Title: Into The West
Author: Rutaari (Nalenuur@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn
Rating: R
Summary: The tale of Aragorn and Legolas' relationship
throughout the War of the Ring. Legolas promises to
stay with Aragorn, but some wounds even time can not
heal.
Warnings: none
Archive: YES! Just please email me and let me know.
Feedback: is what keeps me alive.
AN: This fic is based on the song "Into the West" by
Howard Shore and sung my Annie Lennox. It's on the
soundtrack, and won the Golden Globe award for best
single on a soundtrack! I Love it!!!!! Anyway, forgive
if all the Elvish isn't correct, and if you don't like
happy endings, don't read this. Its for the January
Challenge on LofM.

Into The West
~~~~~~~~~~
Lay down 
your sweet and weary head.
Night is falling
You have come to journey’s end.

Sleep now
and dream of the ones who came before.
They are calling
from across a distant shore.

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
all of your fears will pass away.

Safe in my arms.
You’re only sleeping.

What can you see
on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
a pale moon rises.
The ships have come
to carry you home.

And all will turn
to silver glass.
A light on the water...
All souls pass.

Hope fades
Into the world of night.
Through shadows falling,
out of memory and time.

Don’t say
we have come now to the end.
White shores are calling.
You and I will meet again.

You’ll be here in my arms
just sleeping.

What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea
a pale moon rises.
The ships have come
to carry you home.

And all will turn
to silver glass.
A light on the water...
Grey ships pass
Into the West.	

	Bliss. I found it impossible to understand why no elf
had set foot in this magnificent wood in nearly an
age. The air was heavy with water and smelled of damp
soil and moss; a heavy, musky smell that filled my
nostrils and put my spirit at ease. The way the light
flickered through the canopy leaves and scattered
dancing patterns on the forest floor made my eyes
sparkle. But what I loved most about this forest was
the trees. They spoke more than the trees in my home.
These trees were alive, were filled with energy and
life that seeped from every pour in every leaf. The
voices of the trees flowed from every branch and every
bower, speaking to me. They said they were glad of my
coming; it was too long since they’d met one of the
eldar, the people who first awoke their ancestors, and
even some of them. I could not help but smile at them.

	My eyes came then to Aragorn, sitting tall on Brego.
The man turned his head, his blue orbs catching mine.
He saw how happy I was, how at ease, for now, atleast.
He smiled back at me before turning and continuing his
trail after Gandalf. Gimli muttered something behind
me that got trapped in his beard, and I did not hear
him.
“Listen, Gimli.” I said. “The trees speak to
eachother, to me. Can you not hear them?”
“Aye, I hear them, laddie.” Gimli growled. “But I
canno’ understand what they are saying. Just a bit
creepy if you ask me.”
“Well no one did.” I replied, annoyed by the dwarf’s
ignorance and lack of respect. “They speak to me, and
I understand every word.”
“Well of course you do!” Gimli laughed. “You’re a
pointy-eared elven prince!”
	I frowned at this comment, but did not reply. I did
not mind that he called me pointy-eared, indeed I was.
But there was a reason I did not introduce myself as
“prince,” and I did not wish others to call me by that
title. For centuries people had called me “prince,”
people I thought to be my friends and companions. In
the end, it all had turned into a way to get into high
society. I’ve seen the way people gaze at me, so
lustfully and without care. To be laden with the title
“prince” only added to their lust for me, for me to
belong to them. 
“I’m sorry, laddie.” Gimli’s voice came softer. “I did
not mean anything by it.”
“It is forgiven, master dwarf,” I said sincerely, “it
is nothing.”
	With that I nudged Arod into an easy trot, pulling
him alongside Brego. Aragorn turned and regarded me
with a brief smile.
“What troubles you, Aragorn?” I asked him, letting him
know that his drooping head did not hide his worried
face.
	He looked up at me with a look that clearly showed
awe. He thought he hid things so well, but from the
one who loved him more than life itself he could hide
not even the twitch on the side of his mouth that
began his frown.
“Uule, nin-melesse.” (Nothing, my love.) Aragorn
fibbed.
“Ta uya uule. Ta uule naa karkaras uya na karkerasle
ya naa lamba ve’ nyano varwa masta.” (It is not
nothing. If it were nothing your teeth would not be
gnawing at your lip like a mouse on bread.) I said,
referring to his annoying habit of chewing his lip
when he grew nervous.
“Amin kaure amen kai na ana telwa.” (I fear we will be
too late.) Aragorn admitted. “Ta hosse atast Minas
Tirith lo metima esse. Ne sina luume ta kotumo lo
tanka ana salpa Osgiliath, a Atan maure i osto ten
hossa.” (The assault upon Minas Tirith is already
begun. By this time the enemy is sure to have taken
Osgiliath, and Men will need the city for defence.)
“Ta uya ana telwa.” I assured him. “I ohta esse, naa
ta siin esse. I Fanna Osto uyu lanta, Aragorn. Uya
anda weyo ve lle ohten ta.” (It is not too late.The
attack is begun, yes, but is has just begun. The White
City will not fall, Aragorn. Not while Men such as you
defend it.)
	Aragorn lifted his chin and smiled at me again, but
this time his smile was false. He tried to let me know
that my words had helped, but I knew they had not.
Nothing I could say would ease Aragorn’s nerves.
Instead, I let Arod once again fall behind the
prancing Brego as we passed through a trail that
required us to be in single file. Gimli had not said a
thing. He had not understood what we had said, but he
knew it had not been happy. 
“He’ll be alright, lad.” The dwarf said quietly,
patting my shoulder. 
“I hope so.” I replied. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	We rode for a long while. I was aware of the presence
of something ahead of us, something growing larger,
and I heard the tiny voices and cheerful laughter long
before the rest of my companions. I did not say
anything of them, not wanting to spoil the surprise
and have to listen to the dwarf grumble the rest of
the way.  We at last reached the edge of the wood, and
spreading before us, in a vast expanse of water, was
Isenguard, and sitting there on the wall, enjoying
that nasty habit they partook in, and munching on the
Valar knows what, were Merry and Pippin. 
“Welcome, to Isengard!” Merry stood up and motioned
dramatacly, and I could not help but laugh inwardly
and grin at them while Gimli sat behind me, an
incredulous look plastered on his face, and Aragorn
just grinned. Gandalf made some comment about
“hobbits” before pulling the halflings onto horses
behind a few of the other riders, and our horses
carefully stepped through the stones of the fallen
wall and began picking their way among rubble and
debris, traipsing through knee-deep water in the
direction of the tower. 
	It was then that I saw it, my very first Ent. I was
agape, something unusual for an elf, and could do
nothing but sit and stare in wonder and bewilderment
and absolute exctasy. Treebeard, his name was, and he
spoke with a deep, rumbling voice that sounded as if
it had spoken through many an age. 
“The treachery of Saruman... is washing away...”
Treebeard wheezed.
	Just then something caught my eye. Pippin had spotted
something in the water, something that emitted great
power. I could feel it pulsing, coursing through the
water, glowing a bright light that cleared the dark
water surrounding it. Pippin’s hands disappeared into
the water, latching onto the object. I started to say
something, but for some reason stopped. It was
breathtaking, enchanting, if you will. Big and round,
shimmering wet it the sunlight that peeked through the
cloud, and in it, in the center, was a shape I could
not name, did not want to name, but it continued to
hold my attentions.
“Peregrin Took, I will take that.” Gandalf’s voice
broke my reverie, and I looked over to see the round
object disappear in a grey cloth. I know what that
object was. It called to me, as if it were the very
ring itself. There was only one thing in this world
that held such power as that, the palantir. I was
grateful that it was in Mithrandir’s hands now, where
I knew it would be safe. And safe it should stay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	We rode to Edoras, long and hard. My elven strength
did not demand that I rest, but the Men and Dwarf
needed to take a break part way, and the caravan
stopped. I did my duty, tieing the horses and tending
to them, before sneaking into the trees to scout the
area. The men depended on my eyes and ears, which
could see an orc from a million raika away and hear an
eagle a league into the sky. Therefor, I made it my
duty to be sure our surroundings were secure. 
	I wondered alone for quite a while, finding a little
stream running nearby, as well as a jagged outcropping
of cliffs in which I immediately scaled and stood over
the trees, scanning the area with my eyes. From my
vantage point I could still make out Isenguard, if I
followed the river Isen with my eyes and looked upon
the Misty Mountains, I could just barely see the peak
of the black tower peeking from its hiding place, like
a small child peering over the countertop, searching
for something sweet to snack on. 
	I heard the footfalls long before I saw the one they
belonged to. In all honesty I had hoped he would come
after me, eventually anyway. I knew it was him, I had
the sound of his movement engrained in my brain. I
would never forget his footsteps, the sound of his
voice in danger, the grunts and moans he emitted when
in the throes of passion. I would love him forever,
even if I could not have him.
“The river runs freely once again.” His voice said
from a few feet behind me. “It is good to see.” 
	I knew he did not think he would startle me. As boys
he would try, would sneak up on me when he thought I
least expected it, and try to frighten me. To this day
he had not succeeded, never would succeed.
“It is.” I replied, still staring out over the canopy
of the trees. “As well as to see the trees once more,
even if it is not my home.”
“Legolas...” He did not continue, just closed the
space between us and wrapped his arms around my body,
holding me close. His face found the crook of my neck,
and I giggled softly as his beard tickled my neck, his
tongue finding the pulse that hid beneath my jawbone.
“I malle na anda.” (The road has been long.) I managed
to say quietly, though my voice sounded weak. “Lle
roome serya.” (You should rest.)
“I will not rest.” He said, halting his ministrations,
and I knew that my words has disconcerted him; aroused
unwanted emotions and feelings. “Not with the thoughts
that run through my mind.”
	I leaned my head back onto the Man’s shoulder,
closing my eyes and sighing into the air.
“What of your thoughts?” I asked, letting one of my
palms find Aragorn’s face, running my smooth skin
across his rough beard.
“My thoughts?” He repeated. “My thoughts are of
Gondor, of Minas Tirith, of the Rohan, Dumholt,
Gandalf’s words, among other things.”
“That is much to think.” I said. “What of ‘other
things’?”
“Of you.” Aragorn replied, turning me around to face
him. 
	I opened my eyes, staring deep into his blue orbs. 
“Of me?” I asked.
“Legolas, my offer still stands.” He said, cupping my
face in his hands, his fingers ghosting across my chin
as if he were holding some valuable trinket that would
shatter if he pressed it too hard. 
“Your offer is foolish.” I said bluntly, trying to
keep my thoughts focused.
“It is not foolish!” Aragorn protested! “Love is never
foolish.”
“But it is blind.” I replied, turning my back. Neither
of us spoke, until at last I sighed and gave him an
answer. “Aragorn, you know that all I want is for us
to be together, but fate does not deem it so. If you
tell me that you will bind yourself to me and turn
aside Arwen then my heart feels too greatly not to do
so, but do you really think it the right thing to do?
You will be the king of Gondor, of Arnor. Aragorn, you
will rule half of Middle Earth. You must produce an
heir.”
“And I will do so!” Aragorn cried, taking my hands.
“Even if that means the heir is not of my blood! None
need ever know that.”
	I sighed, turning my eyes to the ground. Aragorn
continued to look hopefully into my face. I could not
deny him, I knew that. I did not have the will power.
“Legolas, please, promise you’ll spend your life with
me.” Aragorn pleaded, and I looked up to see his eyes
pooling with tears that threatened to spill out into a
waterfall of sorrow.
	A smile crept onto my face. 
“Yes, I promise, Aragorn.” I finally replied. “With
all my heart.”
	With that Aragorn picked me up and spun me around
once, his lips finding mine and sealing our deal with
a passionate kiss. His tongue explored my mouth for
the millionth time since we had met, making certain
that I would taste of no other. When he finally set me
down and we pulled apart for want of air I smiled at
him again, and then broke into laughter.
“What is so funny?” Aragorn asked, cocking his head at
me curiously.
“It seems we are not alone.” I laughed, pointing
behind Aragorn. There stood Merry and Pippin, both
sets of cheeks flushing pink at what they had
witnessed, looking as if they wanted to say something,
but couldn’t seem to find the right time to say it.
All of the fellowship knew of Aragorn and myself, but
we tried not to openly display our love for one
another, not now, atleast.
“It also seems your elven hearing has deserted you.”
Aragorn laughed, taking my hand in his own and guiding
me toward the hobbits.
“Sorry...” Merry mumbled. “Gandalf wished to speak
with Aragorn.”
“He said we would find you two together.” Pippin
smiled that stupid smile of his and I laughed at him
inwardly. Hobbits were too cute not to adore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	A day later we arrived in Edoras. A feast was held in
honor of the dead, and all the people of the city were
invited. Gimli and I stood on the back wall, watching
the event. I had been invited to sit with Aragorn in
the front, as a guest of honor, but I had declined.
For some reason I felt I needed space from Aragorn, to
give him time to think over his decision. I, myself,
needed time. 
“Hail the victorious dead!” Theoden’s voice boomed
over the chatter and laughing. 
“Hail the victorious dead!” The rousing cry went up,
mugs were lifted, and then pressed against thirsting
lips. I noticed Aragorn then. His heart was not in the
celebration, and I saw as he paused before sipping
from his mug. That was strange. Normally Aragorn was
the most cheerful person at a party, laughing and
cheering, drinking far too much wine for my taste, and
dragging me onto the dance floor to spin me around
until he fell to the floor with drunken laughter. That
was the Aragorn I knew.
	I kept my eye on Aragorn, watching him as I leaned
against the wall and crossed my arms, trying to remain
unnoticed. It did not work. A young Rohan maiden
approached me. I could see her eyes were glazed and
her cheeks flushed pink; she was clearly drunk.
“Do elves not dance, my lord?” She asked as she leaned
against my frame. I tried not to turn my head in
disgust of the smell that came from her lips.
“Not tonight, my lady.” I replied instead.
“Why not?” She protested my answer. “Would you not
wish to arrive home with a story of dancing and
*bedding* a lady of the Mark?”
	At this I did not hide my horror at her outright
remark. My eyebrows went up in shock and my mouth
remained open.
“No my lady.” I replied after a moment. “For every elf
in my realm knows that I am already spoken for.”
	At this the woman’s lip pouted, and her eyebrows went
into a scowl. 
“Spoken for by whom?” She mumbled as she turned to
walk away. “Some fat elven princes with legs to plump
to part.”
	I suppose the woman did not know much about elves, or
perhaps forgot about our keen hearing. Indeed, I heard
her comment, and it enraged me. I have always prided
myself on my ability to remain stoic, but the
combination of Aragorn’s proposal and the nervousness
of the upcoming battle had my nerves on edge, and I
slipped. I grabbed her shoulder and spun her around,
snarling at her.
“Nay, my lady.” I said vengefully. “Taken by the
Dunedain standing in the corner.”
	My finger pointed in Aragorn’s direction, and the
woman’s gaze followed my finger. Suddenly, a grin
spread across her features. 
“Well it looks like you’ll have to find another to
speak for you.” She said wickedly. “For that one is
already bored with you, it seems.” 
	The lady’s comment stunned me, and I did not react as
she tore her arm from my grip and stalked away.
Instead, I turned to see what in all the realms that
woman had been speaking of. Standing across the room
was Aragorn, drinking from a mug that the Lady Eowyn
had offered. I noticed her flirtation immediately, how
close she was to Aragorn and the coy look she
displayed on her face. My eyes darkened at once. I saw
Aragorn look up to me, and he walked past Eowyn and
started toward me.
“Why do you stand here and not join the celebration?”
Aragorn asked me.
“Perhaps to allow you to partake in your own
transactions with others.” I replied coldly, not
looking at Aragorn.
“What?” Aragorn’s eyes widened in confusion.
“Do not think I am so blind that I would not see you
with the lady of Rohan.” I scowled. “Why do you lead
her on?”
“I do no such thing!” Aragorn replied.
“Do you not?” I questioned, my eyes coming to
Aragorn’s. “You must tell her you are already spoken
for.” I told him. “Not only for my sake, but for hers.
Her heart will shatter when you do not take her in the
end of this.”
	Aragorn remained silent, but he knew I was right.
“Very well.” He said. “I shall tell her.”
“Thank you, Aragorn.” I said, my features softening.
	We both remained silent for a moment longer, before
Aragorn grinned at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Will you not dance just once with me?” He asked.
“In front of the Rohan?” I asked. “Do you really think
it wise?”
“Of course!” He laughed. “Why not?”
“Because they are sure to notice our affections for
one another.” I replied.
“So?” Aragorn’s boyish nature was shining through.
“Come!” He demanded, and before I could protest I was
being drug across the room and swept into the flurry
of moving feet and spinning arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~	
	Late that night I stood outside of Meduseld, not
moving a muscle, peering into the night. The mountains
could just be seen in the darkness, their white peaks
glimmering from the moon and starlight. Everything was
still but for the wind that whipped gently at my cape
and tickled my face every few moments. The air was
chill, and though it did not affect me I knew that the
rest of the people residing in Rohan would be bundled
down tightly tonight. 
	I stood in silence, deep in thought. I heard the
footsteps long before the man approached, and knew
that Aragorn had come to seek me out. We had danced
long into the night, ignoring the looks of curiosity
that the rohirrim gave us. I knew he wished for me to
come to bed-it was only a few hours until dawn- but I
would find no sleep tonight, not as I looked to the
East, to Mordor, not while this feeling of dread
consumed me.
	Aragorn began walking toward me, not speaking a word.
He understood my melancholy, understood that I felt
something.
“The stars are veiled.” I said.
	He stopped beside me, still silent.
“Something stirs in the East...” I said. “A sleepless
malice.”
	I looked at Aragorn then, only to see him returning
my gaze. He knew I felt Him, knew that I was the one
who could best guess Sauron’s place.
“The eye of the Enemy is moving.” I said, suddenly
aware of the power moving toward us. Suddenly it hit
me like a knife in the chest, the sheer power of it
nearly knocking me off balance.
“He is here!” I cried, and turned to run back into the
hall, where the source of power felt the greatest.
Aragorn followed as I ran as fast as my feet could fly
into the Hall. A nameless power pulled me in the right
direction, toward the room where Gandalf and the
hobbits and Gimli were sleeping. I slowed, unsure of
whether or not we should enter the room so quickly.
Aragorn had no reserves, and he reached the door
before me, throwing it open and bursting into the
room.
“Held him! Someone help him!” Merry was screaming,
nearly in tears.
	My eyes fell to Pippin, writhing on the floor,
clinging to something in his hands. The palantir.
Suddenly Aragorn grasped the great orb and wrenched it
from Pippin’s hands, falling to the floor as the great
power began to overtake him, and yet he fought it. I
jumped into the room, grasping Aragorn’s shoulders,
giving him strength. With a great heave Aragorn threw
the palantir across the floor, as if trying to shove a
great opponent off of himself. Gandalf was awake now,
and he threw a cloth over the sphere.
“Fool of a Took!” He cried, and suddenly we all looked
down to see Pippin prostrate on the floor, his eyes
wide open, staring into space. Gandalf rushed to the
hobbit’s side, grasping Pippin’s hand in his own.
“Look at me.” He ordered.
“Gandalf... forgive me.” Pippin squeaked, and started
to close his eyes.
“Look at me!” Gandalf commanded again, and Pippin’s
eyes flew open. “What did you see?”
“A tree... a white tree... in a courtyard of stone...
It was dead.” Pippin’s uttering made perfect sense to
me, and I knew it did to Aragorn and Gandalf as well.
“The city was burning.” Pippin whispered.
“Minas Tirith? Is that what you saw?” Gandalf asked.
“I saw...” Pippin seemed utterly terrified. “I saw
Him!” He cried suddenly. “I could hear his voice in my
head!”
“And what did you tell Him?” Gandalf asked. “Speak!”
“He asked my name.” Pippin replied. “I didn’t answer.
He hurt me!”
“What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?”
Gandalf asked. Pippin gave no answer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	In the morning we met Theoden in the hall to discuss
the previous night’s events. Aragorn stood on the
other side of the room, leaving me next to the dwarf.
He had disappeared after Pippin’s confession last
night, but I had sought him out, knowing he was
troubled. He had seen something in the palantir, too,
and I knew it. Why he did not speak of it I did not
know. I had found him in the stables, whispering to
Brego about something... his first horse, I believe.
When I asked what he had seen he did not give a reply.
He said it was nothing, but I did not believe him.
Still, I could not get him to speak to me.
“There was no lie in Pippin’s eyes.” Gandalf said to
Theoden. “A fool... but an honest fool he remains.”
	I smiled a little at Gandalf’s words.
“He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring.”
Gandalf continued. “We’ve been strangely fortunate.
Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of the enemy’s
plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith.
His defeat at Helm’s Deep showed our enemy one thing:
he knows the heir of Elendil has come forth.”
	At this I saw Aragorn grimace. He did not wish for
this, and it pained him.
“Men are not as weak as He supposed.” Gandalf went on.
“There is courage still, strength enough perhaps to
challenge Him. He will not risk the people of Middle
Earth uniting under one banner.” There was as eery
silence for moment. “He will raise Minas Tirith to the
ground before he sees a King return to the throne of
Men.” Gandalf turned to Theoden. “If the beacons of
Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war.”
	A strange look came over Theoden’s face, and I began
to worry that Theoden’s selfish human nature would be
our downfall. “Tell me, why should we ride to the aid
of those he did not come to ours?”
	Aragorn turned to look at Theoden, a shocked
expression on his face.
“What do we owe Gondor?” Theoden asked anyone in the
room.
“I will go.” Aragorn offered.
“No!” Gandalf said.
“They must be warned!” Aragorn cried in reply.
“They will be.” Gandalf assured him, and stepped
closer to Aragorn. “You must come to Minas Tirith by
another road. Follow the river and look to the black
ships.”
	Aragorn’s gaze came up to meet Gandalf’s before the
Istari turned to regard the others.
“Understand this; things are now in motion that can
not be undone.” Gandalf spoke. “I ride for Minas
Tirith... and I won’t be going alone.” He turned to
Pippin, and fear filled the hobbit’s eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	For the next few days Edoras lay in quiet
anticipation. Walking down the street one heard
nothing but the murmur of the winds and an occasional
whinney from the horses. Aragorn did not speak often,
did not even show his face in the Golden Hall. He sat
outside on the cliff, ignoring the pleas of the Rohan
nobles for him to join them inside, and watched the
mountaintops. He did not mind it out here, I knew.
Aragorn had always favored the outdoors to in, always
preferred a soft, leafy ground to a feather-filled
bed. I knew he was waiting, waiting to see the flame
upon the hill, the signal that Gondor was in dire need
of help. 
	It was on the fourth day since Gandalf and Pippin had
departed. I was in Meduseld, sitting at a table
watching- or trying not to watch- Gimli down another
pint of ale and a great slab of salted pork. Suddenly
the great doors came flying open and Aragorn came
rushing into the hall, his hair wild, his face showing
a thin sheen of sweat.
“The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit!”
The Man cried out, and came to a halt in front of King
Theoden. “Gondor calls for aid!”
	Theoden was silent. Every being in the room was
silent, awaiting Theoden’s answer. I looked around at
Gimli, Eowyn, Eomer, Gamling, and then to Aragorn. He
stood there, arms away from his sides, chest heaving
with heavy breath, and fear shining brightly in his
eyes. Would Theoden answer?
“And Rohan will answer.” Theoden said at last, and I
saw Aragorn’s breath let out and he smiled. “Muster
the rohirrim!” Theoden called, and Edoras, within
seconds, had turned into a blur of anticipated
activity.
	Aragorn, Gimli and I went to our room to gather our
belongings. I threw my bow over my shoulder and gave
Aragorn an encouraging smile.
“Do not worry.” I said. “It will all be right in the
end. I promise.”
Aragorn smiled back at me. “Hannon lle.” He said, and
turned to leave the room.
	We walked down the steps of the Golden Hall, and I
wondered if that would be the last time I would every
stand on those steps and see the snow-covered
mountains surrounding me.  Our horses were brought out
to us, and I began tieing my belongings to the saddle,
along with Gimli’s things. As I did so, I did not miss
the encounter between Aragorn and Eowyn. I did not
hear what they spoke of, for once I was too far away,
but I did not like the look that Eowyn gave the
Dunedain. I knew at once that he still had not told
her.
	I mounted Arod and pulled Gimli up behind me,
ignoring the dwarf’s grumblings about not wanting to
have to ride a horse again. I saw Aragorn across the
courtyard smile at me as he mounted Brego, but I did
not smile back at him. A look of confusion came over
his face; he did not know why I was upset with him.
Instead of speaking, I turned Arod and rode toward the
front of the riders, ignoring Aragorn’s call of my
name.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	We rode all day, not taking a single rest. I was
aware of the curious glances that Aragorn shot my way,
but I chose not to heed them. He was caught in
conversation with various nobles, but mostly the king,
and did not get the chance to come talk to me, though
I knew that is what he wished to do. 
“I think it is time for me to... uhm... get a change
of scenery.” Gimli said after a long while, and I knew
he really wanted me to go talk to Aragorn. “I will
walk for a while... stretch my legs.”
	I nodded at the dwarf as he slid off Arod’s back and
trudged off toward the front of the line, but did not
change my position in the ranks. Aragorn did, however,
and he rode up next to me. I continued to stare ahead,
not looking at him, not even glancing.
“Legolas? What have I done to upset you?” Aragorn
asked, his eyebrow raised in concern.
“You had better stop worrying about upsetting me and
start worrying about the pain you will cause another.”
I replied, pulling Arod’s head around to avoid
colliding with a rider who had stopped. Aragorn
adjusted his horse’s pace to keep up with my turn and
stared at me.
“What?” He asked incredulously.
“You still have not told her.” I replied, my eyes
catching his.
Aragorn sighed. “No, I have not.” He admitted.
“Why not?” I asked innocently.
“Because... because I have not found the right
moment.” Aragorn replied.
“Oh, I see.” I said. “Well why not now? She is riding
all by herself, just up ahead. Tell her now.”
	Aragorn looked at me like I’d gone mad.
“Aragorn, I know that there are many things going on
in your mind right now, and the burdens on your
shoulders are great, but this can not wait.” I stated.
“Legolas...” Aragorn stopped, knowing that nothing he
could say could change my mind. “Very well.”
	He rode off, but not in the direction of the lady
Eowyn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	We arrived at Dunharrow late that evening. I took the
horses and tied them, taking off their saddles and
rubbing my hands along their weary backs and legs. I
listened as Theoden and Aragorn  spoke of the numbers.
They were disappointing at best.
“We have till dawn, then we must ride.” Aragorn told
the king, and Theoden nodded his understanding.
	Suddenly a few of the horses in the lines began
whinneying in fright and rearing off the ground.  Some
of the men rushed foreword and grabbed their ropes. I
eased myself past the frightened creatures, not
wanting to be struck with a hoof.
“The horses are restless... and the men are quiet.” I
said to Aragorn and Theoden. 
“They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain.”
Eomer said, having heard my statement as he came past.
	Both of us turned our heads to look at the great
crack in the mountain that ran vertically, right above
our heads.
“That road there, where does that lead?” Gimli asked,
having followed me through the wild horses to safety.
“It is the road to the Dimholt; the door under the
mountain.” I replied.
“None who venture there ever return.” Eomer added.
“That mountain is evil.”
	Something overcame Aragorn then, as the rest of the
men parted to go about their own business. The Man
walked past me, his eyes fixed on the great crevice,
as if allured by some magical force. He stood stock
still for a moment, staring into the void, as if he
had seen something there. Gimli noticed it as well,
and before Aragorn could look any closer Gimli tapped
his arm.
“Aragorn... let’s find some food.”
	Aragorn looked back at the path, but whatever he had
seen or felt there was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	I did not sleep with Aragorn that night. I did not
even go to his tent. Instead I stood on the edge of
the cliff, staring across the open landscape at the
thousands of white tents that dotted the fields.
Thousands of Men, and yet still not enough. I had
promised Aragorn that all would end well. I did not
make promises, they were too hard to keep. And yet I
had promised him. Had it really been wise? I wondered
now as I looked across the countryside at all the
frightened Men. Could someone like me really promise
that the world would not come to an end?
	It was then, as I watched the road that led up to the
Dimholt pass, that I saw the rider. I did not
recognize him at first, could not, for he was cloaked
in black and had hidden his form well. It was his
horse I recognized right away; not the heavy, muscled
horses of the Rohirrim and of Gondor, but the light,
long-legged horses, of the elves. As I looked closer I
could see the horse more clearly; a dapple grey, with
grey mane and tail, and a black sock on his front leg.
I knew that horse. It was then that I knew what would
come to pass. 
	I raced the tent where Gimli was sleeping, throwing
the dwarf’s axe at him.
“Rise.” I ordered. “We are leaving.”
	By the time Gimli emerged from his tent, clothed in
battle armor, I had Arod saddled and ready.
“Where are we going?” He asked.
“Lord Elrond is come.” I told him. 
“The elf lord?” Gimli asked. “For what?”
“In hopes to guide his foster son.” I answered. “To
give him something that will change the outcome of
this war.”
	Gimli knew not of what I spoke, but the words that
had come from my lips were enough to convince him that
going with me was worth it. I handed Arod’s reigns to
Gimli and walked off, needing to know where Aragorn
was. 
	I found him outside his tent, saddling Brego.
Suddenly a figure came bursting from behind a tent,
following him.
“Why are you doing this!?” Eowyn asked. “The war lies
to the East, you can not leave on the eve of battle!”
	Aragorn looked at Eowyn, searching for something in
her eyes. I believe it was then that he truly knew,
that he knew that she loved him.
“You can not abandon the men.” Eowyn said, choking on
a sob.
“Eowyn...” Aragorn started.
“We need you here.” Eowyn interrupted.
“Why have you come?” Aragorn asked, wanted to hear
Eowyn speak what her heart knew was true.
“Do you not know?” was Eowyn’s reply, her eyes
glistening with tears.
	Aragorn did not answer for a moment, as he buckled
the straps of Brego’s bridle, he seemed lost in
thought.
“It is but a shadow and a thought that you love.”
Aragorn told her. “I can not give you what you seek.” 
	With that he took Brego’s reigns and began leading
the horse away, as Eowyn stepped back and stared at
him with horror.
	I left, not wanting to see the heartbreak the woman
felt. I ran back to Gimli, taking Arod from him, and
leading the horse to intercept Aragorn’s path.
“Just where do you think you’re off to?” Gimli asked
Aragorn, and a glint of humor appeared in the Man’s
eye.
“Not this time.” Aragorn said. “This time you must
stay, Gimli.”
	That was my cue. I led Arod from behind the tent
which had hidden us, giving Aragorn a sincere smile.
“Have you learned nothing about the stubbornness of
dwarves?” I asked.
“Might as well accept it... we’re going with you,
laddie.” Gimli laughed, and Aragorn shook his head in
defeat.
	With that, Aragorn walked into the great crevice, and
Gimli and I followed. We ignored the calls of the
other Men, shouting for us to turn back. But they did
not know what we knew. The Men who lived in the
dimholt- liars, traitors, thieves- would answer to the
king alone. I looked up and watched as Aragorn strode
confidently through the pass. The king indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	We rode for a long time, well into the daylight. The
path was dry and desolate. No living thing grew, and
the wind whipped through the pass with unyielding
ferocity.
“What kind of an army would linger in such a place?”
Gimli asked.
“One that is cursed.” I replied. “Long ago the Men of
the Mountain swore an oath to the last king of
Gondor...to come to his aid, to fight. But when the
time came, when Gondor’s need was dire, they fled...
vanishing into the darkness of the mountain.” I retold
the tale I had heard so many times, one that had been
my favorite as an elfling. “And so Isildur cursed
them...never to rest, until they had fulfilled their
pledge.”
	It was then we arrived at the Dwimorberg, the door
that led under the mountain. We got off our horses,
not wanting to ride underground. An evil wind swept
through the pass, and the horses grew restless.
“The very warmth of my blood seems drawn away.” Gimli
said, but we gave no reply.
	We stopped and stared at the entrance, the great
stone wall. My eyes found the pictographs carved above
the door, and I read them.
“The way is shut... it was made by those who are
dead... and the dead keep it. The way is shut.”
	A sudden blast of wind burst past the door,  carrying
angry howls upon it. The horses reared, spooked by the
dead. Aragorn and I lost the grip on the reigns and
the horses fled, galloping as fast as they could away
from the door.
“Brego!” Aragorn called, but it was in vain.
	He turned back to the door, a threatening gaze coming
over his face.
“I do not fear death!” He cried, and disappeared into
the black void. Both Gimli and I remained, terrified.
I gathered up my courage and gave Gimli one last
glance before taking a step into the door and
vanishing into the darkness. I heard the words he
spoke behind me.
“Well this is something unheard of! An elf will go
underground where a dwarf dare not!” The dwarf
exclaimed. “Ahhh... I’ll never hear the end of it!”
	I laughed as I heard Gimli’s footfalls step in behind
mine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	The path underground went on for miles and miles,
never seeming to end. We walked in single file;
Aragorn, myself, and Gimli. Sometime along the way I
felt the need to tell Aragorn I knew of what he told
Eowyn, and I stepped up beside him.
“You told her.” I said, and he turned his head to
regard me.
“It broke her heart.” Aragorn replied.
“I know.” I said. “But it would have been worse if you
had waited longer.”
“I know.” Aragorn said, and turned his head to smile
at me. “I’m glad you are with me, Legolas.” 
“I’m glad I am with you.” I replied, and brushed a
stray locke of hair out of his eyes.
“Hharrrummm...” Gimli’s grunt came from behind, and
suddenly Aragorn and I realised that we were no longer
in the confining tunnel we have been in. We had
stepped into a great cave, carved with intricate
designs and patterns, and at the head of the cave were
steps leading to a great hall. We all stopped, our
heads spinning around, taking in the great
surroundings.
“Who enters my domain?” A voice came, and we whirled
to find a Man, or he had the figure of a Man; his
flesh was falling from his bones, his hair nearly
gone, and he glowed a translucent green.
“One who will have your allegiance.” Aragorn replied,
his voice sure.
“The dead to not suffer the living to pass.” The King
of the Dead spoke.
“You will suffer me!” Aragorn replied, taking a step
foreword.
	The King let out a shrill laugh that sent chills
through my bones. I turned, nearly falling over at the
sight of thousands of ghosts gliding across an empty
pit, right towards us. Suddenly we were surrounded.
“The way is shut... it was made by those who are
dead... and the dead keep it.” The king repeated my
words. “The way is shut. Now you must die.”
	The king moved toward Aragorn, and I let fly an
arrow, but to my shock and horror, it whizzed right
through the ghost and landed with a clatter upon the
rock.
“I summon you to fulfill your oath!” Aragorn cried
fearlessly.
“None but the king of Gondor may command me!” The king
of the dead cried.
	Aragorn held up Anduril- Flame of the West, and
readied for the strike. The king’s sword came down
swiftly, and I feared that his ghost-sword would swing
through Anduril and split Aragorn in two, but the
sound of steel on steel eased my fears. A look of
shock came over the ghost, and he cried out.
“That blade was broken!” 
“It has been re-made.” Aragorn said, pushing the king
back.
	All the dead went silent, and the king stood in
shock. Gimli and I looked on, now confident in
ourselves and our leader.
“Fight for us, and regain your honor.” Aragorn
offered. “What say you?” Anduril swung about, pointing
at individual ghosts.
“You waste your time, Aragorn!” Gimli cried suddenly.
They had no honor in life they have none now in
death.”
	Aragorn ignored Gimli’s statement. “I am Isildur’s
heir! Fight for me!” He cried. “And I will hold your
oath fulfilled!”
	The king smiled at Aragorn as Anduril’s tip came to
his face.
“What say you!?” Aragorn cried.
	 There was long silence, an eerie silence, before the
king of the dead spoke.
“We will follow the King.” He said.
	Aragorn smirked. “To the river Anduin. We have some
work to finish.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	Running beside ten-thousand ghosts was something I
never thought I would do, but I did it. Aragorn,
Gimli, and I ran as fast as we could, trying to keep
up with the dead men. Aragorn spoke of more evil men
coming in fleets up the river, right towards Osgiliath
and Minas Tirith. We were to meet them at the junction
of the river and the Bay of Belfalas. It took us not a
day to reach our destination. I was worried, in truth,
frightened of the sea. My Ada had told me long ago to
never look upon it, or allow myself to hear the waves
crashing on the shore. The call of the sea would be
great enough for me without having seen it, but once I
set eyes upon it, there would be no holding back. But
I would follow Aragorn anywhere, and I realised my
mistake when I first set eyes on the great blue
desert, the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping at the
sand, the cry of the gulls from overhead. It struck me
with such force I nearly fell to the ground, and
suddenly felt like a great rope had been tied about my
heart and was attached to the great waves that were
heading out to sea. Now I understood my one mistake in
following Aragorn.
	But I ignored it, for now, anyway. Though it pained
me, I would not sail while I still had a chance of
being with Aragorn. 
	I saw them before anyone else, the great black sails
sweeping in the wind. As soon as the ships were even
with us the dead made themselves noticeable, gliding
across the water and slaughtering all the men on
board. It was only then that Aragorn, Gimli and I
boarded.  Aragorn knew something in me had changed,
and he gave me worried glances, but I assured him that
I was alright.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	We heard the battle long before we saw it; the sound
of steel on steel, of arrows whizzing, the frightened
whinneys of horses and hooves dancing, but most of
all, the cries of the dead and dying, the men in agony
and pain. The three of us hid behind the decks, not
wanting to let our enemies know we were aboard.
“Late as usual! Pirate scum! There’s enough work here
that needs doing!” An orc growled at the ship. “Come
on you sea-rats! Get off your ships!”
	With that, Aragorn, Gimli, and I jumped off the boat
onto the decks. I felt empowered, confident that for
now the weapon was in our hands. The orcs laughed,
glad they could have an easy kill, but Aragorn, Gimli,
and I smiled.
“There’s plenty for the both of us.” Gimli said,
grinning. “May the best dwarf win.”
	I nodded in agreement, and suddenly we were all
surrounded with the ghosts, the enemy was cut down
almost before Gimli and I could do a thing. We fought
our way to the Pelennor fields. I lost sight of
Aragorn, but managed to somehow stay where I could
hear him if need be. My bow and arrows sang an almost
continuous song as I fired at anything that looked
like it was on the other side of this war. 
“Fifteen... sixteen...” I counted off.
	Eventually I resorted to my twin blades, needing them
for close-contact battle. Slash, parry, spin, block,
slash, move on. It became part of my dance.
	Suddenly I heard Aragorn’s frantic voice call my
name.
“Legolas!!!”
	I turned suddenly, just in time to see a Mumakil on
an Oliphaunt coming toward me at a fast pace. I paused
for a moment, wondering what on earth Aragorn thought
I could do against that thing. Then I noticed all the
arrows protruding from the thick-skinned beast. As the
giant foot came swinging my way I grabbed ahold of the
jagged bones that jutted from the armor the animal
wore, and swung myself onto his foot, shouldering my
bow. I crouched low on the animal’s foot, and when
it’s back rear came near me, I launched myself over
and grasped the ornaments on that foot, and began my
ascent upwards, using the arrows protruding from the
animal’s skin to hold onto. 
	Once I reached the oliphaunt’s rump, I stood up,
easily balancing thanks to my elven abilities, and
began firing more arrows.
“Thirty-three... thirty-four...”I counted off.
	The two men fell to their deaths, and I crouched low
and let another fly over my shoulder. Grabbing hold of
a rope that hung from the huge platform the beast
carried, I swung down near the creature’s belly,
pulling a knife from my boot. I swung across once, and
then the next time I came across, I let the knife
slice across the creature’s girth. I felt the platform
begin to slide away, and jammed my knife back into my
boot and grabbed a hold of the rope with both hands.
As the platform fell, taking dozens of men with it, I
was pulled up onto the oliphaunt’s back, and I stood
tall upon the beast’s spine, staring proudly down at
my kill. I grabbed my bow and stepped across the
beast’s neck to stand just over his skull, producing
three arrows in my hand. I pulled back the bow of
Galadriel, and released the arrows. The animal started
to go down with a jolt. I shifted my weight, feeling
the animal move under me, and held on with my toes as
it fell. The momentum of the creature pushed me
foreword, and I ran down the animal’s nose and slid
down it’s trunk, landing neatly on the ground,
grinning.
“That only counts as one!” Gimli cried out, and I went
about my fighting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	Everything was dead. The air wreaked of death and
carnage. Men, orcs, horses, oliphaunts, nazgul... all
of them dead. Aragorn stood in front of the King of
the Dead, an inner battle going on in his head. Should
he release them?
“Release us!” The king commanded, though it sounded
closer to a beg.
“Bad idea!” Gimli said. “Very handy in a tight spot,
these lads. Even if they are dead.”
	Once again, we chose to ignore the dwarf.
“You gave us your word!” The king snarled, angry.
“I hold your oath fulfilled.” Aragorn spoke. “Go... be
at peace.”
	A peaceful look came across the king’s face, followed
by a simple smile. With a great sigh he and his fellow
dead vanished, carried into the wind.
	Aragorn turned to me then, taking me in his arms,
embracing me.
“Are you well?” Aragorn asked.
“I am.” I replied. “Are you?”
“I am fine.” Aragorn said, smiling. “Come, there is
much work to do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	An hour later we stood in the great hall in Minas
Tirith. Gimli sat lazily smoking a pipe in the king’s
throne, Aragorn stood across the room, studying
Gandalf, and I stood watching Aragorn with love and
awe.
“Frodo has passed beyond my sight.” Gandalf said. “The
darkness if deepening.”
“If Sauron had the ring, we would know it.” Aragorn
said.
“It is only a matter of time...” Gandalf’s words went
unsaid. “He has suffered a defeat, yes... but...
behind the walls of Mordor the enemy is re-grouping.”
“Let them stay there!” Gimli growled. “Let them rot!
Why should we care?”
“Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and
Mount Doom.” Gandalf said matter-of-factly.
 	All went quiet, Gandalf began to pace.
“I’ve sent him to his death...” Gandalf murmured.
“No...” Aragorn stopped Gandalf’s words. “There is
still hope for Frodo.”
	It was then that I knew why Elrond had called him
Estel. He held hope for all of us, even the Istari.
“He needs time, and safe passage across the plains of
Gorgoroth.” Aragorn went on. We can give him that.”
“How?” Gimli asked.
“Draw out Sauron’s armies. Empty his lands.” Aragorn
stated, suddenly very sure of himself. “Then we gather
our full strength and march on the Black Gate.”
	Gimli coughed, everyone else just stood and looked
stunned, not trying to hide the fact that they thought
Aragorn had gone mad.
“We can not achieve victory through strength of arms.”
Eomer said.
“Not for ourselves...” Aragorn continued. “But we can
give Frodo a chance if we keep Sauron’s eye fixed upon
us!” Aragorn turned to regard Gandalf. “Keep him blind
to all else that moves.”
“A diversion.” I understood his reasoning now.
“Sauron will suspect a trap.” Gandalf said. “He will
not take the bait.”
“Certainty of death... small chance of success...”
Gimli laughed. “What are we waiting for?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aragorn?” I entered the chamber slowly, watching as
Aragorn put down his chain-mail armor and turned to
look at me.
“Legolas.” He said, coming toward me. He grabbed my
face, pressing his lips against mine with such passion
I blanched for a moment.
“Aragorn...”I gasped. 
“Legolas...” He pleaded. “Once more...”
	He began divesting me of my clothes, and I reached
back with my foot and shut the door to the chambers
before pulling madly at the ties on his tunic.
“We don’t have time.” I said, but continued anyway.
“We have time.” He assured me, pushing me onto the bed
and yanking my leggings from my body. I gasped as my
arousal was released from its bindings, and then found
I could not breath when I saw how excited Aragorn was.
	His body lay across mine, our erections touching, as
he began worshiping my body. I could have lain there
and let him kiss every inch of my body, but eventually
someone would wonder where we were. 
“No time...” I gasped. “Now.”
	Aragorn nodded and put his finger to my lips. I
sucked it in, curling my tongue around the digit. His
eyes rolled into the back of his head, before he
pulled his finger out of my mouth and began worming it
into me.
“Gods...” I gasped, arching my back as he found my
sensitive gland. “Saes...” I begged. I leaned my body
foreword and before Aragorn could do anything took his
cock in my mouth, sucking it like I had his finger.
Aragorn lost control then, his breathing turned into
ragged pants and moans and a cry of disappointment
when I released him. But he understood. He placed
himself at my opening, and began slowly sliding into
my body. 
“So hot....” Aragorn moaned, and kept sliding into me.
	I forced my body to relax, to take the whole of the
man, who was most assuredly blessed with more than
just long life. It took several moments, but Aragorn
finally filled me, and I let out a loud moan as he
brushed past my sweet spot. Aragorn grinned wickedly
at me and moved, brushing past me again. I knew he was
teasing me, wanting me to beg. Instead I teased him
back, contracting all the muscles that surrounded his
cock, and he yelled and nearly collapsed. That alone
had been enough to nearly make him come. Aragorn
glared at me.
“Move.” I commanded, and he obeyed, and began pumping
in and out of me.
	I arched my back and bucked into him, gripping the
sheets with my fingers, turning my knuckles white as
he hit my prostate over and over again. 
“Aaaarrrg!” I cried out, my eyes closing, gritting my
teeth.
“Come with me, love.” Aragorn said, and began pumping
my rock-hard erection with his hand. That sped things
up much faster, and we both came moments later,
screaming eachother’s name and cries of undying love
and fealty.
	Aragorn collapsed onto me, and my arms instinctively
came up around him. We lay there, eyes closed,
panting, until our breathing slowed and we could think
clearly.
“Aragorn...” I said weakly.
“Hmmm?”
“It is time.” I said.
	Aragorn pushed himself off me a little and stared
down into my eyes. He leaned down and kissed me
lightly on the lips, before pulling himself out of me
slowly. I moaned, wondering if this would be the last
time Aragorn and I shared a bed, the last time I heard
him cry out my name, the last time he came into me,
filling me with his essence. 
“I wish I could stay here with you forever.” Aragorn
whispered huskily.
“As do I.” I replied. “But...” I took his face in my
palms and looked into his eyes. “You are the son of
kings, soon to be crowned the king of the reunited
kingdom, a line that was broken an age ago. Today is
your day.”
	Aragorn smiled nervously at me, but raised himself
from the bed and pulled on his leggings and tunic.
“Come, help me figure these royal garbs out.” Aragorn
said, pulling on his chain mail and wrestling with the
jerkin that had been given him, displaying a picture
of the silver tree, surrounded by seven stars. I stood
and took the top from him. “I have never worn such
things.” Aragorn said. “It is not in a ranger’s
uniform to wear such finery.”
“But it is in a king’s.” I replied, holding up the
jerkin so that he could slip his arms into it. 
“I am no king.” Aragorn replied, and his statement
startled me. I stepped before him and began lacing the
jerkin up.
“You are a king in every way.” I assured him, tilting
his head up to look into my eyes. “You are *my* king.”
“And you are my prince.” Aragorn said, kissing my
forehead. “Hannon lle, Legolas, ten vor-nat.” (Thank
you, Legolas, for everything.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	I am an elf, one of the eldar, gifted with beauty,
wisdom, strength, balance, impeccable hearing, keen
eyes, and above all, immortal life. And yet here I
stand, upon my white steed, next to the man I love,
and before is the one thing I have never feared, until
now. Death. What else can the Black Gate be described
as? We are an army of a mere few-hundred, challenging
an army of ten-thousand. Only death can come of it.
And yet here I remain, next to Aragorn, my king, for
the simple reason that I have sworn my love and
loyalty to him, that I love him too much to abandon
him in the hour of his dire need. If I were to leave
him, I would be just like the Men of the Mountain who
abandoned Isildur, doomed to remain in the world of
the living. If I were to leave him I would be labeled
a coward, a traitor. Legolas Thranduilion is no
coward, and no traitor.
	Aragorn, riding in front of me upon Brego, cloaked in
the velvet dressings only the King’s horse may bear,
spurred his horse and rode foreword, toward the Black
Gate. Gandalf, Gimli, Eomer, and the hobbits rode
after him. The ride seemed to take forever, and the
wall seemed to grow taller and taller in front of us,
blocking all light from us as we rode into it’s
shadow. It seemed to mark our doom. Aragorn halted
before the gate, trying to keep his prancing horse
from fleeing in terror.
“Let the Lord of the Black Lands come forth!” Aragorn
yelled. “Let justice be done upon him!”
	We waited for an eternity, in silence, in fear. At
last, a lurching sound filled the air, and the Black
Gate began to open. It was then we were greeted with
the sight we knew would come, with what we had feared.
Orcs, thousands of them, swarming in huge masses like
a family of ants.
“Pull back!” Aragorn cried, bringing Brego around.
“Pull back!”
	We fled back to the soldiers, riding as fast and as
hard as we could. I could see as we approached the
fear that shone in the soldier’s eyes, the fielded
wreaked of it. I stopped Arod in front of the lines,
letting Gimli down to the ground. The army of Mordor
was surrounding us, closing us in. We were trapped. I
turned to Aragorn, my eyes telling him that I was
scared, too. I looked for the same fear in his eyes,
but saw none. Somehow, back in that chamber, when
Aragorn had pulled on that vest, when he had stepped
upon his horse who wore the symbol of Gondor, Aragorn
had accepted his role as king, had become who he had
meant to be. He gave me a determined look, a look that
told me that he would fight until the end. Men would
not fall this day, not without a fight. I set my chin
and watched as Aragorn cantered Brego up the lines,
yelling out words of encouragement to his men.
“Hold your ground!” Aragorn cried. “Hold your ground!”
Brego began dancing nervously, feeling Aragorn’s
eagerness, his anticipation. The horse would not hold
still, and Aragorn rode him up and down the lines,
screaming at his men.
“Sons of Gondor, of Rohan... my brothers...” I watched
Aragorn as he spoke so eloquently to his men, His men
who would follow him to the very end of the world, who
*had* followed him to the very end of the world,
simply for the reason that they loved him, that he had
won their hearts as he had won mine. “I see in your
eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!”
He turned and galloped back down the line of men. “A
day may come, when the  courage of Men fails, when we
forsake our friends and break all bonds of
fellowship... but it is not *this* day!”
	 I nodded my head in agreement, a tear trickling down
my cheek as I watched the one I loved fight for
everything he held dear, for the Fate of the world.
“An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age
of Men comes crashing down!  But it is NOT this day!
This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this
good earth...” Aragorn’s gaze met mine, “I bid you,
stand! Men of the West!!!”
	I jumped off Arod, following Aragorn’s suite, and the
horse cantered back into the ranks. I took a step
foreword, watching Aragorn as he drew his sword and
stared at his men.
“They love you.” I said. “I love you.”
	Aragorn smiled at me and squeezed my shoulder before
taking his place at the head of the ranks. I stood
beside Gimli, glad that I would be with a friend.
“Never thought I’d die fighting side by side with an
elf.” Gimli grumbled.
	I looked at the dwarf understandingly. “What about
side by side with a friend?” I asked.
	Gimli’s eyes met mine, and he smiled sincerely. 
“Aye, I could do that.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	We were surrounded, utterly lost in this sea of evil.
Hopeless. Nay, not hopeless, I thought, as I watched
Aragorn; Estel; our Hope. I watched as his face
contorted, as if he had heard some strange summon to
him. He stared straight ahead, not moving, his body
tense and rigid. Slowly, he turned around and faced
Gandalf, then Gimli, then me.
“For Frodo.” And with that, Aragorn raised the mighty
Anduril and charged foreword with a yell. Pippin and
Merry followed, and I glanced at Gimli and followed in
without hesitation.
	I hit my first enemy with an arrow just before
Aragorn reached the enemy ranks, and continued to fire
arrows until I ran out, and had no other choice but to
pull out my scimitars. I slashed at my foes with huge,
swinging sweeps, using the blades as if they were
merely extensions of my arms. I grimaced as a giant X
was cut through my enemy’s body, and his intestines
exploded from his belly as he fell to the floor. But
there was no time for delay, and I continued on to my
next opponent. I did not bother to keep count, knowing
that if I did, no soul would ever hear the number
anyway.
	A shrill, chilling scream suddenly reached my
sensitive ears, and it almost sent me tumbling to the
ground. I looked up to see the sky swarming with huge,
black beasts. Nazgul. Men began to scream in terror
and run, fearing the beasts’ claws and huge, razor
teeth. 
“Stay! Fight!” I cried, trying to encourage the Men to
continue.
	It was then that I saw the movement off to the West,
in the sky, something coming toward us swiftly. It was
not Nazgul, I knew, but when they finally reached my
sight I smiled. 
“Gwahir...” I whispered, grinning as I decapitated
another opponent.
“The eagles!” I heard Pippin scream. “The eagles are
coming!”
	And suddenly the Nazgul didn’t matter, were nothing
to any of us. The eagles fought them, clawing at their
exposed belly’s, causing them to screech in pain and
anger. The enemies spun and dove, twisting in a mad
attempt to be the one who would not go tumbling back
to the earth. For once, our side seemed to be at an
advantage. The Nazgul’s beasts were no match for the
lords of the winds.
	I continued to fight, trying at the same time to keep
an eye on Aragorn. An enemy approached me then, a huge
uruk-hai, who blocked my vision and I could no longer
see the Dunedian, not even in my peripheral vision. I
grew frustrated, and plunged my dagger into my
opponent as soon as possible. I realized, though, that
it was too late, as I turned and saw Aragorn staring
up at a huge beast of Mordor, who was charging at him
with incredible speed. Aragorn was too late, there was
not enough time for him to react. As quickly as I
could I pulled my bow, not caring to even aim, only
hoping, praying that I would be capable of stopping
the beat. The creature slammed into Aragorn, knocking
him to the ground with huge force. I saw Aragorn’s
head slam into the ground, his eyes flutter, and
watched in horror as a huge foot was planted on his
chest. 
“Aragorn!!!” I let my arrow fly.
	A smile spread across my face as the beast roared in
pain and swiped at his eyes, where my green and golden
arrow, the symbol of Mirkwood, protruded from his
face. I looked down to see Aragorn holding a dagger
that was covered in blood, expecting to see him
looking up at me gratefully. Instead, a look of shock
and horror covered his face, and I realized too late
that I had made a huge sacrifice in using my bow and
arrow. I started to turn, to try to defend myself, but
I was too late. Suddenly, a stabbing pain shot through
my belly, and I arched my back, trying to escape the
pain. My eyes fell downward, and I grunted as I saw a
blade disappear from my stomach. I looked up again,
searching for Aragorn’s face. The man was in shock,
struggling to rise from the ground, to get to me
before it was too late. But it was too late. Too late
for me. I grasped at my belly, watching as red blood
pooled around my hands. I fell to the ground.
	I felt the ground rumble beneath me, saw the huge
light that flashed across the field, heard the great
explosion as the Black Gate came crashing to the
earth, and smiled as the enemy fled in fear and
confusion.
“Frodo! Frodo!!!” I heard a hobbit cry, but I was not
sure which one it was.
	Suddenly there was something warm in my hand,
something gripping my shoulder, and something wet fell
upon my face. Aragorn. I tried to smile as he stared
down at me, tears flowing freely from his eyes.
“Legolas... why?” Aragorn asked.
“For...” I coughed, ignoring the blood that sputtered
from my mouth, and the blinding pain that exploded in
my gut. “For the Fate of Men.” I whispered, smiling up
at Aragorn, knowing that my teeth were stained with my
blood.
“Aragorn... I love you.” I told him, starting to close
my eyes.
“No!” Aragorn cried, and I forced myself to look at
him, though all I wanted to do was sleep. “No! Don’t
you do that! Don’t you dare say your goodbyes. Not
now, not yet! You promised Legolas! You promised it
would all end well!” He gripped my hand with such
force it hurt, his tears dripping upon my face like
rain drops.
“It is well.” I struggled. “You are well. The world is
well.”
“No!!!” Aragorn cried, and pulled me into a strong
embrace. 
	I let my eyes close, let myself drift into
unconsciousness. It was there that I wanted to
remember forever, safe in Aragorn’s arms, where
nothing could ever harm me. There I was happy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	My eyes fluttered open. Where was I? Was I dead?
Light was all around me, white light. Suddenly I
realized where I was. The White City, everything was
white there. A shooting pain coursed through my body,
and I gasped, my eyes opening wide. It was then I saw
him, laying there, asleep. His hair was strewn
untidily across the bed, his right hand grasping mine,
and in his left, the ring I had given him when we had
first fallen in love; a silver band, with a sapphire
blue stone in the center, perfectly round. I had found
the stone in the Lonely Mountain and given it to him,
saying that it looked like his eyes. I thought he had
lost it long ago. I had no idea he still had it. 
“Aragorn...” I whispered, weakly lifting my hand and
running my fingers through his hair. “My love...”
	His head rose slowly, and I noticed the dark circles
around his eyes. How long had he fretted over me?
“Legolas!” He cried, his eyes flying wide. “You’re
awake!”
“I’m awake.” I repeated. “How long have I been
asleep?”
“Four days.” Aragorn told me. “Its remarkable.”
“What’s remarkable?” I asked, smiling, glad that I was
back with my love.
“Your healing.” Aragorn told me, and lifted my tunic,
showing me a scar that ran jagged across my belly.
“Its only been four days but the only sign that you
were injured is this scar.” He ran his fingers lightly
across the scar, and I trembled under his tough. “Are
you in pain?” Aragorn asked.
“Yes, but it is not bad.” I told him, though I lied. I
was in so much pain I thought I would pass out.
“Legolas...” Aragorn started, but stopped. I gazed at
him, letting him know that I was listening. “Tomorrow
I am crowned king.” He said.  “Tomorrow I will
announce you as my consort.”
“And I will accept.” I told him, knowing that he
wondered if I would still agree to his plan.
	Suddenly Aragorn went silent, his eyes dropping to
the floor. He stayed there.
“Nin-melesse, what is wrong?” I asked, once again
brushing his hair with my fingertips.
“Nothing.” He replied.
“It is not nothing, or you would not look away from
me.” I said, pushing myself up to sit. “What troubles
you?”
“Legolas, do you remember the night that Pippin looked
into the palantir?” Aragorn asked. It startled me, the
question was out of the blue. 
“Yes...” I said cautiously. Where was this going?
	Aragorn said nothing, once again his gaze dropping to
the floor.
“You saw something, didn’t you?” I asked. “He spoke to
you. You would not tell me. Tell me now.”
“He said... He spoke of you.” Aragorn said quietly.
“He showed me our future. He showed me an image of
you... sailing away on a ship... waving goodbye to
me.”
“Aragorn...” I raised my hand to caress his face. “He
also showed Pippin a burning tree,  but that did not
become a reality.” His blue orbs met mine, tears
shining in their corners. “I will not leave you.”
	Aragorn smiled weakly at me, before pulling me into a
strong embrace. I let him hug me, though it caused
another explosion in my belly. I did not show any sign
that I was in pain, not wanting to worry the ranger.
“Come, take me outside.” I said happily. “Show me your
new kingdom.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	Aragorn and I walked for a long time. He lent me his
arm, letting me lean against his shoulder for support,
though I found that I could walk surprisingly well by
myself. He showed me the stables, the gardens, the
great, white walls, and the room that was to be our
chamber. He told me of all that had happened after I
had fainted, how the black gate had fallen, how the
eagles had retrieved Frodo and Sam from the mountain
of fire, how one of them had whisked me away to the
castle and just managed to save me.
	  We stopped by to check on Frodo, and I felt guilty
for not thinking of the brave hobbit sooner. Just as
we arrived at the room, we heard laughter and
cheering. I entered the door just after Gimli, to find
Frodo, Merry, and Pippin bouncing excitedly on the
bed, laughing. I gave Frodo an encouraging and happy
smile, to show him that both of us were well, and
stepped to the side to allow Aragorn to enter. The
soon-to-be-king shared a smile with Frodo, before
standing next to me, grinning. I saw Frodo’s face fall
slightly, and realized that the one most dear to him
was missing. I looked in the doorway as Sam appeared,
not saying a word. Through the laughter and
storytelling of the hobbits, and the chuckling of
Gimli and Gandalf, a moment passed between the two
hobbits, and knowing smile, though no words were
spoken. I knew then that something had happened
between the two hobbits, and I knew exactly how Frodo
felt as Aragorn’s arm came around me and his lips
touched the top of my head. I knew all too well.
	Too soon, our day was ended, and a guard came to
inform Aragorn that dinner was being served. We walked
into the great hall arm in arm, smiling at those who
knew we were together, and those who looked somewhat
shocked to see us that way. Somehow, I managed to hide
the pain that I was in with every step I took. 
	Aragorn seated me next to his chair at the head of
the table, across from Mithrandir and next to Gimli,
who gave me an encouraging pat on the back and a
grumble of “glad to see you standing, master elf”
before digging into the feast prepared for us. As
usual, I selected the most elf-like foods on the
table, placing a large slice of melon on my plate and
carefully slicing it with my fork and knife. I lifted
the delicious-smelling fruit to my lips and popped it
into my mouth, savoring the sweet juices. I swallowed
easily, but as soon as I did, a shooting pain shot
through my stomach, different from the dull throb that
had occurred all day. I gasped and squeezed my eyes
shut.
“Legolas?” Aragorn asked, dropping his own fork. 
“Aragorn...” I started to say something, looking up at
the ponderous faces of Oolodrim and the hobbits and
dwarf, but I felt blood trickle down my chin and
another pain shot through me. I felt myself falling,
but knew when I stopped that Aragorn had caught me. 
	I was only slightly aware of being carried something,
to our chambers, I believe. I felt myself being lain
on a soft cushion, and I recognized the feel of the
feather-mattress beneath me. I was having trouble
discerning what was going on around me, could only
concentrate on the blinding pain coursing through my
body.
“...bleeding internally...” That was Gandalf’s voice.
“...no...” Aragorn’s.
“...speak with him... please...” Gandalf again.
	I blanched for a moment, but when I opened my eyes
again I became more aware of what was going on around
me. Gandalf’s big, grey eyes were staring down at me
sorrowfully. Where had Aragorn gone?
“He has given me a moment with you.” Gandalf
explained, and I looked back up at the Istari, who
took my hand in his own and looked at me.
“Gandalf...” Something was wrong, I knew it. The last
time someone had looked at me like that my mother had
lived only a day more. What was happening?
“Legolas...” Gandalf’s voice was comforting, one I had
known since my days as an elfling, one who had guided
me through many trials in life. “Legolas... have you
ever seen the sea?”
What a curious question.
“Yes.” I replied, confused. “Only briefly, when we
took the pirate ships on the Anduin. It was...
beautiful.”
“Yes... yes it is.” His voice was soft. “Does it call
to you?”
“Every day. Every day I hear the sound of waves
crashing, the call of the gulls, can smell the salt in
the air.” I replied truthfully. “But I will not leave
Aragorn.”
	Gandalf nodded. “Legolas... you are dieing. There is
nothing I can do. If you remain in Middle Earth you
will not last, not for even another few days.”
	I stared at him, unable to speak. 
“It is over, Legolas.” Gandalf went on, but I knew it
broke his heart to say such things. “The love that you
and Aragorn possess will live on forever, but you will
fade.”
“No...” I shook my head. “I promised. Its the only
promise I ever made... please Gandalf...”
“I’m so sorry, Legolas.” Gandalf said. “The only
option I can give you is to sail West, now, as soon as
you can. There is a ship leaving Ithilien tomorrow
eve. Let Aragorn wed Arwen, let the people of Gondor
have their hope. It is the only thing you can do.”
“I can die here... with the one I love.” I replied
coldly.
“Do you really think he would let you?” Gandalf asked.

“No.” I said after a pause. “No...” I began to cry.
Tears welled in my eyes and flowed freely down my
cheeks. I sobbed as Gandalf pulled me into his arms
and embraced me. It felt good, reassuring, as Gandalf
had a way to be. I felt suddenly like a child again,
like the little blonde elfling who would always find
trouble, would always race the fastest horse, climb
the tallest tree, pull the stupidest pranks. And every
time, every time it went wrong, there was Gandalf,
maybe not right away, but a year or so later, he would
be there, hugging me and telling me it would be
alright. Not this time. This time it wouldn’t be. This
time Gandalf had run out of choices, and so had I. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~	
	Aragorn knelt on the step, his head held high, his
gaze sure, as Gandalf slowly raised the crown of
Gondor for all to see, and gently laid it upon
Aragorn’s brow.
“Now come the days of the king.” Gandalf said. “May
they be blessed.”
	I saw Aragorn take a deep breath, watching him turn
to face his people, before lifting his gaze to face
all of them. They began to cheer, for their king, for
their lives, for their Hope restored. 
“This day does not belong to one Man, but to all.”
Aragorn said with a gesture of his hands. “Let us
together rebuild this world... that we may share in
the days of peace.”
	The people continued to cheer, but it was quickly
replaced with the sound of Aragorn’s deep baritone
filling the courtyard.
“Et Earello Endorenna utulien... Sinome maruvan ar
Hildinyar tenn’ Ambar-Metta!”  (Out of the Great Sea
to Middle Earth I am come. In this place I will abide,
and my heirs, until the end of time.)
	Aragorn began to descend the steps, walking slowly
through the people as they bowed, showing respect to
their new king. I stepped foreword as he came to me,
my silver tunic shining, my crown, showing my status
as Prince of Eryn Lasgalen glimmering in the sunlight.
 I did not know what Aragorn would do, and was
surprised when he put his hand upon my shoulder in a
traditional elven greeting and smiled at me.
“Hannon lle.” He said, and I returned his smile,
though inside I was weeping. 	My eyes glazed with
tears as I motioned with my head for him to look
behind me, and he did. He saw Elrond, standing there
next to the banner the elves had fashioned, showing
the white tree on silver. The banner moved toward
Aragorn, and slowly moved to the side, revealing
Undomiel, her white dress shining, her circlet about
her head shimmering against her auburn hair. She moved
toward him, and  he took the banner from her, holding
it aside. They stared at one another for a moment,
before Arwen jumped into Aragorn’s arms and pressed
her lips firmly to his. I closed my eyes, not wanting
to watch the elf princess as she stole my life from
me. Instead, the happy cheer of the crowd told me
everything, and I longed to turn and run from this
place, though I would not. I would not shame Aragorn
in that way. I felt Gimli’s hand on my shoulder,
trying to reassure me, and did not watch as Aragorn
led Arwen along, showing the country of Gondor their
new queen.	Instead, my gaze fell to the hobbits. They
looked misplaced, standing among the tall Men,
sheepish grins on their faces. And yet, I knew that
they were the bravest and most courageous of any being
there. As Aragorn approached them, they exchanged
glances, not knowing what they should do. They bowed.
“My friends...” Aragorn sounded shocked. The hobbits
looked up at him, worried they had done wrong. “You
bow to no one!” 
	With that, Aragorn bent to one knee, lowering his
head, bowing to Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee,
Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took; saviors of
Middle Earth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	The road to Ithilien was short, only a few hours
ride. I winced and gritted my teeth as the horse
jostled me, causing me pain. Once we reached the shore
it was easier, smoother.  I would miss him, the
faithful stallion who had carried both me and Gimli so
far, so fearlessly. Looking around my cloak I could
see Aragorn beside me, sitting astride Brego, silent.
“Aragorn...” He looked at me knowingly, but quickly
returned to his original state.
	I had begged him, pleaded him to let me stay, to let
me die with him, in peace. I knew he would not allow
it. If there were a way for me to live Aragorn would
have it. So he was Arwen’s now, no longer mine, no
longer could I call him my own. I tear rolled down my
cheek, followed quickly by another, and then a torrent
of them.
“Legolas!” Aragorn cried, jumping from his mount and
running to me, pulling me from Arod’s back. “Legolas,
please don’t weep.”
“I can’t...” I sobbed. “I can’t do it... Please,
Aragorn... please don’t make me leave you.”
	Aragorn pulled me into his arms, holding me tight
against his chest.
“Sssh.” He soothed. “It will be alright.”
“No.” I denied him.
“The pain will pass.” He said. “Once you reach
Valinor...”
“It will never pass.” I told him, burying my face in
the crook of his neck, hiding my eyes from the sight
of the water, of the waves lapping lovingly on the
pale sand, of the beautiful grey ship that beckoned to
me. “I love you too much.” I said.
“I love you.” Aragorn cried, for I could feel his
tears dripping onto my head. “Legolas... Legolas
listen to me...” He pulled me away from him, forcing
me to look into his eyes, which were so filled with
love. “I will never forget you, you hear me? Never. I
love you more than anything.”
“And I you.” I sobbed, and leaned back into his arms.
“I will think of you all the time.” Aragorn promised.
“Every time I see a mallorn tree I will think of the
first time I met you, every time I shoot a bow I will
think of how you taught me to shoot, but I could never
be as good as you, every time I see an elf with hair
as fair as yours, every time I see a white horse... It
will be you.”
	I could say nothing, simply sobbed into his neck and
gripped his jerkin with my hands, holding on so tight
my knuckles turned white. We stood that way for a long
while, forgetting everything that was going on around
us, only knowing that this was our last time together,
would be our last time to hold eachother in our arms,
to smell the other’s scent, to hear the familiar
heartbeat that murmured secretly beneath the flesh.
“Legolas...” Gandalf’s soft call got my attention, and
I turned to see the Istari standing upon the dock,
waiting for me to board the ship. “It is time.”
	I nodded at the wizard and turned my tear-filled eyes
to look into Aragorn’s.
“This is for you.” Aragorn said, slipping something
into my fingers. I opened them and looked down,
sobbing again as I saw what he had given me; the
sapphire ring that I had found in the Lonely Mountain.
“Look at it when you want to remember me.” Aragorn
said, sliding the ring onto my finger. 
	I said nothing, but reached up and ghosted my fingers
across the pendant of the tree and arrow which hung
about his neck, the pendant I had given him. He knew I
meant the same. I turned, looking at Gandalf, but my
feet could not carry me from Him. I took a hesitant
step forward, then another, and suddenly it was
easier. I watched my feet trod through the sand, but
when they reached the wooden dock, I halted. No. 
	Whirling around I raced back to Aragorn, leaping into
his arms and pressing my lips to his. Our tongues
explored eachother, wanting one last taste, one last
time. I closed my eyes, relishing in the feel of being
in Aragorn’s arms. So much passion, so much love. I
reveled in this moment, before pulling away and 
walking back to the dock. 
	This time I made it, heard the sound of my feet
padding up the wooden ramp, felt as Gandalf’s hand
brushed past my back in encouragement. I wished he
could go with me. He had promised he would meet me
there soon. I reached the edge of the ship, and
turned, my eyes meeting Aragorn’s from afar. 
‘I love you.’ I mouthed.
‘I love you.’ I read his lips. 
	With that I gave him a smile, not wanting our last
moments to be grievous. An elf came aboard and closed
the door to the boat with a resounding “clink” and
suddenly I realized there was no going back. I ran to
the edge of the ship, leaning out over the silver
water to peer at the one I loved. He sat astride
Brego, watching as the ship pulled slowly away from
the harbor. I raised my hand in a slow wave, smiling
as he returned it. I felt as if I had left my heart
behind, and all I wanted to do was jump over the edge
of the ship and race back to shore to claim it again.
Instead, I took one last look at Aragorn, his hair
flying in the wind, his vest emblazoned with the
symbol for the country he loved, his head held high,
his eyes shimmering in the sunlight, and with every
ounce of strength I had I turned my head from him. My
feet lead me slowly across the deck, to the other side
of the ship. Here I saw the sea, shimming in blue and
silver, going on and on, until it met with the sky,
where the seagulls sang their songs of mourning. This
was the end. This was where the story of Elessar
Telcontar and Legolas Thranduilion came to a halt. I
stared at the sea, wondering what my life would hold
from this day. Would I feel this pain forever in my
heart? Would I think of Him every moment of every day?
Would I forget him? Only time would tell. Only time
could heal my wounds, only time could reveal what
would lie ahead... into the West.