I was drunk. Very drunk, in fact. I had consumed more alcohol in the past hour than I had ever remembered consuming in all of my life.

After my wonderful performance with Legolas, there wasn't much else I could do. Aragorn was no where to be found . . . not that I had looked very hard. And Legolas had disappeared as well. The only thing that hadn't disappeared was the pain inside of me. The horrible burning pain of rejection, anger and hurt. So I decided to do something to dull the pain, since I couldn't seem to make it go away.

So I got drunk. Raided Rivendell's wine storage and found some dwarvish ale that I had the distinct feeling someone, or maybe two someone's, had been hiding away for a rainy day. Well, a day couldn't get any rainier than the one I was having, so I took it upon myself to commandeer it, brought it to my room, and proceeded to get utterly intoxicated.

Not one of my best ideas, I'll admit, but it seemed like a good one at the time. Now, thanks to the ale I had consumed, every sensation had been reduced to a dull blur, which was better than before. Even the aspects of the room I was in seemed to blend together . . . the colors of the walls and floors, the soft noise of water running somewhere outside, light thumps signaling approaching footsteps . . .'Wait,' I thought dimly. 'Footsteps?'

In the back of my mind I heard a sigh and then a voice, although in my impaired state it took a while to register that the voice I was hearing belonged to Aragorn. "What do you think you are doing?"

My voice was biting . . . or atleast as biting as I could get it without slurring my words. "Trying to forget you."

Another sigh and I felt his strong hand rest on my shoulder. I hadn't realized he was so close and I inhaled his scent almost unconsciously. He smelled of the earth and spring breezes . . . I could just get lost . . .suddenly the hurt I had been feeling earlier didn't feel so dim and I quickly shrugged his hand off. The sheer effort that it took me to keep my words clear was utterly amazing, really. "Do not touch me."

I heard him walk over to the other side of the room, where a globe sat on a table. Soon the room was bathed with the yellow glow from the burning wick inside and I closed my eyes against the bright invasion. "I am sorry that I hurt you. 'Twas not my intention . . . I was trying to save you from that hurt, believe it or not. I did not want you hearing it from anyone else, nor did I want you to continue believing that a relationship between us was possible."

I flinched at his choice of words, for I had already been thinking that a relationship between us was not only possible, but actually happening. Silly me.

My eyes were still closed against the light, and I could hear him moving around, although I wasn't quite sure what he was doing. If I were sober, I probably would have told him to stop touching my stuff and get out of my room. His voice came again, softer this time. "You kept it? I cannot believe you actually kept it . . . "

I reluctantly opened my eyes to see what in the world he was talking about. It took some time for my eyes to focus on him but eventually everything became clear enough to make him out, standing in front of my dresser, holding something in the palm of his hand. I groaned and shut my eyes again, knowing immediately what he was referring to.

His steps were swift as he made his way across the room again to me, kneeling down in front of the chair I was sitting in so he was at eye level with my closed eyes. "You kept it." He repeated again.

I sighed, opening my eyes again to look reluctantly into his grey ones. "Yes, I kept it. Stupid of me, apparently."

In Aragorn's had was a simple yellow tulip, pressed and dried. I still remember the pains I had gone through to ensure that it dried perfectly, without breakage, carefully pressing it between the pages of my favorite book. Aragorn—Estel then-- had found it one day, when he was a child; the first bloom of the spring season. He presented it to me in such a solemn manner that I think I fell in love with him on that day—his fingers were still brown from the rich soil, his hair was matted to his forehead from playing all day, and his eyes were sparkling as he placed the flower carefully in my lap.

I reached out and carefully fingered the faded yellow petals, the feeling still silky after all these years. "I am surprised you actually remembered that you gave it to me."

Aragorn closed his eyes and sighed softly, his head drooping a little. "I have made so many mistakes. So many. Can you ever forgive me?"

I took the flower from him and stood, managing not to sway, and walked away from him, my feet taking me out onto the balcony of my room. The cool night air refreshed my senses, and I could think a little clearer now. "Perhaps in time, Aragorn." I smiled, the look a bit ruthful. "I never really got used to calling you that. You were always Estel. My-Estel."

He comes and stands beside me, placing a gentle hand over my hand that held the flower. "I can still be your Estel. You were one of my first friends. One of those who looked past what I was—a human among elves—and saw who I could be. I have always loved you for that, and although it may not be the type of love you want, you will continue to be held in my heart."

I breathed in deeply, trying to figure out if I could accept that, if I could accept being second best to another. Finally, with a soft nod, I realized that I would have to if I wished to keep him in my life. He wrapped me in a gentle hug, and stayed with me that night, strictly so we could talk and catch up. And when he left again, to continue his work as the leader of the Rangers, I knew that he carried that same flower in his pack, wrapped in a cloth, for I had placed it there for him to find. As a reminder of days when he was an innocent child, trying, and succeeding, in impressing an older female into loving him.