adan/edain : man/men
gwador : brother (not by blood but vow)
mellon/mellon-nin : friend/my friends
saes : please
tithen/tithen pen :little/little one

Warning: Angst. Might need tissues.

"And when we part and sorrow can't be sway'd,
Remember when, and let your heart be staid..." (Omnia Sol)

In the End

Middle Earth : Fourth Age 120 : Minas Tirith

Slowly, and with something akin to dread I forced my feet forward, boots lightly scraping against the hall floor. I had not yet shed my cloak and its hood now cast a shadow over my face, a welcome distraction from the dead white stone of Gondor's fortress. I knew the way to my destination all too well, regardless of anything that would obscure my vision. I had walked the path many times over, seen the different ways darkness danced upon the walls. It had been many years since the first time I gazed upon the bright marble and few days remained that I would still be witness to it.

The end was near. And my heart ached in knowledge of it.

Never had I appreciated the stone of the White City. It was so... lifeless, reminding me too much of how the forest was yet to be completely rid of the Shadow's touch. There was no life in a place that the sun did not shine. For a time though, I had learned to live amid it all. One thing-a single person-had made it bearable.

Soon, now seeming, too soon, the burden of it would fall away, though I knew what it would fall away to, what would be left: a void of unfeeling-a perished paradise.

At long last I reached the tall double doors leading to the royal quarters. The guards outside, stiff standing yet stances softening at my approach, greeted me, "My lord."

I nodded in answer, waving away their intentions to open both doors. They acquiesced, their manner that of sympathy.

Gently placing my hand on the smooth wood, I drew in a breath before pushing forward. A soft swish sounded, seeming to break the quiet ambience, almost as the roar of wind on the shores of Pelegir would. Thankfully, the disruption went unnoticed by most, save by two dark haired elves who's eyes conveyed their greeting, solemn though it be. From them, I hardly had to turn my head to set eyes upon my quarry, the true reason for my visit. The scene was so much more desolate than I had expected, than I could have prepared for. To see that last living hope I had in this realm so withered and fading...

He was seemingly unaware of my arrival, for which I was grateful. With the sudden closing of my throat, scarcely a 'hello' would have managed to cross my lips. Under normal circumstances, much joy would have been found in our meeting, but this happenstance was anything but normal. This was almost mystical, as if in an phantasmic existence.

Gazing at the long bed, a pang of sadness stabbed my heart. The truth that I had been denying all this time, since the moment I left Ithilien, finally became a reality. This was the day I had been dreading--we all had. It was bound to come, no matter our desires. Nothing could be done, for it was engrained in the lives of men. It was a finality, a set moment in every one of their all too short lives.

Death.

And now its cold tendrils wrapped themselves around my dearest companion, one strand at a time, painfully slow but in the same way flashing forward as lightning.

Life still lingered with the once crownless king, vivacious as it had ever been. In turn, a part of me was shriveling. Many friends of mine had fallen in the past, yet none had fallen victim to the strange, dreadful, accursed mortality of Men.

I quelled the anger rising inside of me. It would no good now, nor was there any justice to it. Strength must hold true for a few more moments. Quietly, I stepped farther into the room, smothering the many emotions that pleaded to surge from within me.

He was strong. Just as he had always been. But now, looking at his world weary form, he appeared just as he had over a century ago: all too innocent.

Middle Earth: Third Age 2934 : Imladris

The day had been long-night longer. My mount was weary but no more than myself as we passed through the gates of Imladris. The stars above us were dimmer than their usual luminescence, seeming tired of watching over the deeds done under darkness.

At some point in my journey, I had begun to slouch, straightening only when I felt my arrows begin to slip from my quiver. The monotony of it was soothing, and I could almost do it subconsciously. Safety was nested in the air of Imladris, in the valley. The path to this haven, once hard to find, now came to me without much thought. Too little thought, apparently, as I suddenly realized that my vision had tunneled into a dark insensibility. Voices swirled in my mind, and I only recognized them when the brush of fingertips on my arm awoke a familiarity in the depths. Sluggishly but instantly, I straightened. "Ell'dan?" I murmured.

"Ah, so he lives," the Noldo answered, a humour laced with worry fringing upon his voice.

"Your deft words will never cease to astound..." Regaining my senses, I shrugged off the supporting hand Elladan had offered, nodding a greeting in the general direction of Elrohir. Dismounting, I found my balance, squinting in the abrupt brightness that the torches of the Last Homely House illuminated. Too long had passed since I had come here. My first step forward faltered, to my dismay-once fatigue was acknowledged, it did not leave at my demand. I breathed in-once, twice-and finally found lucidity.

The first image my mind comprehended was the unreadable look that Elladan and Elrohir cast towards me. I knew them well, but they knew me better.

"You've told us a half truth, mellon-nin," Elrohir said, his eyebrow quirked in a strange imitation of his father.

I feigned confusion, but before I could bring voice to my façade, Elladan continued his brother's thought. "The fighting in Mirkwood is more worse than you let on, and you have been doing more than your body can endure. You will run yourself into the ground."

A sad smile was all I could offer-no reassurance, no denial. Only reluctant acceptance. "And so could all the warriors, yet it is all we can do to not do more."

"And it is all we can do to not be of more help." Elladan and Elrohir had for many a year been aware of the darkness that crept into my homeland-so had much of Middle Earth. I had managed to soften how much it affected even myself for centuries, keeping the Peredhil's worry at bay, but with how near the Shadow of Dol Guldur had crept, secrets had grown too large to be kept. "Well," I attempted to bring a lightness to the air, "I've come now and your letters said much had changed here. I'd be interested to see to what extent."

An uneasy look passed between the Peredhil. "It is late, and he is weary."

"But we did tell him..."

"I suppose it wouldn't do him any harm-"

I crossed my arms, glancing between them. "He is listening, you realize?"

A chuckle emanated from deep in Elrohir's throat. "Ah, but you are not the one we speak of, mellon-nin, although much of the same could be said in relation. Come inside. You have not been the only one telling half-truths."

The Noldor's silver tongues had been a puzzle I had often pondered, wondering on what implications had been skillfully woven in their language. This time, however, I simply agreed to whatever he was indicating and followed him into the heart of Imladris. Despite the darkening of Middle Earth, Imladris retained a warmth that comforted my chilled spirit. I breathed deeply, savoring the balmy air. Mayhap my father was right. I had been in the sickened forest for too long.

Absently, I followed the twins, only coming to awareness when I realized what we had come near to. This wing held the chambers of Lord Elrond's kin. What surprise could await us here I was unable to fathom, but knew better than to ask questions. "Here," Elladan said, stopping in front of a door. "Saes, have an open mind, Legolas. He is excited to meet you."

We stood in front of one of the twins' room. I no longer paid mind to whose it was, for they hardly did themselves. Again, I did not question, trustingly entering the room. The décor had, for the first time in centuries, changed. A lighter tone flitted in it, bringing a joy that had faded from the valley at the tragic parting of Celebrian. I could not help the smile that split my face. The large bed that extended from the far wall would have been undemanding of any type of attention, except for the small shape that had taken residence on it. With caution, I approached, curiosity building. Finally close enough that no doubt could linger in my mind, I drew a sharp intake of breath.

An adan.

I turned to face the twins, my unspoken question resonating in the air.

The brothers exchanged a long look before Elladan spoke. "He came here in autumn, after an attack on the Dunedain. Many were killed, including his parents. His mother agreed to allow us to bring him here. Our father has vowed to protect him." Though uneasy at first, Elladan's tone quickly transcended to warmth. "He has come to be something of a brother."

Slowly, I nodded, facing the child. "He is small."

"He is young."

"Does he have a name?"

"We call him Estel."

"Hope..." I said, near inaudibly. Even saying the word bloomed a trust for the future inside me. "Elven. Not his given name, I assume?" Their silence was my only answer. A secret was being kept, one they guarded closely. The hesitancy to tell me spoke more than their words. "I swear, mellyn, I will keep your confidence."

Elrohir came to beside me. "We know you are worthy of our trust, gwador. Estel is not his given name, but must be so for now. We cannot afford the Shadow hearing of his presence here. To do so would not only bring danger, but certain death."

My gaze hardened as I looked at the Peredhel. "Who is he Ro? Why do you risk yourself for someone whose fate has yet to be decided?"

"Do you recall Arathorn, of the Dunedain?" Upon my affirmation, he continued, "He was one of those killed in the foray."

Several decades had passed since I had met the chieftain. He had been brash then, but still held a surprising amount of wisdom. Word of his demise was saddening. Mortal lives were fleeting, and to bring one to an end before life had completely unraveled...

Elladan continued his brother's thought. "His line, however, has yet to end, and our father prefers to keep Middle Earth's hope near to us."

I looked closely at the child-saw his soft features at peace in the world of slumber. Dark, ragged locks whisked around his ears. He looked so innocent, so naïve, so utterly vulnerable. If the Peredhil implied what it seemed-"This is him then?"

"The Watchful Peace is ending, and with its end comes new challenges. I am sure you feel the growing strength in Dol Guldur. The great war will be upon us soon and this child may yet fulfill a purpose greater than all of us." As he spoke, Elrohir sat on the edge of the large bed, reaching for Estel. A sudden cheer filled his voice. "In the meantime, we promised him that he would get to meet the famed Prince of Mirkwood, no matter how far past his bedtime you arrived. He thinks very highly of you."

"Should I assume that you have been telling tales?" His laughter was answer enough.

Gently, Elrohir woke Estel, whispering in his ear and jostling him slightly. Several moments passed before the young adan's eyes popped open, revealing a striking grey color. "Estel, Legolas is here," the twin murmured.

In an instant, the child was alert and attempting to escape his elven brother's grasp. "Where 'Ro? I no 'ee him..."

"Right here, tithen pen," I said, leaning down beside him. "Mae govannen. Tis a pleasure to meet you."

Estel's storming eyes grew wide in astonishment and his mouth hung open. "M-mae gov'nen, 'Las. Me," he pointed at himself, "Estel." A moment after his declaration, he reached out a small hand and touched my face, feeling my cheek and nose. "You not as ter-terri-"

"-terrible," one of the twins helpfully supplied.

Estel nodded seriously and continued, "terr'ble as El and Ro 'aid you'd be."

I smiled, laughing slightly. "If there is one thing I can tell you, tithen pen, it is to never trust those two. A single person's intelligence was split between them."

Estel was oblivious to my words, finally winning his small battle to escape Elrohir's clutches. Elrohir laughed and stood, going to stand by his twin. We watched as Estel crawled on the bed. It almost looked to be an attempt at a display of independence, as there was a time or two that he stood. Unfortunately for him, he had yet to gain the strength or balance to perform such an act on the soft mattress, and one attempt that he made sent him careening toward the opposite edge of the bed. At the end of his fall, much of his body still rested on safety, but his head and one arm were awkwardly angled off of it.

"Help me, Las!"

Before I heard his soft cry, I was lunging across the bed. Wrapping one hand around his ankle, I pulled him away from the impending danger and into my arms. The tension in his body was obvious and I attempted to sooth the fear I knew had shot through him. "Hush, tithen estel, you're alright now, there is naught to fear."

Estel sniffled, rubbed his fists across his eyes, and then turned his eyes towards me. "T'ank you, Las. I was 'cared but you're brave."

My fingers wove in the tangles of his dark hair, and I pressed his head to my shoulder. "Ah, but one day you will be much braver, you will see." I looked up to see Elladan and Elrohir exchanging a knowing look, smiles upon their lips. Perhaps they knew of something that I did not.

_________________________

Middle Earth : Fourth Age 120 : Minas Tirith

I blinked back to the present.

An eternity had passed in but a heartbeat and I found the Peredhil's questioning gazes turned upon me. Not only theirs though... for another all too familiar one had joined.

The eyes that met mine-thunderstorm grey, as waves lapping the shores in sweet sorrowful rhythm-had years before lost their naivety and come to find wisdom beyond their years but within their sight. The depths within his eyes were endless, pools of joyous misery. They were eyes I had seen burn with passion many a time over the years, whether it be for or against me. Despite the wear of the years, and despite the loss of young innocence, his gaze was warm and caring. He had said he wished the situation to be different and I believed him-still believed him, but I could not shake the fear of what was to come in a short, short time. Death and darkness would draw the curtain and his eyes would close, not to be opened again.

Either blessed or cursed, not both, could I be considered, for I would live but he would die just like the others. I would see his final petal fall into the clouded waters of times past, rippling through the ages but then that would be all. No more to see, hear, or feel him... only to remember, to keep him alive through memory and song. It was all I could do to not let him fade from my heart, for he would go, and I would stay. So was the nature of our bond.

The slightest murmur faded to silence and a word slipped into the stillness. "Legolas."

I had known it was coming, known that we must speak, but still my thoughts pounded back and forth. His voice-sad, welcoming, waning-calling me to him. I couldn't, but must and so with one shaking step after the other I walked forward, feeling as if I walked toward the edge of a cliff that came before sorrow. At some point, I would say the last words he would ever hear of me. Any breath could be his last. I could only wonder why it must be so agonizing to see.

Middle Earth : Third Age 2942 : Mirkwood, Eryn Galen

I had felt his arrival many moments before. It was only a matter of time before he would choose to make himself known.

The training fields were a flurry of activity. Of late, the forest had been quieter, more at peace. Any elf that desired so could take the time to hone their less refined skills. Even the most formidable warrior had a weakness, and it was his duty to cast away pride and take up his humblest weapon. Any number of lives could one day depend on their performance with a less than desirable device. I was on watch, looking for off chance of injury or argument, neither of which had arisen in the day so far. Contented with my thoughts for company, I had watched from the fringes, for the slightest slip of hand could cause tragic consequences.

To no surprise, a small voice penetrated my consciousness. I turned, only barely so to keep one eye on the battlefield, and found Estel awkwardly awaiting acknowledgement. "Mae govannen, tithen-pen," I said. "Estel, what service may I offer you?"

Estel's eyes were trained to the ground, watching his own foot trace a pattern in the lush dirt. His knotted hair obscured much of his features, whether by chance or design I could not tell. His hands were behind his back, something clutched in them. As hesitant as he was to reveal the object, I recognized the portions that his small frame could not hide. Now if only he would find courage to expose it.

"You need not be afraid," I said. "I won't shoot you, leastways not while anyone is watching."

This sparked a light of amusement in his eye and a laugh in his voice. "Oh, I know, Las, it is just that"-he exposed his hidden quarry-"I have my bow, but I'm not much good at shooting it. El and Ro always seem so busy but I was hoping you might help me?" That seemed to be the end of his courageous moment as he quickly added, "But if you are too busy too, that is fine, I can wait, El and Ro aren't always busy but you're so good, I just..."

I took the bow from his hands. "This is fine craftsmanship. The maker truly had a great attention to detail. Do you recall its maker?" Well carved and smooth, the wood had a good feel to it and the shape was nicely made. It would never be acceptable for an elven battle, as I was sure it would snap with the rough and rapid use, but it had come from amateur hands. If I were to wager a guess, the maker was not too far from me.

Estel's chest swelled with pride. "I made it all by myself."

Feigning surprise, I said, "Is that so? Well then, how could I deny such a skilled craftsman a chance to learn his own weapon? Come, I know a place just a short ways from here. Would that be acceptable?" At Estel's eager nod, I moved away from the fields, calling to my lieutenant, Forven, as I did so. The elf quickly excused himself from where he was engaged in a spar and came to my side. After a quick explanation on my part, he agreed to take my watch and find me should anything go awry. I would hold him to his word.

The clearing was not far away, neither from the training fields, nor the palace. We would be safe here-Valar forbid what the Peredhil would do to me should the child be harmed on my watch. And so the lesson began.

I set a target and first allowed Estel to shoot in whatever method he preferred, silently noting the errors in posture and timing. He was not terrible, especially for a mortal child. There was simply some taming to be had. After a few more firings, I stopped him and said, "Well done, tithen-pen. Raise your elbow and you might even hit the target." My words were partially said in jest, but they served their purpose as determination set itself in his jaw. I hardly had to wait an hour before he hit the center of the target. Though Estel stood a mere ten paces from it, and his aim's dependability was near nonexistent, the improvement was commendable.

Following our lesson, a week passed. The time was dull, as some sort of peace was holding firm. The sons of Elrond had come with the party of Imladris diplomats, the group discussing minor businesses between our realms. Estel had traveled with his brothers, wanting to see the fabled forest of Mirkwood. For too long I had seen the forest fade to a dimness nowhere near its once splendor filled eaves, yet a child's awestruck wonderment had lit a resurgence of pride in me. After centuries, our fight still held purpose.

Estel and I had entered the trees while they whispered of peace and safety. I was to show him the more beautiful parts of the forest, and so I had. It was only on our return that the trees' peaceful whispers turned to ominous murmurs. Something was wrong.

Nonchalantly, I had attempted to quicken our walk without alarming Estel. Playfully pushing him forward, running ahead in an attempt to get him to catch up-my efforts were not enough, as the murmurs grew to cries of warning. The evil was almost upon us-

-and then I heard it.

The familiar hissing and clicking, the snapping of twigs... Spider were prepared to attack. Placing a hand on Estel's shoulder, I stopped him, instantly searching for a place that Estel might be safe. No option was desirable, the trees being too high and barren, while the ground's cover was too sparse for him to hide in. Only one option remained. I dropped to my knees beside him. "Listen to me, Estel, you must run back to the stronghold. Tell anyone that the spiders are here, but do not for anything look back." I feared what he might see if he did.

Estel looked at me, fumbling for words until he said, "But, but what about you? What spiders? Will you be alright?"

"Aye, of course, tithen pen." I couldn't afford to wonder if my words were truth or lie. Either way, he had to get away. "Now go!" And Estel was off, his short legs carrying him towards safety. I turned with knives in hand, searching for the danger that dared to creep so near to my home. All came to a standstill-and then they were upon me, dropping from the limbs overhead. The fight was a commotion of life and death and fighting. For a moment, I let myself believe that I would escape unscathed.

But even the best laid plans can err, and with how chaotic this plan was-fight and kill being the most prevalent idea-I knew my hope was desperate. I slashed at what I thought to be one of the last spiders, but as I did so felt the lurch of a spider leg pulling my legs from beneath me. One moment I stood, and the next I lay upon my back, vision blurring with each passing second. My head seemed to have landed on a rock. I cursed under my breath as the situation worsened tenfold.

Just a breath from my face was a spider, fangs dripping with saliva and whatever else they had been dug into of late. I stretched my neck away, arms pinned to my side. Whatever this abomination planned to do, he was sure to do it soon and none too kindly. If the spider did not kill me by force, its poison surely would. I struggled to pull my legs up and under the spider, but sheer force would not be enough. Even should I escape this spider, there were innumerable others poised to take its place.

Abruptly, the spider's satisfied clicking turned to pained shrieking. I took the opportunity and rolled from captivity and onto my feet. Help could not have arrived this quickly, it was near impossible, unless-

An arrow protruded from the spider's head. A small arrow. Too small. There was only one person in Eryn Galen who would be using them. The child's shot had not been fatal, but it provided opportunity for me to act, and I took my own arrow. For lack of a bow, I jumped on the spider's head and twisted around, plunging the arrowhead into one of the creature's eyes. Instantly, it stilled, and I slid off, diving for one of my knives. I gained my feet in the same moment that a company of elves burst through the trees.

Ai, Elbereth be praised.

"Estel!" I attempted to make my voice carry over the foray, trusting the arrived warriors to keep harm away. I would only be satisfied once I could see Estel with my own eyes. I swayed on my feet, head beginning to pound in light of the blow it had recieved.

Even as I gained a sure stance, Forven came to my side, concern barely hidden behind the furrow of his brow. "Where is the child?"

I was not given chance to answer, for as I opened my mouth, a cry rang in the air. "Legolas! Help!"

Immediately, my search was renewed tenfold. Around me there was nothing but battle and death, no spritely sign of a child--and then I looked up. There, hidden in the far reaching expanse of the trees, a spider attempted to escape, prize in tow. "I'm coming, Estel!" I could only hope that my words reached his ears and brought some level of comfort. Taking to the trees, I wove ever upward through the branches. The spider seemed to panic, realizing there was nowhere for it to go that I could not easily follow. Few places existed that a spider could go that an elf could not. As quickly as my limbs would move me, I charged up to Estel and his captor. The trees lowered their limbs in an attempt to make my ascent easier, something for which I was grateful.

I was soon to reach the offending spider when my heart pulsated and I gasped at the scene that unfolded. As if in spite of its oncoming doom, the spider reeled backward--

--and Estel began to fall.

If the aid of the trees was ever needed, it was in this moment, and they and I both knew it to be so. In a rush of air and urgency, I threw myself forward, hand losing its hold on the branch. By the grace of Elbereth, I somehow caught onto Estel's small form before we were both spiraling towards the ground. I curled myself around my charge, prepared for the worst, only to abruptly come to a stop. Ai, the trees had done their part.

Beneath us was a weaving of branches, not particularly soft but much more so than the ground would have been. We were fortunate that the trees here were partly untouched by the shadow, and still willing to come to the aid of the elves.

I lay still for a moment in an attempt to focus my vision. My peace of mind was interrupted by the realization of a quaking against my chest. Soft sobs reached my ears, and Estel's hands clenched my tunic, almost as if he thought he would continue to fall if he let go. I sat up, gently prying his hands from their vice-like grip. "Estel, listen, it's alright now, you're okay."

The boy was young. Too young to already be witness to a darkness such as this. If it were within my power, I would have it be different. If I could keep the shadows hidden, take their dark omen upon myself alone, I would not hesitate. In another world, one where hope outshone despair, it might be. But here, as watchful standing turned to cautious defense, there was ought I could do but stay near.

And so in the encasement of the branches I took my vow. This child had a fate to be beyond legend, and I would stay by his side. My loyalty was his as long as he would have it.

Middle Earth : Fourth Age 120 : Minas Tirith

"Estel." My voice broke. I could not. Could not bear to feel the seconds ticking, knowing that every one that passed only brought the inevitable ending closer. Every whisper, sound, thought, movement--everything was just another fewer.

This day was so long in the making, I had thought I would be numb to it. I had fooled myself into believing a lie of my own weaving--told myself that maybe, just perhaps, the end would be so swift that I would blink and it would be over. I would take a breath and when I let it go, all the pain would go with it.

But despite my own fooling, that is not how I woud want it. I would not want the death of one so near to be void of any consequence, any feeling. I would forver call him my friend, forever see him as one of the dearest, but in the same way he would always be someone so much more.

I would go on, pulled by the world, the Sea, the longing of other things, but never would I be the same. A part of my being would be lost with him. So had everyone told me. Told me of the tearing I would feel, the heartbreak, the anguish, the hurt...

Never, though, had they spoken of one thing. One emotion that would come before all the others, and last so much longer. Not once had they acknowledged the joy that I would see in the many, many, many moments before this final parting.

And it was that joy that I saw on the tired face of my friend. On the face that did not demand, only asked. The face that longed, wanted, but also waited. "You've come," he said.

I smiled gently, hands shaking at my sides. "I would not be anywhere else." For the last time, I would be at his side, even should this be a battle that we would not win.

Middle Earth : Third Age 2951 : Tyrn Gorthad

"You know, Legolas, some amount of help would be appreciated."

"Yes, well, I am not the one who walked off of the cliff. I am sure your brothers will greatly enjoy this tale of yours."

"For one, it is a sudden slope, not a cliff, and you will not loose a word otherwise to my brothers. And for another, I did not walk off, I slipped."

"Ah, my dear Strider, that only proves to make your predicament that much more enjoyable."

"For you, perhaps, but I do not fancy spending my days here."

"I am sure you would not spend the rest of your days here. Some poor sould would come across you and help one day." I settled back against a conveniently placed rock, and placed my arms in front of my chest. It would do him good to learn a lesson on watching for 'sudden slopes' would it not?

"Aye, you are quite funny, and I am sure you will bask in the look my father will give you when you tell him you left to me to the wiles of the world."

I stayed silent for a moment, as if pondering. "Perhaps you are right, but then I could always spin some tale to convince him of my plight. Edain are known for the clumsiness."

"You are so very amusing, Legolas, and while I do enjoy our conversations, these bushes are rather thorny."

I laughed, finally acquiescing to his request. Pulling a rope from my pack, I tossed one end down to him, tying the other to my convenient rock. "All set, then. Feel free to rejoin the world at your liesure."

A profanity or two drifted from below, both of which I ignored, instead looking to the sky, watching the sun fade from view. As the foul language continued, I raised an eyebrow. "Do you actually know what those words mean?"

Aragorn grunted. "Aye. I do know more" --another grunt--"than you believe I do."

My reply was a listless hum, acknowledging but not accepting. A curse was one thing--the lessons of the world, another, and one day he may learn it.

The climb was slow, but there was little else I could do, unless I should want to needlessly throw myself down with him. As I waited, I took out a knife and idly twirled it between my fingers. The soft rustle of the forest was my singular companion, aside from Aragorn's complaints. I listened, taking in the lull. "I don't suppose you could hurry at all? The sun is about to set and by the time you get up here I'll have already made camp right here. You might roll over and back down your wonderfully sudden slope."

Aragorn's reply was sardonic and irritated, but mostly good natured. "Insult my slope again and we may have a problem. I'm growing quite fond of it the longer we're together."

Aragorn was almost to the top. I could hear his boots scraping lightly at the dirt. Upon catching the sound of his harsh and quickened breathing, I decided that he had suffered enough. Crouching down, I leant over the edge of the slope, hand outstretched. I hardly had to wait before a rough, calloused hand wrapped around my own. I groaned as I heaved him up the last length of the cliff--as that truly was given designation--sighing when he was finally safe upon the flat ground.

"Did you enjoy your adventure?" No true danger had presented itself amid the pricking thorns of the bushes, neither had there been any cause to suspect that any would, but distant relief came upon me. Too often had the stakes been too high to even fathom the cost of failure.

"You need not worry, Legolas." Aragorn seemed to have read my thoughts, his gaze hard but not unkind.

"What is there to worry for?" I attempted to shrug the issue away, preferring to keep it tucked in the blissful unknown that it spawned from.

"Only you can know, mellon-nin. But I can see you begin to now, even as we speak. There is no need for it."

"Nay," I said. "Ai, I wish I had hope like yours, Estel." For so long, Aragorn had clung to his optimistic view of the future. Whatever was to come, he did not fear it, did not so much as quaver before it.

"And to you I say nay. Your hope is far surpassing of mine--I'm not finished, so do not interrupt. Your hope has burned for centuries, a millenium. I have lived but the smallest portion of your lifetime, and yet already I struggle to look to the future and not despair."

Again I hummed, no true inflection in my voice. "Despair though you may, Estel, your flame still burns brighter than all others."

A grin perked the corner's of Aragorn's mouth. "One day, you will see, Las. One day..."

Middle Earth : Fourth Age 120 : Minas Tirith

As soon as I took a step, the next came, and another after that, and suddenly I was stumbling forward, one purpose upon my mind. The others in the room nodded, but I did not return the gesture. Estel, Strider, Aragorn, Elessar--gwador.

His light was fading. I could see it flicker, coming to the end of its wick, turning to ash and yet there was nothing that could be done.

I made it to his side, and dropped to my knees. Holding his gaze steadily, I paused before speaking. "The lights are fading."

If the eyes were truly a window to the soul, then Aragorn's were stained glass. They spoke of weariness and doubt, of a blend of beauty and hardship. "Only for a time." He searched me, a silent apology on his lips. I had seen him in his youth, when effervescent sincerity was resplendent on his features. I had seen the veracity with which he had approached the simplest things in life.

Just barely, Aragorn was propped upon the pillows. The silence between us was not one of anger or bitterness, but rather understanding. "You are not long for us now, are you?" I found no point in skirting around the heart of the moment, no point in dancing around the truth.

"Nay." Aragorn said quietly, and I felt the bed shift as he tightened his hand around Arwen's. "And will you then sail?

Nodding, I looked down. "Aye. I am not to be much past you then." Once my gaze had dropped, I could not bring it back up. "Our fellowship is being broken again." My words were saturated in emotion that I did not mean to speak, and I dammed the rush that threatened to escape me.

A hand came to rest on the side of my face. "But that is not all that is breaking."

So much resonated in his words. He knew what I was feeling,

My vision blurred and I shook my head. A tear slipped down my cheek unbidden. "I do not know what to do... This--it, it is tearing me apart." I grasped Estel's hand and squeezed it in my own. The fingers that wrapped around my own were just as calloused as they had ever been, strong and steady. I choked, breathing hitched. "Help me, Estel..."

The hand within mine shook. "I can't, Las, I'm sorry. Not this time..."

Regret poured from him, running alongside compassion. Still, all I could do was nod. "I am sorry. Sorry that I cannot change this. Cannot help you. If--"

"Hush, penneth," Aragorn interjected. "We have lived in this world not as we would have it, but how it is. I am at peace in this. You will see."

Penneth, young one, he had called me. And while in terms of years, he was the little one, in the eyes of our own people, we were opposite. I was once the elder, wiser one. Now he had taken my place. "Aye." I said. "In the end, I shall. And perhaps we will meet again in the world beyond."

"We will, Legolas. Saes, do not doubt it."

I mumbled a quiet agreement and then could not hold myself to my resolve. The stillness that I had created shattered, and I leant forward, resting my forehead on his shoulder in a symbol of farewell. His arm twisted to wrap around my back, fiercely holding me to him. With an inaudible sob, I was caught up in a fading whirlwind of evanescence.

Once more he was a child--wide eyed and trusting--and then a Ranger--cautious and quick-- then a Hunter--daring and bold--and finally a king--my friend and brother.

Remembrance of the past was a torrent of feeling, whether the feelings be of joy, anger, or mourning. The moment had come. The finality of parting was upon us. "Namárië, Estel. The grace of Ilúvatar be with you."

Here Aragorn could not keep his stoic face. Here, he faltered. "And you, gwador. I leave my hope with you."

As I brought my head up, I could only hope my expression was one of comfort. "Then go in peace, Estel. The fight is won. You have earned your rest."

It was with that goodbye that I left him for a time--that we all did. Arwen and he deserved a time of their own, for their bond was that of disbelieved legend.

If I had any thought while I waited, it was of no consequence. And when I shuffled back into the room, I could see that only seconds remained. Others bid him farewell and left, but the Peredhil and I remained, watching. Our vigil would be kept until the last shuddering breath.

And so it did. There, in the final hours of a mystical dusk, his eyelids fluttered and his breathing trembled. We all stayed around him as his heartbeat slowed. We held onto him as he let go. Arwen told him stories, fables, and tales, to keep his mind away from the steady decline... And finally, when he exhaled and did not breathe in again, we wept. Not tears of bitterness, but of joyous parting. The peace of another world was upon him, and his burden was lifted. The shadows had fled, and he had slipped to a world of never fading light.

And he was gone.

My smile was sad as I stood to leave. "You are safe now, tithen pen," I whispered. "I can help you no longer."

Seconds or maybe hours later, when I walked down the steps of the grand palace of Minas Tirith, I looked to the stars. They twinkled happily, and perhaps brighter than I had seen them in an age. The cool night air blew around me, a comforting embrace in the openness of the city. Estel's time was past and mine now to come.

To the Sea I turned. The white gulls were crying once again.

finis

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*hands out tissues to anyone who needs them* I hope you found something to enjoy in this one shot. I began it over a year ago and somehow could never find a way to expand it until recently-and 7000 words later, here we are... Legolas and Aragorn's friendship has always been an idea that I have loved, and while canon events may have been toyed with, I tried to make their relationship as believable as possible. Also, my OC, Forven made an appearance, and is from my story Where Shadows Breathe. I would love to hear what you thought. Thank you for reading!

Good? Bad? Awful? Feedback is appreciated.

Cover by the lovely SineadRobyn

Disclaimer: Tolkien's world is Tolkien's, not mine. I only claim general premise and my OC.