A/N: Very sorry about the long wait. Things happened that pushed this to the back burner for a while. But now it's posted so y'all stop wasting time and go read.

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Chapter 38

T.A. 3019 March 23- Late Afternoon, Minas Tirith

Exhausted and battered beyond belief, the Host of the West returned home to Gondor. As the leaders of men rode through the previously shattered gate of the White City, the Tower Guard took up the call.

The Lords of Gondor had returned.

Boromir winced as the sound of the horns echoed in the square, grating on his nerves. Glaring up at no one in particular he grunted irritably.

"Once you are crowned, Aragorn…" Boromir started, trailing off with his words as he paused to catch his friend.

"Yes?" Aragorn asked, turning to Boromir with a small smile.

Having gained the older man's attention, Boromir finished with a growl, "Your first order of business MUST be to get rid of those bloody horns! They are really starting to grate on my nerves."

Aragorn chuckled, "Would you prefer flutes perhaps? Harps? Faramir yelling at the top of his lungs from the ship's keel?"

"They'd be quieter wouldn't they?" Boromir replied.

"True, but the point is for them to be heard," Aragorn said.

Shaking his head, Boromir sighed, "The issue here…is they ARE heard. Every time a high ranking lord rides in that bloody gate."

"I thought that was their purpose?" Eomer remarked from Aragorn's left, leaning forward in his saddle to look around the elder man at Boromir, "To let those in the upper levels know a visitor has arrived."

"Well, yeah, sure," Boromir relented slightly, "If you want to be a pain and get all technical on me."

Aragorn shook his head with a grin, "This from the same man who recited poetry in Lorien in regards to those very same horns."

"I was not reciting poetry!" Boromir protested, "And besides that was when Gondor was in danger. Now that she's safe I can go back to complaining just like I always did."

Before the conversation could go any further, the three lords' attention was drawn to the far side of the square as Faramir and Farothen rode towards them. Both Boromir and Eomer smiled upon seeing their loved ones. Aragorn met his son's gaze.

"Farothen, where is Legolas?"

The half-elf's smile was forced as he stammered, "He, uh…he's not here."

"Where did he go?" Aragorn asked, fully intending to go after his wayward husband to drag him back by his pointy little ear if necessary. It was often said that Legolas was the one in the relationship with the quick temper, but Aragorn could rage with the best of them when his fuse was lit.

And this would certainly be the proverbial match that lit the fuse.

"Farothen," Aragorn growled warningly.

"I don't know, Ada," Farothen sighed, "He didn't tell me."

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Somewhere between Gondor and Mirkwood w/ Thranduil and Legolas

Probably still along Rohan's border

"Are we there yet?"

Thranduil gave a low groan, rubbing the bridge between his nose and forehead where a headache with his son's name on it was starting to form. He'd had to answer the same question numerous times since setting out that morning. He was quickly reaching the end of his patience with his Little Leaf.

'Was it considered abuse to hog-tie and gag one's child?'

"No Legolas," he replied deliberately slowly, hoping the younger elf would take the hint and stop asking, "We are not there yet."

Several blissful moments of silence passed, longer than any previous stretch up to that point. But just when Thranduil was beginning to think he'd heard the dreaded question for the last time…

"Are we there yet?"

Unable to hold his temper any longer, Thranduil rounded on his son, "Legolas, I've answered that question repeatedly for the last 30 bloody miles! If you ask again I'll turn this whole party around and head straight back to Mirkwood!"

Apparently believing the threat, Legolas fell silent again and Thranduil sighed, facing forward again. He truly loved his son more than life, but he was two seconds away from following through with the urge to gag the younger elf.

"When will we be there?"

A chorus of moans rose from the escort at that. Thranduil let out a half sob and muttered some pretty vile Elvish curses under his breath, debating the kingliness of running for the hills screaming his fool head off.

"When you see a really big mass of white stone resembling a city, we'll be there!"

Seemingly satisfied Legolas nodded, concentrating on riding…for all of five minutes.

"When will that be?"

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'It was amazing how many ways one could be bored,' Boromir contemplated to himself. There was bored stiff, bored to death, bored to tears, bored out of your mind, bored rigid…

Boromir narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. Weren't rigid and stiff basically the same thing. If that was true, surely bored stiff and bored rigid were also the same. But in that eventuality, was there truly a need for both?

'If this is what I'm focusing on!' Boromir thought, 'I think I've reached a new level of bored!"

Aragorn hissed another stream of furious Elvish from where he was pacing a few feet away. Boromir turned to gaze at Farothen. The half-elf was sitting stiffly on the steps beside the Steward's chair where Boromir lounged…pretending to listen.

"What'd he just say?"

Farothen shook his head, "You don't want to know. Suffice to say, you would not want to be Adar when he returns."

"Ah," Boromir mumbled, looking back at his king, still speaking to Farothen, "I think you are right. I do not envy Legolas. Aragorn looks almost murderous."

Before Farothen could reply, Aragorn suddenly rounded on him and demanded, "How could you just let him leave, Farothen?"

Boromir cocked a brow as Farothen surged to his feet, but he otherwise remained silent. He'd learned in Lorien, when Legolas sent him tumbling, to remain at a safe distance when members of this family fought.

"What was I supposed to do?" Farothen snapped, standing toe to toe with Aragorn, "He's my father! I couldn't very well forbid him from leaving…I don't have that authority over him!"

Aragorn opened his mouth to reply, but when nothing proved forth-coming in the wake of Farothen's truthful argument, he gave a low growl and mumbled, "Well…you could have done something."

"I did," Farothen replied, accepting the unspoken apology in his father's tone, "I wasn't about to let him go alone. I made Haldir go with him."

Boromir chuckled to himself, "And I'll bet Legolas reacted so well to having a chaperone provided by his own son!"

Aragorn let out a breath as he glared at Boromir, not in the mood for the man's sense of humor. "Boromir, shut up." Although there was no real malice behind Aragorn's word since he had quite visibly relaxed.

"So he's not alone. Good. But he's still Elbereth knows where with only one elf to protect him from…"

His words cut off abruptly as the doors flew open. Three sharp gasps echoed when, of all people, Haldir walked in. Aragorn was across the few feet separating him and the Lorien elf in seconds, hands fisted in the elf's tunic.

"Where is he!"

Haldir let out a little squeak of shock, stammering, "I…uh…he's…um…"

"Haldir!" Aragorn snapped, "Where is my husband?"

Deciding to forgo speaking, and recognizing the familiar glint of rage in Aragorn's eyes, Haldir pulled a roll of parchment from his tunic pocket and held it up, barely managing to gasp, "Please…don't kill the messenger."

Wordlessly Aragorn grabbed the message and broke the seal, only vaguely recognizing the seal as Thranduil of Mirkwood's, as he unrolled the parchment. As he read Thranduil's message, he remained oblivious as Boromir and Farothen came up to read over his shoulders.

"He's okay. He's with Thranduil and a well-armed escort," Aragorn sighed after reading the message through twice. Only then did he notice his son and Boromir and he cocked a brow at them, "Do you mind?"

Farothen merely smiled innocently as Boromir responded with a careless shrug and drawled, "Not at all."

Haldir stood off to the side, moodily straightening his tunic, grumbling to himself, "This whole family is nuts."

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While Farothen and Boromir were stuck listening to Aragorn rant over his MIA husband, Faramir and Eomer escaped to the King's Garden to have a private talk of their own. The war was over, peace reigned and they could finally move one with their life together. Without thinking they had to hide their relationship from anyone.

Sensing that Faramir had something important on his mind, Eomer put a hand on the elder man's arm to stop him in the center of the garden, "What's on your mind, my jewel?"

"What makes you think I have something on my mind?"

Eomer tilted his head slightly, "You're quiet. I mean…more so than usual."

"Maybe I'm just enjoying the day," Faramir replied with a secretive smile, "The sky is clear of Mordor's shadow, I have my love by my side," there was a slight waver in Faramir's voice as he added, "Our babe slumbers safely inside me."

"Faramir, you can't fool me. I know…What?"

Faramir grinned as Eomer's brain registered his words, "I'm pregnant, Eo. I carry our son."

"You…we…"

The horse lord slowly sank to the ground, stunned. Sure he'd known at Helm's Deep it was possible, but to actually be confronted with the reality of impending fatherhood…it was mind blowing.

Worriedly Faramir knelt beside his lover, lightly patting the younger man's frighteningly pale cheeks, "Eo? Are you okay? Eo…please answer me."

Eomer shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around Faramir's announcement, "We're having a baby?"

"Are you not happy?" Faramir asked, his old insecurities kicking in.

If Eomer truly wasn't happy, Faramir fully intended to end what they had. His son would be loved. No way would he allow his little one to grow up the way he and Boromir had with Denethor.

He would raise the baby alone if…

That thought was cut short with a little yelp of surprise as Eomer suddenly pulled Faramir into his lap and kissed him, murmuring between kisses, "A baby…a son…our own little one…I love you."

A bright smile crossed Faramir's face as he put a hand to Eomer's mouth to halt yet another kiss, "So…you're happy?"

"Happy?" Eomer gasped after removing Faramir's hand, "I'm delighted, ecstatic…delirious!" He pressed a hand to Faramir's flat belly, his next words an awed whisper, "We're having a baby."

Faramir sighed happily, settling his own hand over Eomer's, "Yes we are."

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March 24 - Morning, Minas Tirith

Boromir hesitated outside the guest chamber Frodo had been given, his hand raised to knock. He was unsure how the hobbit would react after what had happened on Amon Hen.

After Barad-Dur had fallen Gandalf had flown away with the eagles to save the ring-bearer. He'd then whisked both Frodo and Sam straight to Minas Tirith. Boromir had not seen either hobbit or the wizard since the Host's return the day before.

Not that he was all that eager to see Gandalf at the moment. He knew he was holding a grudge, but his issues with the Maia weren't easily overcome. Not a night had gone by since he'd watched his father die when he didn't relive every moment in his sleep, from the moment he and Farothen had reached the Hallows, to the moment he'd seen Denethor dive off the edge of the courtyard.

The hobbits were another issue, though. With them, or at least with Frodo, Boromir felt that since he was the one in the wrong, he should be the one to apologize and make things right. He felt he had to be the one to approach him with an attempt to reconcile.

Shaking his head, Boromir pushed thoughts of the wizard from his mind and lifted his hand to knock on Frodo's door. Muffled voices stopped him with his hand inches from the door.

Feeling only a small twinge of guilt at eavesdropping, he leaned forward pressing his ear to the door. It didn't surprise him to recognize Sam's voice as he responded to Frodo. The gardener hardly let 'Mister Frodo' enter the privy without standing guard outside.

What did surprise him, however, was the way the two hobbits addressed each other with endearments. The intimate tone was one that would be unexpected between a gardener and his employer, yet perfectly acceptable between…

A slow grin spread across his face as it registered he'd won his small bet with Gimli and Legolas as to whether Frodo and Sam were a couple. Gimli had insisted that, 'no, they do not feel that way.' Legolas had agreed with Boromir that 'yes, they seemed to have the feelings, but they would never act upon them.' Boromir had, of course, been adamant that the hobbits did have a relationship.

And he'd just been proven right.

Momentarily forgetting his initial reason for seeking out Frodo, Boromir burst into the room and said, "I knew it!"

The two hobbits jumped apart from an obvious kiss between lovers and stared at Boromir, blushing guiltily. In the next second they were both speaking, stumbling over each other, as they attempted to explain. Boromir couldn't stop a small chuckle.

Finally, Frodo held up a hand to silence both himself and Sam before gasping, "Boromir? You're alive!"

Before either hobbit could reply, there was a polite knock at the open door and Gandalf walked in with a smile, "I see you're doing well, Frodo."

"I am," Frodo agreed, "Though I never thought to be sitting here saying it. I thought for sure I would…"

He cut off, unable or unwilling to finish, but they all heard the unspoken words. None of them had expected Frodo or Sam to return after Mount Doom had erupted.

"Many lives were lost, Frodo. To have added your name to the list would have been a blow to us all," Gandalf said softly.

Boromir released a low growl. To see Gandalf show such emotion at the mere thought of Frodo dying while seeming so unaffected by Denethor's actual death continued to anger him.

"I was hoping to speak with you Frodo, but it shall have to wait," Boromir told the ringbearer, "I suddenly feel…ill."

With that he threw a final glare at Gandalf, to the confusion of the hobbits, and spun on his heel. The door slammed soundly behind him as he left the room.

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Faramir trailed along behind Boromir after he'd seen the elder Hurin slam out of Frodo's guest chamber obviously fuming about something. Knowing it would be bad to corner his brother in the hallways, from past experience, he let Boromir lead the way out of the palace. He wasn't all that surprised when the older man kept going until he reached the far point of the courtyard where he stopped to stare out over the Pelennor.

Once there he let the silence linger a little longer, knowing Boromir would speak when he was ready. His patience paid off a few seconds later as the elder Hurin sighed.

"I do not wish to talk, Fara."

"Well," Faramir replied, leaning against the stone wall bordering the ship's keel and staring out, "You will just have to push that wish aside, Bori, because I wish to."

Boromir gave a grudging chuckle as his brother's impish manner began to defuse his anger, "In that case, little one, I guess we talk. Your wishes were always more important than mine."

"Only to you," Faramir smiled, turning to face Boromir before becoming serious, "Tell me what happened, Bori. I heard Farothen's version of things, now I want to hear yours."

"My version will not be all that different, Fara," Boromir said, "Surely you do not wish to hear it all over again."

Faramir scowled at him, "Farothen stayed behind to take care of me. You went after Father."

Boromir nodded, "I did…and I had to watch him die."

"Tell me," Faramir prompted, "Please."

"There's not much more to tell," Boromir replied with a small sigh, "He ran out of the Hallows ablaze and…he dived off the edge of the Citadel, Fara. He didn't even slow his pace."

"Did Gandalf really…" Faramir cut off, not wanting to continue.

Gandalf was…had been his mentor, his confidant when Boromir wasn't available. Yet, Denethor was his father, in spite of their problems, Faramir had loved him. He just wasn't sure he could forgive one who'd played such a major part in his father's death.

"Yes," Boromir whispered.

Just that. Nothing more. One small word. Faramir released a shuddery sigh.

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After their talk, Faramir quietly withdrew sensing that Boromir needed the time alone. Nothing, not even a heartfelt apology from Gandalf, could do for Boromir what time would eventually heal.

Only five minutes after Faramir had left, Boromir sensed the presence of a certain person or rather persons slowly making their way up behind him.

Boromir smiled without any real feeling. The two hobbits hadn't been making any noise, but Boromir possessed a warrior's instincts and had a sixth sense regarding his surroundings.

"Frodo, Sam, you two can approach," Boromir said without turning around, "I wished to speak with you anyway."

"I didn't think we were making any noise," Frodo commented.

"You weren't," Boromir said as he turned around, "I'm just naturally a very aware and cautious individual. It will take awhile for me to relax and accept the fact that Gondor is no longer at war…if I ever can."

Frodo smiled, "I know why you wished to seek me out, Boromir."

Boromir tensed visibly at Frodo's words, but was reassured by the smile on Frodo's face. Although the expression on Sam's face was completely unreadable.

"You don't have anything to worry about, Boromir. There is absolutely nothing to forgive…I never blamed you for what happened on Amon Hen."

"How can you say that!" Boromir asked, completely incredulous, "I betrayed both you and the Fellowship by trying to take the ring."

Frodo shook his head, "What you did was actually a blessing in disguise. I couldn't have gotten into Mordor with the entire Fellowship and I knew you would not have been the last to fall to the power of the ring," Frodo paused before adding, "You're still my friend, Boromir."

Boromir gave a half smile, "I don't think I deserve it, but thanks Frodo." Boromir then turned to Sam. The hobbit's face was still unreadable and Boromir sensed that earning Sam's forgiveness would be more difficult than Frodo's, "How do you feel in regards to this, Sam?"

Sam sighed, "I'll be honest, Boromir, when I first set out with Frodo I didn't think I would ever forgive you for what happened," he started, "But…then I carried the ring."

Boromir looked up at Sam, not surprised, but understanding shining in his eyes, "I don't see how I could be angry at your actions after actually feeling the power of the ring. I forgive you as well, Boromir."

Boromir nodded, feeling somewhat better, but not completely.

"We overheard your conversation with Faramir," Frodo commented and before Boromir could get angry he added, "It's none of my business, but…will you be able to forgive Gandalf?"

Boromir sighed, "I don't know. I believe I'll eventually be able to forgive him…but I can never forget."

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It was nearing sunset when Boromir stepped out of the palace to find Aragorn sitting out on the top step smoking. Sighing he sat down beside the older man, wrinkling his nose as he waved away a cloud of pipe smoke.

"And to think I just left all four hobbits because of that bloody pipeweed only to have to deal with it once again," Boromir growled.

Chuckling, Aragorn put the pipe out in deference to his Captain General's obvious dislike, "You don't know what you're missing Boromir."

Boromir grinned back at him, "No, but you will. Gondor isn't known for it's vast supply of pipeweed."

Aragorn's eyes widened in alarm, "You want the role of king?"

Boromir laughed at Aragorn's expression, "You're not getting out of it that easily." Aragorn's response was to pout and pick up his pipe again, but he didn't light it.

Boromir grunted his thanks before heaving another sigh, "The city is quiet…too quiet almost. It's unnerving."

Aragorn nodded sadly, "She grieves her lost sons. The effects of the war will linger for a long time."

"War will do that," Boromir agreed, "But with her lords working together Minas Tirith can be the great city she once was."

"Hmm," Aragorn murmured, absently nodding again. Another small laugh escaped him and he looked at Boromir, "We sound like a couple retired old codgers recounting our glory days as young warriors."

A snort was Boromir's initial reply before he drawled, "Speak for yourself. I am still young. You, on the other hand, were already an old man when I was but a babe in arms."

Mock scowling Aragorn gently elbowed the younger man in the side and muttered, "Insolent little whelp. Did no one teach you to respect your elders?"

Grinning innocently Boromir shook his head, "I do not know what you mean, my king."

"I'm not your king yet." Aragorn sighed, "Now that it comes to it, I'm not sure I'm ready to be."

Boromir shook his head, much like a out upon father, "You are ready…'Torogi'. I have faith in you."

"You always did, Little Jewel. More faith than I ever had in myself," the older man said with a smile, "You live up to your name well, my friend. You are a Faithful Jewel."

"Well," Boromir started, clearing his throat to free the sudden knot put there by Aragorn touching words, "We'll simply have to work on your faith in yourself. Tomorrow you will be crowned…"

When Boromir cut off abruptly Aragorn looked over and was surprised to see the normally glittering green eyes looking suddenly alarmed. Cocking his head he lifted a brow, "What is it, Bori?"

Boromir met his king's gaze, "How re we supposed to crown a king without a formal coronation planned?"

Aragorn blinked, having not thought of that particular problem, "Uh…"

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Standing just inside the door of the palace listening to his father and husband talk Farothen glanced across to Faramir, a small smile crossing his face, "So, when should we tell them we planned a coronation while they were at the Black Gate?"

Faramir grinned, "Tomorrow morning should be soon enough, I think."

Farothen chuckled, "You may be right."

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March 25 – Morning

A few miles outside Minas Tirith

"How much longer, Ada?"

Thranduil sighed at the decidedly whiny tone. He'd honestly believed the whining had stopped for good when his Little Leaf had grown out of elflinghood. Unfortunately, pregnancy seemed to have rendered the intervening years between then and now obsolete.

"Ada?"

"We shall be there within the hour, Greenleaf," the elder elf replied, pushing paternal annoyance aside.

He had to be fair. It had been nearly a full week since Legolas had seen either his husband or his son. Plus, the long ride in the saddle had to be getting difficult on the younger elf as his growing belly continuously put stress on his lower back.

But really, did he have to be so bloody whiny! Had Legolas' naneth been this whiny when she was pregnant?

Thranduil honestly couldn't remember. Yet he could remember every second of the day his only child was born. And he remembered, very well, the day the mother of that child, the love of his life, had put their son in his arms and walked out of their lives to wed another she claimed not to love.

At that thought Thranduil looked at Legolas, riding to his left. In that moment he realized how lucky he'd been to at least have been able to raise his son. Legolas' naneth could very well have taken him with her, though no one had even known about his birth at that point.

"Ada?" Legolas asked, realizing his father was watching him with a strange look in his eyes, "Is something wrong?"

"No, my Greenleaf." Thranduil smiled, facing forward again, "I just realized how lucky I really am."

Legolas cocked a brow but said nothing as they continued their ride toward the White City looming in the near distance.

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Minas Tirith

Roughly the same time

Boromir felt strange standing on the top step of the palace with Aragorn kneeling before him. In his mind he should be the one kneeling in front of his chosen king. Yet, at the same time, given the situation, it felt oddly right.

Upon learning that morning that a whole formal coronation had already been planned he'd just barely resisted knocking Faramir and Farothen's heads together. Having let him and Aragorn panic the whole night for nothing, they'd been lucky to escape with only veiled threats softened by praise for their foresight. At least somebody was on the ball.

The only part left to decide that morning had been the actual crowning. Gandalf had quickly commented that, it was only logical that he do the crowing seeing as, of everyone left in Middle Earth, he ranked the highest on whatever cosmic scale, or whatever, he lived by. It had annoyed Boromir to no end that the wizard had simply assumed he would receive such a privilege.

Aragorn had instantly shot down that plan, saying Gandalf had no realistic right crowning Gondor's king when he was leaving Middle Earth anyway. It was especially unwarranted when Boromir and Faramir, both heirs of Gondor's late Ruling Steward, were perfectly capable of performing the duty that was rightfully theirs.

Gandalf had pouted but Aragorn's mind was set. Faramir would bring the crown to Boromir. Boromir would set it on their king's head.

The quiet clearing of a throat brought Boromir back to the present and he noticed Faramir stood beside him, one brow cocked questioningly. With an innocent grin Boromir took the crown from his brother and faced the expectant crowd. Taking a deep breath he let instinct guide his words.

"This day is one long awaited. The day our king is returned to us."

Aragorn remained silent, seeing in his mind's eye this man as a child barely out of diapers. It warmed his heart knowing the boy he had adored then, was now personally naming him as his chosen king.

Looming over him, Boromir continued, "Long has the line of Hurin guarded our fair city. Today we lay aside our duty and return our realm into our king's hands."

He looked down at Aragorn, a soft smile curving his lips as he added, "Aragorn Elessar of the House of Telcontar, in this moment I, Boromir of Hurin, name you my king…and the king of all Gondor."

A shuddery sigh escaped Aragorn as Boromir set the heavy crown on his head. Closing his eyes momentarily he drew in a deep, fortifying breath before getting to his feet and slowly facing his people.

Another moment passed as he debated what to say before he spoke, "This day does not belong to one man…but to us all. Together we will rebuild this world, then share in the days of peace that follow."

The cheering of the crowd forced Aragorn to fall silent until it slowly died down. Once the courtyard was reasonably quiet again he spoke up once more.

"As king my first duty is to ensure the security of Gondor by naming my heir." He turned to his son, who stood at the bottom of the steps and motioned him forward, "Farothen…"

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Legolas tugged nervously at the hastily altered silver tunic his father had brought from Mirkwood, somehow knowing formal apparel may be needed. The matching leggings had been a lost cause so the prince was still wore the same ones he had been since Rohan. He'd been given the black suede leggings in Edoras after noticing the leggings he'd had since Rivendell were getting too tight. Luckily, the black countered the silver of the tunic nicely.

"You look fine, Little Leaf." Thranduil said, stopping his son at the base of the ramp leading to the seventh level of Minas Tirith, "Tathat did a surprisingly good job of…seastressing."

"For a warrior." Legolas mumbled, pulling at the tunic once more for good measure.

Thranduil shook his head in amusement, "For the life of me, I cannot understand why you are so nervous. It's not as if you've never met Aragorn before. You're carrying his child, after all."

The younger elf sighed, "He wasn't a king then, Ada."

Reaching up absently to straighten the elaborate circlet on Legolas' head Thranduil smiled, "And you are a prince. You love him, he loves you. There's no need to be nervous about seeing him now."

Taking a deep, calming breath Legolas nodded, "Alright, I'm ready."

"Good." Thranduil replied, "Then let's go meet your husband."

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The walk though the crowd was surreal for Aragorn, but it was nothing compared to the near standstill his world seemed to come to when he saw the elves approaching through the parting crowd. His breath caught when he saw Legolas a couple steps behind Thranduil and he had to fight the urge to run forward.

Thranduil stopped before him with a small half bow, "King Elessar, we meet again."

Aragorn returned the bow with one of his own, "King Thranduil, welcome."

"My son tells me you preempted tradition and wed him in the Golden Wood." Thranduil said, his tone low and undefinable.

A slightly nervous chuckle escaped Aragorn, "Yes, my lord. We wanted you there, of course. It was just…rushed."

Several moments passed before Thranduil grinned, "That much was obvious the moment I saw him."

A small indignant squeak from Legoals and the blush flooding Aragorn's face made the king of Mirkwood burst out laughing as he said, "Fear not, Elessar, I've no hard feelings In actuality, I return my son to your care willingly…and with a happy heart."

At that Thranduil stepped aside and Aragorn found himself facing his husband with nothing separating them but air. Both stood frozen for heartbeat.

Then, as one, they practically ran forward and embraced with an almost desperate kiss. In the shocked silence that followed, as no on quite knew how to react, one clear voice rang out with a somewhat mumbled, "Yeah!"

At that the crowd, knowing, then, that it was a good thing, broke into cheering and clapping. Aragorn and Legolas, on the other hand, easily recognizing the first voice as Boromir's, burst out laughing.

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Replies to reviews…

lolegolas Sorry about leaving the cliffhanger, and so long at that, but we write as fast as we can with the limited time we have. Also, everything we had typed up was lost when I (Becky) had to get my computer fixed. Stupid computer.

Nessa Ar-Feiniel: I'm guessing you meant the whole Thingol outlawing Quenya thing. The only reason I ever remember that is because a lot of stories have characters speaking in Quenya. Also, I seem to have a soft spot for the Sindar elves, of which is our little Prince of Mirkwood.

fazy Goodness, by the time you read this your question will have been answered, but yes, Eowyn is really dead. We simply weren't sure what to do with her. Plus, we had an evil desire to see how everyone would react. But mostly, we believed somebody had to replace Boromir on Death's list since we kept him alive.

Arch-Nemesis: Sorry, but I have a feeling we'll be upsetting a lot of people with the whole Boromir/Gandalf thing. It will be a long while before they 'make up'. You don't get over something like that quickly. Besides, Boromir, like his father, never truly trusted Gandalf in the deepest part of him to begin with. As for Faramir not being as mad as Boromir, he's not as quick tempered as Boromir is. Plus, he has onlt a near strangers words to go by, he didn't actually see it all happen. Haldir, not really going to see and romance in this because we have a place set for him in a 'future' sense that may or may not ever be written and posted.

ak-stinger I'm glad someone liked the appearance of Thranduil. I wasn't sure. We weren't sure how well he'd be received considering he is supposed to be in Mirkwood fighting alongside Celeborn and Galadriel to save Mirkwood from Dol Guldur, but we kinda needed him in Minas Tirith at the moment. Truthfully, as far as Faramir's reaction to Gandalf, we haven't really figured that out yet. We have some idea, but nothing concrete.

PeachyKay Hey, who's to say we didn't die? Is very hard to type with non-corporeal fingers that go straight through the buttons.

The Great and Powerful Oz: Here we go again. I'm getting sick of being challenged on translations of Elvish when it's really not a very big deal. Most of the Elvish we've used has been taken directly from the script and moved around to fit our own needs. In every script we've used, including the movie, 'Lasto beth nin' means 'hear my voice'. So we were a little off in our translation, but no where does 'words' enter the translation.

Now, EVERYONE pay attention from here. This is MOVIEVERSE people! Things in the movie, including translations, are different than the book.

I am SERIOUSLY tempted to pull this story completely and leave you all hanging. And, somehow, I doubt Brina will argue with me all that much about doing so.