"Love is why I came here in the first place
Love is now the reason I must go
Love is all I ever hoped to find here
Love is still the only dream I know..."

They are little more than silhouettes outlined against the night sky, but they do seem to be outlined somehow, almost edged in gold, lit by a pale glow that appears to shine from within them. Both are tall, taller than Men, though one is of slighter build than the other; and golden-haired. Both have keen eyes, one leaf-green, one sapphire blue: bright eyes that now look out over the dark city of Minas Tirith from the top of the White Tower, eagle-sharp eyes that look anywhere, at anything, rather than meet the other's awkward gaze. The biting wind does not bother either of them; they are Elves, and neither cold nor heat affects them adversely. Their forearms, encased in leather armguards, rest on the parapet; their backs are straight and their shoulders squared. They are not on guard duty, though they look almost as if they might be.

"I'm leaving," the taller one says quietly. The other turns to look at him, his eyes wide, innocent, but dispassionate.

"I thought you'd not stay long," he replies coolly, "there's nothing here for you."

"Isn't there?" the first to speak says bitterly. "I suppose you're right, really – there isn't, not any more. I don't suppose you'll ever forgive me..."

"I don't suppose so," interrupts the other; his voice is now not so much cool as downright cold. "After all that you did to me, I don't suppose I ever will forgive you."

"'All' is something of an overstatement, I think, though I admit that I hurt you greatly," the first says, his voice so quiet it is almost inaudible even to Elven ears. "Would you at least believe that I did not mean to hurt you so badly?"

"I'll grant that it was not premeditated," the other says with a sharp, bitter laugh, "but if you never meant to hurt me, why did you ever do it?"

"I don't know," the first murmurs, looking at his hands rather than his companion. "It was the error of but a moment, meleth – I loved you then, I loved you always, and I still love you to this day."

"'Tis a pity then that I do not love you, do you not think?"

"Indeed." The word comes out with a shuddering, gloomy sigh. "So I'm leaving."

The deep blue eyes of his companion seem to be boring into him; without meaning to he looks up and meets the other's gaze. Held fast there, unable to blink or to look away, he sees all that there was and could have been, and the pain of the centuries that passed without him there, until... Until...

As if in a dream he reaches out and tenderly brushes the other's cheek; it as smooth as it ever was, white like marble in the pale moonlight, and dry as the desert sands. He almost expects his younger counterpart to pull away, or turn from him, but he does not. Encouraged a little, the taller Elf cups the other's chin and meets his steely gaze with renewed confidence.

When he speaks, after a long moment, his voice is soft, clear, and steadier than he thought it would be. "You can never deny what we had, Legolas. No matter how hard you try to forget it, I am a part of your history; no matter how much you fight against it, I am a part of you..."

"You are not," the smaller Elf, the youngest prince of Mirkwood, says, but it is an uncertain whisper, "not any more, not since..." There is a long, uncomfortable silence. "Since...him..."

"Since whom?" the other says tersely, although they both know very well who it is that the young prince is referring to. "Say it, my little warrior, so there can be no mistake, say his name..."

"...Aragorn..." Legolas whispers around the lump that has suddenly formed in his throat.

"And now mine...just once more..."

Glaring at his companion through a veil of tears, Legolas whispers, even quieter than before: "Haldir..."

The march-warden nods, looking at his lover of many years ago from behind his long lashes. "I made mistakes, meleth nîn, too many to be forgiven, but I always loved you – every moment of every day then and since I have loved you with all my heart and soul; and I came here now to beg your forgiveness one last time before I leave."

Legolas' brow furrows a little. "That is the third time you have made passing reference to leaving. I assume you don't mean merely leaving here and returning to Lothlórien, so what is this journey of which you speak?"

Haldir turns away and stares fixedly at a star, the brightest star in the sky, and there is a long silence before he answers. "It is the last journey any one of our kind can expect to make. I am sailing, Legolas. I am sailing West."

Legolas remains completely silent, looking contemplatively at the inky sky, for a long time. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet and strained. "Then I wish you luck and happiness, my friend. If that is your intent."

"'Friend'?" Haldir repeats, glancing at him quickly. "It has been many years since you said anything so pleasant to me. Why now?"

"I would not wish us to part on bad terms, warrior-lover of long ago."

Another long silence ensues, during which Legolas' slender hand seeks out Haldir's broader one laying on the parapet. "I love you too, sometimes, in the darkness of the night and in the great green silence of the forests..."

"Love is not something that is felt sometimes, my prince. Love is everlasting," the march-warden says, and then pauses momentarily, searching for the right words to voice his thoughts. "It's enduring," he continues at last. "And... And love is tender and kind, sweet and affectionate. And passionate," he says softly. For a while he is silent, his bright, cold eyes once again turning to sweep the dark landscape, almost reluctant to go on. "Love...love hurts, my prince, poor beautiful prince... It hurts so badly, and so much, and it is because of it that I must leave you."

"Please...don't go."

Haldir starts, turning sharply to look at Legolas before looking away again. Those three words are an admission of weakness; it does not sound like it but the two Elves know one another too well, understand each other too well, know too much about one another, for either to think it's not. The words were softly spoken and breathy – a mere Man would hear nothing, perhaps feel a gentle breath of air but hear no words – but Haldir hears him with painful clarity. A single crystal tear wells up and falls from his lashes, splashing onto the parapet and shattering like glass on the cold, hard stone. Cold like ice, cold like hatred, cold like he must make his heart if he is to do this...

"I have to. You cannot live with me, but I cannot live without you. I'm doing what's best for both of us. Don't..." He pauses, the words, a painful admission of his own, sticking in his throat. "Don't let everything you have with him, with your beloved Elessar, fail because of me," he says faintly; that was hard for him to say: for him to admit that Legolas has found a lover whom he loves with all his heart — it is possibly the most difficult thing he had ever had to say. Yet although it was difficult, Haldir knows that it had to be said. He alone knows that the love between Legolas and Aragorn is a mutual one, and that the man's love for Legolas rivals even Haldir's own. "Don't worry, my prince. I'll wait for you in the Halls. That much I promise you."

"I wouldn't hurt him," Legolas whispers; they both know who he is speaking of. "Not for you and not for anyone. But I would--"

"Hush," Haldir orders, placing two fingers over the prince's lips to silence him. "Don't say it. You would never leave him for me. You love him more than you ever loved me – I think, perhaps, you love him as much as I love you; don't let either your buried, long-forgotten and understandably tainted feelings for me, or your impulsiveness, spoil everything that you two have. Perhaps you do still love me; it is my sincere belief it is possible for an Elven heart to love more than one person, but he is your special one, and he loves you too, more than anything. Don't hurt him, please..."

Legolas looks up at Haldir with an almost impassive expression, and gently takes the hand from his lips and holds it in both of his. "Why do you suddenly care so much about Aragorn?"

"I don't, particularly," Haldir admits sourly; "but his pain would in turn hurt you, and I would never wish ill on you, meleth. In any way."

There is another stillness, longer than any there has been before. Far above them, a great white owl glides silently on the night air; far below, a baby cries and its mother wearily rises from her bed to feed it. A dog barks faintly, a harsh-seeming sound in the great stillness of the night. Haldir dares not look at Legolas' pale face. Instead he gazes into the distance, studying the far-off horizon – a horizon he will soon pass over, leaving this world forever. No more will he view the beauty of the starlight from anywhere in Middle-earth. And the beauty of the world is not all he will miss. The beauty of the Elves, of his people...of one person in particular...

After some time, Legolas steps forward and embraces the march-warden of Lórien tightly. Uncertainly at first, and then with more confidence Haldir returns the embrace, kissing the top of the prince's golden head. Legolas smiles sadly into his ex-lover's chest and holds him tightly. "You're really going, aren't you?"

Haldir nods sadly. "I must. I'm sorry, meleth nîn... He will make you happy, I know. Be happy with him, and don't think of me...And promise me you won't tell him."

"I promise...but why?"

"Because it would kill him, softly and slowly, and that again would hurt you..." Haldir pulls back a little and studies the younger Elf carefully, committing every detail, every contour of his beautiful face, to memory once again. And then he leans in a little and kisses the prince gently, little more than a soft brushing of his lips against the other's, but Legolas accepts willingly and parts his lips a little, returning the kiss, pleading in his mind, desperate for Haldir not to leave. Trying to convince him to stay.

They part, and Legolas looks tearfully at his once-beloved. "Don't go, not yet--"

"I must," Haldir repeats, quieter than before; "I am going to the Grey Havens as soon as I leave here."

"Then don't leave, not yet," Legolas whispers, "stay just tonight, and go tomorrow."

'Just tonight,' Haldir thinks, 'how many 'just tonight's will there be if I submit now?' He cannot answer that question, he doesn't dare to think of it even, and realises in surprise that he now no longer cares what the answer may be. He has waited for centuries to be reunited with Legolas, and now that the chance has presented itself, and he has no intention of letting it pass him by. It would be madness to let such a chance slip through his fingers. But what about Aragorn? He cannot allow Legolas to be unfaithful to him...can he?

"Just tonight," he says at last, choking on the words.

"Just tonight."

Legolas does not hear the march-warden's thoughts, which could be viewed as a positive and a negative matter almost equally. If he could only see the myriad confused thoughts swimming in Haldir's mind, the prince would know how much Haldir longs for him, and also how resolved he is to go – how he will not stand in the way of... Haldir cannot bear to think of the two names in conjunction. But it is better that his thoughts remain his own – this way, Legolas will never know of the uncertainty he feels, the fear and the doubts that crowd his thoughts... Haldir has never outwardly appeared to be insecure in any way before, though of course he has felt such things as all people do; he does not intend, however, to start displaying such imperfections now.

Little does he realise how Legolas cares for his imperfections. For his showmanship, his superiority, the put-on arrogance he adopts when dealing with the border guards of the Galadrhim and outsiders. Too concerned with perfection, he has missed the idea that people with failings are easier to relate to, and humility is not shameful. Aragorn is humble, after all, but he is also great. And – Haldir makes himself think it, forces the thought to come, as realisation strikes and for the first time in his life he sees all of this clearly – and Aragorn is Legolas's love. Not just lover, but love, too.

Haldir knows that Legolas will not miss him for long when he leaves – for Haldir is resolved that he must, he will leave – perhaps a short time, yes; but only too soon the golden guardian's tender kisses will be forgotten in favour of Aragorn's warm embrace. For Aragorn, the Elfstone, the Ranger chieftain whom the men of Minas Tirith know as the gentle, wise King Elessar, is the only person Legolas has ever truly loved...just as Legolas is the only person Haldir has ever truly given his heart to.

But there will be only one 'just tonight'. Only one...

'And in the morning,' Haldir says in the privacy of his own mind as his body succumbs to the warmth of Legolas' kiss, enjoying for one last time the sensation of that warm, muscular tongue sweeping around his mouth; 'in the morning, long before he awakens, long before the birds begin their dawn-song, when the sky is still tinged blue with the colour of the night and the stars are just still visible, then I will disentangle myself from the pile of beautiful, lithe limbs we've become, and go to the river and wash away all trace of him – beneath the waterfall, where the clear water as cold as ice will pound away every last scrap of him, of his essence, from my body – before I set out for the great West. Without looking back.'