At last.

It was my day. My long-awaited day. The day that I, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, shall claim what is rightfully mine by either determination of destiny or luck of lineage, the throne of Gondor. The day that I would become the king I was born to be.

I was filled with anxious trepidation as I stood before each and every last denizen of Gondor.

I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking. I was so scared that they would hate me, that they would not be able to accept the new king who hid from them for so long.

So many doubts...I had so many doubts.

I looked down, and couldn't suppress a small smile at the sight of Gimli, who had been patiently standing by my side through my entire long-winded introduction.

He glanced back up at me, then paused a moment, probably to draw out the suspense. The stout little creature can be quite theatrical when the mood strikes him, let me tell you.

Then he finally turned his full attention to Gandalf, who stood before me. He handed the elaborate crown he was holding to the Istar, then stepped back, lowering his head respectfully.

Gandalf's wise eyes were twinkling as he motioned for me to kneel. I offered a small grin, then did as I was bade, and the wizard placed the crown atop my head.

The weight of the crown was new and alien to me, and I decided the heaviness was befitting for this day. After all, I was taking on a new, alien responsibility.

From this day forth, I would be responsible for the fate of not only an entire kingdom, but all that dwelled within as well. It was ominous, to say the least, but for some reason I have yet to understand, I was experiencing a calm determination to see my duties fulfilled without flaw or failure. I was fiercely determined to be the absolute greatest king possible. I owed it to the people of Gondor. I had neglected them far too long.

Now was my time to make up for all the time lost.

I rose to my feet, and my entire audience erupted into a cacophony of encouraging cheers. I couldn't hide my grateful smile.

I have been told that I can be quite the orator when I set my mind and heart to it, but that knowledge did not still the butterflies dancing about in my stomach.

I took a deep breath, then began to speak. I don't know how long I went on and on about trivial matters, but I'm sure it was quite awhile.

Then I sang, a song of old that made my heart leap and my spirit soar. It gave me comfort and brought me joy. I just had to hope my audience felt the same. I was beginning to lose my voice by the end of it, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless.

When my song drew to a close, I let my gaze travel over the crowd of gatherers, making eye contact with as many as I could to let them see how sincere I was.

Suddenly, my gaze was distracted by a flash of white.

Dazzling white, mingled with radiant gold and brilliant sapphire.

I damn near swallowed my tongue. My mouth seemed to fill with sand.

It took my startled mind a long moment to register an identity.

Legolas. The lilting name reverberated through my mind.

The shocked hush that immediately fell over the crowd of denizens was deafening. I was certain all present would be able with ease to hear the suddenly frenzied beat of my heart.

I truly wanted to close my mouth out of respect to the admiring crowd of Gondorians, for I knew that propriety demanded that I not continue to stand there like a dunce with a wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression of flabbergasted stupidity.

But the sight of Legolas immediately rendered all my efforts useless. I could do nothing but gawk at the slender Elf.

For all the want of my heart, I could not tear my dumbfounded stare from the golden vision in white. My hungry eyes could not feast upon him enough.

Moth to flame. It never failed.

Fortunately, I managed to get a hold of myself just enough to shut my mouth as I walked toward him with a false air of confidence.

I had to really summon all my restraint and resolve as I grasped Legolas on the shoulder. I wanted nothing more than to grab his other shoulder and drag him closer, then claim those lips as my own in a feverish, bruising, soul-stirring kiss. And I would pour every word that I could never dare to utter into that kiss.

Maybe then the gorgeous Elf would understand.

But I...ai, I would never understand. Would never understand how this young Elf-prince of Mirkwood had stolen my breath, how he had captured my heart, how he had bewitched me so with his beauty. How I had fallen so deeply for him.

Oh, by the grace of the Valar, how could it be that I had fallen in love with Legolas?

Legolas lowered his eyes out of respect to me, the faintest trace of a grin on his lips as he once again lifted his eyes to mine, then returned the friendly gesture. I thought my heart would be rent in two at his firm, yet tender touch.

But my heart was already swelling from the deeply-rooted longing to be with him forever, and shattering into a million pieces from the painful knowledge that it could never be.

I couldn't help myself; I just had to take a moment to simply admire the beauty before me.

The sunlight gleamed upon the smooth hair which fell down over slim, proud shoulders. The fair tresses were held back by one mere intricate braid, leaving the rest to spill down his back like liquid gold.

Set atop the flaxen hair was a delicate, ornate silver circlet that sparkled in the early light. It made for a fine contrast. Gold and silver. Sunshine and starlight. Mithril and mallorn leaves.

The shimmering white garb his slender form was clad in was a startling contrast from the usual rich, earthy greens and browns. The brilliant color was absolutely gorgeous against the perfect pale skin and the sleek, fair hair, but most riveting of all was the emphasis such a quiet color placed on the deep blue eyes, which were positively glowing with warmth as they met and held captive my own.

His lips curved into the most heart-wrenching smile I had ever dared to imagine possible, a soft, tender grin so innocently sweet and breathtakingly sincere it could have charmed a sprite out of its lair.

I had not seen him smile like that since before the Quest of the Fellowship of the Ring.

How I had missed that smile.

Oh, sweet Elbereth, I thought detachedly, he is so beautiful.

By now, Legolas was starting to give me a really puzzled, strange look. His eyes narrowed and his head tilted almost imperceptively, silver flashing on his brow.

I couldn't blame him. I was staring at him as if he was growing a horn in the center of his forehead.

So I finally spoke, saying the only two Sindarin words my stunned mind was able to come up with.

"Hannon le."

Thank you. It sounded so stupid that I suddenly felt the need to slap myself.

The grateful smile that lit up Legolas's face could have melted Caradhras. I was reassured, knowing now that he at least did not find it so ridiculous a thing to say.

But honestly, of all things, why, for the love of the Valar, did I have to say thank you?!

I should have said that I loved him, that I always had and always would love him, that I was absolutely terrified that I was making the biggest mistake of my life by marrying Arwen, that he would always be first in my heart...something, anything...

Anything but thank you.

I nearly winced at the bitter irony.

How painfully shallow that phrase can sound.

Thank you for what?

For aiding Frodo in the Quest to destroy the One Ring?

For lending your skill with a bow to the Fellowship when doom was near at hand?

For following me without doubt or question despite the prospect of nearly inevitable doom?

For being such a steadfast companion, trustworthy comrade, unfailingly true friend?

Thank you for...

Wake up, Aragorn!

I shook my head as if to clear it. I had been very obviously distracted. Embarrassed, I lowered my gaze, removing my hand from the Elf's slim shoulder.

When I raised my eyes, I caught sight of a small procession of Elves.

One who stood behind a banner of Imladris stepped from the group and approached me slowly, languidly.

When the banner was lowered, I realized that it was Arwen.

Arwen, the lovely Evenstar whose light would never diminish. Arwen, who had forsaken her immortality for me. Arwen, who soon would become my queen and help me to rule this kingdom.

She appeared ethereally beautiful beyond measure, with her dark, flowing hair and bottomless azure eyes. And her smile was stunningly lovely, filled with naught but the deepest, truest love.

Love for me. Love that I never would return.

I smothered the urge to let out a long, mournful sigh as my eyes shifted of their own accord and settled on another Elf altogether.


Nay, Legolas, o' fairest son of Thranduil, thank you for being the greatest love in my life.

"Stop your fussing, Elf!"

Gimli reached up and swatted at my hands, which had gone to my hair again as if they had a mind all their own. It had to be so, for it was clear that my mind was comfortably situated on a star in another universe altogether.

I was so nervous. I felt tempted to leap from the balcony upon whose railing I precariously perched, to land lightly upon my feet and just take off running wherever my feet would take me.

"Legolas!" The Dwarf managed to catch my fluttery hands in his.

"You're trembling," he observed with some measure of dismay, but there were undertones of concern and compassion in his rough baritone that did not escape my notice.

Gimli sighed and tugged at my hands, dragging them down to my sides.

"Be still, you pointy-eared fool."

I barely heard him. I was concentrating on keeping calm.

The time was drawing near, and it scared me to death.

Aragorn would be crowned King of Gondor. I was thrilled for him; above all Men in Arda, Aragorn deserved the honor the most. I had so much faith in him; he would make a great king. The people of Gondor would declare themselves the luckiest in Middle Earth. Rightfully so.

But I...as for myself, I had no idea. I loved Aragorn, had been in love with him since he came of age under the careful nurturing of Lord Elrond in Rivendell.

That time was passed; long over now. Today, he'll meet his destiny. At last.

And I had to come clean.

I knew that this day would come. Not just the coronation, no, but also the end of the charade.

I had kept my feelings secret for so long. I was confident that Aragorn was completely unaware of them...but I would never forgive myself if I did not reveal them to him before he married her.

Arwen. I loved her as the sister my family was never blessed with.

I could not bring myself to resent the beautiful and wonderful Evenstar, although I knew that there was a very real chance that I would lose Aragorn forever to her. She had done nothing to me, and I drowned in respect for her strength to forsake her immortality for a Ranger of the North.

But if Aragorn asked, I would without hesitation do the same for him.

I hopped down off the balcony railing and stepped lightly back into the lavish guest quarters. I then walked up to the solitairy small mirror in the room, watching as the white-clad Elf in the glass before me played nervously with a bright circlet.

"Legolas, stop! Leave your pretty head-jewelry alone."

"Is it centered?"

"Aye, fool Elf, it is centered." It was clear that Gimli was losing patience quickly, so I set about summoning the determination to quit fidgeting.

He shook his head, sweeping absently at a lock of my hair which lay defiantly over my shoulder.

"You look nice," he commented, then added gruffly, "for an Elf."

"Nice?" I frowned, half-teasing.

"What would you have me say?"

I shrugged. "Then I shall say that you look very presentable indeed, a feat I never before believed a stunted child of Durin could manage."

"Beautiful, then. Is that better than 'nice?' "

"Much," I stated with an approving grin.

Gimli snorted.

"Well, Master Elf, I shall now take my leave. I have a mind to enjoy a bit of intimate time with my pipe before the ceremony begins." He began to rifle through his pockets. "Care to join me?"

I made a face at him that required no verbal response.

The Dwarf chuckled. "I might have saved myself the trouble of asking."

I shrugged, still offering no excuse.

Gimli walked to the door, then turned to look back at me.

"Best of luck, Elf." He offered me the most genuine smile I had ever seen upon his lips. "Aragorn would be luckier still to have you."

He dragged open the heavy oaken door and disappeared before I had a chance to recover from my surprise.

How did Gimli know? I was beside myself for a moment in confusion.

When the confusion fell away, all that was left was misery. A sudden misery so strong it took my breath away.

Does everyone know? Valar, does Aragorn know?!

---

I threw open the double doors to the balcony and fell to my knees upon the stone just as the tears began to flow.

Oh, Elbereth, help me.

I usually refused to allow myself to selfishly indulge in the weakness of tears, but this was an exception. Besides, I discovered very quickly that I could not stop the tears in spite of the strength of will I mustered.

With each glistening tear that fell, I named a reason for loving Aragorn. There were many tears, but I ran out of them long before I ran out of reasons.

Suddenly, I felt a hand come to rest upon my left shoulder. Startled, I looked up into a pair of quiet sapphire eyes.

The owner crouched into a kneel before me, studying me in silence, concern written all over those expressive eyes.

"Glorfindel," I half-gasped.

Oh, mortification is such a vivid emotion.

"Leave me," I said quietly.

"You know very well that I won't, Legolas."

I sighed, reaching up to wipe at my tears, so ashamed I could not even look him straight in the eye anymore.

"I love him, Glorfindel."

"I know." He gave my shoulder a squeeze.

I released a shaky sigh and just nodded.

"You must tell him, little one. I know you fear he will not declare the feeling mutual, but, young prince, if you forsake this opportunity, you will never know, and may never forgive yourself."

I didn't even have the energy or inclination to glower at Glorfindel. After all the centuries I had known him, he never would cease to call me "little one."

"Glorfindel, you're the notorious hero of last Age. Has your courage ever faltered? Have you ever been truly afraid?"

His eyes glittered with mirth. "Legolas, may I remind you of the way I earned that honor? I believe that Durin's Bane is the truest fear imaginable."

I smiled weakly. "Aye, granted."

"If Aragorn is remarkable enough to merit the invaluable gift of your love, certainly he deserves also to know of it."

And the fair daughter of Elrond deserves to have his love, I thought dejectedly.

Glorfindel reached and placed two fingers beneath my lowered chin, tilting my head gently up until my eyes met his.

"Legolas, you comprise a heartwrenchingly beautiful picture that falls within inches of perfection. If Aragorn does not love you, he is the truest fool to be sure in all of Middle Earth. However, if you do not tell him today, you will never know whether or not he is such a fool."

I nodded resignedly.

The golden Elf rocked back on his heels, rising gracefully to his feet.

"I must go now, Prince," he told me, extending his hand down to me to help me to my feet.

As I took the proffered hand and stood, Glorfindel clasped my shoulder. "Tell him." He said no more, just planted a brotherly kiss upon my forehead and then exited the room.

---

Alone again, I refused to allow myself to cry another single damned tear. I just took in a few shaking but therapeutic breaths, gathering my wits and feigned calm about me.

There was a timid knock upon my door.

"Prince Legolas?"

I walked to the door and opened it, staring perplexedly at the dark-haired Elf who tilted his head to me.

"I believe it is time for the departure of you and yours. They await in the Grand Hall."

"Thank you," I answered. "I will be but a moment."

He nodded, then quickly walked away.

I ran a hand lightly over the back of my head, smoothing my hair, then brushed down the front of my robes. Both were very nervous habits, but I forgave myself the silly gestures. I was very nervous.

After taking another moment to collect myself, I padded to the door, opening it wide and stepping out with forced regality.

It was time. It was now or never.

I walked to the Grand Hall, and found a group of Elves clad much the same as I waiting expectantly.

One stepped forward. "Shall we go?"

I nodded, determined to be strong if nothing else for them at least.

For Aragorn.

---

I took my place at the head of the procession. I was their Prince, after all. All I wanted to do, however, was hide behind the others until it was all over.

Some Prince. My sarcastic thought brought a wry smirk to my face as I began to walk forward slowly.

Two Rivendell Elves opened the double doors wide for us, and we all filed outside, emerging into the bright sunlight.

Hesitantly, I made my way through a crowd of denizens that soon began to part a path for us.

I heard singing, and I recognized the resonant voice immediately. My heart sang a loving reply.

And my knees turned to water at the sight of him.

He was only about fifty feet away now, and I was drawing ever closer.

I could not believe the royalty he exuded.

I knew that if I did not know him through and through, if I did not dream of him each night, if I did not see that beloved face each and every time I closed my eyes, I would more than likely never have recognized him.

I thought I would burst from the pride that swelled up within me.

Gone was Strider, the dingy, none too fragrant Ranger who pledged his life and sword to a Halfling of the Shire. Gone was Aragorn, the battle-hardened hero of the War of the Ring who stepped forward and led a fellowship of mismatched, despairing creatures when all hope seemed to be lost.

Now was the time of Estel, a name christened upon a young, orphaned boy by Lord Elrond himself, one that meant "hope," a name that ultimately proved to be very fitting indeed.

He was bedecked in all his regal glory, his armor glinting in the sunlight. His hair was freshly washed and brushed, and shone with renewed health and radiance.

I wasn't certain if the beautifully intricate crown sparkled most, or if it was rather his eyes as they met mine.

He was approaching me, and I felt my pulse quicken and my heart flutter.

He was so close now; it was intoxicating.

His hand came to rest on my shoulder, and he clasped it gently and smiled.

Aragorn was silent for a long moment. I couldn't refrain from giving him a puzzled look, and that seemed to spur him into action.

His smile widened slightly, and at long last, he spoke.

"Hannon le."

I lowered my gaze, so afraid that it would give everything away. It took all the deference in me to lift my eyes and turn my attention back to his.

My confession lingered on my tongue as I forced myself to offer him my most sincere, grateful smile.

Now was the moment. I took in a breath, preparing to utter the three words that had plagued me for decades to the man who would hold my heart in the calloused palm of his hand forever.

My throat constricted and my tongue refused to cooperate.

I cannot do it. I cannot say it.

My hesitation proved to be my most regrettable mistake.

In the next moment, a quiet procession of Rivendell Elves approached. Elrond obviously was leading the group, and he was flanked by Glorfindel, who gave me an encouraging, albeit appropriately subtle, grin.

Oh, golden son of Gondolin, if only you knew my foolish cowardice.

I watched in tentative dismay as Elrond moved away from Aragorn and allowed a slender figure to draw nearer. The identity was well-concealed behind an ornate banner.

I was dreading the action long before the banner was lowered.

Arwen.

I glanced quickly to Aragorn, and instantaneously knew I would eternally wither in remorse for it. His blue eyes were fastened upon her, and although they revealed nothing, I could not ignore the agony of my heart snapping in two.

My breath hitched as Aragorn turned slightly to look over his shoulder at me. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, then he returned his attention to Arwen.

My very soul seemed to break as he hastened forward to catch her up in a strong embrace and plant a feverishly enthusiastic kiss upon her lips.

So much for confessing. So much for courage.

I silently watched the happy pair, allowing myself time to wish. Later would be the time to grieve, and later still, the time to let go.

---

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, you have earned your name of "Hope," yet you have also proved to be my greatest despair. I will long for you always, yet I wish you happiness, and for centuries after your last day in Middle Earth, you will be my best friend and brother.


And forever, you will be the greatest love of my life.