Summary: "And thus it was that a Fourth Age of Middle-earth began, and the Fellowship of the Ring, though eternally bound by friendship and love, was ended." Aragorn is on his deathbed and determined to bring the love of his best friend and oldest daughter into the light. Whether they like it or not.
Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. Every second that passed washed away some part of the legacy of the Fellowship of the Ring. It eroded the memories in the waters of time. It buried the tears and laughter under piles of dust. Soon, the small band of Nine was all but forgotten by the peoples of Middle-earth. Few remembered the time of darkness under the new reign of light and laughter. Few remembered the terrors of that time. And fewer still remembered the heroes of the Fellowship.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn, lay dying. His closest friends huddled around the place that had been prepared long ago for his body.
Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of the Greenwood, knelt beside his friend's head. He was as young and ageless as the day Aragorn had first met him, almost 130 years before.
Gimli, son of Gloin, stood just beside Legolas. A grayish tint had begun to creep into the dwarf's long, brown beard. Fat, wet tears dripped down his craggy face.
Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Lord Elrond of Imladris, Aragorn's beloved wife, knelt with tears streaming down her pale face. Her slightly aged hands stroking her husband's wrinkled yet still handsome face.
Many of Aragorn's children gathered around him. Tears filled their eyes and spilled down their cheeks. One was missing.
"Where is Branwen?" Aragorn said softly, gazing at his wife.
"She is late, as usual." Arwen choked out, smiling through her tears.
For a few moments the friends and family of the first Gondorian king since Isildur sat silently, drowning in their sorrows and, for some, their memories.
Legolas heard the soft shuddering sob of a young woman first. He turned around to see Aragorn's eldest daughter, Branwen, crying softly.
Branwen was tall, like her father, but unlike her father, she had the lightly pointed Elven features, fair golden hair, and light blue eyes. She was lean and willowy. Like her father, she was a closed person, and an avid warrior. Yet, she held her mother's Elven grace.
Legolas stood in one fluid motion and gently led Branwen forward.
She knelt beside her father's bedside as he was fading into shadow.
"Ada," She whispered, "Don't leave me. Please, Ada." Her soft voice trembled as she tried to suppress her tears.
Aragorn stirred and touched his daughter's hand. "Leave us alone for a moment." He waved the other off weakly.
Arwen stooped for a moment to kiss her husband's forehead before she led the others away.
Legolas, too, turned to leave, to allow the father and daughter one last moment of peace.
"Legolas, my old friend, remain here for the time being." Aragorn said, startling the Elven Prince.
He silently knelt on the opposite side of Aragorn's bed from Branwen.
The old king gently took his daughter's hands in his. "Branwen," He began, "Oh my beautiful Branwen."
"Yes, Ada?" Branwen prompted, she glanced up to see Legolas watching her. She blushed and looked back to her aged father.
"Do you remember the tales of the Fellowship?" Aragorn asked.
Branwen nodded, "I do, father."
The High King smiled at her, "Remember the part of that tale when Haldir brought to us a band of Lothlorien Elves to aid us in our battle at Helm's Deep?"
Again, Branwen nodded, "Yes."
"He said it was to honor the alliance between Men and Elves one more time."
"What are you saying, Ada?" Branwen asked as she brushed the white hair from her father's forehead.
"I have seen the look in your eyes when you look at Legolas," Aragorn began.
Branwen's pale blue eyes grew wide. "Hush, Ada! Do not say such things!"
Aragorn waved his hand to silence his rebellious daughter. He chuckled weakly, "Do not deny it, I know what I have seen."
A bright red shadow crept across the girl's face.
"And you, Legolas," Aragorn said, turning to his friend, "Will you try to deny that you have feelings for my daughter when you, too, have a strange gleam in your eyes when you gaze upon her?"
Legolas was slightly embarrassed, but it was true. "I will not, Mellon." He bowed his head slightly.
Aragorn took Legolas' hand and Branwen's hand, placing them together over his chest.
"Ada, I can not do this." Branwen tried to pull her hand away, but Aragorn held it firmly in his.
"Branwen, if you have your way you will die an old maid, bitter and lonely." He softened, touching her smooth cheek, "I know it is hard, but trust me one more time."
She allowed him to rejoin her hand with Legolas'. Her blue eyes met Legolas' gray eyes and held them.
"I know that you love each other, but if I didn't do this, neither of you will ever admit your feelings." Aragorn placed his hands over the entwined fingers of Legolas and Branwen, "I give you my blessings. Live long together and ever love one another."
Legolas gripped Branwen's hand with one of his and Aragorn's with the other. "I will cherish and love her even to the ends of the Earth and beyond."
A soft smile graced the old king's face with a peaceful aura. "And you, Branwen, will you ever love Legolas?"
"Aye, that I will, Ada, I shall love him as no other has loved before." She kissed her father's creased brow.
Aragorn slipped silently into the shadows of Mandos' halls.
"No!" Branwen wept bitterly as her father's hands slid from the top of hers'.
Legolas felt his heart being torn apart as yet another piece vanished from the face of Middle-earth. He tried to hide his tears by gazing around at the tombs around them. The tombs of Boromir, Faramir, Eowyn, and the memorials of Eomer, Pippin, Merry, Theoden. Still, one shining tear slid from his eye.
The Elven Prince gently pulled Branwen to her feet. "He's gone, I am sorry." He told her softly.
Branwen wiped furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. Legolas handed her a handkerchief, "Here." She smiled sadly. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." Her soft voice whispered fiercely.
"I'm sure it wasn't." Legolas gently kissed her forehead, running his fingers through Branwen's long golden hair.
"Do you truly love me?" Branwen asked suddenly.
Legolas nodded, "That I do, that I do."
His lips met with hers as they shared a kiss.
Aragorn's spirit smiled at his friend and daughter from beside his body's final resting-place. Then he turned, and walked into the Halls of Mandos, awaiting his beloved Arwen's arrival.