There were only three faces that didn't look happy in a courtyard full of revelers who were enjoying the new king and queen's wedding reception to the fullest: Frodo, Legolas, and Eomer. The poor hobbit, still and always feeling the affects of the Ring's destruction, stood with a faraway look on his face while he half-heartedly responded to his cousins' attempts to cheer him up. The king of Rohan was genuinely happy for the royal couple but his mind was too weighed down by other more somber things for him to really join in the festivities. As for Legolas, the pain of losing Aragorn had only intensified since the wedding and it was all he could do to try to work up the strength to give his love and Arwen the obligatory congratulations so he could leave without rousing suspicion.

First, however, he needed some information about King Théoden's funeral procession. He was grateful that the person he needed it from didn't look much happier than he felt – at least he had a better chance of getting through the conversation without having to gush about how fantastic the day's events were. "King Eomer," he greeted as he approached the new monarch. "I'm sorry to disturb you."

"That's quite all right," sighed Eomer. He gave the elf a small, closed-lipped smile. "I was just thinking about…family. How can I help you?"

"I guess it's related to that very topic," hedged Legolas. As much as he wanted to know what Eomer was planning so that he could prepare how escape from that horribly awkward situation in Minas Tirith, he didn't want to make another person miserable. "I shouldn't be bothering you…"

He turned to leave but Eomer's voice made him pause. "You're wondering what plans I've made for my uncle's funeral," he said knowingly with no bitterness in his voice. "It's all right, master elf; I've come to terms with losing him; in fact I must confess that isn't even what's occupying my mind."

"Really?" asked Legolas, genuinely curious. "Then what is?"

"My sister," replied Eomer with a wry smile. "She appears to be in love."

"And you don't approve?"

"Well, no." He looked over to where Eowyn and Faramir, the new steward of Gondor, were in deep conversation. "But she wishes to marry him, and to lose her to marriage so soon after losing my uncle to death…." He bit his lip and looked back toward Legolas. "That's why I'm not entirely happy at this joyous occasion. Do you have a similar reason?"

Legolas tried to work up the energy to look surprised. "I thought that I was hiding it so well," he murmured. "I – I just received word before the ceremony that my home was attacked while I was away," he said, suddenly feeling ashamed that he hadn't really been thinking about it. "It's difficult for me to celebrate while my people are dead or devastated and the land burned and stained."

"No wonder you're anxious to know when the funeral will be," remarked Eomer. "I'm afraid that it won't be right away; I want to make Rohan ready before bringing his body home. With the journey there and back and all I'll have to do between then it will be more than a month before the funeral procession can begin. You don't have to attend, master elf; I understand that you have duties to attend to elsewhere."

"King Theoden was a fine ruler who showed me a lot of hospitality during a time when very few people would welcome strangers," said Legolas firmly. "I will pay him due respect, King Eomer."

Eomer looked at him with a new warmth and respect; he already knew that Legolas was a skilled warrior but hadn't considered before then that he was also a likable person. "I'd be happy if you call me Eomer, master elf."

For the first time in several days Legolas gave a real smile, tiny though it was. "I will, if you call me Legolas."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A lot have people had wished them well that evening; Aragorn was just happy that the one doing it now was someone he actually knew. "If there's one thing I like," gushed Sam cheerfully, "it's a happy ending. That doesn't always happen, you know; I can't think of many grand tales that get 'em."

"Grand tales?" echoed Aragorn.

"Yeah! You know, those stories of grand adventures, the ones that really matter." Sam paused to glance over his shoulder at Frodo, who appeared to be trying to focus on whatever Merry was talking about to make him gesture so wildly. This wasn't the first time that the hobbit gardener had checked on his master during the course of his conversation with Aragorn and Arwen, but this time a wistful smile ghosted over his features before he turned back to the royal couple. "Like the one about Gil-galad and the Last Alliance, or that one you were singing about during the trip from Bree to Rivendell – about Luthien and Beren. Great tales that stuck with you, those were, but they always ended so sad."

"Perhaps they did not finish with the words 'and they all lived happily ever after until the end of their days'," Aragorn had to chuckle ironically. "Not all of them can end like Bilbo's book, and now not even his story will have that conclusion. The presence of death doesn't make mean that a story's ending isn't happy. Most times the conclusions in life are ultimately neither joyful nor devastating, but a little bit of both. That's simply the way that life works.

Sam smiled and blushed. "Forgive me, but that's all a little too complicated and gloomy for me right now," he said ruefully. "Will it be all right with the two of you if I just revel in the fact that good has triumphed over evil, the great king has returned to his people, and said king got his title and got to marry the elf of his dreams on the same day? I could really use a happy ending right about now."

"Oh, I think that will be all right just this once," teased Arwen, taking Aragorn's hand and beaming radiantly up at him. "Stop this nonsense about death and bittersweet endings at once, mela nin!"

She didn't notice the flash of pain in Aragorn's eyes at her use of the term of endearment that Legolas had called him so often. "After all," she continued obliviously, "we've waited for so long for this day. Now that it's finally here we should enjoy it and – for once – not worry about what tomorrow may bring."

"I can agree with that," said Aragorn with all honestly. Truth be told, he was much too focused on making it through the evening to be too concerned about any of the coming days. He felt so – so phony; like some pawn who smiled, laughed, and spoke when others expected him to without once showing his genuine emotions.

Nodding mindlessly at as Sam and Arwen continued to speak words that he was no longer listening to Aragorn almost wished that he could simply slip away from the party, flee from the eyes of everyone who expected him to appear blissfully happy with his wife at his side. In the end, though, he knew that when he excused himself he would find no refuge in his privacy. Arwen would come with him, of course; all the way to the bedchamber that was now theirs. Their marriage bed would be awaiting them and she would expect them to consummate their union. There was no way to get around that now, even when Aragorn felt absolutely no passion for her at all. How was he going to go through with it? How could he fake with Arwen what he'd sincerely experienced with Legolas?

Forcing himself to laugh when she playfully nudged him in the side, Aragorn scoured the crowd for his true love. After a few scans he finally spotted him conversing with Eomer in one of the more quiet corners of the party. He saw Legolas give the other king a smile that made Aragorn suddenly remember the night that he realized that only one elf would forever hold his heart.

Flashback

He hadn't meant to brood all the way to wherever Arwen was leading him but Aragorn found that he couldn't help it. Honestly, he didn't even know why he still went in that room at all, where all of the relics of the Last Alliance were stored. He supposed that he did it to punish himself for being a member of the weak race of Men and carrying within him the bloodline of the one who'd ensured that evil would endure into these days. Contemplating what Isildur had done and what he was about to be expected to do to atone for it always put the Man into a pensive mood.

That mood was made all the more intense that night by his encounter with Lord Denethor's son, Boromir. Aragorn had met the steward of Gondor a long time ago – before he received his title – and was dismayed to find that his eldest was ever bit as proud and arrogant as his father. To see the young Man (at his age, most Men were young in his eyes) be so awed at beholding Narsil one moment and treating it with such utter disrespect the next made the ranger slightly queasy. Would that be how the people of Gondor would react to him as well: secretly curious about having a relic of the ancient past in their midst but outwardly scorn him as having nothing to do with their current lives? Had Isildur's betrayal made him and that once mighty sword forever nothing more than a broken heirloom?

In the midst of all of this Arwen had come to him with words of comfort that left him feeling cold and slightly incredulous. She wasn't the first person to ever tell him that he was not Isildur, nor was he bound to his fate. Many before her had told him with all confidence that he would (never could – Gandalf, Elrond, his brothers, and the rangers never seemed to have a doubt that he was somehow impervious to the Ring's will) defeat the same temptation that his forefather hadn't; it had been going on quite steadily since he'd found out about his true heritage. Those words were so familiar, in fact, that he could no longer find any reassurance in them at all. He still accepted them nonetheless; it shouldn't have bothered him so much when Arwen said it that night, as she had countless other nights before.

It did, though, and he was troubled to find out why. All of those other people encouraged him because they all wanted something from him: to unite the world of Men and take up the throne of Gondor. They loved him too, but at his darkest moments Aragorn couldn't help but feel that their personal emotions were far too entangled with everything that they'd hoped he'd be to ever know where one ended and the other began. He could accept that the full love of the others might be contingent on his success, but it bothered him that Arwen's might as well. She was supposed to be the one who loved him most, no matter if he stayed a ranger or became the greatest king who ever lived.

To make matters worse she'd went on to add something that made him pause. "The Shadow holds no sway here," she'd comforted in a breathy whisper that he didn't have the heart to tell her that he found quite irritating. "Not over you; not over me."

Try as he might Aragorn couldn't get that out of his mind. The Shadow holds no sway over him or her? What did the sheltered Arwen know about the Shadow? They only time she'd ever been out of a ring-protected realm in her entire life were when she traveled – heavily guarded – between Rivendell and Lothlorien. It took a lot of gull, or ignorance, or both, to presume to be an expert about what affect the Shadow did and didn't have on him.

'You're being unfair,' he told himself. 'She just tracked me and the hobbits and even faced down the Nine to save Frodo!' But that wasn't entirely true either; she'd never strayed too far from Rivendell's borders and then had outrun the Nine on a horse that she knew was faster than theirs to a river that she knew would rise up against them. One frantic ride with a gravely injured hobbit didn't make her an authority on all of the evils that Sauron would unleash when motivated and desperate.

'What about her mother?' Aragorn scolded himself. 'She lost her mother to an orc attack.' That was a horrible loss to go through to be sure; yet countless others had suffered similar ones. Why was her pain any more grievous than any of there's? Especially since she hadn't been forced to witness the torture that her mother had endured while too many broken souls Aragorn had encountered over the years hadn't been as fortunate. The Man himself had lost both of his parents as well as countless friends and fellow rangers and yet he had to keep fighting while she got more than sufficient time to recover from her loss while under the protection of Nenya and Vilya. The more he thought about it, the more he resented the authority in which she presumed to have when she lectured him about the power of the Shadow.

"Mela," she said excitedly, breaking through his increasingly bitter thoughts. She took his hands and led him up to a small bridge. "We're here. Of all of the places in the world where the Shadow could never reach us, it is this place."

"Hmmm," mumbled Aragorn.

She frowned worriedly at him and caressed his cheek lovingly. "Do you not remember this place, my dear love?"

He certainly did. They were at the exact location where he'd first laid eyes on Arwen. He'd been only twenty and dealing with so many changes in his life: his ada had just told him that he was the heir to a terribly burdensome family line, and was about to be sent to the rangers of the North to become one of their numbers start to take his place in a world that he hadn't been a part of since he was two-years-old. On top of all of that he'd fallen in love for the first time with the prince of Mirkwood and then lost him. Encountering a copy of Luthien herself while trying to come to terms with all of that had rendered Aragorn dumbstruck. In the ensuing years he continued to be awed by her grace and beauty, even when liking her as a person had been difficult…

"Do you remember when we first met?" asked Arwen, a mysterious glint in her eyes that Aragorn wasn't sure that he liked.

"I thought I'd strayed into a dream," recalled Aragorn. Why was all of this bitterness and doubt coming to him in a rush now? Had he truly been dreaming all through their relationship? If he had been it would certainly explain why he felt like he was waking up after a long sleep.

"Long years have passed," she said almost regretfully as she stroked his face. There was surprised sadness in her voice when she added, "You didn't have the cares that you have now."

'Of course I didn't,' Aragorn had to restrain himself from blurting out. 'I was twenty-years-old! I had no idea at what the world was going to be like, the homelessness I would go through and the scorn I would face as a ranger. I didn't know that I'd be seeing the worst places of the world, seeing the horrible aftermaths of Enemy attacks and struggling to help the people left in the wake. Now I've seen much of Middle-earth, experienced immense joy and unspeakable loss many times over, and have come to realize the full weight of my destiny. It's called growing up. Are you still the same person that you were that night that I thought I'd brought you to life by singing about Beren and Luthien? Have you not grown at all?' By the Valar, what was wrong with him? Why was he feeling so sarcastic all of the sudden?

Thankfully she was too wrapped up in reminiscing to look too closely at how he was feeling now. "Do you remember what I told you?" she asked, almost bursting with excitement and anticipation.

"That you would bind yourself to me," he responded slowly. Arwen looked up into his face. It made his nausea grow, seemingly inexplicably, so he chose to look at her Evenstar pendant instead. "Forsaking the immortal life of your people."

"And to that I hold," declared Arwen in a breathless tone. Aragorn's skin turned suddenly cold. "I'd rather spend one lifetime with you than all the ages of this world alone."

He felt her press something into his hand and fold his fingers down. Pulling slightly back, Aragorn uncurled them and beheld the Evenstar, the symbol of all that she was. Blind panic seized him and he looked on her with pleading eyes. "You cannot give me this!" he burst out.

Before, when the strange mood wasn't upon him, he would have immediately felt bad for raising his voice; now, however, he was too struck by her ignorant self-absorption to care. He was about to travel the dangerous paths that led East, protecting a hobbit who possessed the One Ring (for whatever took place at Elrond's council the next day Aragorn was certain that Frodo would end up having to bear the Ring and Aragorn couldn't in good conscience let him face that burden alone). During the days that would follow he would have to resist its temptation while somehow finding a way to prove himself so great a leader – when he wasn't even sure that he could be that great a leader – that the world of Men wouldn't be able to come to any other conclusion but that he was worthy to be the king. He didn't need the extra burden of known that she'd given up everything on the slim chance that he'd succeed – he didn't want it.

"It's mine to give to whom I will," she smiled confidently. "Like my heart."

Most men, and elves for that matter, would have given up almost anything to be in the place where he was now: with Arwen Evenstar's head tilted up as him, touching her lips to his, but all Aragorn felt was melancholy frustration. "Arwen," he said, pulling away.

"I know what you're going to say," she interrupted him. "But I know that you will succeed and this is my way of always reminding you of that. This is what's best for both of us, my love."

She didn't understand; she couldn't possibly comprehend the possibility that she was wrong in any way about this. He'd never asked her for such a permanent commitment, he realized, not because he was worried about her but because he wasn't ready for it. Arwen was very childlike in that respect – self-centered due to ignorance and lack of experience rather than true nastiness, seeing the Man she claimed to love as a selfless and perfect hero instead of a fallible being. Now she had decided that it was best that he be weighed down with her fate as well as the rest of Middle-earth's and he would have a lifetime of either living up to her lofty expectations or else always disappoint her. How had he managed to fall in love with someone like that?

'Maybe you never did,' whispered a voice at the back of his mind.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A short while later Aragorn made his way back to the House of Elrond with a heavy heart. He didn't love Arwen. That realization almost brought him to his knees: he liked her, cared about her, loved her as a dear friend would, but he had never been in love with her. The shock of meeting someone so beautiful combined with the need for his break-up with Legolas not to have been in vain had made him want to love her, but actually falling in love had little to do with whether or not a person wanted to do so. Now what was he supposed to do? He had no idea.

Actually, he did have one idea that came to him suddenly: avoid getting hit in the face by the door. The main door flew open just as he was reaching for the handle. He dove backwards and only his quick reflexes saved him from getting a black eye or landing on his bottom. "I'm so sorry," apologized the person on the other side in a hissing whisper.

Aragorn's heart stopped for a second; the next beat felt like it the first time it had done that in years. "Legolas?"

A blonde head peered around the door and indeed Aragorn saw that it was his first love. "Aragorn!" the elf exclaimed.

"I didn't know that you were here," stammered Aragorn. "Why didn't you come find me?"

"Well, I didn't know that you were here either," countered Legolas. "You weren't at the feast tonight. Strange how the world works, isn't it? I didn't see you for decades and now it's been twice in one year. At least you don't have a disgusting, wretched creature with you this time."

Aragorn would have laughed had it not been for the pained look in the prince's eyes. "This isn't a social visit," observed Aragorn wisely. "What brought you here?"

"He escaped. Gollum is free." A haunted expression passed over Legolas' face but he managed to banish it almost instantly. "That's why I've come. Mithrandir must be made aware of what happened and it's only right that a member of the royal family take responsibility for our failure to keep that vile thing like we promised."

"That's a tale that I'd be interested in hearing as well," said Aragorn in a low, urgent voice, taking the elf's arm and attempting to lead him away.

Legolas calmly but firmly stood his ground, gently dislodging the Man's hold. "Not now," he said; and for the first time in their acquaintance his voice sounded utterly exhausted in Aragorn's ears. "I only arrived today after weeks of tense travel to tell a wizard that something has happened that may very well spoil his plans. Your father seems to be under the impression that I'm in dire need of rest and practically ordered me to my bedchamber after I ate, making it necessary for the first time in centuries for me to sneak out of this House. And, if all of that wasn't enough, there were dwarves at the feast. I don't think I could take recounting the story of Gollum's escape now."

He smiled but Aragorn could tell that his heart wasn't in it. "He didn't just escape, did he?" the Man persisted. "He – he had help, and your realm lost people in the process?"

The elf's shoulders sagged a little. "Yes. There were orcs."

"I'm sorry, Legolas."

"Thank you, but don't be," sighed Legolas wearily. "You didn't cause this."

Feeling the burden of Isildur's folly more strongly than ever Aragorn shut his eyes and bowed his head. "I brought Gollum to Mirkwood," he murmured, almost to himself. "And who knows how many more miseries that the weakness of my bloodline will bring to others?"

"And I should have been able to save my people, either by seeing into the future or by holding back the orcs all by myself," Legolas said with kind pointedness. "Elbereth, Aragorn; how do you sleep at night, or do all that walking and running with all of that on your conscience? You're a person, not a Vala; and not even a Vala is held responsible for what another Vala does. You're a good Man, Aragorn, but even the best of us all can't stop very bad things from happening."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Aragorn. "Would you like some company?"

"No thank you," replied Legolas, gazing beyond him to the trees. "I need a chance to gather my thoughts before I have to spill them all at the Council tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe this won't be a total loss; perhaps I can find something to do to help Mithrandir in his task."

"Like what?"

"The same as you," Legolas told him as he started to walk away. "What I can, done at the best of my ability. And I, like you, would offer more if I could but unfortunately no one can do better than their best."

How strange; how utterly strange and wonderful. There wasn't a tearful reunion or melodramatic words of comfort but Aragorn felt so refreshed. It was nice to have someone believe in him without making him feel like they judged him for every failure. Legolas had treated him like he had when neither of them knew about Aragorn's heritage without acting as if he wasn't supposed to have changed since that time. With all that he and his realm dealt with on a daily basis, he understood. Seeing that, feeling the way he did in his presence, the Man suddenly couldn't remember why he'd fallen out of love with him.

'Maybe you never did,' the helpful voice in his mind suggested.

End flashback

"Legolas!"

His new wife's called jolted Aragorn back into reality, where Arwen was enthusiastically waving to the blonde prince. "Legolas, get over here! We haven't seen you all night!"

Slowly Legolas obeyed. "Greetings, Arwen, Aragorn," he said softly, barely glancing at his secret love.

"Greetings? Is that all you have to say?" demanded Arwen with cheerful incredulousness. "Where have you been all evening? I wanted to thank you again for presenting me to Aragorn, and I never did get a proper hug from you this morning."

"Forgive me," replied Legolas, giving her a stiff-armed hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I've been preoccupied with getting ready to leave. Eomer has informed me that King Théoden's funeral won't be for some weeks and I don't wish to impose on you or the city anymore."

"But you aren't!" protested Arwen. "Legolas, I know how worried you are about your father and Mirkwood but you'll never make it there and back in time for the king's funeral procession from the city."

"I wasn't planning on trying," Legolas informed her. "I just – want to be alone for awhile."

Arwen gave him a fiercely protective look. "So you can make yourself feel as guilty as you want without anyone around to help you?" she asked. "You need to be with the people that you love and who love you at a time like this; let us be there for you. Aragorn, talk to him."

Aragorn didn't need any more prompting – he knew that he was going to have to give up his relationship with Legolas, but not having the prince around so soon after losing him would make it feel so unbearably permanent. "Don't go," he said, his tone not giving away anything but his eyes begging. "Stay, if not for yourself then for me. It will be…jarring enough to put all that this War has brought into my life behind me without losing your – companionship so soon after as well. Help me – ease the transition, please."

Legolas could have said no. He had every reason to say no and absolutely no obligation to do otherwise. However, he loved Aragorn and so much of his life lately had been focused on helping him; it was difficult to just suddenly stop now. "Very well," he conceded, ignoring the part of him that was screaming that he would be paying for this decision with great pain. "I will stay."

To be continued…

A/N: Canonically Aragorn's mother didn't die until much later in his life and not in an orc attack, but this is an AU and it serves my purposes better if she died when his father did.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to review so far – it really means a lot to me!