This is No Mere Ranger

by KayeHerl

What if Aragorn and Legolas met when Aragorn lived with Elrond before he knew who he was? What if they had a passionate affair that would still haunt them if they were to meet again, sixty seven years later? What would happen? This is just a plot bunny I got. Aragorn/Legolas pairing. Slash, do not read if you hate. Rated M for later chapters.

6. Chapter 6

This is No Mere Ranger Chapter 6

Let's not have a repeat of next time and have it be 20 days between me posting a new chapter… sorry about that, everyone! I'm going to try to rip through this chapter and get 'er done. No more pesky finals to get in the way of my creativity flow, so that should help.

As I said before this is THE CHAPTER and why this story is rated Mature instead of Teen. So if this kind of stuff offends you, kindly leave because there is going to be some slashy slash stuff that includes fully naked men. XD So read at your own risk.

Thanks! Enjoy! Tell me anything I need to fix, change, add or delete! I would love to improve this as much as possible, because I am sure it needs a buttload of work. So thanks for your input! Now, the chapter!

Chapter 6

The bonfire roared like a dragon and threw shadows over everything, making inanimate objects dance as if they were alive. Estel was leaning against a tree, watching the elves dancing and singing. The last sun of spring had just set and the bonfire had just been lit. The feast would start soon. Elrond still had not joined the festivities, and Estel was hanging back from the fire in order to watch for the elf Lord.

Estel sighed and shifted slightly, his eyes coming to fall upon Legolas, who was twining his way through the crowd to bring Estel a drink. The elf looked exotic in the firelight, a slightly golden tinge to his usual pale skin, and the light made his fair, sharp features almost vulpine. As Legolas reached him, Estel realized that he had been unabashedly sharing and dropped his gaze. Something about the air was thick with magic tonight. The kind of magic that would make Estel forget himself and his duty. It would make him forget that Legolas was a prince of the Mirkwood realm and that they could never be together. He would give himself completely the elf if he wasn't careful.

Legolas handed Estel his drink and leaned against the tree next to him. "Do you not dance, Estel?" he asked teasingly.

Estel looked over at him and raised one eyebrow. "I cannot dance as well as you or another elf, if that is what you are asking."

"Nay," Legolas said. He turned back to the crowd. He was thrumming with energy, as if he were a brimming cup and one more drop, and he would spill over. He wanted to dance, as any elf did on this night. It was not completely by their own volition that the elves danced on this night.

The forest called to them in a way that it rarely did, filled them with the energy of the new season and made their blood scorch with the magic. The elves could not resist the call of the forest, the silent song that Estel had never heard, no matter how many times he had listened. They fulfilled it through movement or pleasures of the flesh. It was the single night once a year that the elves were free with their love.

"I do dance, if I can be persuaded quite thoroughly," Estel said after a moment. Legolas looked at him once more.

"And how would one go about persuading you?" Legolas asked, sliding his fingers over Estel's.

"Perhaps if you ask nicely," Estel murmured, grinning at Legolas.

"That is no persuasion at all," Legolas said, and ran his hand up Estel's arm. He rested his palm against Estel's chest, feeling the steady pound of his heart, which increased slightly at the contact. "Does your blood not sing tonight?" he murmured. "Do you not feel the call of the forest?"

"Nay, for I am but a man and I shall never understand the call of the forest."

"Let me show you," Legolas murmured. He was close now, close enough for them to breathe the same air. He looked up into Estel's eyes, and Estel could see the near madness that the forest had brought him, the fervor. "'Sais."

"Aye," Estel said, nodding his consent. Legolas had probably not experienced the call of the forest for many years, with the sickening of the Greenwood. It would affect him even more than it did the other elves. Legolas took Estel's drink and set it down on the ground, before taking both of his hands and leading him closer to the bonfire.

He began moving in time to the song that Estel could not hear, slowly at first, pulling Estel with him. The elves began singing a song that Estel knew well, a song that spoke of the death of spring and the birth of summer. Around the fire they went, again and again, until both Legolas and Estel's bodies gleamed with sweat and they were breathless. Legolas was smiling, his head thrown back in rapture, humming along with the elves. He hadn't let go of Estel's hands, and the man had given up trying to match Legolas's movements. He was simply trying to keep up with the elf.

It all blurred together, the chanting of the elves, the fire roaring, the feel of the grass below Estel's bare feet, the feel of Legolas's fingers entwined with his. At one point, Legolas kissed him, and his lips tasted of crushed juniper berries and something sweet that was in the wine. It was then that the burning desire slid into his veins.

It felt as if he were burning from the inside out, as if he was made of fire and fire was him. He clutched onto Legolas's arm and panted, "I want…"

"I know, mellonin. I want as well," Legolas said, putting a hand over his. Estel had to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He felt as if he was drunk, though he had naught but a few sips of the wine.

"What is happening?" Estel asked after a moment, glancing up at the elf. Legolas's eyes were unnaturally bright, burning with the same fever that raced through Estel's veins. "Why am I feeling this?"

"You are part of the celebration this year, for you have come of age," Legolas said. "You were raised by elves. It would only make sense that you would feel what we are feeling. And this magic can affect the race of men as well as the eldeh." The words were logical, but the tone was not. Legolas's voice was breathy and laced with the same desire that Estel felt burning in his veins. It reared at that note of desire, and Estel jerked as a wave of pure desire crashed over him. The heat engulfed his body, turning him into a pure, raging inferno. He could not handle this heat, it was too overwhelming. Water, he needed water.

"Legolas—"

Legolas pulled him upright and drew him away from the fire. "Perhaps you should rest here for a bit," he said, turning to go back to the fire.

"No," Estel whispered. "I'll go mad if I sit still. Come with me to the river."

Legolas turned back to him and smiled. He reached out a hand, which Estel gladly took, and they made their way to the river. Estel knelt by the bank and desperately plunged his hands in. He could almost hear the skin on his arms sizzling as he cooled them in the water. He let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm burning up from the inside," he murmured as Legolas kneeled next to him.

"Nay, it is simply the magic," Legolas murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder. Estel looked down at his reflection. He could not see much in the pale moonlight, but his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and he looked feverish. There was a hunger on his face that surprised him.

"This magic is old and strong, indeed," he murmured and splashed some of the river's cooling water onto his face. The relief was temporary, but sweet. He let out a breath as his muscles unclenched for a few heartbeats and his pulse ceased to race. The desire remained as a burning ball of fire in his stomach. At the moment, however, he was grateful for the reprieve. However, the lack of the fervor caused him to take notice of the lack of energy in his body. He slumped to the ground and closed his eyes.

"Mellonin?" Legolas asked, his hands light on his shoulders, as if he was afraid to touch him.

"Just give me a moment to rest," Estel murmured. "I will join you momentarily."

"Estel," a new voice said, and Estel's eyes flew open. Elrond peered down at him, looking slightly exasperated. "Have you had too much of the wine?"

"Nay," Legolas answered for him. "He is feeling the effects of the woods."

Elrond made a noise of surprise, but did not respond. Instead, Estel found himself being hoisted up. "Come, Estel. I must speak with you before the feast," Elrond muttered. "Legolas, go join the others. We shall join the feast after a few brief words."

"With all due respect," Legolas said, "my lord Elrond." Elrond paused and Estel managed to open his eyes to see Legolas bowing his head. "I gave my word that Estel would not spend this night alone. I do not intend to leave his side."

Elrond hesitated. What are you doing? Estel thought, but couldn't muster the strength to ask it. "Very well," he said after a moment. "I believe that Estel would trust you enough to hear this."

The thought hit Estel like cold water. He remembered his Ada's words from earlier. All traces of exhaustion left his body, and he jerked his head upright. "Ada?" He stood up more surely, and Elrond let go of his arm.

Elrond's face was grim. "It has come time for you to know of your heritage."

Estel was tempted to speak. You told me you knew not of my parents. Elves did not usually lie unless it was for the benefit of someone they cared for, to keep them safe and out of harm. Estel clenched his jaw.

"Your father's name was Arathorn," Elrond said. "I had fought many alongside him before his death. Your mother was Gilraen."

Estel took a deep breath and tried to soak this in. "Arathorn." The name was completely foreign to his tongue. "Gilraen." His voice sounded dead compared to the emotions that were flooding through him. Betrayal; Elrond had known who he was all of this time and he had never told him any of it. Anger; how dare Elrond keep this from him? Sadness; he would never know the face behind these names. He would never have any good memories to remind him of his time as a child.

Elrond paused for a moment before continuing. "Your father was a very important man, Estel."

"Why did you not speak of this?" Estel attempted to keep all emotion from his voice.

"It was for your protection. There are those who would kill you simply to hear your name, to hear your lineage."

"My name is Estel, is it not?" Estel's voice was completely calm still. His gaze flicked to Legolas, who was holding completely still, the full force of his gaze trained on Elrond. He looked as if he was searching for something in Elrond's face that Estel could not fathom to consider looking for.

"Nay. That name was given to you in an attempt to conceal your true identity."

Estel turned away from both elves. His life had been a lie. Something inside of him was crashing down, and he knew not what it was.

"You are Aragorn the second, son of Arathorn."

"That name means nothing to me," Estel growled, clenching his hands into fists.

"Do not brush it off so easily," Elrond snapped. Estel turned to look at the elf, who still looked grim. There is more? Estel despaired inwardly. Elrond drew from his cloak something wrapped in cloth. It was long and narrow. He handed it to Estel. Something shifted inside, and Estel frowned, setting it down on the forest floor. He unwrapped it slowly. Perhaps he did not want to see what it contained. Perhaps it would change him, and all of his fears would become true.

It was… a sword, broken into pieces. Estel frowned. Legolas came up beside him and drew a sharp breath. Estel looked up at him. "What is it?"

"This…" Legolas kneeled down beside Estel and touched the hilt of the blade. It was of fine make and looked to be very old, but Estel could not see why it would bring such a reaction to his friend.

"What is it?" Estel asked. The words fought to not come out of Estel's mouth. He did not want to know, he did not want this broken sword. Did not want it to have a name.

"The shards of Narsil," Legolas murmured. There was something akin to awe in his voice. "The sword that cut the ring off of Sauron's hand."

Estel stiffened. He had heard the stories; all of them had. Stories about the man who had cut the One Ring off of Sauron's finger. He had also heard the stories of how it had driven him mad with the lust of power. "What does this have to do with me?" Estel asked, standing to face Elrond.

Elrond spread his hands. "You are Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Isildur's descendant."

"No," Estel whispered. He knew of the treachery of that man, the sorrow that he had brought upon Arda.

"Heir to the throne of Gondor. You are meant to rule men."

"No, Ada, sais, pusta," Estel pleaded. "Do not say that is so." Something in him felt as if it were breaking. If he was such a man, then he would bring only death and ruin upon anyone he dared to call friend. The name could only bring death and destruction.

"I am sorry," Elrond said, lowering his head. "I wished to tell you. It would have been your death."

"No," Estel said again, backing up. "No, daro." He would wake up from this terrible dream and find himself lying next to Legolas on their shared bed. He would sit bolt upright, and Legolas would murmur sweet words to him, pressing butterfly-light kisses to his shoulders and neck until he laid back down.

"Estel, sais," Elrond said, reaching out.

"No!" Estel shouted it this time, and turned and ran. He felt the tears running down his face, but he could not remember feeling them well in his eyes. He could not even remember feeling the urge to shed tears. He stumbled blindly for some time before tripping over a tree root. His hands slammed into the dirt, layers of skin peeling back. The hot rush of blood over his palms made this all the more real.

This was no dream. The strength of Estel's arms left, and he fell the rest of the way down onto the ground, pressing his cheek into the soft dirt, a twig jabbing the hollow between his jaw and cheekbone.

"Estel?" the voice was nearer to him than it ought to have been. If he was in his right mind, Estel would have heard Legolas approaching. He turned his face away from the voice.

"Ego," he said, his voice hard and harsh.

A hand settled on his shoulder, light as a feather. "Mellonin," Legolas murmured, and the sympathy, the understanding and the promise that he would not leave Estel's side that was contained in that one word was enough to nearly rend Estel's heart in two.

"I'm a monster," he whispered, sitting up. Legolas was crouched beside him. "Isuldir was a man who was overtaken by the need for power. He let Arda fall into darkness because of his lust for power. That same blood flows through my veins. I am just as weak as he."

"You are not Isuldir," Legolas said. He moved his hand from Estel's shoulder to cup his face, thumb brushing along Estel's cheek. Estel pulled away and stood up.

"My heart is as corrupted as his," he hissed. He spun around, trying to find his bearings. He had never been in this clearing before, and he knew not where to go. A stream babbled nearby, the cheery sound a sharp contrast to the weight on Estel's heart. He stormed over to it and kicked the water, sending it arching through the air in a spray of crystalline drops.

"Nay," Legolas insisted. Estel did not turn around to face him.

"How can you know of that?" Estel asked. "How do you not feel disgust when you look at me? The same blood that runs through my veins caused the downfall of Arda. We would be living in peace and prosperity if not for Isuldir. The Orcs were brought about by Sauron's minion, the witch king. All of this could have been avoided if the strength of Isuldir had not failed that day."

Legolas said nothing. Estel turned to find that he was standing, watching Estel with a blank look on his face.

"Elrond walked into Mount Doom with the man, and he witnessed his weakness. How could he look at me and see anything but that same weakness?"

Legolas moved to him then and took his hands in his. "Because he sees that you are a better man. Elrond looks at you and he sees hope. Why would he have named you Estel if he did not see the hope that you could bring us all?"

Estel looked away but made no move to stop Legolas as he slid his hands up Estel's arms. "What if he is wrong? What if I—"

Estel was cut off as Legolas pressed his lips to the man's. He resisted at first, tried to get away, he did not deserve these soft touches and caresses. Legolas, however, insisted. Soon, Estel's hands were cupping the elf's shoulders, drawing him nearer, his tongue searching for union with Legolas's. The man tasted of sorrow and betrayal. His lips were salty with tears and the last lingering traces of the few sips of wine he had drunk.

The desire that was thrumming in Legolas's body took over as he ran his hands across the man's chest. He needed Estel, needed him in the way he needed air to breathe. He began working at the ties of Estel's tunic. "Let me show you," he panted, breaking away long enough to utter the words, "that you are not weak." He pressed another kiss to Estel's lips. "Let me prove to you that your heart is pure."

Estel made no comment, simply captured the elf's lips once more. His fingers traced up Legolas's chest to the collar of his tunic, tracing the strip of skin that was visible. The desire that had been a ball of flame inside of his stomach exploded into a full inferno once more, and it burned through him a desire that could only be answered by Legolas.

They were soon running their hands along the bare skin of the other, and Estel took the opportunity to break away from Legolas's kiss and trail his lips down the elf's jaw, to his neck. Estel backed them up to a tree, shedding clothes as they moved. Soon, the two were pressed together, chest to chest, with naught but their trousers between them.

The desire that ran through the both of them was enough to keep them going. Before, they had remembered their obligations, their worries. But tonight was different. Tonight, it would take a great force of nature to stop them from becoming the other's completely.

Legolas gripped Estel's shoulders as his back hit the hard trunk of the tree. He broke away from Estel's lips and tilted his head back, trying to catch his breath. He had tried to hold his desire back, but the forest was all around him, and it was seeping into his very bones. He had to get this magic out somehow. He had participated in many Midsummers Eve celebrations and knew that this helped, this physical intimacy was even better than dancing, but he was not sure if Estel was completely himself.

"Do you want this?" he panted. He pushed Estel away from him slightly in an attempt to help him think logically.

Estel did not resist, but pressed his pelvis against Legolas, who gasped at the hardness he felt against his thigh. Legolas looked down into the man's eyes, dark with desire. "Aye," Estel growled.

Legolas reached down and began working at the lacings of Estel's trousers, his fingers clumsy with his desire-ridden mind. Estel traced his fingers down the elf's lean, taut-as-a-drum stomach, and began mirroring Legolas. The two worked at their tasks for a few moments, Estel cursing under his breath as his fingers slipped over the fabric.

They eventually parted once more to kick off their pants, and then it was simply flesh against flesh. Legolas hoisted himself up so that he had wrapped his legs around Estel's waist. He was against the tree again, hair caught on the rough bark.

Estel made an animalistic sound and bit the edge of Legolas's ear. The elf gasped and gripped his fingers onto Estel's back as waves of pleasure washed over him. The tanned skin was hot, too hot, against his fingers, muscles shifting and rippling under the elf's clawed fingers. They had both begun rolling their hips, flesh clashing, attempting to find a release for this building pleasure, but Valar, Estel wanted more. The elf's fingernails cut into his flesh, painting the smooth, soft skin red with scratches as wave after wave of desire crashed over him, building towards a crescendo that would have Legolas shouting Estel's name to the stars.

"I—" Estel gasped out, trying to find words for what he desired. Legolas drew back and skimmed his fingers down Estel's chest.

"I know, nin meleth," Legolas murmured. He was aching, aching for Estel's touch since he had stopped moving against him. Or perhaps his lips on every inch of his body. He arched his back and Estel let loose a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl. "Let me down," he murmured into the man's ear as Estel buried his face in the elf's neck. His muscles tightened under Legolas's fingers, before he drew back.

Legolas carefully unwrapped his legs from Estel's body and stumbled over to their clothes, trying to find his cloak. He had brought it, just in case he would find someone who would share the pleasures of the flesh with him through the night. He had never imagined it would be Estel who would be in his arms, causing such emotions to run through his blood like fire. The man was one he cared for, yes, but he had duties—his duties could atua miqula orqu. He finally found the vial and turned to find Estel leaning against the tree, taking deep breaths. "Legolas," he growled.

"Tolo," Legolas murmured, pulling Estel to him. He held up the vial. "To ease the passage," he murmured and held it out to Estel.

Estel found himself long enough to give Legolas a wry smile. "You have thought of everything," he murmured. "Le hannon."

Legolas pressed his lips to Estel's neck as the man worked to get himself ready, his body thrumming in desire while waiting. He spread his cloak over the ground to pass the time, and then arranged himself nicely on it so that no twigs dug into his flesh. Estel knelt beside him, looking at him with desire.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, running an oil-slicked finger across Legolas's chest. The elf shivered.

"Sais, don't tease," he murmured, drawing Estel's hand further down. Estel needed no further invitation. He put those oiled fingers to good use, and soon Legolas was panting, asking for him, his flesh. Estel made a noise of agreement, and laid himself next to the elf. It was under the cold, distant eye of the stars that they Estel took Legolas for the first time. They watched as porcelain skin brushed against tan, lips and hands travelled over soft tissue and hard muscle.

The forest and stars were the only ones to watch as the thrusting and pounding and driving elicited moans and cries of pleasure again and again. And the stars witnessed the murmured words said over and over in between the gasps for breath. "Gi melin, gi melin."

Estel ran his hand over Legolas's hair repeatedly as dawn crept upon them. He was trying to hold off the thoughts, the reality of it all, but it was becoming increasingly harder and harder as he woke up. After he and Legolas had spent their passions, they had both fallen asleep, and Estel had not woken until a few moments ago.

Legolas stirred against his chest and took in a sharp breath. He partially sat up, putting a hand on Estel's chest, and glancing around, as if trying to find his bearings. He relaxed a moment later and rested his head once more on Estel's chest. His lips brushed Estel's collarbone, and Estel shivered. Memories of the night washed over him, and he let out a breath that was not very even. Legolas smiled and gently bit Estel's collarbone.

"Careful, nin meleth," Estel murmured. "You would have me take you again, and we have naught the time for that."

Legolas looked up at him, something clouding his eyes. "Aye, I must leave and you must decide what you will do."

Estel blinked. "Aye," he said, sighing.

"What will you do?" Legolas asked, sitting up and untangling his legs from Estel's. The elf was glorious, nude and ruffled from the past night, his skin as white as lilies. Estel couldn't help but stare in admiration for several moments before he brought himself back to the present again and answered the elf.

"I will leave," he said, standing as well. He moved to the stream and cupped some of the cool water in his hands. "It is not safe for Elrond if I stay. There will be those who want me dead. Perhaps I will ride with you into battle to see how it fares and help as much as I can. Then I will ride north to join my people."

"Where will you stay?" Legolas crouched next to him and poured water over his head.

"I know not. I will find somewhere. I can hide my identity; it was easy enough for this long."

Legolas was silent, sliding his damp hands over his arms. "But you are Isuldir's heir. You could ride to Gondor and the City of Kings to retake your crown and throne."

"No," Estel said harshly. "That will bring only ruin to men." Legolas nodded, but did not agree or disagree. "What will you do?" he asked in a softer voice to Legolas, smoothing a hand over his back. Legolas's muscles twitched at the coldness, but he made no move to retreat.

"I will stay with my king until he wishes me to leave," Legolas said. His voice was dark.

"Can you not leave?"

Legolas looked up at Estel, who slid his hand over the other shoulder. "I am all he has. No matter how vile he acts, I know that he has nothing else in this world but his kingdom. His wife is long dead and he has no other children. I must stay or my realm will fall further into darkness. I can offer him as much consolation as I am able."

Estel pressed a light kiss to Legolas's temple. "You are an admirable elf," he murmured. Legolas smiled at that and laughed.

"Allow me to cleanse your back," he said in response. Estel shifted so that his back was more easily accessible to Legolas, who drew in a sharp breath. "Mellonin," he whispered. "I meant not to wound you." The scratches along Estel's shoulders and back were inflamed and angry looking.

"I was not feeling pain last night," Estel whispered. "Worry not, Legolas. I do not feel them." And if I do, it will be a good remembrance of our time spent in the forest he almost added, but did not. Saying those words would make it that much harder to leave the elf when the time came that he was meant to. Legolas carefully washed Estel's back and shoulders, his touch as light as a butterfly's.

By the time the sun kissed their skin, the two lovers were dressed and heading back towards Imladris to face their separate fates.

Aragorn pulled himself out of the memories with no small amount of difficulty. He blinked a few times, and then realized that everyone that surrounded them was waiting for an answer. He held out a hand. "Havo dad, Legolas," he murmured after a moment.

Legolas looked ready to say something else, but thought better of it and seated himself. Boromir glared around the assembled peoples of Middle Earth. "Gondor has no king," he spat. He turned to Aragorn. "Gondor needs no king." He stalked back to his chair and sat down.

Aragorn could hardly find the emotion to counter what Boromir had just said. Perhaps he was right. He turned his attention away from the man and looked at his once-lover. Legolas was still watching him, eyes dark and careful. Aragorn nodded once and gave him a slight smile in gratitude. Legolas smiled back and sat back, looking over to Gandalf as he said,

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it." He glanced around the circle, alternately daring anyone to challenge him and to find support.

Elrond provided it. "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

To Aragorn's surprise, one of the dwarves stood up. "What are we waiting for?" he growled, grabbing his axe and thundering towards the table on which the ring was placed. From that point on, there was chaos. When Gimli's axe broke and the others started shouting, Aragorn met Legolas's eye over the crowd. He was holding his kin back, but looked up as if he had felt the weight of Aragorn's gaze.

When Frodo carefully walked up and proclaimed that he would take the Ring to Mordor, Aragorn saw his chance. Now this was a way that he could make up for some small part of the deeds his ancestor had brought upon Middle Earth. Here was a way he could pay for some of his sins. He stood. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will."

Frodo looked up at him, surprised, as he knelt before the small Hobbit.

"You have my sword."

Legolas moved, quickly and lightly. "And you have my bow," he said. Aragorn looked up at him in surprise. I cannot ask you to join me on this quest, he tried to convey through his eyes. Legolas only nodded, as if to say, It is by my free will that I join you, mellonin. Aragorn nodded. The dwarf, Gimli joined them after a moment of hesitation. After exchanging a dark look with Gimli, Legolas looked back at Aragorn.

Perhaps the times had not changed their hearts, for they both felt the same desire rage in them as they had the last time they had met, at Mirkwood.

Many hours later, Aragorn found that he was walking in Elrond's gardens, the memories flooding through him like water. Most were of he and Legolas, lounging about in the sun, talking about nonsense that he would not remember even the next day.

But there were memories of Arwen here, also. The elf princess had soothed Aragorn's aching heart after he had been forced to leave Legolas. He thought, that perhaps one day, he would come to love the elf woman. His heart was torn, however, for Legolas had made a much unexpected reappearance into his life. He had never thought to see the elf again while he still drew breath. He had shut his heart off to those emotions as well as he could, though he still woke some nights, shivering and searching for a warmth on the other side of the bed he knew would not be there.

He took in a deep breath. "Mellonin." That voice was a voice from his dreams. He turned to find Legolas behind him. The years had not changed the elf; in fact, he was more beautiful than ever.

Aragorn found that he was smiling, and he embraced the elf without hesitation. Legolas stiffened at first at the contact, but he quickly returned the hug. "It has been far too long since I have had the good graces of laying my eyes upon you," Aragorn murmured into Legolas's hair, nuzzling his nose against the silky warmth of it.

"And I you," Legolas returned, running a hand up Aragorn's back, to cup his shoulder. However, he drew back, looking down at Aragorn's pendant. "That is the Evenstar's," he said. "She has pledged her immortality to you."

Aragorn stiffened and looked away. "I thought I would never lay my eyes upon you while I lived," he said. "I could come to love Arwen."

Legolas's heart hurt to hear those words, but he understood. He had made it clear at the end of the battle that Aragorn should not wait for him, for he was always to be tied to Mirkwood, whereas Aragorn was free to wander the world. He had hoped that the man would find someone to warm his bed at night. "I am happy for you, mellonin," he murmured, pulling back.

Aragorn clutched at the elf. "Dar," he cried. "Do not leave, nin meleth."

Legolas's heart stopped in his chest at those words. Could it be possible that the man still loved him, even after all of this time? Elves were immortal and it took them much longer to get over a hurt or a love than a man, but if Aragorn had held onto this for as long as he had, Legolas would be surprised. The hearts of men were fleeting and fierce, and Legolas had been happy to be part of the man's heart, if only for a fortnight and a day. "Do you not love her?"

"Aye, I could love her," Aragorn said, and Legolas could hear the pain in his voice. "But my heart has always belonged in part to you. I do not think you will ever leave it."

Legolas felt tears—actual tears—gather in his eyes at the words. He had not cried in millennia, had never allowed himself to show such emotional weakness. "Mellonin," he murmured. "You do not have to console me—"

His words were cut off as Aragorn kissed him fiercely and passionately. He attempted to show Legolas that part in his heart that had always been for him and that always would be. Legolas was frozen for several long moments, before he returned Aragorn's kiss with as much fervor. He found solace in that touch, for he realized that he could go on, that he could be together with Aragorn as long as he lived. Even if they could just be together as friends, he would be more than happy to have Legolas by his side.

And by his side Legolas stayed.

-finis-

Oh, yeah, I mentionted the "fortnight and a day" thing, which is going to be a one-shot I will write where Aragorn takes Gollum to Mirkwood. I mean, come on guys… he had to have seen Legolas there and smut would ensue if they had loved each other before that. I can't leave it alone, I simply have to write it!

I have a quick question. It mentions that Gollum was let out. Did Thranduil let him out? It never really goes into detail about that, so I'm confused.

Okay, don't know how I managed that, but I'm done now. There's going to be an epilogue that will probably make me cry writing, but I'll try. Thank you everyone for all of your support and reviews. They mean a lot to me, and I hope that you enjoyed this story! Thanks for reading!

Here's the list of Sindarin… wow it's rather long!

Sais—please
Mellonin—friend
Gusta—stop
Daro—don't
Nin meleth—my love
Atua miqula orqu—Go kiss an Orc
Tolo—come
Le hannon—thank you
Gi melin—I love you
Havo dad—sit down
Dar—wait