Note: This story deals in the 'present' day of Legolas' thought as well as a few flash backs he experiences. The latter will be placed after or between horizontal lines.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or anything about them.

Legolas wandered through the many halls of Elrond's house until he came upon the balcony he sought: the balcony on which stood Estel, or Aragorn, as he had chosen to be called among the Rangers of his company. The elven prince had recently traveled to Imladris on errand of his father, and to visit his distant kindred, and, when he learned that his friend could be found among the halls, he was delighted. He gave a shallow bow and smiled merrily at Aragorn's notice. Good day, Aragorn.'

The man's dark eyebrows rose and fell with his head in an appreciative nod. He smiled and turned his gaze back to the gardens. 'The tidings of your journey reached my ears this morning,' he said. 'It is luck that I was here for your arrival, my friend.'

'My luck, to be sure,' Legolas nodded as he stepped close to the railing to join the man. 'And what other tidings have reached your ears?'

'None, I suppose,' Aragorn sighed. 'At least,' he continued, 'none that you would not have also heard.'

'Do you want to know what it is that I have heard?'

Aragorn turned his steel eyes upon the elf and frowned thoughtfully. 'What do you mean?'

Legolas laughed and patted his back. 'That you have grown too serious. I understand, from two dear friends of mine here, that you have grown absolutely boorish.' His elven face remained straight, even as the man sighed and rolled his eyes at the mention, which told Legolas that it was, indeed, something he had heard. Legolas could no longer retain his laughter and it flooded the air with merriment, though it was shattered upon the walls of Aragorn's hard exterior. The elf frowned. 'It is true, then.' Aragorn looked away and ignored his friend's words, returning his gaze once more to the plush gardens below. 'Aragorn,' Legolas said, 'You cannot do this. You must allow for some happiness, even when you feel dark. I know that your years have not all been pleasant, but I promise you that mine have not either, and I have lived far more than you.'

'Oh, Legolas, please do not begin with that again.'

The elf smiled and nodded, but there was a glint of mischief in his marine eyes. He leaned over the railing, letting his hair fall past his shoulders and dangle in the air while he hung from his waist. His laughter rang through the surrounding trees as he felt the breeze tickle his scalp through loose strands of hair, and he ignored the pleas of Aragorn to stop acting foolish on such a high balcony. With less than a moment's thought, Legolas gracefully flipped over the sculpted railing and flew toward the ground in a manner that Aragorn could only describe as 'fast floating' before landing lightly on his feet. He lay on his back in the soft grass and laughed at his friend above.

'Are you mad?' gasped Aragorn, whose face was a mix of surprise and annoyance. 'You could have broken your neck!'

'I was not trying to break my neck, Aragorn.'

The man rolled his eyes and sighed, but he knew that there was no logic that Legolas could counter with his nonsense, and it was nonsense. He kicked one leg over the railing and managed his way down the lattice and vinery on the walls until he had climbed far enough that he felt safe jumping. Legolas smiled at him and remained lying on the ground, searching the face of his friend for any hint of his thoughts.

'If I choose to brood, I will brood,' Aragorn said.

'At least,' the elf sighed, 'you are honest about it.' He said no more for a long time, and there were no other noises to be heard that were not of the earth during their mutual silence. Legolas stared only at the sky and watched the filmy clouds overhead as they drifted and soared above, while Aragorn sat with his back rigid and stared at the grass. His eyes focused on one blade, and he imagined that he were the small blade: he stood among many, yet he was still alone, only one small person. He let his eyes slide to a nearby flower that dotted the grass and sat just higher than the green blades. Its petals were the bluest hue not of the ocean, and they were long and graceful; tranquility flowed from its leaves into the surrounding foliage, and it seemed as though from that one plant the rest of its immediate space was brightened. He supposed that if he were a tiny blade of insignificant grass, Legolas must be like a lovely flower that shone among its peers, as would be any other elf. Aragorn sighed and looked at his friend, who, he discovered, had taken his gaze from the sky and was staring intently at him.

'What do you think, my friend?' asked Legolas, and he sat up to look evenly into Aragorn's eyes, 'and how do you expect you should find it among the many lovely things on the ground?' His golden head tilted as he hugged his knees to his chest and awaited his friend's response, but none came. He still stared.

Aragorn could feel holes burning into his head as Legolas watched him. He knew that, eventually, the elf would discover whatever he wished to know. It was silent for some time after that thought occurred to him, and, even when Legolas began to sing a quiet, eerie melody in his own language, Aragorn did not speak, but he listened. It did the man little good to feign anger or disinterest, and he was, in fact, happy for the concern of his friend, even if it was annoying. He knew well that he was burdening himself with dark thoughts, and he knew that it affected his behaviour, but he also knew the history of his line, and that terrified him.

'I do not know how many times I, or Elrond, or anyone else must tell you not to worry about the past as much as the future,' said Legolas when he guessed Aragorn's thoughts. 'Hearken these words, my friend; the time is soon coming that you will be needed by your people.'

'Over and over you give me advice,' Aragorn shouted suddenly. 'And yet, never have I asked it of you!' Legolas did not move or speak, and that bothered Aragorn just as much as when he did. 'Did you really come to attend to matters of your father, or was that just an excuse to badger me, Legolas? You name me friend, yet you constantly plague me with unfounded observations of who you think I am or you who and everyone else want me to be!' he said, not in a quiet voice, and he quaked where he now stood above the elf and awaited a reply. Surely, Legolas would not stand to be spoken to in such a way, would he? But the elf remained silent and only stared at Aragorn, or through him, as it were, which only enraged the man even further. 'Damn you,' he stammered, and he clenched his fists, 'Does nothing awake your heart or thoughts but my own when you consider them defunct?'

Then, Legolas rose with the grace of waves upon a shore, and though he was only barely taller than Aragorn, the man felt as though he towered over him. The wind picked up a little and blew golden hairs between them; Legolas' eyes said nothing, though he was full of emotion inside. He did not blame Aragorn for his outburst: it was the nature of his people, but he had no desire to experience it any longer. If the man could not accept himself, if he could not see that he was now taking his frustrations out on the friends who tried to help him, Legolas would not listen to his outcries that echoed themselves with self pity any longer. In contrast to his own, the elf noticed that Aragorn's eyes were flooded with emotion; it poured from his sockets in lieu of tears as he stared at Legolas and waited for a response. The elf guessed that he expected some sort of physical assault in retaliation, and that was half of what was wrong. Legolas only shook his head and finally let his sadness show in expression. His voice was icy, though it melted as it found its way out. 'Good day, Aragorn,' he said, and he walked smoothly out of the path of his friend and disappeared into the halls of Elrond.

'The sun is setting,' said Pippin, 'I've never seen so much colour in the sky.'

Legolas was a touch startled from memory, but he nodded and smiled. 'Aye, and neither have many, for a long time. The destruction of Sauron pleases all the world.'

The hobbit nodded and was silent for a while longer as they watched the sky paint itself for night. He looked up at Legolas, though, and in a quiet voice asked, 'Legolas, why were you sad a moment ago?'

'Memories,' said the elf. He smiled sadly and shook his head. 'Some are not as pleasant as others.'

Pippin nodded and frowned a little. He had noticed that Legolas was keeping whatever the real issue in his head was from him, and he had tried not to let it bother him, or not to take it personally. Elves were strange folk; the hobbit knew that, but he still felt a great need to know what troubled his friend, and that Legolas was avoiding it bothered him. 'You must have a lot of those,' he said, 'memories, I mean.'

'Yes,' Legolas whispered, 'many memories, indeed.' He closed his eyes and sighed more noticeably than he would have liked.