A/N: The title to this chapter most will recognize as a line from the extended edition of The Return of the King; it belongs to Peter Jackson, et al.

Life (or fate, or the Valar, or whatever else one chose to think of it as) worked in such funny ways at times, responding to a person's deepest hurts and fondest wishes in the strangest and most mysterious ways imaginable. This was a pearl of wisdom that the farmer's wife had dispensed on several occasions to anyone she thought needed it; it was something that her mother used to tell her, who in turn learned it from her mother and so on, and now she was darned if she didn't learn that it happened to be true. Working busily at her hearth to clean all the pots it had taken make enough food to fill all of the empty stomachs in her home she couldn't help but thank life, fate, the Valar, or whoever that for a short time things in the farmhouse were as they should be.

The farmhouse had been feeling too empty and quiet for the farmer's wife's tastes as of late. Up until about a year earlier it had been filled every day with love and life, and her table surrounded by more than just her husband and their eldest unmarried son. Then one summer afternoon as the whole family was sitting down for lunch an urgent message had come to her youngest son and his wife: the young woman's father had died suddenly and unexpectedly. Aside from this being a painful tragedy personally it was also a terrible blow in terms of her family's livelihood: their farm was now in the care of the Man's grief-stricken widow and two sons who weren't old enough to handle the work and responsibility of running it.

The farmer's wife couldn't fault anyone for what happened next, though she often lamented the need for it. She was indeed very proud of her youngest son for deciding to take on the responsibility for his wife's family himself. However, this required him to pack up his wife and their infant daughter and move a considerable distance away from the only home that he'd ever known. For the farmer's wife, losing them had made her own him much too quiet; with no granddaughter crawling around the sitting chamber while she worked on the mending, no daughter-in-law to help out with the chores and keep her company while the others were out tending to their own chores the hours of her life had gotten to be long and lonely. Often, mostly in the middle of the afternoon when her husband and youngest son had been out for a couple of hours and would continue to be gone for a few more, the older woman would wish that just for once the walls of her home were once again bursting with family, love, and life.

How was she supposed to know when she awoke that morning that by nightfall that very wish would be granted in the most ludicrous way possible? An explosion of raucous laugher coming from around the table jarred the farmer's wife out of her musings. She glanced over her shoulder and found herself marveling at the odd variety of people who was filling her home with the powerful sense of family that night. Elves, half-elves, and Men of higher ranking than anyone who had been in her home before were scattered all around the table, acting as if there was nothing that they wanted to do more than break bread with her and her family.

After hearing so many tales about the greatness and dignity of these people it was a novelty to see that all the noble blood, citadel livery, and pointed ears in the world didn't stop them from doing things that she herself had done on many occasions. The most powerful Man in Middle-earth, King Elessar of Gondor (he had invited them to call him Aragorn in his post-reunion euphoria but the farmer's wife seriously doubted if she or her family could ever really oblige him), was changing the diaper of the baby stretched out before him on the bench. Prince Legolas, reputedly one of the most beautiful beings in all of the lands – and now that she'd seen him she wholeheartedly believed it – lovingly cradled the other infant while happily teasing his husband about the Man's supposedly sub-par diaper pinning technique. Beside their elvish father the crown prince and eldest princess played a nonsense game that involved a lot of hand-clapping; and the two guards of the highest rank kept one eye on the two children while deep in conversation with her husband and son about whether or not the more fantastical tales about the Battle of Pelennor Fields during the War were actually true.

While intellect and experience told her that he'd done the same task many times before the farmer's wife couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable about just standing back and watching the king toil away at his labor. After all, he was her liege lord as well as of noble blood and she'd never heard of a lord and noble changing a child's diaper before. Surely there were countless nannies back in that fancy citadel in Minas Tirith that took care of that sort of thing on a regular basis; no-nonsense women who would think poorly of her for not coming to her king's aid when she had no reason not to.

Setting aside her cooking ladle she rose to her feet. "Please, my king," she spoke up, walking humbly to Aragorn's side and instinctively bowing her head. "Let me tend to the princess; you need not bother with" –

"Oh yes he does," asserted Legolas with a playful sort of firmness as he smiled up charmingly at the farmer's wife. "Four children under his belt and this Man cannot even pin a diaper properly. Track a virtually invisible trail across a bunch of barren rock for leagues and days on end is no problem; negotiating treaties and agreements with other realms and between kingdoms that have hated each other for years is par for the course; but to this day he still cannot manage to see to it that our daughter's diaper stays on when it needs to."

The woman stared at him, not certain of what to make of his remonstrations. "It would be no trouble, really," she insisted.

"Do you hear that, Aragorn?" asked Legolas, leaning over to kiss his husband's temple. "You're doing so poorly that our good hostess is too distracted by it to let it continue. I love you with all my heart and soul, Aragorn, but this is not to be borne. For shame, melanin; for shame."

"For shame nothing," retorted Aragorn smugly, scooping up little Meren and triumphantly patting her still-covered bottom when the diaper did indeed stay in place. "What say you now, my love?"

"Miracles happen?" suggested Legolas cheekily.

Aragorn smirked sarcastically. "Just because I don't do it your way doesn't mean that the way I'm doing it is wrong," he argued. "This is how my father taught me to change a diaper and it would be hard even for you to dispute his knowledge in this area."

"You seem to forget that I spent a lot of my youth in Rivendell, Aragorn," said Legolas. "I know many stories about that place and your family. There was one in particular that always seemed to circulate during the more inebriated parts of a dinner or a celebration: it was the one involving twin infants not entirely unlike our own, Lord Elrond, and his theory that the Lady Celebrian was wasting too many pins at each diaper change. No matter who tells it, the tale always began with such confidence and expectations and ended with hope drowning in a…river, so to speak."

"One miscalculation and you're branded for life," complained Aragorn, defensive for his absent father's reputation's sake. "He learned his lesson long before he got around to instructing me."

Eldarion, who had of course been listening to their lively exchange with a sense of hominess and utter relief that things were getting back to normal, dissolved into giggles. "Aye, but you didn't," he guffawed, his frame shaking so violently that he missed Laurelin's hand entirely at a very important juncture of their game and ended up almost falling backwards. "Remember when you were being a pain about having to stay in bed until it got to the point where you annoyed Ada into making you change the twins' diapers all of the time?"

"I shouldn't have been doing that at all," Aragorn defended himself. "I was a little lightheaded at the time."

"That's not what you were telling me," piped up Legolas with a mischievous grin.

Eldarion shook his head. "Well, I can't say one way or the other about how light your head was," he said, falsely reproachful. "All I can do is remind you of how that little punishment led to some disgusting stuff!"

"Keep in mind, my prince, that this was after years of practice too," chimed in Beren as his own conversation ended in a decision to agree to disagree. He'd been around the royal family for so long that he was practically a part of the family in his own way but propriety and a sense of duty had always kept him from taking such an active role in their debates before. That night, however, he smiled warmly as the day's wonderful events emboldened his mind and tongue. "Just imagine how much worse it was when you were first born…"

"Oh, I give up," groused Aragorn dramatically, throwing one hand up in the air briefly. Legolas gave him the sweetest, most sympathetic fake smile ever and patted his bearded cheek. "My husband, my son, even one of my guards – I'm surrounded by disloyalty everywhere I look! What about you?" he added suddenly, turning his joking eyes onto the hovering farmer's wife. "Do you see anything wrong with they way that I'm tending to my daughter?"

"I – uh – I," – she stammered nervously, feeling very put on the spot. The prince consort's fresh burst of laughter did nothing to soothe her. "I didn't – well, I wasn't paying too much attention…"

Legolas felt sorry for the poor woman and managed to swallow the rest of his laughter. "Aragorn, stop it," he scolded his husband, though not under any pretense of anger. The last thing that the woman looked like she could handle at the moment was to think that she was bearing witness to an actual quarrel between the realm's monarchs. "I must apologize, good hostess. We have scandalized more than one person with our – how should I put this – informal nature when it comes to interacting with our family. We can be a bit much at times, especially if the mood strikes us; and it is your bad fortune that you happen to be catching up on one of the more extreme of those times."

"Thank you for your kind offer," added Aragorn, toning down his demeanor in turn. "I agree with my dear husband: it's difficult for us to behave properly when we're this happy. I apologize if we've caused offense in any way."

"Oh," blushed the farmer's wife. How strange it was to have two such important people apologizing to her! "There was none taken. Think nothing more of it, please."

A somewhat awkward silence followed for a few seconds before Laurelin broke it all of the sudden by yawning loudly. "I'm sleepy," she announced, rubbing her eyes with her small fists. She crawled over Eldarion to get to Legolas' lap; the boy, seeing that said space was already occupied by Gilraen, stopped her by wrapping both arms around his sister before she left his lap. Laurelin accepted this gesture without a fuss; happily, even, as she immediately curled up against him and snaked her arms around his neck. Eldarion rested his cheek against the top of her head and started rocking her gently.

This was unheard of behavior on both of their parts and both Legolas and Aragorn noted the change with no small amount of wonder. To the two children, however, it now felt like the most natural thing in the world; and when Laurelin let her eyes drift open to look at her fathers she didn't realize that they would find it unusual. "Is it bedtime yet?" the little girl asked them.

"I could use some sleep as well," agreed Eldarion, feeling very tired all of the sudden. His long nap earlier had but partially caught him up on the rest he'd lost. Now that the emotional high of finally being reunited with his ada and papa was beginning to coast off it felt as if he hadn't taken any nap at all. "I think that makes it bedtime."

"I hear that," concurred Eldacar, and Beren nodded in accordance. "My king, may I suggest that now is as good a time as any to discuss the sleeping arrangements?"

"You may, but I wouldn't know much about that," Aragorn told him dryly. He looked over at the farmer and held his hand out to him in a gesture of respect. "Good sir?"

The farmer thought fast, doing a quick mental count of all the beds that were in the house and figuring out which ones were unspoken for as of yet. "We have two bedchambers that are currently unoccupied," he reported in a slow, thoughtful voice. "One belonged to my other son and his wife before other obligations took them away from here; there's a double bed in there that I daresay is comfortable enough. The other chamber was their daughter's nursery; it has a crib that you might be able to fit both babies in if you laid them end-to-end."

"There's a bed in there too," his wife spoke up. "It's a little too small for two adults, but more than one person can get in there if one of them is on the small side."

"I'm afraid that's the end of the beds," the farmer went on. "But there's a chair in the sitting chamber that's comfortable; and we can also bring some pillows and blankets in here and turn the table into a bed. It's not exactly as soft as a mattress or cushion but it's not the floor either, and this part of the house always stays warm."

"That sounds very workable," said Beren reasonably. "Thank you both for your generosity. My king, my prince, you two should take the bedchamber. The prince and princess will probably fit into that bed in the nursery. Eldacar and I will be happy to bunk in the kitchen."

"You two will take the bedchamber – Legolas and I will stay in the kitchen," edited Aragorn casually but with resolve. The two guards and three civilians opened their mouths to protest but he cut them off with a wave of his hand. "You wish to go to bed now, correct? Well, my husband and I do not; we have some things to discuss with our hosts before we turn in for the night – if they are willing to oblige us, of course."

"Of course we are," said the farmer, half-curious and half nervous about what they had to say that could wait until morning.

"What sense does it make, then," continued Aragorn, "for the both of you to have to wait until the kitchen is free to go to sleep when there's a bedchamber waiting for someone elsewhere?"

Eldacar saw the logic in this but wasn't quite placated. "Is this to your liking, my prince?" he asked Legolas.

"You act as if I've never slept on a piece of wood before," noted Legolas amusedly. "Strange, as I know you've seen our talan in the city. Don't worry about me – as long as my children are under the same roof as me I am content to sleep anywhere."

The loyal guards couldn't argue with this no matter how much they wanted to and reluctantly bade everyone a pleasant night before accepting a couple of clean blankets from the farmer's wife and retiring. Aragorn and Legolas surprised everyone left by settling the twins into their baskets and placing them on the table before the woman and her husband. "Will you watch over them for a moment?" requested Legolas politely. "Aragorn and I will be right back after Laurelin and Eldarion are tucked in."

"We will be happy to," replied the farmer, a little confused as to why the infants were staying behind when the older children were going to bed; but it was not his place to question the parenting decisions of his king and prince. "You get to the nursery by going through the sitting chamber to that corridor. It's the first door on the right."

"Thank you," said Legolas sincerely.

With that the elf gently took Laurelin from her brother, scooping the little girl into his arms and smiling softly as she buried her face into his neck. Eldarion got up sleepily and ambled along between his parents, his papa's arm slung around his shoulders, until they easily found the nursery. The bed in there was small indeed and wouldn't have accommodated even a larger Man and a child but the children fit into it with relative ease. It wasn't as soft or comfortable as their beds back in the citadel but after two days of sleeping on the hard and muddy ground the mattress felt like paradise. The two siblings didn't even bother to ask for night clothes before climbing under the cozy patchwork blanket; they'd grown used to sleeping in their day ware, the garments lent to them by their hosts were more than comfortable enough for one night's rest, and they were simply too tired to change.

Laurelin was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow but Eldarion was too bothered by something to let sleep claim him so quickly. "Why did you leave Gilraen and Meren over in the kitchen?" he asked his parents and Aragorn pulled the cover up around his shoulders and Legolas leaned over Laurelin to kiss his son goodnight. "Wouldn't it have been easier for you to get us all down for the night at the same time? I could have helped put them to bed."

"They are down for the night – they're going to be staying in the kitchen with us," Aragorn informed him as he too planted a kiss on the boy's brow. "It just makes sense. If they stayed in here your ada and I would have to navigate through a dark and unfamiliar house to get to them every time that they cried, undoubtedly disturbing both you and your sister before we managed to get here to calm them down. This way you and Laurelin get to sleep through the night without them waking you up and your ada and I won't be tripping over everything to make it here before they stir the entire household. There's hardly enough room in the crib for the two of them for there to be any real difference between it and spending another night in their baskets. They'll be fine, my son."

"I guess so, but…" struggled Eldarion awkwardly. He was unsure about what he was feeling and if it was proper, and had no idea as to how to convey it to his fathers in a respectful manner.

"But what?" wondered Legolas, confused. He could see the exhaustion in Eldarion's face – why was the boy so reluctant to accept a good night's sleep? Then the boy glanced anxiously at the crib that stood opposite the bed before turning his attention to the door and the elf understood. He walked around the bed to sit down next to his son and lovingly embraced him. "My sweet Little Acorn," he soothed, "the twins are all right – you don't have to take care of them any longer. I know that it's difficult to let go at times, but your papa and I are here now. It's our job to watch over all of you and now I'm telling you that it's your job to take care of yourself tonight."

"I know," said Eldarion ruefully. "And I won't miss having to take care of them all night and everything. But in a way I will – does that make sense?"

Aragorn shuddered at the memory of the odd, foul mood that Legolas had fallen into when their son had first gotten old enough to move out of their antechamber and into his own bedchamber. The Man had foolishly rambled on about how it could be seen as a blessing that their son didn't need them around as much, a statement that had led to a grand argument that resulted in him spending the next week in a cold, lonely bed while his fuming and stubborn husband slept in Eldarion's bedchamber. "It does," he assured him. "That just means that you're your ada's son."

"I don't mean anything bad by it," explained Eldarion uncomfortably. "It's just that it's hard to stop feeling like I should be the one watching over them."

"We'll have to keep that in mind on the nights that your ada and I long for some rest," said Aragorn, gently teasing him as his husband stood up and laid a hand on his arm. "But for tonight, just sleep."

Eldarion still couldn't help fretting about the distance between him and Gilraen and Meren. Just then his ada leaned down and murmured "sleep" in his ear; and the boy was seized by a sudden drowsiness that was impossible to resist. "All right," he yawned, falling back against the pillow as his leaden eyelids slipped shut. "Good night…"

The prince's voice trailed off, followed soon by quiet snoring. Legolas looked sufficiently satisfied and Aragorn had to shake his head. "What was that?" the Man whispered as he and his husband left the chamber, shutting the door behind them as silently as they could manage. "A little, as the hobbits once called it, elf magic to get our overly anxious, exhausted son to fall asleep? You've never done anything like that to me, have you?"

"Usually when you can't sleep there's a reason why I think you deserve to stew," Legolas teased him. "And I've never understood what the hobbits or anyone else mean when they talk about elf magic. Our son needed to get some rest and that's what my father used to do for me when I was in that type of mood. No magic, my love; just me."

Aragorn stopped them both, moving around so that they were standing face-to-face, and put his arms around the elf, bringing their foreheads together. "There is something magical about you, Legolas," he murmured lovingly.

It was only supposed to be a quick, tender moment between them but as soon as he uttered those words Aragorn felt his knees start to buckle; and in front of him Legolas' jaw was quivering as he visibly struggled to keep his emotions in check. Alone for the first time since they were reunited with their children, the memories of the last couple of days – the confusion about what was happening, the grief over losing a child, the fear of losing the others, the anger they'd felt toward each other, and the pain and eventual joy of healing both themselves and their rift – slammed into them full-force. What if fate had contrived things differently and none of them had found their way to that farmhouse? What if it had been kinder and the children not taken in the first place? The situation had been resolved as best as it could have been under the circumstances but it would never be a total victory: Legolas and Aragorn would always carry that seed of suspicion when it came to trusting their children with anyone outside of the family, Eldarion and Laurelin would bear some emotional scars for life, and there was a little soul that had been released from the confines of the world before she had a chance to live.

Aragorn's hold on Legolas tightened as the elation mingled with grief inside of him. Thankfully (or not) Legolas understood all too well and embraced him with all of the love and support that both of them needed. Together they remained in that narrow corridor in each other's arms for quite a long time.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"We're sorry that we took so long," apologized Aragorn when he and Legolas finally returned to the kitchen.

The farmer and his wife had obviously put their time away from the king and prince to good use. The remainder of that night's dinner's plates had been totally removed from the table and the surface had been thoroughly cleaned. The twins were nestled in their baskets, now sitting on one of the table's benches, staring up at the flickering candles that still sat on the table. The farmer's wife sat dutifully next to them but the farmer was nowhere in sight. "Where is your husband?" inquired Aragorn. "Did he get tired of waiting for us to come back?"

"Goodness no, sire," spoke up the farmer as he reentered the kitchen. His arms were laden down with fresh blankets and pillows, precariously maintaining their balance as he walked. "I told you that I would talk with you after the children got settled in and I'm a Man of my word. I just left for a minute to get some bedding for tonight."

"Let me take those off of your hands," offered Legolas, swiftly relieving him of his burden.

"That's not necessary, really," protested the farmer awkwardly, not sure of what to make of the prince – or the king, for that matter. He watched with a level of amazement as the royal couple efficiently arranged the pillows at one end of the table and set the blankets down right beneath them so that the covers were all set to be laid out later but not currently interfering with the talk that was about to happen. They certainly didn't behave like he expected nobles to behave; he didn't know exactly what that meant but he did know that he appreciated it.

Aragorn shook his head. "We insist," he asserted. "You've done so much for us already; the least that we can do is make up the bed that we'll be sleeping in."

"But you won't be," replied the farmer, somewhat dismayed and feeling like he had somehow deceived them – albeit unintentionally. "My wife and I discussed it while you were tending to the prince and princess: it would be more appropriate if we gave you the master bedchamber and took the kitchen ourselves."

"How would that be appropriate?" debated Legolas with a frown as he moved the babies' baskets to the top of the table. His heart warmed when Meren smiled up at him, apparently approving of the change in her location. Gilraen, who was fighting sleep with everything she had, was decidedly less pleased; she made a face that was so reminiscent of Gimli when the dwarf was frustrated to no end that the elf had to titter about it just a little. How many times had he seen that expression in his life?

"Well," said the farmer's wife a bit tongue-tied, for she hadn't expected them to do anything but immediately accept the offer. "You're…and we're…being you and all…"

"I for one wouldn't feel right about taking your bedchamber from you when there's an acceptable alternative," Legolas informed her. "And I'm sure that Aragorn feels the same way."

"But it'll be mighty uncomfortable sleeping on this old thing," argued the farmer's wife in her characteristic fussy manner. "After all you've been through with your children and all I don't want to be the one responsible for providing you with the worst place that you've ever slept on top of it."

That was so utterly ridiculous that it was a small miracle that Aragorn was able to slide down next to his husband without doubling over in laughter. "Ma'am, I can assure you that this doesn't even come close," he said matter-of-factly. "I once spent the night on the soggy ground near the Dead Marshes with a crawling little wretch who was determined to sink his teeth into my leg. And there was the time I was in the Wild with the Nazgul on my tail."

"Don't forget about Moria," chimed in Legolas. "Or about every place that we stopped for the night between Minas Tirith and Mordor before that last battle before the Black Gate."

"Now that I think about it, that tiny room at the Inn of the Prancing Pony in Bree wasn't all that great either," nodded Aragorn. "And at least you two more than barely tolerate me being here, unlike Butterbur – except for that last stay, of course. So you see, good woman and sir, compared to those other places this kitchen is nothing short of luxury accommodations. We'll be fine here."

"Well, if your mind's made up we're not going to tell you no," said the other Man with a shrug of his shoulders. He sat down next to his wife, across from the royal couple, and folded his hands on top of the table. "Now, you wanted to talk to us about something?"

"Yes," Aragorn told him. "Your reward."

Their reward? The farmer and his wife didn't know what to say to that. They'd already been graced with the presence of the royal family, treated with so much respect, even told that they need not bow anymore – all for doing something that they would have done for anyone. They could understand King Elessar and Prince Legolas' desire to reward them – there were no words to convey the pain and fear of not knowing where your children are, nor to express the relief once they've been found and the gratitude you feel toward the person who found them – but the last thing that they wanted to do was take advantage of them in their generous state. "What more reward do we need?" the farmer asked carefully.

"You have gone above and beyond in your service to the crown," elaborated Aragorn earnestly. "This earns you the favor of the king and prince of Gondor and that comes with rewards."

"We will make restitutions for all of the food we've eaten and the time we've taken up, of course," added Legolas, waving his hand when the couple tried to insist that it wasn't necessary. "You're incredible hospitality is well noted but we don't want to leave you worse off because of our acquaintance. What more would you ask of us? More livestock? More land? Money? Jewels?"

"I could make you an official lord and lady of Gondor," offered Aragorn.

This was getting downright absurd! "Us – a lord and lady?" asked the farmer incredulously. "What would we do with that?"

"Well, everyone would have to call you by your title and recognize your high standing in society," said Aragorn.

"But we don't really see other people on a regular basis," responded the farmer. "Although I guess we could sit around and call each other 'my lord' and 'my lady'."

The farmer and his wife looked at each other wide-eyed for a moment before breaking down into hysterical laughter. That proved to be contagious and soon Aragorn and Legolas joined in. "Lord and lady!" hooted the farmer. "My lady, have a good afternoon washing the undergarments while your lord shovels manure!"

"Maybe we could make the cows curtsy every time we feed them," chortled his wife.

"I must confess that I see little use in titles like that," admitted Aragorn, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Still, people seem to like them, so I thought I'd give you the choice." The laugher subsided and he took a deep breath. "Seriously though, we bid you ask us for something. Please; it's the least that we can do."

"But I can't think of…" the farmer's voice trailed off and he looked quite pleased with himself as a smile curled his lips. "Actually, there is something that's been bothering me lately…"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A sigh escaped from Legolas' lips as he burrowed back under the covers of the makeshift bed. The next day a carriage from Minas Tirith would undoubtedly arrive for them and, after they saw to the farmer's request, they would take their children home. At that moment in the dead of night the gravity of that weighed heavily on him. "All's well?" mumbled Aragorn in his ear as he spooned up behind the elf.

Legolas' eyes pierced through the darkness to where their twin daughters were now – thankfully – asleep. "For now," he repeated in a deliberately light tone. "There's no dirty diaper out there that's a match for me; just remember that next time it's your turn."

"I didn't mean it like that," Aragorn told him. "There's something on your mind – I can almost hear you thinking. What is it? You can tell me anything."

"I know," responded Legolas, and this time his voice was very weary. "It's just – this evening has been one of the happiest ones that I can remember us having in a long time, but it can't last. The real world is pressing down on us, melanin; we're going back to the White City tomorrow, where all of it is waiting. We're going to have to conduct Tanondor's trial, attend Lord Eärnil's funeral…plan a funeral of our own."

Ah; there was the true root of Legolas' restlessness. Aragorn put his arms around him, letting his hands slide down his arms until they were covering those of the elf's that were resting on top of his stomach. "I don't know how to do this, Aragorn," confided Legolas with quiet pain. "I don't know how to bury one of our children."

"I don't know either," whispered Aragorn into his ear. "But we'll figure it out together; privately and in our own way. Just like how we'll figure out how to tell Eldarion and Laurelin what happened." He squeezed his eyes shut to hold the tears at bay. "Oh Legolas, they're old enough to realize what's happened, but how can they understand it? I don't even understand it."

"The truth has served us well in the past; there's no reason for us to abandon it now," replied Legolas quietly. He pressed down comfortingly on the Man's hands and found himself smiling wistfully when the arms around him tightened in response. "The real world awaits us, my love, but we aren't back in it yet. Let us rest now while we can; I dare say we'll need it come tomorrow."

To be continued…

A/N: This story now has over 200 reviews. Thank you so much to the people who have taken the time to send them in.