Diclaimer: I took three lines from this chapter straight out of the Aragorn/Arwen part of the appendicies. They were, of course, originally written by Tolkien and I take no credit for them. One of the lines, the one that Elrond says in elvish, was modified slightly and may be worded incorrectly.

Later that night, Aragorn slept restlessly on his cot with Legolas in his arms. After finding out about his lover's mortality, he had been reluctant to leave him alone and Legolas patiently agreed to stay in the tent for the night. Luckily, few of the Rohirrim noted that the elf was in there and Gimli stopped by only to glare as furiously as he could in warning that things should not get carried away in a fit of emotion. Aragorn stayed awake for a long time just watching Legolas sleep, his eyes still open - still an elf, despite being mortal. Sleep was no more restful than being awake when he finally drifted off.

Clutching Legolas tightly, Aragorn had the same dream over and over again. In it he was lying on a stone block dressed in all the grandeur that was due to the king of Gondor. His hair and beard were silver gray and lines of age surrounded his closed eyes. He was dead, he realized, and in coming to death had become an image of the splendor of the kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world.

Legolas, dressed all in black, stood next to him. His clothing was in the fashion of the Men of Gondor but he was wearing the circlet of mithril that he wore when he attended court functions in Mirkwood. It seemed like he hadn't aged at all. His grief, however, was heartbreakingly plain to see. As crowds of people in mourning passed by Legolas stayed as still as a statue next to Aragorn's dead body.

The dream changed. Legolas was still there in his funeral attire, but now he was walking through the forest of Mirkwood. The elves had obviously left that place a long time before and the forest had grown over what was left of their settlement. He finally came to a stop in a meadow; it was, Aragorn realized, the same place in which Thranduil had caught them kissing those many years before. There Legolas laid down and died alone. His face was gray and cold, like nightfall in winter that comes without a star.

Aragorn started awake with his knife in his hand. Whether it was to defend himself and Legolas from whoever just walked into the tent or to chase off the shadows of that dream he wasn't sure. It wasn't necessary anyway, since the intruder was only a startled young Rohirrim soldier.

To his credit, the youth neither commented on Aragorn's aggressive greeting or on the sleeping elf in bed with him. "The king wishes to see you, my lord," was the only thing he said before leaving quickly.

Aragorn climbed out of bed as quietly as he could, careful not to disturb his lover, and stumbled to Theoden's tent. He couldn't get that dream out of his head. 'Is it a vision of what I've doomed Legolas to?' he wondered. 'Must he now endure the grief and despair of outliving those he loves who are mortal and being abandoned by those he loves who are immortal? All alone...'

Entering Theoden's tent, he was surprised to see the king conversing with a figure dressed in a black robe. A hood obscured the visitor's face but whoever it was had clearly spooked Theoden. The instant Aragorn walked in, the king of Rohan simply said, "I take my leave of you now." With one brief, hard glance, he was gone.

Aragorn didn't have time to wonder what was going on before the cloaked figure rose and removed his hood. "Ada!" cried the man, too stunned to move.

Elrond smiled fondly but wistfully at him. "Mae govannen, ion nin," he said softly. "I come to you on behalf of both King Thranduil and myself."

"King Thranduil?"

"He came to see me," replied Elrond. "The Lady Galadriel traveled in much haste to Mirkwood to tell him of Legolas' mortality."

Guilt filled Aragorn as he remembered the vow he'd taken before Thranduil all those years ago. "What does he want to do?" he asked.

"There is nothing he can do," Elrond said, looking at Aragorn sadly. "At least, there is nothing that can bring the life of the eldar back to Legolas. A mortal cannot become immortal. All he can do now is request that you do all that is in your power to triumph over Sauron and keep your promise to him that you will renew Gondor to the pinnacle of its splendor for his son to dwell in."

"I will lead these Men to victory," vowed Aragorn, feeling much less confident than he sounded. "We will ride out at dawn."

"The enemy is closing in on Minas Tirith," the elf lord told him sharply. "You don't have enough Men to defeat the armies of Mordor, and there is also a fleet of corsairs of Umbar to contend with. You need more Men to be victorious."

"Where can I find some?" Aragorn shot back in frustration. "No more will come."

"None from Rohan," agreed Elrond darkly. "But there are some who will come. You must call on the army that dwells under the mountain."

A chill ran down Aragorn's spine. He could almost see the decaying face of the dead king who commanded that cursed force. "They are traitors and murderers," he protested. "They answer to no one."

"They will answer to you," promised Elrond. "They will answer to the king of Gondor." He pulled a sword out from his cloak in one fast, smooth motion. "This is Anduril, the flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil. I should have given it to you before you set out from Rivendell. I apologize, my son, but I was afraid. I thought I was protecting you from Sauron's eye but all I was doing was delaying the inevitable until it was almost too late. Receive this blade now and take the Paths of the Dead."

Aragorn took Anduril and unsheathed it. The blade almost reached the ceiling of the tent. "The only way you can save Middle Earth and your own future is to put aside the ranger and become who you were born to be," Elrond declared.

Aragorn reverently sheathed Anduril again and hugged Elrond. "Thank you, Ada," he whispered. "I will get my horse ready to set out right now."

Elrond followed his son out of the tent and watched him vanish into the night. "Onen i-estel Edain. U-chebin Estel amin (I give hope to Men. I have kept no Hope [Estel] for myself)," he whispered painfully. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he felt someone's gaze on him. Elrond turned to see Legolas standing a few feet away.

"Lord Elrond," the elf prince greeted him softly. "What brings you here?"

"Legolas," replied Elrond gently. "Your father sends you all his love."

"He knows, doesn't he?" asked Legolas, not bothering to specify what he was referring to.

"Yes," Elrond told him. "The Sun Star may have passed to the world of Men, but Prince Legolas of Mirkwood must still represent the elves in this matter. I brought the sword of the kings to Aragorn; I bring you something now."

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Aragorn had just finished preparing Hasufel when another cloaked figure approached him. Thinking it was his father coming to see him off he turned hastily and saw that it was not Elrond but Eowyn. As she hurried forward, he could see the reason for the disguise: she was wearing a shirt of chain mail and had her sword strapped to her side. "What is it, Eowyn?" he asked.

"I know you must leave," she stated simply. "I'm going with you."

"Eowyn!" sputtered out Aragorn, who was nearing exasperation. "I don't..."

"This has nothing to do with that!" she shot back. "I know you don't love me and I accept that. But I also know that if you don't take me with you now then I'll be sent back to Edoras. What deeds of renown and importance can I do for my people if I'm sent away from the battle?"

"You don't have your uncle's leave to come with me," said Aragorn. "Nor would he give it if either of us asked. A time may be coming for brave deeds without renown; in Edoras you may have to lead your people in their last defense should the battle go ill."

Eowyn's shoulders sagged a little. "So," she said irritably, "I am to go back and hide in Meduseld. If the battle is won, I can live with the shame that I didn't do my part. If the battle is lost, I can burn in the Golden Hall when the enemy's forces move westward since those who are deemed truly important won't be needing it anymore. You told me once that you thought my fate would be something other than being caged. Did you ever mean it?"

"I am not your way to freedom, Eowyn," Aragorn told her hurriedly, wishing he had the time for explanations and kindness. She backed away from him as if he'd threatened to strike her. "I'm sorry," he continued, forcing his voice to be more gentle. "I cannot give you what you seek." With that he led Hasufel away and never looked back.

The road to the mountain was in his sight when a gruff voice called out: "Where do you think you're going?" It was Gimli, sitting hidden in the shadows as if waiting for him. Which, Aragorn noted with some resignation, was just what he was doing.

"Maybe," the dwarf continued, "the better question would be where do you think you're going alone?"

"I'm going to the mountain alone," Aragorn answered with stubborn firmness. "You must stay behind with Legolas."

"Do you know nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" asked Legolas as he came up beside him with Arod. "It rivals the stubbornness of elves. What makes you think that I'm going to stay behind?"

"I thought you trusted my instincts."

"I do trust in them, but I'm not about to let you go off into peril alone because you're feeling guilty," replied Legolas in exasperation. His face softened. "Your father told me everything. He also gave me this."

In his hand was a box containing an elven crown. It looked like it was woven from pieces of gold that curled elaborately at the ends. Delicate sides that would hug the wearer's face came out from behind. Legolas smiled as recognition and awe spread over Aragorn's face. "The sword of Elendil is going into battle," the elf said. "It's only fitting that the last crown of Gil-Galad goes with it."

"I may not have an ancient sword or crown," piped in Gimli, his tone making it clear that there would be no arguing with him, "but I won't be let you go charging off into danger without me. Face it laddie; we're going with you."

To be continued...

A/N: Gil-Galad had a famous spear; it might have been more correct to have Elrond give Legolas that instead of the crown but the spear is too big and Legolas doesn't strike me as a spear kind of a guy anyway.

I'm posting this chapter a little earlier than usual because I'm moving tomorrow. Someone is supposed to come tomorrow afternoon to give me an internet connection, so I'll be able to keep on schedule. I just didn't want to be worrying about posting something tomorrow when I'll most likely be dead tired.