Forever Afternoon
Chapter Thirty/Epilogue
Word Count: 4,924
Rating/Disclaimer/Summary: Same as chapter 1, really
Author's Note: So... this has finally reached the end. It's not what I thought I'd have when I started down this path, even though it does include the part I envisioned for the end long before I wrote it. I just didn't expect this to be what it was. I told myself when I started that I wasn't going to write just Varyar's story alone, and despite that, this is his story. It shows its bias, it always has, and back in chapter thirteen, when I considered walking away from it, I did it in part because I knew I couldn't hope to balance Varyar's part of the plot and my affection for him as a character with the others that belonged to this world and do justice to anyone but him. So... he got his justice. No one else did, though I tried to give it to them. I failed. I admit that.

The thing is, though, when I think of it as Varyar's story, I know this is the way it had to be, even with all its flaws. He would have had it no different.

The title for this final part is from the song that helped start this fic: Tuesday Afternoon (Forever Afternoon,) by the Moody Blues.

Just the Kind of Day to Leave Myself Behind

"You are a fine king, you know. You do not have to worry constantly that you are not."

Aragorn turned back to face his friend, not bothering to ask how Legolas knew what he was thinking. He was not so hard to know, not anymore, not since he became king. He found his mind preoccupied with many things, but all of them could be considered the same worry, the concerns of a king. He smiled, amused by the statement. "And what would you know of fine kings?"

"I have lived centuries with one, or have you forgotten?" Legolas asked, inclining his head, waiting with a pointed look for as long as he could before he started laughing. Aragorn smiled in turn, grateful for this time here in Ithilien, away from the cares and concerns that plagued him within the walls of Minas Tirith. The responsibilities of a king were always upon him, never gone, only sometimes relieved for a time. He felt them even now, but he tried to tell himself that he could have some peace here in Ithilien. This was the land of Faramir, the steward, a land that he had opened up to many, including the elves, and it stood as a sign of peace and fellowship between the two races.

"I suppose I did. Gimli isn't here to call you a spoiled pointy-eared princeling."

Legolas laughed. "Oh, he will be soon enough, I suppose. He never wanders too far, lacking the affection I have for this land. He keeps calling it a stinky bog."

"And have you told him what you think of his glittering caves?"

"No. I have no interest in starting another feud between dwarves and elves," Legolas answered, and Aragorn laughed. He knew that his friend was exaggerating. He did not think, for all their bickering, that Gimli or Legolas could ever stay mad at each other. They fought, not because they disliked each other, but because it was a part of the very friendship they shared.

"I do not think that is likely to happen. You have done much to undo that old hatred, and I think you may yet prove to be the one that creates lasting peace between your people and theirs."

Legolas shook his head. "Do not give me undue credit. I am not that great a diplomat. I have made one friend of a dwarf, and I am not certain I could make friends of more. I did not start this feud between our peoples, and some elves have too long a memory for details that dwarves supposedly forgot. We see too much in our long lives. We do not forget enough of it, either."

Aragorn studied him. "That is an interesting thought. I never thought you would be one to claim that it was the elves and not the dwarves that kept the old grudges going. Elves are supposedly more peaceful than that, more wise, more—"

"I hold that any elf can be just as stubborn as a dwarf if not more so. Indeed, it seems only true to state that we are more so, since we outlive the dwarves by centuries."

Aragorn nodded. That much was also true, and he would have laughed, but he sensed something under those words that had nothing to do with dwarves at all. "He still hasn't come, has he?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, and while I know it is almost too soon for it, I suppose I hoped for too much. We have been given so many blessings, won victories that we did not think we would, and those we love—most of them survived this dark time. There is peace. There is happiness. We are rebuilding. It makes us all believe that the impossible is possible."

"You think that Firyavaryar coming here is impossible?"

"No," Legolas answered with a slight smile. "I do not think it is impossible, nor do I doubt the words that were left behind—he swore I would see him again before I saw the sea. I do not doubt that I will—Varyar does not make promises he feels he cannot keep—but the time between now and when I sail is great indeed, and I may have to wait much longer than I wanted to wait. I was starting to think that I would see him before I saw you, though."

Aragorn frowned. "What? You could have come to Minas Tirith at any time and seen me. It's not like I ran off to places where even Istari and Galadriel cannot track me."

Legolas nodded. "Indeed, you did not, but you were no more available to me than any of them were. You have been too busy to see much of anyone, even your own family."

Aragorn winced, but he shook his head with determination. "That will change. I will not ignore my kingdom, but I am here to spend my time with my friends and not let anything come between them—my family—and me, not now."

The elf smiled. "That is good to hear, Estel, for I have found something I think you will be interested in seeing. Come."

"There is a marked difference between slight hope and none at all, even more so between delayed hope and none at all," Firyavaryar observed, looking down at the wizard. The old man did not spook, not as he would have preferred, but he doubted that Lothanlass had been as still a tree as he needed to be to make a true ambush possible.

"Indeed, there is, and it is vast sometimes."

"I should tell you that I have not forgiven you," Varyar said, letting himself remain in his tree for a moment longer. Any threat to him would affect the onod, and he knew that Mithrandir would not harm the ent for Firyavaryar's actions.

"I did not expect that you would."

Varyar nodded. "You should not have. Whatever excuses you found to justify your actions become hollow when you consider them for as long as I have, and I have found the whole matter impossible to ignore since we departed from the house of healing. My sister was right in thinking that our anger would poison us against all there, and you must thank her for staying not only my hand but those of others."

"Your friend the assassin has sought my end before for perceived slights against you. I knew of the risk when I concealed what I had found."

Firyavaryar laughed. "You think that you angered only him and me? No, do not be such a great fool, Mithrandir. Sérëdhiel, Idhrenion, and the others were roused to great ire when they learned of what you had done. Even Eruaistaniel, the one most would claim the weakest, most timid member of our group, she would have harmed you for what you chose to do."

The Istari nodded. He wrapped his arms around his new staff, and Firyavaryar did not miss the warning in it. He had not fooled himself into thinking that he could have fought against the Maia, not truly, and without a plague beneath his skin, he was at a greater disadvantage, so the warning was unnecessary. He did not intend to fight.

He might be provoked into it, but he was not planning on it.

"You came for a reason, and it was not to tell me that I was forgiven," Mithrandir prompted. "You say I am not, so why did you come?"

"I suppose I am uncertain of that myself," Firyavaryar told him, sliding down from the onod's branch. He faced the wizard and drew in a breath before he spoke. "I have, I think, determined why I am so angry and why I find it difficult now to find room for forgiveness. It is not so much that you concealed the cure from me as much as you denied me the opportunity to chose my own path."

"You were needed to follow the one you were on."

"Indeed, perhaps I was, but you assumed that I would have taken the cure the moment that I found it, and you are wrong in doing so."

The Istari frowned. "You would not have taken it? Why not? After centuries of suffering, you should have been glad of it, and it would have seemed a reason for your survival, one you thought you did not want with it."

Firyavaryar glared at the wizard, shaking his head. "You are a fool. Do you truly understand nothing of me after all this time? What has my life been but sacrifice? What have I known but denial and pain and torture? I have fled from friendship and endured torment—I have let the blood stain my hands so that it stains no one else's, I have given away things most dear to me in order to save others, and you would stand there and tell me I would be so selfish as to take that cure immediately? I do not care how long I had suffered under the plague. I was a weapon, but I knew how to use it to protect those that I loved, and I would have gone on doing so. I would not have stopped, not when I felt it was needed. That is your true mistake, wizard. You assumed you knew what you did not, and you denied me a choice when I believe I would have made the one you wanted."

Mithrandir let out a breath. "Perhaps you would have. Perhaps I feared too much that you would not, and I cannot change what I have done."

"Nor do you apologize for it."

"I did what I felt must be done. You were needed in that final battle," Mithrandir insisted. He reached over and put a hand on Varyar's shoulder. "So much of you is unknown to those of us who have insight, and that obscured path is difficult to trust. I did not trust it enough, and that I will admit. I ensured you were there as I felt you needed to be, and that may never be forgiven, but I could not allow us to fall at the last when all else seemed won. We needed you. I think we have always needed you, and that was why you were forced to cross paths with Legolas again, to draw you into something you have always avoided."

"If I was needed, I would have been there," Firyavaryar said, irritated. "You did not have to choose for me. I would have fought if I needed to, and you did not need to manipulate me. No one did. When you reach your Valinor, when you see your Valar—you tell them that. None of this was necessary. You—and they—are not forgiven."

"Firyavaryar—"

"Do not think it has not been considered, that is has not been tried. It would be easier to overlook such treachery had you not denied me choice in the matter. That is where I still struggle to find any measure of understanding, any willingness to alter my opinion. I cannot accept your actions as right, for I know what I would have done—anything and everything necessary to protect my family. You had no right to deny me the choice of the cure, the hope of it, and many of the things you tasked me with I would have been willing to do without you misleading me the way you did."

"I misjudged you."

Varyar studied the Istari, frowning as he did. "It is more than that. You believe I betrayed Legolas by choice, that I was willingly serving Ogol, that I still do. That is the truth of it."

"No, Firyavaryar," the wizard said, moving his hand to Varyar's face. "I did not have the trust in you that I had in Frodo, for I sent him on a task much as I did you, but I believed in him. I did not have that kind of faith in you, and for that, I must apologize."

Firyavaryar pulled away, still uncomfortable with being touched even though he was cured. "Do not think those words alone will earn you forgiveness."

"I would not think so, but you are still an elf. You may yet live long enough to find that measure of forgiveness, even if I have long since departed from these shores."

"It is a shame this is your last day here," Legolas said, looking over at Estel. He knew he should not be so disappointed—his friend was a king now, and that meant that he had responsibilities elsewhere, ones that would always keep him away from what he wanted to do and the people he would be with. "I will miss you."

Estel smiled. "I will miss the peace that we have had here, that I have had."

"And not my company?"

"I should not need to miss it if you were more willing to come to Minas Tirith," Estel said, and Legolas started to shake his head. "Do not tell me that you cannot come. You are not so far away, and since this is your dominion now, it is not your father's rule that keeps you in place. Why do you avoid me so much? Are you still mad at me?"

"Mad? No, Estel, I am not mad at you. I have not been mad in—I thought we had closed that rift between us before we set out with the ring-bearer," Legolas began, frowning. He turned back toward the tree, leaning against it as he considered his actions. Had he been mistreating Estel? He had thought he had done right—here he worked to rebuild peace and a broken land, and this sanctuary was the kind of solace the king needed, but had it been a strange way of keeping Estel at a distance? Why? Legolas could not say why he would do such a thing. He knew that he had not known how to stay when the sea called him, but that was not an excuse. "We did not?"

"You never forgave me for not telling you that Firyavaryar was alive."

Legolas blinked. "That is not true. I forgave that almost instantly. Did you not know—I did not say it, but I thought it was understood by the time that he was given the cure. I know I thanked you for your part in that. I told you I would always be grateful—and yet you still thought I was mad at you?"

"You did not stay in Minas Tirith, and you rarely visit. Do you blame me for the sea longing? Is that it?"

"No, I have never blamed you for that. I do not know why you would think I would," Legolas assured him. "No, I was—I do not wish to be in your way. You have so much more to do than spend time with me. You have your kingdom and your family and I had no wish to intrude. Here I am of use to you, fixing this land, and it is better that I am of use."

Estel put his hands on Legolas' arms. "What fools we still have been. Me assuming that you blamed me and you thinking you were making things easier for me. Why have we not learned these lessons already?"

"I cannot say," Legolas admitted, for he was ashamed of his behavior. Now he saw it as childish when before he thought it to be noble. "I should have learned, for how I have hated that Varyar stayed away for my sake, and yet I did the same to you. Forgive me. I was wrong. I was wrong about much of it, and I know you were hurt plenty during that time when you needed support, that I was more friend to Varyar than I was to you as you prepared for your worst trials—"

"I do not wish for you to blame yourself any more than you would want me to," Estel insisted. "We may be fools, but we are friends first and foremost, and that is what I would rather remember than any kind of misunderstanding. I have already forgiven you."

"As have I forgiven you," Legolas agreed. "I wish I had not been so stubborn before."

"You were grieving, and I was not patient enough."

Legolas nodded, though he did not know that he felt comforted. He still disliked his actions, though he knew none of them were blameless during that time. Much of the blame lay with an elf that was still absent.

"We have heard that this is a land where men and elves live side-by-side." Legolas heard a female voice ask, carried to his ears on the wind, and he looked back to where he and Estel had left the others to see some figures in black cloaks with Faramir and Gimli. Legolas felt a pang, remembering the sight of the elves that walked toward the gray havens. How familiar those cloaks were, and how it reminded him of the sea. He did not want to think of that. "Is this true?"

"It is," Faramir said, and even from this distance, Legolas could hear the frown in his voice. Estel looked at him with concern, but Legolas did not think that the cloaked figures were a threat. They numbered only five—not an army by any means—but Legolas knew that some still existed that objected to the colony that he had established in the lands of the steward. Gimli and Faramir would not allow anyone to cause trouble, but that protection itself could be dangerous. Legolas knew that voice. Not well, but he knew that he knew it, and he needed to return to the others. "What purpose do you have here?"

"We have come to see if such foolishness is true and to regard the madness with our own eyes," the voice from the cloak said, and Legolas could identify the speaker now, for her voice carried with it the weight of someone he knew, and her attitude was very familiar to him. He smiled, trying to reassure Estel as he led him back to where the others waited.

"It is not madness," Faramir told her. "You see here a land of peace, and we will not tolerate a disturbance."

"You edain are quick to assume that someone means you harm. So very suspicious, the edain," she went on, shaking her head with a mocking sense of regret, and Legolas thought Gimli was tempted to raise his axe and threaten her, but that could not happen.

"Surely you do not believe that of all of us," Aragorn said as he and Legolas reached them. He did not know if the king knew the voice as well, but Legolas knew his excitement was poorly concealed, even if the number before him was one short. "Have you some reason to assume that all edain intend violence?"

"It has been my experience that most, if not edain are quick to it and feel little regarding the harm of others, though I suppose I should say that you were an exception to that."

Aragorn frowned. Gimli did as well, but Legolas laughed, rushing over to her side, wrapping his arms around her. "It is good to see you, Alassë."

"Not too good, I hope," a male said, and Legolas turned to him. "She is still my wife, not yours."

"I would never believe I could change such a thing, Idhrenion," Legolas said, going to embrace him as well, stopped before he got close by the burden in his friend's arms. He did not want to believe that was what he thought it was. "This is Thenidriel? How she has grown since I saw her last. She is a little lady now, and yet no less charming than she was when she was a gwinig. You will have disappointed Ada, little one, for he would have loved to spoil you as a gwinig. You made great fools of us all."

"I do not doubt that she will do so again," Estel told him, and Legolas turned back, laughing as he acknowledged the king's words. He was already acting the fool again, and he should not be, not after that conversation that he had just had with Estel. "No one can save you from that fate."

"It is one I accept willingly," Legolas said. He looked at his friend. "I hope you are not too displeased to have your last day here be overshadowed by the arrival of more company."

"I am not," Estel said, smiling. "It is good they came now, allowing me a chance to see them, instead of after I have gone."

"Oh," Eruaistaniel said. "And here we thought it would be better if we did not come until after you were gone, that we should not interrupt your visit to Legolas."

Legolas thought he knew who believed that, but he thought that at last things were settled between him and Estel and that any further animosity would be on Varyar's part, not Estel's. He did not know for certain, but he thought the king had let go of that old bitterness. He only hoped that his other friend could—would—do the same.

"It's getting a mite crowded here," Gimli observed under his breath, looking over at Faramir. "Far too many elves."

Faramir looked at him with a frown. The dwarf grunted. He knew this was an elven colony, but that was not the same. The steward had no experience with these elves, did not know the danger of them or the pain that they had caused Legolas when they disappeared in the middle of the night. Gimli had heard that Gandalf kept a cure from them and it angered them, so he wasn't sure he could call their departure cowardice, but he knew that one elf in particular had been upset by it. Not that one could see it now. All he was doing was smiling like some daft fool at each of them, pleased to see them when he should know better.

Legolas bowed to the elf-maiden who had spoken a moment before. "No, you are all very welcome, as you have heard Estel say. Lady Eruaistaniel, I am pleased to see you looking so well. We are honored by your visit."

"You need not flatter me more than the others. Or do you truly feel I need the formality of a court? I do not, even if I was raised to marry into one," she said, and Gimli wondered what Legolas thought of that. Would he take her back to his father's court? Was that what made him bow and act like an even greater fool than he had been already?

"I fear I do not know how to greet you," Legolas confessed. "I was afraid an embrace would be unwelcome after what you have endured. I know the twins made you uncomfortable with their antics, and I would not want to add to that."

"I am grateful for your consideration," she said, folding her hands together. "Though I would hope that an embrace would not feel so wrong, not when most of my family calls you gwador."

Legolas smiled at her, taking her hands and squeezing them. She smiled, a flush on her cheeks, and Gimli thought he'd have something to tease the princeling about later. He nudged Faramir, and the steward frowned down at him.

Another elf-maiden removed her hood, and this one Legolas hugged without hesitation. Gimli frowned. He did know that one—she was the most dangerous of all those elf-maidens—but he would not have thought even the pointy-eared prince would dare embrace her.

"I have missed you, Sérëdhiel."

"And I you, Legolas. It was not easy to leave, but it was necessary."

He nodded, and Gimli was tempted to tell her just what he thought of her "necessary" action, but Legolas had already turned to the last cloaked figure. He did not try to touch this one. "Nostalion. I am glad you are well. At least, I hope you are well."

"I am." The assassin said little else, but something shifted beneath his cloak, and Legolas leaned forward with a frown, examining the gap in the fabric. Gimli readied his axe, knowing that this time it would be needed.

"Is that...?"

"Yes, that is our son," Sérëdhiel said, pride in her voice as she joined her arm to her husband's, pushing back his cloak and revealing a baby elf. She smiled, leaning her head against Nostalion's shoulder as she looked upon the child.

Faramir put a hand on Gimli's shoulder, and then he smiled at him, amused. Gimli grunted. "It could have been a threat."

"I am very happy for you," Legolas told her, smiling. "Estel, look. Another gwinig. This one might not have the same features as his cousin, but he has his mother's charm all the same. Perhaps he could be a playmate for your son."

"Perhaps," Aragorn agreed with a smile. "I think Arwen would like that."

Sérëdhiel glanced toward her own husband, who did not seem to agree with that suggestion. She smiled, softening his gruffness. "I hope your son is as healthy as ours seems to be—and less of a troublemaker."

"See?" Gimli said to Faramir. "A troublemaker."

Faramir frowned, as did Aragorn. "At his age?"

"A fact for which she blames me though I fail to see why, since they did not name this one after me or any nonsense like that, nor did his behavior deter them from a second one," Firyavaryar said, and Gimli looked up to see him in a tree above their heads. He had not heard the elf climb up there, and he had to wonder how long he had been there, unobserved. Minutes? Hours? Could it have been days? Wait—that was not a tree. That was an ent, and they should have noticed that tree hadn't been there before, and none of them had.

They were in trouble indeed.

"A second one?" Legolas asked, looking at Sérëdhiel, and Gimli frowned again. Did that mean she had another child somewhere? Since when did elves have so many children? They didn't. No one had seen any for centuries. Elves were dying out, leaving the lands, not having a bunch of babies.

"Both her and Alassë," Firyavaryar answered, sliding down the ent's branches, stopping in front of Legolas and giving the ent a pat that had it humming. The elf grimaced, but he turned to Legolas with a bright smile. "Your father will have reason to visit you now—he will have more than one gwinig to amuse him."

"Hmm," Legolas said, fighting a smile. "And yet I do not see you with any of your own."

"You amuse me," Firyavaryar said, though Gimli thought there was an edge to his words, playful as they pretended to be. "Not only could I argue that I have already raised two fine elves, but I could also ask—what elleth would have me and consent to bear my children?"

Legolas shook his head in mock pity. "You must be a fool. Can you truly not know how Eruaistaniel feels about you? Clearly you are undeserving of such affection, and far stupider than I realized before—"

"Silence," Firyavaryar warned, "or I will tell all these assembled here about the fool you made of yourself when you fell for a certain elleth with hair of the strangest shimmering strands, the kind a poet writes about, though you were not much of one—"

"Yrch," Legolas said, and Firyavaryar laughed as he ran away from him. Legolas chased after him, disappearing deep into the trees.

Sérëdhiel smiled, laughing and shaking her head. "I have missed that."

"Missed it?" Faramir asked, frowning. "Why would you miss it?"

She wiped at her eye, taking her own child from her husband's arms. Nostalion moved his arm around her waist, leaning his head against hers as she spoke. "Do you know how long it has been since I have heard that kind of laughter?"

"Days ago?"

Aragorn shook his head at Fararmir's suggestion. "I'd guess more like centuries."

She nodded. "Yes, and yet here it is again. For all that has been wrong between them and all the harm that has happened because of their friendship, it is special. Important. Wonderful, even. I would say he is closer to Nostalion than Legolas, but as with Legolas' friendship with you, King Elessar, there is a part they have that you and he do not share. Listen—after all they have been through, after all the torture and pain and misunderstandings, they can still play like elflings, and it is... beautiful."

Gimli started to object, but he heard Legolas' laughter ring through the trees, lighter than usual, with a quality that Gimli knew he had never heard before, and he nodded instead. "Aye, lass. It is a fine thing indeed. Very fine."

"It is the sort of thing that should last forever," Aragorn said. He looked to Sérëdhiel. "Will you stay this time?"

"Forever is too much to promise," she said, but she smiled, rocking her son in her arms, "but I think that as long as Legolas is here, we will not be far away."