Aragorn stood waiting with anxious excitement at the damaged gates of Minas Tirith. Beside him was Hasufel, who shook his head and rattled the reins that the Man held in his hand. "Patience, my friend," soothed Aragorn, not able to contain his smile. "They'll be here soon."

Hasufel stamped his foot. "I won't go to the coronation until my family gets here," Aragorn argued stubbornly. "Besides, I'm the one being crowned; I don't think they can start the ceremonies without me."

The horse merely snorted. "The Valar save me from judgmental horses!" said Aragorn, thoroughly exasperated. "I won't be late."

"Are you really that lonely, Estel?" asked a familiar – and long-missed – voice.

Aragorn spun around to see Elladan and Elrohir perched on top of their horses. "Perhaps, dear brother," smirked Elrohir to his twin, "Estel has no one else to argue with."

"If that is the case," said Elladan as he dismounted, followed quickly by Elrohir, "I'd say we've arrived just in time. It's a lot more fun to argue with brothers than with horses."

"I don't know," teased Aragorn, secretly relieved at how easy and natural it was to banter with his brothers even after so much had happened and changed. "I think I've had more intelligent conversations with Hasufel here than I ever had with either of you."

"Only because you two are so well-matched intellectually," shot back Elladan with a merry laugh.

"Enough!" cried Elrohir, though he was laughing himself. "If we continue on like this you really will miss your own coronation, Estel."

"Coronation and wedding," added Elladan as the twins engulfed their younger brother is a gigantic hug. "It's good to see you again, you hairy little brat," he added in a tearful whisper.

"We were both so worried about you," piped in Elrohir, squeezing Aragorn's head in a hug.

"Oh, for Elbereth's sake!" scolded Elrond as he too rode through the gateway. "Don't smother your brother on today of all days."

Aragorn breathed a sigh of contentment at the sight of the elf lord. He broke out of the twins' embrace and ran forward, grabbing the reins of Elrond's horse. "I'm so glad you're here, Ada," he said.

Elrond smile was a little wistful at first as he was reminded of when his son was a child; he'd always grabbed the reins of his horse when he came to greet with abounding enthusiasm, even when he'd only been gone for the afternoon. 'Today is not the day to long for things that can never be again,' he thought as he jumped down from his horse to embrace his youngest. "I wouldn't miss this for the world," he told Aragorn firmly. "I'm so proud of you, Estel."

"Even though he was really slow to get here," interjected a grinning Elladan.

"I got here after you two," replied Elrond sternly, turning to the twins, "because I, unlike you, was polite enough to stay with our traveling party. Really now, even if you believe that you don't owe such a courtesy to our own household, you should really show more respect to our guests! What must your grandparents and the group from Lothlorien think of such behavior? Or King Thranduil and the host from Mirkwood, for that matter?"

Aragorn froze. "King Thranduil?" he repeated, not sure if he was ready for this. It had been years since he'd seen the elven king. Would he be furious at him now that Legolas was mortal? Would he try to take his son out of the city? "Where is –"

"I am right here, Aragorn," said Thranduil, his voice betraying no emotion, good or bad, as he rode up next to Elrond's horse.

"I – I," stuttered Aragorn a little. He just couldn't think of anything powerful enough to say that would impress on Thranduil how much he loved Legolas! "I'm sure that you'd like to see Legolas right away," he finally said. "The gates were damaged in a battle, so I'm afraid that no guard can be spared to escort you to him. However – Bergil!"

A young boy who'd been standing nearby, gawking at the elven host, bounded over with nervous enthusiasm. "Yes, my lord?" he asked.

"Do you know in which chamber the Prince Legolas is preparing for this day's events?" questioned Aragorn.

"Yes, my lord," repeated Bergil, nodding emphatically.

"Excellent," declared Aragorn with a smile. "This is King Thranduil of Mirkwood, the prince's father. Will you escort him to where the prince is?"

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Bergil excitedly as his chest puffed in importance. "Would you like me to take care of your horse when we get there, master elf – um, lord elf – no, king –"

"I will not be riding up there," interrupted Thranduil, trying to hide his amused smile. "I have been riding for many days now. It would feel very nice indeed to walk for awhile."

"I'll see to it that your horse is cared for properly," promised Aragorn as Thranduil dismounted. He paused for a moment before continuing. "I'm glad that you've come. Legolas has missed you terribly and it means a lot to the both of us that you chose to be here."

"I thank you," Thranduil replied. His voice and face remained expressionless, but Aragorn could see in his eyes something that he thought he'd never get from Mirkwood's king: approval. "I must say that you have met and exceeded even my loftiest expectations. You will make a fine king – and husband."

Leaving a blushing but thrilled Aragorn with his family, Thranduil followed Bergil though the streets and levels of Minas Tirith. They'd walked in silence for a good while before the boy finally spoke. "Sire? Are you really Prince Legolas' father?"

"Indeed I am."

"He's really something," Bergil told him, his voice full of awe. "I've actually seen him a lot more than most of the other people who didn't march with the Host since I ran errands for the healers after the battle and he was in the Houses of Healing a lot to visit. He's really, really beautiful, if you don't mind my saying."

"I don't mind your saying at all," assured Thranduil, a well-practiced response to an often-voiced opinion. "A father never minds hearing people compliment his child if those who give the compliments are sincere and pure. You are not the only one to have that opinion of him; in fact, he is known as the Sun Star among the elven people."

"Prince Sun Star," repeated Bergil thoughtfully. "Yes, that does suit him well, doesn't it? And all the stuff he's been through too! I've heard that he's endured an avalanche on Caradhas, then went through Moria and into the Golden Wood. That was before he went to Rohan and Fangorn Forest, and helped fight against 10,000 uruk-hai before going to Isengard! Not to mention going through the haunted mountain to fight the corsairs, going up the river to the battle here in their boats, and then on to the Black Gate itself! What a fantastic adventure! Well, here we are."

Bergil hadn't noticed the way Thranduil's face had drained of its color as he recounted Legolas' perilous journey. "Thank you Bergil," he said in a slightly shaking voice. "You may go now."

With a dramatic bow, Bergil departed. Thranduil took a deep breath and knocked on the door before him. "I ate!" he heard his son call from within. "Stop fussing, Gimli!"

"Is that any way to greet your father?" he called back.

"Ada?" The door was thrown open and Legolas stood before him, alive and well despite all of the dangers he'd faced in the past months. "Ada, I'm so happy you're here!" he cried, flinging his arms around his father.

Thranduil held his son as tightly as he could, realizing that he'd never let himself dare to believe that he was indeed safe and happy until that moment. "My Little Greenleaf," he sobbed in relief as the tears fell from his eyes.

"Why the tears?" teased Legolas gently, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Oh, come inside before someone sees and everyone's talking about the two elves weeping in public. There are a lot of, um, observant Men in Minas Tirith."

As he came inside and shut the door, Thranduil got the first good look at his son that he'd had in months. Legolas looked even more beautiful than he'd remembered. It wasn't because of his fine elven clothes, or that his silver-blue tunic seemed to make him glow all the more. There was something different about him; something less tangible. It wasn't his obvious joy, as he'd seen his son happy on several occasions. Then he understood – his son was now filled with a sense of peace that was clear to see in his expression. "You are content," he observed.

"I am," Legolas confirmed with a serene smile. "For a very long time, even before I met Aragorn, I always felt like I was either tied to the ground, blowing in the wind, or else receiving only temporary reprieves from my life and teasings about the way things could be. But not now, Ada; I know I'm where I belong – I can feel it." His face clouded over slightly. "Please be happy for me."

Thranduil looked him straight in the eye. "I am happy for you, Legolas," he said, and he meant it. "I will not pretend that it does not break my heart to be parted from you, but I would rather you be happy and lost to me than to stay with the elves and be miserable."

"You don't know if I'll be lost to you," replied Legolas quietly. "Perhaps it will only be a longer time than it would have been before we see each other again."

The elven king took his son in his arms again. "In that case, I won't be as grieved," he murmured, squeezing tightly. "Come now," he continued, releasing Legolas, "there shall be no talk of grief and despair today. You are almost ready to be married."

Legolas frowned. "Almost?"

"Yes, almost," Thranduil told him in a light scolding tone. He reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out the circlet of mithril that Legolas had always worn at Mirkwood's court functions. "You are still the prince of Mirkwood, even if you are going to remain in this city of Men. It is only fitting that you wear your crown."

"Yes it is," affirmed Legolas with pride as his father carefully positioned the circlet on his head. He was just finished straightening it when there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" the elf prince called.

"Four hobbits, coming to get you for the ceremonies!" Pippin's voice called back.

Grinning, Legolas opened the door. "Greetings, my friends," he said warmly. "Ada, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Frodo Baggins – Bilbo's heir – , Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took –"

"But we're mostly called Merry and Pippin," interjected Pippin.

"– and this, my dear hobbits," continued Legolas, "is my father, King Thranduil of Mirkwood."

"Mae govannen, your majesty," greeted Frodo as he and his kinsmen bowed. Thranduil nodded in acknowledgment and greeting.

"Gandalf sent us to let you know that the coronation's about to start," Sam informed him. "You sure look pretty, Mr. Legolas, if you don't mind my saying. You've never looked so, well, elf-like before."

"Thank you, Sam."

"We brought Arod up so you could ride him there, if you want," chimed in Pippin. "He looks pretty too, with his mane and tail all washed and brushed."

"Pippin!" scolded Merry in embarrassed horror, seeing Thranduil's eyebrows shoot up at the comment. "It's not proper or polite to compare how Legolas looks with how his horse looks!"

"I didn't!" replied Pippin indignantly, but his face fell a little as he repeated his comment in his head. "Well, I didn't mean to..."

"Don't worry, Pippin," assured Legolas, smiling warmly at the little hobbit and the memory he'd just evoked. "I know what you meant to say and you're not even the first person to compare me to my horse. There was one other that I know of."

"And where is he now?" asked Pippin nervously, throwing a glance at Thranduil.

"I cannot say for certain," replied Legolas, having to bite back laughter at Pippin's expression. "But I suppose I'll find out when I marry him today."

To be concluded...

A/N: This story has now has over 300 reviews! Thank you so much to everyone who's taken the time to review; it means so much to me.