The Prince of Mirkwood glanced up from his bow, his hands gracing the wood only momenterily before whisking the cloth over it. "It's hard to sneak up on an elf," he called out, though not in alarm. "Even for you, my Lord. I was almost afraid you would not arrive before I left."

Aragorn son of Arathorn chuckled softly to himself as he stepped from the shadows of the room. "I would not miss the chance to see an old friend. Even for a day. Yet the formalities," he murmured shaking his head. "There is no need for them, between two friends. Is there?"

For after all, he had been crowned King. Though the elves were leaving, Legolas of Mirkwood, was still a Prince among them. If they went by titles they would spend most of every day addressing one another correctly. While on their journey, he was Estel, Strider, Aragorn, and sometimes a silly little human playing soldier. Legolas son of Thranduil Prince of Mirkwood? He was simply Legolas, Greenleaf, and very rarely to Aragorn, that dratted creature from the Woodland realm who was affected neither by snow or rain.

But neither was Prince or King when they were together, they were friends. Neither was in their own Kingdom.

"Of course not, Estel," Legolas's hands ghosted the bow once again, aching with memories. "How is your Queen?"

Aragorn's mouth turned upward in a small sad smile. His voice was heavy. "She is well. Spending what time she has spare with her Father, Lord Eldrond intends to depart within the month."

Legolas nodded sharply, clad in green and brown he seemed ready to travel on. His teeth were gritted and now he picked up the cloth with one hand, violently scrubbing it against the fine bow. Angrily his hand darted up and down, yet Aragorn noticed that through anger there was something deeper.

"Frodo will be leaving too within the moon's cycle?" Legolas asked suddenly, without looking up.

Aragorn sat beside Legolas his hands closing around Legolas's and slowing his wild jerky actions. "Careful...you will harm her. A gift from Lady Galadriel, should not be treated so harshly... Frodo will be departing too, as will Bilbo."

"And Gandalf," added Legolas.

"And Gandalf," echoed Aragorn. "What of you, will you too go with Lord Elrond into the West?"

Tears pricked at Legolas's eyes. "No, I do not intend to. My time is here. I will leave when it is my time to leave, and I shall do so with no haste or tears."

"They set out for Lindon soon, they shall reach the Grey Havens and there they will set sail. Yet you think their departure is hasty? Your people Legolas, no one will think any less of you," Aragorn paused for a moment considering his words carefully. He did not wish to spark the calm elf's temper. "You are the one who is hasty, I thought you intended to leave, to set sail-"

Legolas stood within seconds, realing away as if burnt by the younger being's words. Scolded he shook his head, bow tingling in his hand. "It is not haste!" he hissed, the words already forming in his mind. "N'uma! There is no haste. Haste is not a word known to elves. The war is over, few battles remain. Those battles become less and less each day. Many elves will remain, those of us who never intend to set sail, and those of us who are not ready."

Aragorn shook his head, standing too now. Although the elf was slimmer than him and probably faster than him, he was still quicker than most men. "Legolas, my friend what do you intend to do instead?"

Legolas hrugged. "I will travel, through Fangorn Forest once more and the Glittering Caves of Helms Deep. But my heart no longer rests in the forest, my home. Aragorn, I want to sail. I want to go to the sea. But not yet. I am not ready. Yet the desire burns in my stomach, and through my lungs."

"You intend to travel," Aragorn nodded slowly. "That explains a little. You are restless, you are dressed to travel. Yet heavily armed for a time of peace."

Legolas's head snapped up as he tightened his hand around the bow once more. "My bow is important to me, archery is a skill of elves."

"As is your singing musical charm, your beauty and your lying," Aragorn quipped. He became serious. "You're lying. Legolas I may be getting older, yet I am barely an elderly man. I am neither blind nor a fool. Your white knife, hides pressed tight against your thigh. Two new daggers are tucked into one boot, anyone can see the handle of the second. Your quiver is full. More than you took into battle, not by some standards excessive. But certainly strange for peace time. For you."

Legolas turned away, setting down his bow gently. He glanced through the window that overlooked a courtyard, two young elven children played. There weren't many young elves anymore. Not children. There were elves a couple of hundred years old, and those more than a thousand. The children looked to be only thirty or fourty.

"You are young Estel, yet life has hardly been kind to you. There are those sailing now, who fought in the war, yet have not done what you have. You are young, yet your age is showing," he did not glance back. Instead he stared out over the courtyard, past the children, past the trees. Towards the sun. "Your skin is wearing. Your hair will begin to grey. You will like all mortals die. And your Queen will die with you."

Aragorn chuckled and joined Legolas by the window. "You talk darkly. Nothing ever truly dies, nothing ends. For from every star that dies, a new life is born. Life will never end," he sighed. "But Arwen and I will enter eternal sleep. Legolas, you speak like a scared child, not an elven Prince. What is wrong?"

Legolas did not answer. He only shook his head.

"Affairs of the heart?" Aragorn questioned. He watched the elf's lips move without emmitting a single sound, he watched as the elf closed his eyes, shutting them tightly then dragging them open once more with great effort. Aragorn realised that it was barely spoken of, yet many elves had romances with humans. In the new age, it was not frowned upon, but it was hardly encouraged. Romances that were barely flings of the heart strings. After all, the elves as a whole were sailing for the West.

Legolas shook his head as if able to read his partner's thoughts. "No Estel, do not worry. I am not torn in that way. My hear belongs to no human. Many ships will sail, but Lord Elrond's departure is somewhat of a symbol. After he leaves, the age of elves will end. But no Aragorn, my heart belongs to no human."

Aragorn felt suddenly cold. The children were being huried inside by an anxious elven woman. It began to rain and he saw the children protest and the woman looked sorrowful. Then they were gone. "Faramir asks after you, he is a good man. As was his brother. What shall I tell him when we return to Gondor?"

Legolas met his eyes for the first time. Cold dead ice met warm fresh earth. "Tell him I am well," he spoke not softly as he had done on their previous adventures together but coldly and calculated.

It scared Aragorn slightly to see his companion in such a state. On their journey to what he at one point thought their deaths, Legolas remained cheerful. With his songs that often infuriated everyone. Yet kept everyone's spirits alive. Through the snow he scouted ahead, bringing back hope. As they struggled onwards he told them an end was within sight. Unphased by the whispers of mortal fear.

Fury overwhelmed Legolas, anger burned through his immortal veins. He had to be alert as the man that stood before him transformed from mortal to monster. Lunging forwards as he drew his dagger he lashed out, yelling out in rage and fear.

"Legolas!" cried Aragorn as he darted back before the blade cut into his flesh. "Legolas what is wrong with you?"

Legolas held still for a moment, fiery eyes never leaving the beast. It spoke with Aragorn's voice, yet it was probably a wizard. Trying to cast a spell on him. He searched for movement, an attack to block. With still narrowed eyes he drew his longer knife in his left hand, wielding the blade with monstorous force.

Aragorn searched Legolas's face for any kind of recognition. "Legolas?" he asked. Dancing backwards he blocked again, not wanting to draw his sword. It was the only weapon he kept with him, having left the others with the elven guards. He did not want to draw his sword for fear he would have to use it.

Legolas was armed, dangerous and in the heat of the battle. Death surrounded him. Not just mortal. Elves lay slain around his feet, their bodies already gathering flies. The hobbits were taken, two kidnapped, two on their way to their deaths attempting to destroy a ring more powerful than any else. Gandalf, oh good Gandalf was gone presumed dead. Killed in the mines Legolas had known they shouldnot have entered.

Boromir was dead. Already their party had been decreased by so much. The forest called to him, yet so did the sea. Blood and ghosts.

Ululating and screaching and clawing at his heart with their cold fingers. He woke, seeing the dead before him, his fallen comrades. Eons in despair. Reliving the ghastly torment. Terror. Pain. War.

Each one a soldier of their King, of their Country. Riders of Rohan. Men of Gondor. The very few elves that remained. The dwarves in the East. All soldiers, barely men. Barely children. Too weak and old to bare arms. Fighting.

Trembling. Sobbing. Facade.

Legolas wept, sobs coming in desperate coughs.

"It's over Legolas," murmured Aragorn. "It's over. The war is ended. Frodo lives..." he bit his bottom lip. Not for the first time, did he think that perhaps it would be wiser for Legolas to board Lord Elrond's ship. For even he knew that Valinor would provide him with peace of mind.

Legolas suddenly realised he was on his knees, dry heaving on the cold stone floor. His knife and dagger lay discarded beside him, gripping his wrists, kneeling before him, was Aragorn son of Arathorn. Shakily Legolas released himself from the grip and stood, legs quaking beneath him. "I...I am sorry Estel. I do not know what came over me."

Yet he knew that was a lie. Dreams had been coming to him while he did not sleep for a while now, since the end of the war. It made him feel so incredibly weak. For he knew he was the only one. Every living creature had suffered. Frodo woke from dreadful nightmares each day. But he, Legolas of Mirkwood was not a halfling. He was not a ring bearer. He was not Estel.

Just Legolas. Prince of Mirkwood.

Weak.

"When do you intend to leave Legolas?"

It was only then that he realised Aragorn had been talking, guiding him back to his seat. Brushing at one sleeve Legolas stammered as he found his voice. "We leave tonight. We shall say our farewells first."

"Are you sure?" demanded Aragorn. "You will be well? Who is we?"

"Myself, and Gimli."

Aragorn nodded in understanding. "When will you return?"

Shrugging Legolas wiped his brow. "That I can not tell you. I am sorry, I do not know why I acted so. Forgive me."

Aragorn stood. "Rember Legolas, no one lives forever. But you must live until you die. Do not fall into the endless sleep or sail for the West without coming to me to say good bye. Do not forget me Legolas."

Legolas almost smiled. "I could not do that. Gimli and I will find the sun. When we have found it, we will bring it to you," he sighed sadly. "Forgive me Aragorn, I failed."

"No," Aragorn promised. "You never did that. Now rest, and do not leave without saying farewell. For you will have my wife to answer to, and her wrath is far more venomous than my own."

Legolas laughed. "I should not dare!" he joked. "She would hunt me down and we know, that women, do not fight fairly. Gimli will have returned from the halls now. You know where you can find him."

Aragorn nodded. "Drinking," he laughed. Opening the door he glanced back. "Legolas, should you wish to speak to me, do so. Whenever you need to contact me, you will be able to. Gondor will always welcome you and Gimli."

"I know that," assured Legolas. "Thank you. Now I shall rest."

He stood, picking up his dagger and knife, placing his bow tidily on the chair, he slotted the other weapons back into place and lay down upon the low couch. It still unnerved Aragorn, that elves slept with their eyes open. Even though he had been raised with them he was glad that Arwen did not. Even so, it would not have changed her beauty. Some days, in the early morning, he lay and watched her sleep. Being able to see the beautiful eyes would have made no difference.

"Sleep well, Legolas."

Aragorn shut the door. An uneasy sense of doom hung over his head, for although they joked, it was a serious matter. Legolas had seemed possessed. He had fought like a creature from beyond death, his eyes had filled with fear and pain and anger. He'd babbled about Gandalf and the hobbits, his father, Boromir, and so many others.

Legolas did not reply, yet Aragorn knew he did not sleep. He decided to find Gimli, then return to Arwen. He would find Lord Elrond and Gandalf that evening.

He worried about Legolas, but he had to remember that he was an adult. Vulnerable maybe. But still an adult.

He hoped that Legolas would choose to speak to him, not to the clouds that he usually shared his secrets with. But he didn't know if Legolas would have a choice this time.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed. I'm intending for this to be cannonish. Please review! Diolch am darllen, gobeithiwn eich fod wedi mwynhau. Dwi'n bwriadu i hwn fod yn gannonish. Wel...dyna'r bwriad!

Natalie River

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