. "That line is related to him through his brother Elros. I always thought you bore a passing resemblance to him..."

"I do love you, Legolas," Aragorn declared, "and I want us to do this properly, not like thieves in the night who are ashamed of themselves." He turned to Thranduil. "I will earn your blessing and your respect," he said. "It may take years to do so, but if becoming king of a renewed Gondor and Arnor is what it takes for your approval, then that's what I'll do."

Thranduil nodded. "I don't doubt it," he said. "However, that will take many years in the lives of men, if it happens at all. Several years will pass between the brief times you two can see each other. By the time you earn my blessing, you may find that your youthful love is gone."

Aragorn shook his head stubbornly. "My love is deep," he promised, and removed a silver ring from one of his fingers. "Ada gave me this ring when he claimed me as his son. It is dear to me, and I want you, Legolas, to have it as a token of my love."

Legolas smiled as he accepted it. "Thank you," he whispered. A look crossed his face. "One moment!" he shouted as he ran off. He returned a few minutes later with a green gem in his hand.

Thranduil started when he saw the green sparkle. "Legolas..."

Legolas firmly ignored his father and held it out to Aragorn. The man saw it was a cloak brooch marked with the impression of a leaf. "This is my greenleaf," he explained. "My mother gave it to Ada when they were courting. She said it combined her favorite decorations, the living leaves, with his love of gems. My father gave it to me when she left for Valinor, so that I would know why she wanted to name me Legolas. I want you to take it so that you always know I love you."

Aragorn's hands closed around the gem. "I will keep it with me as long as I live."

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Legolas sat in the meadow where his father caught him with Aragorn, fingering the ring that he wore on a chain around his neck. Three months had passed since Aragorn and the rangers departed and he still felt like he did that day, when he could no longer see their horses. He had no way of contacting him, and it wasn't like Aragorn would come across anyone willing to take a message into Mirkwood. Legolas' heart grieved to know that it might be decades before he even heard from his love again.

"A little greenleaf should not be so unhappy in a field as fair as this," a rich voice boomed from behind him.

Legolas turned, stunned. "Mithrandir?"

Mithrandir chuckled and sat down next to him. "Hello, Legolas," he said. "I've come to cheer you up."

Legolas smiled at him sadly. "Thank you," he said, "but I'm afraid only one person could do that."

"Ah, young love," replied Mithrandir. "I believe that this 'one person' you speak of is the same person who wrote this letter."

Legolas took the parchment that Mithrandir was holding out. It was indeed a letter from Aragorn! Mithrandir leaned in closer. "I must speak with your father," he confided. "Our meeting will last a day or two. Then I will return to the rangers of the north. Perhaps you'll have a letter of your own to send out by then."

"You don't know how much this means to me, Mithrandir," said Legolas.

Mithrandir waved his hand. "I'm merely playing my part," he told the elf prince. "As I told a child who cried himself to sleep eleven years ago, so shall I tell you know: what is meant to be will always find a way to be. Especially when there are wise and nosy wizards around to interfere."

To be continued...