They were sitting together under the Lorien sky.

Aragorn's head rested against his lovers shoulder. He felt easy, free. Didn't want to look up. Legolas hummed softly, hiding his beautiful voice only a little bit. A strong arm lay around Aragorn's waist, all calm and warm.

There was a faint scent comming from the elf's skin, his face looked pale in the moonlight.

The desire to touch his cheek, so soft and smooth was almost too stong to resist, but the man was not willing to change anything in this situation. He felt the one his heart beat for was near and that should be enough for the moment. Aragorn watched his hand lying in Legolas'lap. His fingers seemed ugly to him, his skin was rough, using the sword too often had left it's marks. The other ones hand, now tenderly stroking his hair was so much softer, as if the millions of arrows the archer had sent on their way had been of silk instead of wood.

They were resting. Finally resting after all those battles, after the darkness of Moria, after having lost a friend. He sighed. Where else was the air as cool and fresh as in Lorien? Nowhere in Middleearth, for there was always a hint at the dust from Morder blowing in the wind. But not here. This was were Aragorn could be human, could let himself go live each second as if there was not a next one to come.

Only his nasty little brain kept him away from doing so, he was so deeply concerned with everything that happened around him. The ring, Gandalf's death, Boromir's strong attraction to the dark side and .... Arwen, the woman he had once loved. She trusted him, was willing to sacrifice her immortality for a life with him and he did what she feared the most, went away with Legolas and could not draw away from the elf's embrace.

Certainly, Arwen knew he was not completly hers, but he had no choice. Gandalf had once forseen that only the children comming from a marriage between the son of Arathorn and the daughter of Elrond would be able to give final peace to the people of Middleearth.

Destiny weighed heavy upon him, a destiny he could not fight against. And suddenly it became very cold, Aragorn trembled, he trembled so fiercly that not even Legolas, his light and flame could warm him up. The elf now turned to him, he seemed worried but did not speak a word. Instead, Aragorn saw a coat being put on the soft grass and felt himself being lain upon it. There was hardly any more contact between his mind and body, for his soul was already diving in Legolas eyes, an ocean of love and compassion, true compassion as he had never seen it on any man's face. "Don't be afraid, my love. I'm here to fight by your side." Aragorn touched one soft cheek with his fingertips. "Never let me go." He whispered, a small tear glittering in the corner of his left eye. It rolled down and touched his upper lip, the same moment Legolas' mouth did the same, soft and light like a butterfly.


The coldness had gone. It had disappeared and taken all the doubts along. It was this moment, where nothing mattered. The whole world could have fallen into darkness and Aragorn would have smiled.