Meanwhile in Rivendell...

Elrond was sitting at a table in Rivendell studying a book of lore and just enjoying the beauty of the day when he sensed someone approaching from behind. He sighed inwardly; so much for his reading. It was Erestor, most likely, needing his attention on some household manner. Or else it was Glorfindel wanting to discuss the valley's defenses during this uncertain time. Maybe it was one of the twins, though he thought that unlikely as they were still resting after their return of the southern border patrol. He doubted it was Bilbo since the old hobbit rarely left his room anymore. Resigning himself to handle whatever problem that had occurred, Elrond turned and got the shock of his life.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood stood before him. It looked like he'd run a long way; his cheeks were red and his golden hair was filled with tangles and knots. Elrond's heart dropped when at the expression on his face: he looked as if he wasn't trying to show how much pain he was in after someone punched him in the stomach. "Has Narsil been reforged?" Thranduil demanded, not bothering with any formalities or explanations. "Does Aragorn have the sword of the kings?"

"How did you get here?" asked a baffled Elrond.

"Gwaihir the Windlord bore me here at Galadriel's request," he replied hurriedly. "Now answer my question: does Aragorn have the sword of the kings?"

"No."

"Why not?!"

Elrond's face flushed. "What business is that of yours?" he snapped. How dare Thranduil just barge into his realm and ask about things that weren't supposed to be common knowledge?

"It is time that he had it," Thranduil insisted softly. "You need to give him Narsil reforged."

"Oh, must I?" hissed Elrond sarcastically. This was getting ridiculous! "That would make Estel a nice primary target for the enemy, wouldn't it? That would solve your problems. He'd have to stay away from your son if he were dead."

Thranduil's face pinched as the pain he'd been holding back came through in full force. "Legolas is the reason why I came," he said, sounding defeated. "Aragorn needs Narsil if he is to become king and restore the kingdoms of Men. Then they can be together in splendor and peace."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" asked Elrond disbelievingly. "Why is a future with Estel suddenly what you want for Legolas?"

"Legolas is mortal now," Thranduil told him, breaking down in sobs. He knew but saying it out loud made it feel all the more real and the pain was almost unbearable.

"What?" gasped Elrond, helping the devastated elf to a seat at the table. "How can this be?"

Thranduil sucked in some air, trying to steady himself enough to answer. "I found out two days ago," he choked out. "Gwaihir brought Galadriel to Mirkwood..."

Flashback

Thranduil was constantly busy dealing with the orc attacks on his realm as well as on the town of Dale and the Lonely Mountain. Any second not spent on defenses was devoted to worrying about his Little Greenleaf. How he wished he had some news on his son's well being and whereabouts! No, how he wished Legolas had never left Rivendell on some suicide mission to Mordor. What had he been thinking, sending his son to that council in the first place?

The attacks were occupying every realm and under normal circumstances no one, especially not a ruler could be spared. That was one of the main reasons why Thranduil hadn't sent a troop out to retrieve his errant - and still underaged - son. That was also why the king was stunned when Galadriel showed up in Mirkwood on the back of a great eagle. He searched his mind for any reason urgent enough for her to come; she surely didn't expect that he could spare any troops for Lothlorien's defense!

"Mae govannen, Galadriel," he said, smiling with guarded politeness.

She looked at him with those penetrating eyes. "Mae govannen," she replied. "I have come to tell you of things that happened and cannot be undone."

The smile froze on his face. "What things?"

"Your child -"

"Legolas?" he interrupted frantically. The defense of his forest was suddenly unimportant - he was sending a troop out and if the entire realm burnt to the ground in the process, so be it. "What has happened to my Little Greenleaf? Has he been captured? Did the servants of the enemy do anything do him? Has he come to grief? Please tell me what has happened and where he is now! I will get him to a healer and if that doesn't help, I will take him to Valinor to recover."

"You cannot take him there," she said gravely. "The Blessed Realm no longer offers a haven to Legolas."

Thranduil's blood ran cold. ""What are you talking about?" he said in a shushed tone.

"Legolas is bonded to Aragorn now," she told him. "For his love he must forfeit his immortality. You know this must be the consequence of their love."

"I forbad them to marry!" snarled Thranduil, shaking with wrath. "Or has that man simply seduced my child and conquered him out of wedlock? Oh, I will see that, that Man disemboweled and beheaded for this! I'll burn Gondor to the ground, and any other realm that stands by that murderer!"

"Calm yourself!" scolded Galadriel. "They are not married, nor have they joined intimately. Do you think that is all that is required to create a bond of this magnitude? Nay, Thranduil; you can control who he marries and even who he is physically intimate with, but not who he loves. It is because of his love that he is mortal now."

"He's loved Aragorn for years," protested Thranduil, irrationally hoping that his arguments would somehow reverse what had happened. "Why has he suddenly lost his immortality now?"

"Because now he knows what it means to love a mortal," answered Galadriel. "He did not understand before. He could not, as he only had a vague notion of death and what it means for those who are not of the eldar race. Now he has seen death with his own eyes and experienced the grief of losing someone he loves. He knows what is asked of one who must love as Men
love and he has chosen to do so. That is why the bond has been forged."

Thranduil sunk to his knees, overwhelmed with her news and what the implications were. "I am sorry for you," she continued, looking at him with deep sympathy. "But there is nothing anyone can do to change this. Whether by your will or no, there is no ship now that can bear him hence."

End flashback

Elrond fell back in his seat, amazed and dismayed by Thranduil's account.

"My son is now bound to this land no matter what happens," said the king. "If that must be the case then I want to make sure he has everything here. I know Aragorn is an honorable man and any objection I had to him and their relationship before is moot now. I want them to have the future they've dreamed of and reforging Narsil is key to getting it."

"I can't," said Elrond desperately. "I'm sorry about Legolas, but I can't do that to Estel. If he carries that sword, Sauron will know he is Isildur's heir and he'll be dead."

"If Sauron is to fall, the world of Men needs its king," responded Thranduil. He smiled sadly at Elrond and empathy shone from his eyes. "I know you want to protect your son, but he is as bound to this land as mine is. You can't save him from himself; believe me about that."

He could see that Elrond's resistance was breaking. "And since we cannot give them Valinor," Thranduil continued, "can we not at least try to give them a chance to live life without the dominion of the enemy?"

Elrond nodded as the rest of his protests died in him. "It is time."

##############

Metal clanged as the elven smiths hammered the shards of Narsil. Just beyond the smithy stood a thoughtful-looking Elrond and Thranduil, who was lost in thoughts of despair.

"My brother Elros chose to be mortal," Elrond said suddenly.

"I know," replied Thranduil hoarsely. "He was the first king of the Numenoreans. Aragorn is a descendant of his."

"He built up the splendor of Numenor and then died," Elrond told him. "He didn't have to see it sink and the pride and dignity of his line almost die out. He didn't have to see the futility of his victories over evil. He doesn't have to lose three children to the mortality that I know in my heart that Elrohir and Elladan will chose. With each passing year and grief I feel more and more like he made the better choice when he chose to belong to the race of Men."

Thranduil didn't say anything at first. "He will pass away from this world," he finally said. "We'll lose them all, even beyond the world's ending."

"I don't know about that," whispered Elrond hopefully. "Eru isn't cruel. I can't believe we'll be forever separated from those we love. We must have faith that when we are all called to come together and since the great song we will see our children again." Thranduil replied only with a small, weak smile.

"Excuse me, excuse me," called out a voice. Thranduil and Elrond turned to see Bilbo rushing towards them as fast as his age would allow.

"Bilbo!" exclaimed Elrond. "I'm surprised to see you out and about."

"I heard that King Thranduil was here," explained Bilbo. "I just had to come and apologize for not coming to visit." He turned his attention to the wood elf. "Greetings Elvenking! I'm delighted to see you again."

"Hello Bilbo." Thranduil tried to sound cheerful, but his voice came out strained.

Bilbo frowned. "Why so glum?"

"I'm worried about my son," he told the old hobbit sadly.

"Legolas?" asked Bilbo. I met him here, when he came for the council. Such a good boy! He's in love with my friend the Dunedan." He paused, considering. "Is that why you're worried?"

Thranduil didn't think he had the strength to explain it all again so he only replied, "Yes."

"Well, I suppose it's a father's duty to worry about his child," offered Bilbo fondly. "Let me put your fears to rest now. The Dunedan - Aragorn, if you will - has been my dear friend for many years. He saved my heir Frodo from those Black Riders single-handedly at Weathertop. You have my word that he is a good man. Why, one only has to look at the two of them together to know that they love each other with all that they are. Don't worry; he will always be true and noble in his words and actions. I know it so well that I made it into a poem:

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost."


He paused again, this time to search his memory. "Oh fiddlesticks. I forgot the rest!"

"I remember it," said Elrond. He took a deep breath and recited as the clanging in the background continued:

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.


To be continued...

We'll get back to Aragorn and Legolas in the next chapter, I promise!

A/N: Chapter 22 was this story's most reviewed chapter yet! Thanks to all of my reviewers! I got a couple of questions too that I'll answer now:

(1) There was a little more confusion about Aragorn's age and how he could be 87 years old. He is NOT immortal; rather, he's a Dunedain (a race of Man that descended from the Numenorians) and those particular Men have longer lives. In the book, Aragorn lived to be almost 200 years old. If he's going to live to be that old then 87 for him would be like early-to-mid 40's for a normal human (the age Viggo Mortensen was when the movies were made). There's a scene in the extended version of The Two Towers that gets into this a little.

(2) There's been some question about why the people of Middle Earth are so comfortable with two males loving each other. Quite honestly, I never wanted to put something like homophobia in this. To do it, I'd have to elevate another character's importance so that it would mean something more than a minor annoyance since Legolas and Aragorn's love is strong enough to withstand the prejudices of people they don't really know. I only want emphasize the supporting characters that I like (such as Gimli and Eowyn). There's plenty of - and more valid - conflicts and objections to the romance in Legolas and Aragorn's fears and guilt and in Thranduil's worries without adding random hate. Long story short, the people of Middle Earth are open-minded and have bigger things to worry about.