Author's Note - Ah, faithful readers, I would advise that you keep the box of tissues within reach, as this chapter has turned out to be kind of depressing too.

And thank you to my astute reviewer Nieriel Raina for correcting my mistake about Lingering. I have edited that part out, as it wasn't wholly necessary anyway.

"Gimli, promise me you will take care of yourself, and Aragorn. He will need you to help him say goodbye to me, and you know that stubborn man would never ask for the assistance of anyone."

The Dwarf rubbed his temples as the Elf's words echoed through his mind. You requested no easy task, Legolas.

As he came upon the man, he knew that the task might very well prove impossible. Everyone who loved Aragorn had already come in turn to request that he return to the castle, bringing the Elf with him. But Aragorn would hear none of it, and have none of it. He refused to so much as tear his gaze from the pale face turned up toward his.

He was exactly as Gimli had left him, and exactly as everyone had described him as they returned, frustrated and disappointed that they could not help their friend. He sat cross-legged in a patch of trampled, brown grass, holding Legolas and staring down at him as though still not believing that he was really gone.

Aragorn spoke without even glancing up. "Gimli, I know what you would say, and I ask that you save your words and leave me." There was no anger in his voice...in fact, upon further inspection, there was nothing in his voice. It was just...empty.

Gimli steadied himself against the ache in his soul. Only the passing of a creature as incredible as the Elf in his arms could reduce this battle-hardened man to such unconsolability.

I will not let you down, crazy Elf. I have not forgotten my promise.

He cleared his throat, mostly to force down the lump that rose unbidden. "Aragorn, you cannot possibly remain out here all night. You'll catch your de--" He quickly re-phrased that. "You'll catch a chill. It would not do to have the man who led us into victory fall ill and be unable to help us celebrate."

"It matters not." The man did not look up from the Elf's face. "I feel nothing."

"You feel agony, and that is expected. We all feel agony. We all have lost a close friend today, Aragorn, but you are the only one who insists on sitting out here, holding him, as if freezing yourself to death will help bring him back."

Aragorn, for his part, ignored Gimli's words. "Elbereth, he's still beautiful...even in death." He ran his palm gently over the lustrous hair, marvelling as always at the downy texture. "I would give anything to have him alive again, Gimli."

"We all would, but he is gone. There are no words to express how much that saddens me, but it cannot be reversed."

Still Aragorn said nothing.

This time, the Dwarf tried a different approach. "You know the fool Elf would thump you in the head for being out here this long."

"Aye, but he never will." Thoughtfully, he traced a finger along the leaf-shaped ear. "Never again."

Gimli surprised him by doing what Legolas could not. "Aragorn!" he snapped sharply, withdrawing his hand as the man stared in shock at him. I should never have struck him, but at least he has desisted in merely sitting there like a stone statue. "Snap out of this stupor!"

Aragorn's mouth fell open, and had the circumstances been different, Gimli would have roared with laughter at seeing the future King of Men gawping at him in such utter disbelief. Ordinarily, it would have been downright comical.

But he was too miserable to laugh, or even to smile. "Aragorn," he repeated, softer now, "you must not let your grief consume you. I share your pain, and I am here for you. We will need each other. Everyone will need to come together to mourn his passing, and then accept it and remember him fondly."

Aragorn did not appear angry. He just seemed...defeated. "You are right, Gimli, of course. I apologize. I am just uncertain about what to do now. I went through this war beside him because I knew that he believed in me. The fool thought I could do anything, but now I cannot even rise to my feet. He would think me pathetic, and he would be right. But you see, Gimli, it was because of Legolas that I had hope. And now..."

"There is still hope. There is always hope."

The man seemed not to hear him. "Do you not fear as I do, that without his light, no one will be able to see the way?"

"He would have followed you into the depths of Mount Doom, Aragorn. You were HIS light, and you led the way for him. For all of us. Will you forsake us now? Legolas would not have it, Aragorn, and you know this."

"Naturally. I can't keep him forever."

"No," came the soft reply, "not in your arms, at least. In your heart, without a doubt."

Aragorn brushed away a tear. "Aye. He will always have a place there."

"He should be taken back to Minas Tirith," Gimli said, his voice tender. "There are many who have not yet been able to properly say goodbye." He paused, then added gruffly, "And I'm chilled to the bone from this blasted wind."

Aragorn laughed. "I apologize, friend. I have...not been not myself these past few hours."

"It is forgivable, Ranger. Now, let us return to the City."

Aragorn nodded, carefully removing Legolas's quiver, all the while holding fast to the Elf. He held it out to Gimli, who accepted it. Then the man carefully rose to his feet, still cradling his precious burden in his arms.

Gimli watched forlornly as the Elf's neck arched back, and the long hair spilled down in an aureate torrent. Tears sprang to his eyes again, but he forced himself to look away. Seeing his dear friend so vulnerable and lifeless nearly cleaved his heart in half.

Rather than watching Aragorn adjust the wand-slender body so as not to lose his grasp, the Dwarf busied himself with the task of carefully retrieving the bow of Galadriel from the pile of broken planks. He braced himself against a wave of hurt as he realized that Legolas would never fire it with that legendary accuracy again. Swallowing hard, he stroked one finger along the polished curve. He had perpetually mocked Legolas as lazy for using such a long-distance weapon, but in truth (and Legolas knew it too) the Dwarf was always astonished by his bowmanship skills, and he would rather stand by no other side than the Elf's in battle.

Ah, Legolas, how I miss our taunting contests...even if you were always quicker of wit and it annoyed me to no mercy.

"Tell me your thoughts, friend Gimli." Aragorn's voice startled him out of his reverie. "You're grinning from ear to ear."

The other chuckled. "So I am," he conceded with a shrug. "I was thinking how much I would give to bicker aimlessly with him, just once more."

"You two had a very...bizarre way of displaying your affection toward one another."

This surprised a laugh from Gimli, and he reached to take Legolas's hand. "Indeed, but we held each other in high regard nevertheless, and it was all too implicit to us."

Aragorn had to smile. "You never fooled us, Master Dwarf, although I know how much you would like to think so. We knew you two cared for each other more than you dared let on, lest we might know of the blossoming friendship between the two most unlikely creatures in Middle Earth to ever forge an alliance."

"At least we did not flaunt it," the Dwarf returned, toying with his beard and giving the man a teasingly condescending smirk. "You two did not even attempt to hide it. Legolas never thought to torment you. I was his sole intended target."

"As if you would have had it any other way," came the cool reply.

Gimli grinned, elbowing the man in the ribs playfully. "Indeed. I still wish he had made a fool of you at some point. He flattered you so often I'll be surprised if the crown of Gondor fits your head. He never so much as cast a scornful glance your way."

Aragorn let out a roar of laughter. "Ah, but I beg to differ, Gimli."

The Dwarf snorted. "Nonsense. Legolas was head over pointed ears for you. In his eyes, you could do no wrong. It was I that was a bane to his existence." There was absolutely no resentment in his tone, only amusement. His dark eyes twinkled with mirth.

Aragorn shook his head. "I could probably easily think of no less than five occasions where I have been the prey of his Elven mischief."

"Oh? Prove it. Name one instance where our fair Elf-Prince did not treat you with the utmost reverence."

"Very well." The man pondered on this for a moment, delving far into his memories of Legolas. Then he let out a sound that was caught somewhere between a sob and a chuckle. "I'll never forget the time I woke up from a long nap, and was shocked to find that my hair was braided into about a thousand tiny plaits."

I knew with every fiber of my being that Legolas had done it. He's the only one who's fast enough at braiding to accomplish it at all. I shouted his name so loudly that Elladan and Elrohir came running to see what the commotion was. I have never seen them laugh so hard in all the time I've known them."

And of course, Legolas meandered in casually five minutes later, in absolutely no hurry whatsoever, and he was the very picture of perfect innocence. Really, his flair for acting was impressive. He never did admit to it, but I could not stay angry at him long enough to force him to confess, either."

Gimli released a hearty guffaw. "Aye, that sounds like that insufferable Elf, all right."

Aragorn stopped for a moment, and Gimli did too, giving him a curious look.

"Thank you, Gimli," the man said, everything about his expression belying how grateful he truly felt. "I appreciate your comfort. You have made me feel more optimistic about my chances at overcoming this awful thing that has happened. Perhaps we can both help each other to look back at our time, however brief, with the son of Thranduil, and laugh rather than cry."

For Gimli's part, he just smiled and nodded, clasping Aragorn's shoulder in a gesture of brotherly affection.

Together, in companionable silence, each lost in his own happy reminiscence, they brought their beloved friend back to the White City.

See, Legolas, a Dwarf always keeps his promises.