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Chapter Nineteen (Epilogue)

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Trollshaws, Third Age, year 2951

Rain gusted so heavily before his eyes that even he could see hardly anything. He cursed it through his rage as he sprinted over the uneven ground of the foothills. He needed his sight not for the familiar ground of the path he tread, but for the beast that he pursued.

"Elrohir; there!" From several paces behind him, Legolas' shout hit his ears just as the wisp of said beast came once more into view. "He's going to climb!"

They drew upon a thick row of trees that Elrohir knew marked the edge of a chasm drop. As they grew from shrouds of gray to tall pinnacles stretching into the sky, for a moment Darcyn stopped in front of them. Elrohir could not believe the force of the fury that clawed its way up from his chest as he drew closer to the other Elf; watched him frantically try to decide where to begin his ascent. His legs pushed him even harder over sodden ground towards his prey.

Moments later something flew dark as a bird's shadow past his ear. Legolas had grabbed a knife from Aragorn's room. The hunting knife gifted to the boy by Elladan, on his twelfth birthday. He heard Legolas scream with rage as he threw it; they both watched the blade make a home in Darcyn's back. Elrohir's heart froze with shock, with joy – then quick once more with rage as the Elf crumpled to his knees only for a moment before reaching back to pull the knife free and stand again. He was close enough to see the agony on the Noldor's maniacal face as Darcyn rounded on them. Secretly he was glad for this; he knew that it meant his enemy could see as well the promise of a violent death on his own.

Darcyn's voice rang with glee throughout the valley as he screamed, "He did not relent! He cried for every single one of you!"

Legolas flew past him as a blur of white. Elrohir watched his friend bend like water underneath the sword Darcyn swept at his head, straightening once in the clear and nearly getting his own blade through the other Elf's chest. Darcyn spun away from him and their swords clashed once more just as Elrohir reached them; his blade swept Darcyn's side but the Noldor threw Legolas' attack and whirled to block him, snarling with rage. Elrohir roared back, barreling forward and using the force of his body to throw him off balance. Their swords rang hard as Darcyn stepped away, once more into the reach of Legolas, who went instantly for his feet. The Noldor's grace did not betray him as he leapt high and twisted hard in the air, hand flashing out before Legolas could pull up. Elrohir saw the pain that flashed across his friend's face; realized he had been hit just as Legolas spun his sword back and impaled Darcyn through his thigh. Elrohir did not give the dark-haired Elf a chance for respite, throwing his arm in a curve that once more grazed Darcyn's throat before the Noldor got his blade between skin and blade and viciously threw Elrohir away – another barely missed strike.

As he moved back towards him suddenly Darcyn spun away, locked his sword with Legolas' own and kicked him hard in the side. Blood had swiftly soaked through the Wood Elf's shirt and Elrohir knew that even his valiant friend would not be able to ignore his pain. He watched in terror as Legolas crumpled to one knee, barely getting his blade up in time to block the second blow Darcyn swung towards his head. Elrohir lunged at them just as Legolas shouted,

"Knife!"

Instantly he understood. He dropped to the ground; heard a dagger whip just over his back and knew that Darcyn had nearly killed him with it. He rose his head and watched in horror as Darcyn turned just below the first tree on the cliff-line and threw his sword at Legolas. For a blinding moment he thought he would watch his friend be slaughtered there. But the broadsword missed the Elf's head by an inch, and Elrohir lifted himself from the rain-slogged earth just as Darcyn made it to the top of the tree.

"Stop!" He heard himself scream it into the rain as he surged up into the branches after him. "Darcyn, stop!"

Of course he would not stop. He knew that he ran for his life.

He watched as the Noldor jumped from the tree and caught hold of a jagged cusp of rock jutting from the side of the cliff. It was an enormous leap, and Darcyn was halfway up the cliffside when Elrohir sailed the same jump as his prey, barely catching himself from plummeting to sure death. This was the son of Elrond's only falter. After this he was filled with a calm that chilled him; rooted his hands and feet so that he scaled the sparse and rain-slick slabs of rock twice as quickly as Darcyn. This he did not know.

"Elrohir!" Suddenly from below Legolas cried his name, and he was sure that the panic in his friend's voice came from the way the rain blocked almost all sight. It was as he reached back for the hilt of his knife that suddenly Darcyn descended from the torrents above. The dark Elf kicked him once; hard in the face. Elrohir vaguely thought he could hear Legolas shouting something else, nearer this time as agony overwhelmed him. He knew that he was falling. He felt the earth rush sickeningly fast up towards his feet and he reached out, gritting his teeth as his hand tore on jagged stone before catching in a root that grew against the cliffside. He grabbed it and clung with all his might as spots danced violently behind his eyes. He nearly screamed with frustration at the way he hung trapped – he knew by now Darcyn had reached the top. He could not let this filth escape him. He could not.

Suddenly he felt the presence of his father. One of his eyes had cleared enough to let him see; he peered up into the rain and felt his heart drop at how far he had fallen – the line of trees was many yards above him now. But he knew, somewhere above was also Elrond, and he pressed his aching forehead to cool stone as he tried to swallow the agony roaring round his head and prepare once more to climb. Before he had lifted himself his first step up, he heard his father's furious and mighty voice begin to call upon his forebears, the Vanyar, the Sindar, the Noldor. He listened as Elrond the descendant of the Maia shouted down from above all things which counted themselves agents of the wind and air. He felt the surge of his power as it wound through the earth and soon the entire hill began to rumble from within, trembling as would an angry beast. Elrohir clung to the tree root, his jaw tightening with twisted glee. In many ways this was a beast. A beast soon to bury another.

"No! Elrond! Your son! Elrond!"

He knew that he would be the only one to hear Legolas' horrified screams. Peace spread softly up through him as he tried to decide whether he would let go before the stones descended upon him from above, or if he would wait for the collapse. Indeed even these thoughts faded beneath the comfort of knowing that Darcyn would be obliterated beneath the mountain; brutally killed in retribution. His own death was worth this – a million times more.

"Elrohir, you listen to me – right now, you climb! Climb to me! Elrohir, please!"

The grief in Legolas' voice tore through him, pulling at his calm heart. He tightened once more his hand around the root and closed his eyes. "Ai." His muttered words were lost in the sound of the wind. "Blast you."

In a last second burst of adrenaline – of love, and of an instinct that did not surprise him – he hurled himself across the gap; felt his heart soar when his fingers caught a ledge. From this he mapped out and began a slanted climb up the cliffside. His limbs moved with a fire that he felt came to him from a source outside of himself and all at once he could see the sky, and then Legolas was there. Wide-eyed, sliding farther down the rock and reaching for him desperately. Elrohir felt their fingers lock, then felt at least one rib crack in the fierce grip of his friend's arm as Legolas pulled him close and with his legs flung both of them up onto wet grass. The breath was knocked from his lungs, then once more he was in Legolas' arms as they flew across the ground. Elrohir's feet found balance just as they reached a gaggle of boulders marking the line between forest and foothill. He was able to run next to his friend until finally they reached a single tree, collapsing on either side of it.

"I cannot find him," Legolas shouted, "nor did he see us. I think he's farther south–"

And then Elrohir's ears begin to ring painfully loud, drowning out his friend, the sound of rock breaking powerfully against rock, the clashing and the breaking of the foundation. He felt it. Felt the utter power of the cliff's demise; the way it piled onto itself and buried with passion the villain that had tried to use it to escape. Entombing him in its new form. Breaking his body only hours after his crime, the punishment as swift as it was deserved.

"I will stay to look for the body." Legolas stood suddenly at his feet, staring down at him with black eyes. "Go back to him. I will bring you his head."

"You'd find nothing." Wincing, Elrohir shoved himself up as well and grabbed his friend's arm, bending him carefully sideways until he could see the tear in Legolas' tunic. Relief warmed him when he saw the gash was one that would heal quickly and without threat. He released the Wood Elf, ignoring Legolas' scowl as he closed his eyes and tried to narrow in on a more precise location of his father in the valley. "We don't search now; not wounded this way. We are needed home."

"Is Elladan here?" he heard Legolas ask quietly.

"I believe he was." Opening his eyes, Elrohir took a deep breath as he stared at where the cliff lay changed. He felt the pull of his kin begin to fade, and he knew that they returned to the valley. "They're going back. Come on."

—

"Have you been to him?"

Elrond felt the words hit him like cold steel. Piercing deeper than any blade ever could. He turned away from his friend and began to undo his sodden cloak, ignoring the knowing look in Erestor's eyes. No. No, he had not gone to him. He had not. Could not. Could not see his child that way again. His son. Indeed if he were able, he would keep his eyes from the boy's broken body until Aragorn was fully healed. He would that he were able. He would give anything.

"Not yet." His voice was hoarse; he cleared his throat and shook his head. "First I wanted the House to be settled; wanted everyone to feel informed and secure. His brothers are with him now."

"We are informed, and more than secure. Go to him." Erestor's voice left no room for any argument he might have thought to raise. Sighing, Elrond let his cloak drop to the floor and collapsed atop the desk, anguish taking hold of his throat in its agonizing grip, choking him. He sat there crushed beneath the pain he felt driving him towards the ground; the grief of being forced to destroy one of his own kin, the bone-deep exhaustion of surrendering his body to the power of his forebears, the fear of not knowing how they would move forward now. It was only Erestor's gentle hands around his shoulders that kept him from falling fully into the chasm of darkness that had followed him there from the foothills and stayed gaping at his feet.

"Go to your son," his friend said quietly. "That is what matters now. The rest will come as it does. We will meet it there. My lord, go."

Elrond did not look back as he pushed himself to aching feet and ran from the room.

—

Never would he forget the sight of his brother when finally he found him. He was being tended to in their father's healing hall – swathed in bandages beyond count, pale and overwrought, surrounded by solemn healers. He looked smaller and younger than he had in many years. It cleaved Elrohir's heart anew as he made it the final few steps to the bed and Aragorn looked up, eyes aglow with the same shock that had been there back in his rooms. The boy instantly began to weep when he saw him.

"Look at me. Estel." Taking the man's face into his mangled hands as he knelt, he waited until Aragorn focused on him enough for him to know that he would be heard. "He's dead. Do you hear me? I watched him die. He's dead."

"Father–"

"Informing; he'll be here in a moment. It's over, brother. It's done."

Suddenly he felt Legolas' hand brush his shoulder; remembered with a jolt the presence of their friend and knew that he lingered behind to give them space he believed they needed. Turning, he grabbed the Prince's arm and pulled him forward, pressing Legolas' hand to the top of Aragorn's head. The boy looked up at him, reaching to grab the front of his sodden shirt. "Thank you," he whispered. "Legolas–"

"Stop." Legolas folded down to his knees, smoothing his hand through Aragorn's hair and staring fiercely into his eyes. Elrohir could hear the hysteria behind his old friend's words; knew that Aragorn in his shock could not. "Don't. You did not deserve this, Estel. You'll never see his face again."

Aragorn reached down and pressed a hand to the blood on Legolas' side, turning urgent eyes towards the Elves that were cleaning and covering his wounds. "They're hurt," the man whispered. "They need to be seen to–"

"Aragorn, please–" Legolas' voice broke as he grabbed his friend's hand, carefully lowering his arm back to the bed. "Don't move. Please."

He watched the Prince lean in; saw the shame that flashed across Aragorn's face before it was hidden from him as Legolas wrapped an arm around the man's neck and held him close. He saw as well the barely perceptible movement of one of the healer's as he reached for a moment to stop them before pulling back. Every Elf in the room knew that they could not pry the friends from each other even if they tried, so try they would not.

Holding out a hand, he stopped one of the maiden's that was passing by to discard soiled bandages. When she turned to him he was met with kind eyes full of sorrow. "Tell me of his condition. Please be truthful."

"We have given him something for the pain," she said, keeping her voice as quiet as his. "None of his wounds are threatening. There are many of them, but none are deep. He will need precise care for many days as the lacerations heal and he must be very careful until then. But he will be alright, my lord. He is strong."

"Ai." Elrohir tried to smile in gratitude; knew it was mangled as he let her go. "Thank you."

She nodded, bowing her head before moving away. His entire body shook with the adrenaline that was beginning to leave it as he walked forward and knelt beside Legolas; ai, only just before his legs sent him to the floor. His friend's arm wrapped around him hard and he rested his aching head against the Elf's shoulder as he reached blindly for Aragorn's free hand. The man clung to him.

Never would they be the same after this night. Forever were all of them changed by this wretch. Forever was the valley changed; their home. Marred by the evil that Faelar's son had chosen to become before he died.

—

Imladris, Fourth Age, year 2

"Legolas."

He started at the sound of his name. He realized, as he looked up to see Arwen approaching him where he sat, that he had not heard his friend enter the glade. Heard not a single footfall. She seemed to notice this as well; smiled apologetically as she reached and settled down beside him.

"Forgive me for startling you," she said softly. "I forget how deeply into thought you tend to sink."

"A horrible flaw to have as an Elf," he said with a grin. She nudged his shoulder.

"You have no flaws. Hush."

When he looked over at her, he could tell instantly that she had something to tell him. He would like to deny that it made his heart quicken a bit, but he could not. He tried to ignore it, reprimanding himself for his instinctual fear of danger. There was no room for fear in this place. No room even for worry. "I am entirely undeserving of such a compliment. Thank you for joining me."

Arwen wound one of her arms through his. "What are you doing out here alone? Have you had your fill of our company already?"

"There are incredibly too many High Elves stuffed into one veranda at the moment; my meek mind needed a moment for itself."

He knew she would not believe his jest; he had not put much heart into the persuasiveness of it to begin with. But she did not press him. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well, know that you have several friends full of drink who are on a loud inquest to discover where and why you slunk off to hide."

He groaned, dropping his head back against the tree. "For your sake they better not have followed you here."

"There are only probably two who could." She chuckled, pinching his arm. "I am no betrayer. Your secret is still well kept. When I noticed you were gone, I knew I'd find you here."

"I'm alright, Arwen." Turning his head, he smiled softly into her eyes. "I am."

"Of course you are. This is a place where I know you are most alright. And it is why I have come here, dearest friend, to tell you something. To bring you news. The most wonderful news." Suddenly his friend's voice was changed; almost trembling with joy as she said, "Legolas."

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. "Yes?"

"I am with child."

His heart lurched within his chest; joy of his own flashing through him hard as he turned to the Queen in shock. She beamed helplessly back at him.

"What?!"

"Yes." Her eyes had never shone with a light as the one he saw there now. "I am."

A child. A child of the Evenstar. Aragorn's child. Legolas could not quite believe the force of the elation he felt; the utter glee of knowing that soon there would be another soul full of light to ferry Middle-earth forward into this new age of hope. He reached out and yanked Arwen forward into his arms, squeezing her fiercely. "How long have you known?"

"I suspected." When she pulled back from him to meet his eyes once more, he saw through her unknowable joy the shadow of times past; of memories of recent wounds, of her valiant fight to claw her way back to life after the attack. It infuriated him. Never should an arrow have pierced her flesh and risked her life; now to know that not only could they have lost her, but also the first child of Elessar and Undómiel; indeed his rage grew brighter with each second that passed as they stared at each other in the glade. Arwen reached out, grabbed his hand and pulled his fist against her chest, because she knew. She knew his rage. Hers would be much, much greater. "I did wonder about it before. I didn't know for sure. But now we are certain. And it seems to be that they are already as stubborn and as strong as their father."

"As their mother." Legolas grinned helplessly, softening his hand in her grasp so he could gently take hold of her fingers. "I am so happy for you, my dearest friend. You will be the most wonderful mother. This child is going to be completely overwhelmed with the love they shall know. I–" He was annoyed when his voice caught in his throat, clearing it hard and rolling his eyes when Arwen smiled. "Shush. I can't wait to meet them."

"I think it's a girl." Releasing his hand, she looked down at her stomach, her face suddenly very focused. "They say mothers innately know. And I feel she is a girl. So she is a girl."

Legolas tried and failed to hold back a snort of laughter at the viscous way she spoke the last words. "Ai. I take it you have been saying that a lot lately, yes?"

"Aragorn keeps arguing with me. He is firmly convinced that it's a boy. But he is wrong. So very wrong, and he is in for it."

"Who else has been hiding this from me?" he demanded. "I had better not be low on a list."

Arwen laughed. Several instances of odd behavior the Queen had shown thus far during their family's sojourn in Imladris became very clear to him now, and he realized that perhaps a tiny unlocked corner of his mind had already known somehow that there was something changed. Perhaps an instinct of their people. But none of his other companions had shown nary a sign of Arwen being with child these past few months; not let a single word or look slip. It impressed him.

"Just us," the Queen chuckled. "Do not upset yourself too much, little sprite. Only us. I promise you're the first to know. The rest will in time."

Legolas knew the grin on his face had long ago become stupid. He found he did not care. "How long?"

"Soon." She pressed both hands to her stomach, gazing down at herself with a look of wonder. "They grow with a fire that I know will be on their heels in this life. I can feel them constantly; even now. Here."

Suddenly she grabbed his hand and pulled him in, spreading his fingers across her belly. For only the second time in his life – the other when he was a mere Elfling – Legolas felt the stirrings of a babe within a womb. Felt Aragorn and Arwen's child move gently against his hand, felt love blossom in his heart at his first meeting with someone he knew would fill his heart with new light, and the world with new hope.

"I'm sorry for when I shouted at you for misplacing my rummage sack," Arwen suddenly said. Her eyes were very somber when he met them. "I had stored my dried fruit in it before it was lost. And the child was hungry, and so was I, and things escalated very quickly, and I never got a chance to apologize."

Legolas stared at her. "You did not just shout at me. You chased me with a saddle rope and beat me with it until Elrohir found your sack and threw it at you."

"Like I said." Arwen's face was unmoved; her soft voice even more so. "We were famished."

Laughing, Legolas shook his head and leaned back against the tree, staring up into the boughs that swayed with the night wind above them. He felt full of utter gratitude for this gift they had all been given. And for the way he knew that this Fourth Age of Middle-earth would soon surpass the dreams of all of the Eldar who had fought for so long to give these lands a chance for light.

"Much makes sense now that did not before; in fact, you really were sometimes quite terrible at hiding it. You're just lucky I was oblivious to it all." She tsked. "You are forgiven for the rummage sack. Now I know to be careful and avoid your food at all costs until we meet this child. Hopefully I am able to quickly learn everything that provokes you to violence."

The Queen folded her hands across her stomach, patting it fondly and looking over at him with a twinkling grin. "Hopefully."

"There you are!"

Groaning, Legolas shut his eyes, thus he did not see, but heard instead the sound of Aragorn, Elessar, first High King of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor somersaulting into the glade and landing in front of them in a huff.

"Ha." The man wheezed. "Knew I'd find you first."

"My love." Arwen's voice was weary with an exasperated love that rivaled time. "Have you hurt yourself?"

"Hurt myself? No. How would I—? No. What are you doing, Legolas? Why have you come here – why did you leave?"

When he cracked one eye open to gaze at his friend, Legolas had to fight hard to stifle a grin at the leaves in the King's hair and the drunken scowl on his face. "I wanted some fresh air."

"We were – we were quite outside." Scowl deepening, Aragorn rolled his eyes and settled himself down beside his wife. Legolas smirked at him even as everything in his being screamed to tackle his friend with joy and congratulate him on becoming a father. The man was unaware of this as he smoothed out his robe and fixed him with the most haughty look he could muster, drunk as he was. "Try again, Princeling."

"Try again?"

"Another excuse. Why'd you run off."

"I wanted some fresh air."

"We are already outside Legolas why are you being this way? Why are you making me trek through the forest like a loon in the pitch black with half an Elven kingdom trying to best me–"

"Half an Elven kingdom – Estel." Legolas sighed. "They're following you here, aren't they?"

"I'm sure I'm ahead of them. They're all quite drunk."

"So are – no. No." Shaking his head, Legolas stared over at his friend with what he knew was an incredulous look on his face. "Who is it?"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to remember such a fortitude of names? Nay, my friend, I only know that Elrohir is bringing plenty of wine."

Legolas chuckled. "Yes, good, very good. It seems to be that you need some."

"He has also placed a bet on who would find you first. I won, because I am a ranger."

Arwen was laughing helplessly. Legolas could hear her practically choking between them.

"Alright, my dear man." He reached across her and gently hit Aragorn's arm, ignoring the way his friend glowered over at him. "Perhaps they won't catch you at all. You've always been of superior speed; you're right. We have quite the chance."

Aragorn did not respond. Instead he looked up and gazed at the tree that they rested beside. Several long moments of silence passed in the glade as the man seemed to fall deep into thought, pondering something far beyond them. And then he said,

"There is not a single apple on this tree."

Legolas' shoulders shook with laughter of his own. "No, friend. Not a single one."

"Wrong time of year for it." Aragorn cleared his throat. "I could have planned better."

Arwen gathered her husband tightly into her arms, pressing a kiss to his temple and continuing to laugh 'til she was nearly out of breath. "Aragorn, please, you must stop talking–"

"Stop it," he laughed, turning his head so their mouths could meet. Legolas' heart nearly burst from his chest with love as he watched them.

"What – what? You are here; a million miles away – The most – Everyone, here! They are here. I have found them! Idiots."

The voice of Elrohir. Aragorn pulled away from Arwen and looked over at him with wide eyes; eyes full of sadness when he realized what being found truly meant. That for the first time in this life this secret glade was going to become secret no more. "No," the man whispered. "I'm so sorry, Legolas. I wasn't–"

"Oh, stop it," he said softly, reaching out to take the King's hand. He knew that though it would be minuscule, especially through the haze of drink, Aragorn would still feel a resemblance of guilt, and of regret. He squeezed his friend's hand and smiled at him. "They won't even remember this place in the morning. Come on." He stood, leaning over Arwen and pulling the King to his feet, wobbly as they may be. Aragorn rolled his eyes, but he did not pull away and he did not fall back down. Legolas took these both as very encouraging signs as he beheld his friend warmly, once more resisting the urge to embrace him. He wanted Aragorn to be sober for such things. Another time. "Let's get these drunkards back to the House, ai?"

"I shall never drink again." The King of Men's mournful retort made Legolas laugh once more as the glade began to fill with a brigade of their cursing and befuddled family and friends.

—

Imladris, Third Age, year 2940

"If I send him on a boat across the sea, none of you are allowed to resent me for it, alright?"

Elladan did not look up when there came a sudden, quite very dramatic outburst from the door of his study. His eyes remained fixed on the book he held as he listened to Legolas wait one single second before huffing into the room.

"Elladan. My words. Do you hear them?"

He sighed. "I take it the sprout hasn't let up, yes?" Closing the book, he finally looked up at his friend with a raised eyebrow. He had to bite back an instant grin when he saw the absolutely disheveled look on Legolas' face. "I know you're frustrated. But he is not one to relent. I know this, you know this, we all know this."

"I thought I had helped him; had handled it, I – He followed me to the bathhouse. For Valar's sake. Have you taught him no reservation?"

Elladan's other eyebrow rose high. "Pardon me. I own not the task of teaching him such things. He is his father's son."

"May you all reign in the miscreant you are creating before he tells me every single reason for the hundredth time why it would 'just make sense' for him to come along."

"Yes. He is very entitled to you."

Sighing, Legolas walked over to one of the richly cushioned chairs next to the hearth and dropped down into it. He stared gloomily at the ashes of an old fire.

"If I find out that any of you have been encouraging this." He glanced up at him. "Elladan, I do not jest. I know you have all been speaking with him more about it. I don't want him in Mirkwood."

"And why is that again?" Setting the book down, Elladan turned and crossed his arms over his chest, gazing at his friend. Legolas' jaw tightened; he saw clearly the jest disappear from his friend's eyes, just as he had said. He made sure to soften his tone. "He would have the most secure guard of all. It would be wonderful for him to become acquainted with the kingdom of your father as a child."

"You cannot entrust me with this." He knew Legolas would berate himself for the way his voice wavered slightly with the urgency of his words. "I cannot be given your most precious treasure to ferry through dangerous, darkening lands. It is too much responsibility. I will not risk him. Never."

Elladan smiled. "And you don't know how to tell him this."

Legolas opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He shook his head.

"Don't bend. This is what he wants. You're doing well, and you're not the only who has been reminding him that he will not be going with you. I'll speak with him again; I'm sure–"

"He keeps mentioning death." The soft, almost stifled voice of his friend quieted him instantly. Legolas stared into the ashes without seeing them now. "His own. He keeps asking me, Legolas, what if you are away for so long that my death passes before you even realize the years have passed? What will you do if I die while you're away? Each time he has a new question I find it harder and harder not to turn and run. Just run away. I don't know how, Elladan. I don't know how to talk to him about death. I have never gotten it right in my mind; felt prepared for what I might say, how I might explain to him that I am completely aware of it all. I didn't want to."

"Ai." His heart ached with sorrow for his friend, but with pride most of all, and love as he waited until Legolas finally looked up from the hearth. His eyes were full of terror. Elladan shook his head, mouth softening in a gentle smile. "You do. You do know how. You have always handled the burden of having to reach across the chasms that separate our people exactly as you should. Burden, Legolas, I use that word for a reason. It will never be an easy conversation to have. It will always be hard, but the only thing to do is continue to reassure him. Continue to reassure him that this time, now, is the only thing that matters. Because it's true, Legolas. It may not feel that way every moment. But it remains that way. Do not forget."

Legolas nodded once. His eyes were suspiciously bright.

"Thank you for leaving me with him by the way." Raising his hands above his head, Elladan brought his arms back in a long, leisurely stretch, glaring at the Wood Elf. "I'll never get a moment's peace now. With you gone I just know it will fall on me to feed and entertain the beast."

Rolling his eyes, Legolas bit back a grin. "Don't talk about him like that, arsehole. He is not a person that needs to be entertained. He will entertain you. And I envy you for it. And I will miss him."

Elladan's heart warmed at his friend's quiet words. He met the Prince's eyes, smiling at him gently. "He will miss you too. And he will never stop telling me this. And I might catapult him to you one day."

Legolas laughed. "Please do."

"He followed you to the bathhouse?"

"It sounds worse than it is."

"Stop talking about me."

Elladan was so startled by the sudden voice that he burst instantly into laughter, turning to the nine-year-old boy who stood in the doorway. Aragorn scowled at him. Legolas' face was horrified, though he tried quickly to mask it, clearing his throat and looking away.

"Hello, brother." Elladan's heart warmed as he smiled at the boy and Aragorn's face darkened further, his eyes flitting towards Legolas a moment. "You're easy to talk about. Especially when you're on one of your missions of terror. Do you know that you are driving your closest friend absolutely bats with your refusal to ever be told no?"

"I'm not being a child." As he always had, Aragorn spoke harshly to him with a presence well beyond his mortal years. His silver eyes were determined, though sad. "I know he doesn't want me to go. But I would not be a hindrance. And I just wanted everyone to know that."

"Estel." Legolas' voice was stricken; he stood quickly to his feet and stared at the boy. "You know there is absolutely no reason to say such things. I'm sorry I spoke of how you want to come with me with such disrespect. Even when not in your presence, I should never do that. But I am trying, young one, trying very hard to help you understand why I cannot risk your life this way. And to help you understand why my mind will not be changed, even as it pains me, too. I would love nothing more than your company. You're incredibly annoying." Here Elladan watched Legolas' words surprise his little brother, a grin bursting forth for a split moment before Aragorn quickly composed himself, his face darkening once more. Legolas sighed, knowing he'd nearly had him. "But you're probably my favorite person to spend time with. I'm sorry you cannot come."

Elladan watched words of more protest form in Aragorn's mind; watched them begin to travel to his mouth before the boy seemed to make a sudden decision. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed himself, looking away with a sullen nod. "Sorry I followed you to the bathhouse."

"Shush." Legolas laughed, shaking his head and staring at the boy with incredulous love. Elladan's heart warmed to see it. "What shall we do with our time left, my closest friend?"

Aragorn's eyes flew quickly to lock onto those of the Elf, filling with love of his own. The boy took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and smiled.

"We shall plan all of the things that we will do when you come back."

—

fin

When I rewrote my story into this version all those years ago, I wrote into the ending a reference to another one of my shorter stories, called The Apple Tree. I wanted to tie in this little homage to these two friends an idea that, though written when I was very young, was always super special to me. In this fic Aragorn and Legolas planted an apple tree within a glade of Imladris to help bring some peace to a child Estel's heart the first time that Legolas had to depart from the valley and return to Mirkwood. Planting the tree was Legolas' way of reassuring young Aragorn that just as a tree stands, never would their love be broken by the test of time. A short summary – I just wanted to give a small explanation for anyone new.

I don't have many words for how it feels to post this final chapter. It's so thrilling to me. Something I wish I'd done many many years ago. If you're here, I hope beyond hope that you've enjoyed reading. The world of The Lord of the Rings, of Tolkien's work, of the love of these friends and all of these characters has meant worlds to me since I was a child. This story was never perfect, but it was always a very big part of me. Thank you for giving some of your time to entertaining it. I hope you've enjoyed your time, my friends. I wish you all well on this journey of life, and I wish you always happy, happy reading.

Neb