I did some profile maintenance and unfortunately deleted some stories I was no longer interested in writing. Rest In Peace. Among these was the Legolas and Aragorn friendship story The Heirs of Middle-earth. While I still love their friendship and have ideas for how they met, I wasn't excited writing this fanfic anymore and the mixture of movie and book timelines irked me. I plan on writing another series where Legolas and Aragorn will meet in a more book compliant way. Therefore, The Heirs of Middle-earth was put to rest.

I did save my favorite chapter for your viewing pleasure. I love the slight humor and the meeting of Gandalf. I love how Aragorn goes into Ranger Chieftain mode and how Legolas wrestles with the responsibility of being both prince and soldier. Lastly, it finally makes references to The Lord of the Rings and the trouble brewing.

An important thing to note because it will now never be explained, Elrond has foreseen Aragorn and Legolas' friendship and has informed Elvenking Thranduil and Gandalf, which is why Thranduil advises his son to seek out a Ranger in the North and why Gandalf says the fate of Middle-earth may rely on this friendship, alluding to Aragorn's destiny and how Legolas will help him along the way.

Without further ado, I reintroduce you to the chapter titled:

Mithrandir

2956 Third Age

Although the elements do not bother the Firstborn, Legolas was grateful for the cloak Aragorn insisted he wear. The muted, weatherbeaten material protected him from the sheen of rain pelting down upon them. The dirt road turned into mud, limiting Strider's movement while the Elf walked lightly on top of the thick mixture. He slowed down greatly for Strider's sake, but he hoped the man was leading them to a place of nearby shelter.

"We are almost to the town of Bree," the Ranger yelled over the wind in answer to Legolas' unasked question. "There is an inn where we can rest till the storm ceases."

"How well do they take to my kind?"

"Quite well, actually. It is the Rangers they are unsure about, but they know better than to cross one."

That did little to comfort the Elven warrior as he remembered what had happened with the Gwathuirim.

It was a black night. The clouds covered the moon and Elbereth's stars. Their only source of light was the faint, luminescent glow from the Elf. But Estel had spoken true and Legolas was able to lead them toward the town by the lights of Bree.

Suddenly, Legolas stopped and stood very still. He could sense something on the path ahead of them. Something powerful and ancient and oddly very familiar.

Strider, too focused on his own heavy strides, did not notice that Legolas had halted until the Elf gripped his shoulder firmly.

"What is it?"

"There is someone on the road ahead," Legolas answered as quietly as he could while still speaking over the wind. "I can see him now: a tall, robed figure."

"Is he armed?"

"I cannot tell. He might have a sword hidden behind his robes. I doubt he needs one, I sense a great power from him."

Strider loosened his sword from its sheath, but did not draw it fully. Legolas rested an arrow against the string.

"Does he know we are here?"

"It appears so, for he stands like he is waiting for us."

"Well, I suppose we must greet him, then."

They took only two steps forward when the man quickly started forward as if excited or aggressive. Legolas drew back his bowstring and aimed at the advancing figure, but something inside him hesitated to shoot.

"Legolas?" Estel cried softly, his voice on the edge of panic as his mortal eyes was blinded by the rain and darkness, rendering him helpless.

Hearing the man's dependency on him, Legolas began to release the arrow. With a great shout, he changed his aim in the last possible second and shot the arrow high, narrowly missing the man. It vanished into the black void.

* * *

"You missed!" Aragorn cried incredulously when he did not hear a groan of pain. Legolas never misses.

A smile spread over the Elf's face and he sprang forward to greet the stranger.

"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" Legolas cried like a child.

"Well met, I say to you, Legolas!" The man greeted rather curtly, but with light amusement.

The Ranger's frantic heartbeat calmed as he realized the two knew each other and approached the reunion.

The stranger was an old man in grey robes and a tall hat. He leaned against a wood staff and his beard fell past his chest. As he drew closer, Aragorn noticed the old man's grey-blue eyes were ancient and full of wisdom, but also twinkled with merriment as he gazed slightly downwards on the youthful ellon.

"Forgive me, mellon nín. I did not recognize you."

"It has been some time since we last cross paths, penneth. The battle was fifteen years ago, give or take a few months."

"Has it been that long? But, nay, Mithrandir, for you do not age."

Then Legolas turned his shining blue eyes to Estel's direction. "Ah, forgive me, Estel. This is Gandalf the Grey Wizard. The Elves call him Mithrandir."

"The Grey Pilgrim," the Ranger translated softly.

"Indeed. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Estel."

"I've seen you before," Aragorn murmured, "in Rivendell."

"Ah, yes. You were only a lad of ten years. I traveled with Thorin's Company through Rivendell. We did not properly meet, but I have spoken of you to Elrond. But come! We must get out of this ghastly rain. We can talk more at The Prancing Pony."

* * *

"So, you have found him," Gandalf pointed out needlessly.

"Indeed," the Elf responded quietly.

The two immortals sat at a table in a dark corner of The Prancing Pony. Legolas had raised a hood over his face so as not to attract attention, although Strider assured him that no harm will come because of his race. Legolas did notice the fearful and hostile glares from the Bree Men towards the Ranger, who was securing them all rooms for the night. No one seemed brave enough to start anything... yet. The Hobbits in the crowd were as joyful and merry as their reputation proceeded. They did not give Strider even one dark look, and Legolas wondered if they were capable of being anything but blissful.

"Your father will be greatly relieved to hear that you have found him and that you are alive and well."

Legolas turned his attention toward the Wizard with sparked interest. "How does he fare? Is he well?"

"He is well. He eagerly waits your return, young prince."

Sharply, Legolas stared into Gandalf's eyes with deadly seriousness. "I doubt I need to remind you that revealing my status outside of the Woodland Realm is dangerous for not only me, but for my father and our people."

"So Estel does not know," Gandalf murmured. Legolas realized that the old Wizard had extracted the information he wanted without asking for it.

He sighed. "No, he does not."

"Do you intend on telling him?"

"Estel still has not revealed his true name to me. We have become like brothers over the years and have shared many life-threatening adventures. I understand that it must be gravely important for him to still keep it from me. My status is just as grave a secret. The fewer who know it, the safer my father's kingdom will be."

"You have always put your people before yourself, but you have grown wiser since we last met, penneth," Mithrandir decided with a hint of pride in his tone.

Legolas smiled lightly before inquiring, "Has the tides of the war changed any back home?"

"It has changed little, I'm afraid," Mithrandir answered sorrowfully, noticing the Elf prince's shoulders droop in despair. "You have lost many warriors in the Battle of Five Armies. However, so has the Enemy. The Necromancer has been cast out of Dol Guldur, but another evil has taken its place. The number of spiders multiply everyday while the number of Elven soldiers diminish."

Legolas closed his eyes as guilt consumed him. "I should be leading them."

"One more warrior will not change Mirkwood's chances."

"But one more leader might! I–We lost Captain Tauriel to the sea-longing. I left to mend my broken heart and find Strider. Adar cannot lead the Elven Guard all on his own, especially with a kingdom to think of. I should be–"

"You are right where you are supposed to be, Thranduilian," the Istar interrupted. "You fate is intertwined with Estel's. You will rejoin the fight with your people, but at this moment, you are where you are destined to be. The fate of all Mankind may depend on this friendship!"

Stunned, Legolas took a breath to ask what the Wizard spoke of. That is when Strider slid into the seat next to him. A quick warning glance from Mithrandir informed the Elf that this was not a subject to discuss before the Ranger.

"Butterbur is slow," Strider grumbled with fondness, "but I secured us two rooms."

"I think I will turn in now, if you don't mind," Legolas cut in hastily. He hid his hurt and frustration behind a tired smile when the Man looked at him with concern. "I am all right, Estel. Tis just this thick cloud of smoke and I would like some clear air."

Satisfied, Estel moved out of the way and handed him one of the keys to the room they will share.

"I will see you later, Estel. Good night, Mithrandir."

"Good night, penneth."

* * *

With the Wood-Elf gone, the Ranger and Wizard simultaneously pulled out their pipes. Seeing the other's smoking device, they chuckled in shared bashful amusement.

"I did not wish to upset him," Aragorn laughed.

"Nor did I. It is a filthy habit I picked up from Men and I do not wish to give it up."

Only after a steady wisp of grey smoke floated from their pipes did Gandalf begin their discussion.

"First and last time I laid eyes on you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, you were but a small boy in Imladris. Now you are the sixteenth chieftain of the Dúnedain."

"Normally, I would be alarmed that you know so much of me, but you have spoken with Lord Elrond Peredhel of me. If he and Legolas trust you, then so do I."

"I have been meaning to meet with you for some time. You and I have similar goals in mind."

"Sauron."

The name alone spoken with such meaning by Isildur's Heir was enough to chill the atmosphere of the inn though only Aragorn and Gandalf felt it.

"He was cast out of Dol Guldur by the White Council, but not gone forever. Not while the Ring is still whole."

"The Ring. Do you know where it is?"

"I have my suspicions. It is taking me many years to not only confirm them, but also gather information to create a workable plan to ensure Sauron's defeat."

"What can the Dúnedain do in aid?"

Gandalf leaned forward intently. He whispered, "The Shire needs to be under the watchful eyes of the Dúnedain Rangers."

"The land of Halflings? They are a peaceful and isolated people."

"And should my suspicions be proven correct they will be helpless against the Enemy's forces."

Nodding, Aragorn rose to his feet and crossed the inn by the shadows. He sat down at another table where a cloaked figure dressed similar to Strider sat barely visible in the dark. Gandalf watched as the other Ranger nodded and swiftly left The Prancing Pony without disturbing anyone.

"Impressive," Gandalf remarked as the chieftain returned.

"My men are everywhere," Aragorn replied gruffly with pride. "It is easy to send orders and exchange information. My second-in-command Halbarad will take a team of Rangers to protect the Shire."

"Thank you," Gandalf said sincerely as they stood and knocked the ash out of their pipes. "I will work with you more in the future."

"The Dúnedain are at your service. Good night, Gandalf."

"Good night, Strider."

* * *

Aragorn entered his shared room a bit louder than he usually would so as to not startle the Elven warrior. He had learned that the hard way.

To his surprise, the twin beds were vacant and the window was open. Legolas sat on the short roof below the window. He was still except for wisps of silvery hair dancing in the breeze.

"It has been a long night, mellon nín. Come inside and rest."

"It is difficult to sleep when troubled thoughts run wild," Legolas replied. Yet, he turned and dropped inside their room, closing the window softly behind him.

For once in many years, they did not care to have one of them keep watch while the other slept. After removing their weapons and boots, the pair of exhausted warriors climbed into bed–a real bed–and instantly fell asleep.

When they awoke late the the next morning, Mithrandir was gone.

Translations:
Sindarin:
Gwathuirim - Dunledings
Mellon nín - My friend
Penneth - Young one
Adar - Father