Title: "After the Wars"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 6, "Longing and Pain"

A/N: Thank you for your patience, to all of those of you reading and reviewing. Hope that you enjoy this new chapter. Please let me know how I'm doing!

The pastel light crept across the room. It lingered in areas, attacking the shadows, and revealing the two lovers beneath the sheets of the bed. The light softly circled Legolas' cheek, and then slowly rested upon him. Feeling the warmth of the sun's early morning rays the elf shifted. In doing so he awoke the man sleeping soundly next to him.

"Hn," Aragorn said as he lifted his head off of the pillow. Upon seeing no intruders he let his head fall back. Then, he stared silently at Legolas. His beauty was breathtaking. There was nothing that could take away from him, nothing.

"Good morning," the elf whispered quietly. His chest still ached deeply. He began to wonder if he should be feeling so much pain. Yet Aragorn's face took away from this thought and he instead disregarded it.

"I trust that you slept well enough," Aragorn asked of him.

Legolas nodded, for he had slept well. In fact, he had slept more last night than he had in the last year. Perhaps it was the comfort of having Aragorn beside him. For was it not love that conquered all? It had to have been, because the only thing worth living and dying for would be, love.

"Aragorn," the elf asked absently, "what happened after the battle at Helm's Deep?"

"You mean what happened to the Ring?"

"I know that it was destroyed," he replied. "I could feel it suddenly in my bones. When Frodo cast it into the fire, I felt the warmth in my veins, and I suddenly knew. I knew that they would crown you as well. It was always what you deserved."

"Why do you ask now," the ruggish ranger asked. "Things were much as before. Frodo and Sam took the Ring to the Eye, and there they destroyed it. Meanwhile, men fought at Minas Tirith."

"The home of the White Tree?"

Aragorn nodded, "Yes."

Legolas did not say more. Instead he looked away and drew in a painful breath. It should not hurt, he thought to himself. The wounds were old yet the pain never seemed to cease. Instead, it only continued throughout time, over and over again causing him to bend at the knees gasping for airs. As he drew in another breath that remembered gasp came, sounding almost like a whistle deep in the back of his throat.

"Legolas," Aragorn said, sitting up and wrapping an arm around him. "How do you feel?"

No answer could be forced from him though. He coughed, holding his hand over his mouth. The convulsions rippled his muscles, and even though he should not think so, Aragorn thought it made him look very tantalizing. Legolas coughed once more before removing his hand from his lips. Covering his paled skin, was blood.

Aragorn paced back and forth outside of the room. He was not sure whether his presence in the room before him would help or not. Before he could enter the room the door opened. The elven physician he had required had finally arrived in the early morning, and had just finished looking at Legolas. Already his silken face looked grave. This could not be a good sign.

The king stepped closer despite the fact that fear was gripping his heart. Sighing, the medic glanced down at the floor for a long while. Then, looking up, his eyes gave it away before he shook his head. Aragorn knew what this meant.

"There is nothing that can be done," whispered the king of men. "How can there be nothing Syratelas?"

Syratelas let his lips part slowly before he answered. He knew that no matter what he said, it would not change the inevitable. Not to mention, lying to Aragorn would be unwise, for he was not daft. He would know a lie if it followed behind him, and decided to knock him down.

"It is in his lungs," the elven healer said softly. "His body has taken the worst beating I have ever seen. Judging by the scars, I would guess that he has had the condition for at least four months now. He has took the worst beating an elven body can."

"There is nothing?"

"Aragorn, it is his lungs. They fail him, and this explains his breathing. His lungs are filling with blood, from internal bleeding, which has long been continued. Even if I had the ability to try and fix the veins causing the bleeding, it would be too late, and such a surgery would likely kill him despite this. There is nothing you can do to heal him. But you still have time to make him comfortable, I have left you a mixture of herbs, and keep him content."

Aragorn did not know what to say. He felt the feeling of absolute fear gripping his heart just then. Legolas was…dying…and no matter how he tried, there was nothing that could be done to prevent it. After all this time, after saving him and loving him, he would still fade away. He was a candle that would be put out too soon, leaving Aragorn in only darkness.

"Get some rest," Syratelas advised the king. "Legolas will be asleep for a good while. I have made sure of it. There is nothing you can do for him if you are unable to keep your eyes opened."

"I feel as if I have only had them closed," the king replied as he continued down the hall with the elf, showing him a way out. As soon as he left, giving a faint smile, Aragorn shut the door. His forehead immediately rested against the door and he drew in a breath. In a faint whisper he said an elven prayer, hoping that it would ease his heart, but knowing deeply that it would not.

xxv