Title: Legolas’ Gift
Author: Estel Baggins
Author’s Email: macfal1219@comcast.net
Chapters: 64-66
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: violence, contemplations of suicide
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas battle Sauron’s spirit in Rivendell (finally!) and also in 
the Dunedain camp. Also, Legolas/Aragorn moments ahead!
Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, everybody…

Chapter Sixty-Four
      Glorfindel stopped short a dozen steps from the intersection just before the room 
he and Elladan shared. He held up a hand, but Aragorn didn’t need the cautionary 
gesture; he had stopped short, his hand tightening on his sword-hilt.
      Glorfindel’s knives were out, and he began to approach the intersection. Aragorn 
moved, silent as a shadow, behind him. The Ranger listened hard, but couldn’t detect 
whatever had reached Glorfindel’s sensitive ears. Still, he didn’t doubt Glorfindel a bit 
and only strained harder to hear what the elf-lord had.
      Glorfindel stopped half a step from the corner. He glanced at Aragon, raised a 
beckoning hand, then turned his attention back to the corridor. Aragorn moved up beside 
him. Glorfindel mouthed, “Three… two…. one…”
      Together, they leapt into the open, weapons raised and eyes questing for danger.
      An arrow whistled past Aragorn’s ear, then Glorfindel’s Light filled the corridor. 
It faded almost at once, but it had let all three stalkers know who the others were. 
Aragorn and Glorfindel were standing ten steps from Legolas, who still had his bow 
raised.
      Aragorn blinked away the afterimage of the light, but Glorfindel’s and Legolas’ 
eyes adjusted immediately. At once, Legolas put his bow away and returned the arrow 
he’d reloaded in that instant to its quiver. He made a bow, but did not speak.
      Glorfindel bowed back, but Aragorn shook his head. He pointed to Legolas’ bow 
and gestured for the elf to take it out once more. If he was shocked to see an elf to whom 
he had spoken words of love, he didn’t show it. The battle-calm did strange things to him, 
but one advantage was to protect him from distractions. The Ranger then gestured for 
Glorfindel to lead the way, which the elf-lord did. Legolas fell into step beside Aragorn 
and the three resumed their journey.
      At the bedchamber door, Glorfindel removed a key from his belt. He glanced at 
Legolas, then at Aragorn. The two took his meaning at once; Aragorn stepped back a 
little to give Legolas room and Legolas moved to stand at Glorfindel’s elbow, his bow 
ready with an arrow at the drawn-back string. Glorfindel paused for another instant, 
listening within. He shook his head, indicating that he didn’t hear anything, then 
unlocked the door. He pushed it open and stepped aside in one smooth movement, giving 
Legolas room to shoot.
      Legolas’ eyes found the dark-haired elf at once, placed as he was in a patch of 
moonlight that shone through the still-uncovered window. The Prince of Mirkwood 
didn’t know at first if the elf was Elladan or Elrohir, but Glorfindel answered that 
question for him.
      “Elrohir, where is your brother?”
      Elrohir rose to his feet. “He is sleeping, Glorfindel. I felt a disturbance and came 
to check on him. I found you gone, and feared that something might come to my brother 
while he rested. So I stayed to protect him.”
      His eyes were right, the expression in them honest and sincere. But Glorfindel 
still felt wary. ‘Perhaps it is only that I have never really trusted him.’ But even as he 
thought this, he looked Elrohir over, wanting to make sure that nothing, absolutely 
nothing, was amiss. “Friend elf,” he said to Legolas, “will you make sure that my 
husband sleeps? If he does not, ask him to come out here. I need to speak with him.”
      Legolas started towards the only other door in the room.
      Elrohir held up one hand. “Wait, if you will. Elladan needs his rest and I do not 
want to run the risk that he will be disturbed.”
      Glorfindel wasn’t listening to Elrohir. He was looking towards where the elf-
lord’s other hand should have been. Elrohir’s sleeve was there, but his hand was hidden 
in the folds of a robe that Glorfindel now recognized as Elladan’s. “Elrohir, show me 
your other hand,” Glorfindel commanded. He felt Aragorn tense beside him. The man 
obviously suspected a concealed weapon. ‘Well, and so do I.’
      Elrohir turned towards Glorfindel. “Why would I hide anything from you, 
Glorfindel? Have I not dedicated myself to the defense of Imladris, and to the defense of 
my brother specifically?”
      The instant Elrohir turned away, Legolas began to slip, quickly and silently, 
towards the door. He reached it, and had laid his hand on the knob when Elrohir spun, 
letting fly whatever had been in his hidden hand.
      “Legolas!” Aragorn shouted. He started forward at once.
      Legolas opened the door and slipped inside the room. The brightly-gleaming knife 
embedded itself hilt-deep in the closed door. In the instant of silence that followed, those 
in the outer room heard the lock turn.
      Aragorn seized Elrohir by both arms a moment later. Elrohir tried to break free, 
but Aragorn spun him around and pushed him against the wall, pinning him there. Elrohir 
continued to struggle, but Aragorn held him firmly, holding his brother’s arms behind his 
back. “Elrohir, listen to me,” Aragorn began. “Legolas won’t hurt Elladan, or even wake 
him. He’s only going-”
      “That isn’t Elrohir.” Glorfindel approached the two, his steps wary. “I don’t trust 
you, Sauron, and you can’t fool me. But don’t think you’ve won. Whatever you have 
done to Elladan, it will be healed. I will see to that. I am bound to Elladan, and I will 
bring him back from wherever you’ve sent him.”
      Elrohir chuckled. “You can do nothing, Glorfindel. Elladan will not want to be 
with you now.”
      Glorfindel released an unfeigned laugh. “Oh, really? And I suppose the world is 
going to end tomorrow as well?”
      “Your world ends very soon, yes,” Elrohir answered.
      If Glorfindel was intimidated, he refused to show it. “Stand down, Sauron. This is 
your last warning.”
***
      Legolas peered around the darkened room. He saw the bed almost immediately 
and the shape in the bed. Cautiously, he approached, his bow fitted with an arrow, just in 
case. “Elladan? Elladan, can you hear me?” He stopped beside the bed, reached down, 
and pulled back the covers.
      Elladan’s face was hidden by the mat and mass of his hair, and Legolas was 
grateful for that, if for nothing else. Elladan’s legs were tangled with the blankets. His 
thighs, the sheets below and the blankets above were stained with blood… and with 
something that shimmered white in the dim light that made it past the shutters.
      Legolas’ mouth twisted with disgust. ‘What did Elrohir do to you, Elladan, and 
why did you let him?’ Then he shook his head. ‘That’s unfair. Maybe you didn’t let it. 
Maybe you couldn’t stop him.’ He put his knives away and brushed a wayward strand of 
hair from his face. “And I can see what he did- how he raped you. Just like a slave, like a 
whore, you weren’t able to gainsay him or defend yourself. It doesn’t matter whether we 
are slaves or freeborn; there are still times we are powerless.’
      Shaking his head, pushing aside his thoughts, Legolas covered Elladan with the 
bloody blankets, then began to lift the elf’s hair away from his face. When that was done, 
and Elladan stared unseeingly upwards, Legolas groaned. Bruises were already rising on 
Elladan’s face, making it look as if he were being consumed by shadows. But Legolas 
saw the true shadows were those that turned Elladan’s bright gaze into one of dead-fish 
eyes.. Fearing the worst, Legolas put his fingers to the side of Elladan’s neck, searching 
for his pulse. He found it almost at once, and breathed a sigh of relief, but then he looked 
again at Elladan’s eyes. It was still possible for the dark-haired elf to die; more than 
possible. He had seemingly fought a great battle, and lost. Would he have the strength to 
recover, to pull himself from the shadow-world into which he was sinking? One look at 
those dead eyes filled Legolas with doubt and with fear.
      But he knew something, as well. Elladan could be brought back. He wasn’t lost 
yet. ‘But I am not the one to rescue him. He needs Glorfindel. And maybe Aragorn.’ 
Legolas turned his eyes to the door through which he had escaped. ‘And right now, 
they’re trapped. With Elrohir, and maybe with something worse.’
      Legolas looked once again to Elladan, debating whether he should leave Elladan 
to help Aragorn and Glorfindel, or whether his place was here. ‘Maybe I’m the last line 
of defense in case Elrohir-’ Legolas stopped the thought right there. ‘I cannot let Aragorn 
face Elrohir without trying to help.’ He made his way towards the door.
      Just as he reached it, his hand on the knob, Elladan stirred on the bed and called, 
“Glorfy… Glorfy…. Help me…”
      Legolas returned to the bed at once, taking Elladan’s hand.
      “Glorfy?”
      “Tis I, Legolas. Glorfindel is the next room. All is well, son of Elrond. Stay with 
me.” Legolas reached down and cupped Elladan’s cheek, turning the elf’s dark eyes to 
his. “Don’t give up. You’re stronger than whatever Elrohir did to you.”
      “Sauron…” Elladan breathed. “Sauron was in him…. Made him rape me… made 
the child in me….”
      Legolas’ stomach writhed beneath his ribs. Did Elladan know what he was 
saying? Was what he was saying true? ‘If it is, then Elrohir has power over Elladan, and 
thus Sauron has power in Imladris.’
      He took Elladan’s hands in his own. “You must fight any and all weakness you 
feel, Elladan. The Dark Lord has power here. You must not give him any more.”
      “He takes even what little I desperately try to keep for myself.” Elladan closed his 
eyes. “I cannot leave Elrohir to him. I will not. But each time I try to save him, Sauron 
draws me closer. I can’t resist him forever.”
      “You don’t have to,” Legolas answered sharply. “All you have to do is hold on a 
little longer. Glorfindel will help you. I will help you. And Aragorn will help you.”
      Elladan smiled, and opened his eyes. Now a little light burned in their depths. It 
was a flickering flame, threatening to go out at any moment, but Legolas was very glad to 
see it. “Fair Estel… His determination not to repeat the past will keep him going when all 
strength fails him, and when no friends walk beside him.”
      “I will not willingly be parted from him again,” Legolas answered. “I will walk by 
him as long as I have life in me.”
      “I have often thought that elves are the unfortunate ones. We can go to the 
Undying Lands, but we cannot follow the steps of our loved ones that are left behind. If I 
died, I could never return to comfort Glorfindel in his grief.”
      “At least you would see him when he died,” Legolas snapped, and he didn’t want 
to understand why his tone was so harsh.
      Elladan didn’t seem to hear the anger in Legolas’ voice. “Yes, that is true, but I 
have often wondered…” He shook his head. “I am talking nonsense. Glorfindel and I will 
be together always. Nothing will part us.”
      “If you truly believe that, then do not worry about the child Elrohir has planted 
inside you. All will be well as long as you love Glorfindel.” He pressed down on 
Elladan’s hands, drawing the elf’s attention. “Listen to me, son of Elrond. You have not 
been as strong as you should, or as the situation surely calls for. Stop pretending strength 
and actually start to save it inside yourself like storing food for the winter.”
      For a moment only, Elladan’s eyes flashed. “I fought off Sauron. Who are you to 
accuse me of pretending anything?”
      Even though the anger was brief, Legolas had cause to rethink what he’d said. But 
he weighed the words and didn’t find them wanting. They felt true. “I only know that you 
have spent too long feeling lost, confused, angry, hurt or helpless. I don’t know what else 
you have felt, but those emotions are a foot in the door for Sauron, and you need to quit 
on them right now before they cause real damage.”
      Elladan snorted. “Real damage has already been caused. Didn’t you see how I 
looked when you came in?”
      “Were you conscious, then?” Legolas asked, shocked. “But your eyes-”
      “I know how to hide a little of myself at least,” Elladan answered, sounding both 
offended and tired. “Let me be for a while. I need to build up my shields once more. 
Without them, I cannot help Elrohir or myself.”
      “You can be strong without shields,” Legolas said, but he knew his counsel fell on 
deaf ears. Elladan didn’t understand, perhaps couldn’t understand, that he could be his 
own strength. ‘Aragorn understood that, and the knowledge made him arrogant 
sometimes. But he was also able, because of that very knowledge, to pick himself up 
again and go on, wiser, older and ready to take on the next challenge. Elladan’s problem 
is simple: he fights and fights, but doesn’t recover from each battle. It’s as if, in a very 
real sense, he has never rested and regenerated since Sauron’s first attack.’
      He stepped back from the elder son of Elrond. “I have to go. Aragorn needs me. 
Stay here and recover. All may yet be well.”
      Elladan nodded distractedly, his eyes closed, his attention all too obviously 
focused within. “Give my love to Glorfindel.”
      “I shall.” Legolas turned and walked once again to the door. With his hand on the 
knob, ready to go out into the fight, he felt as if he was leaving something important to 
chance. “Elladan…”
      “Go, Legolas. I’ll be all right.”
      And even though Elladan’s voice was still that of a distracted soul, Legolas knew 
he could do nothing more for the exhausted son of Elrond. He opened the door and 
stepped into the killing zone.
***
      Elrohir was laughing. He couldn’t help himself. “Do you really-” he gasped- 
“believe that you can stop me?”
      Without warning, Glorfindel released his Light. He was wise enough to know it 
was a gamble he was taking; Gandalf and Elrond hadn’t arrived yet. But he couldn’t 
allow Sauron to dig his heels in any more. He was already well-established here. ‘I could 
almost be angry at Gandalf for urging Aragorn to bring the Ring here in the first place.’ 
But that was harsh, and Glorfindel knew there had been no other place for the Ranger to 
bring the Ring and the hobbits, who would surely have died in the wilds.
      Elrohir didn’t even blink. He drew two knives from the folds of his robes.  “Face 
me, Balrog Slayer. I am ready for you this time.”
      Before Glorfindel could attack, Aragorn’s bright sword split the air just in front of 
Elrohir’s nose.
      Elrohir’s knives came up at once, but Aragorn knocked one from the elf’s hand 
before it was even half-raised. Elrohir jumped back, and a snarl contorted his features, 
but both Aragorn and Glorfindel saw the panic in his eyes.
      ‘It’s easier for you to talk and coerce than to fight,’ Glorfindel thought. ‘In that 
way, you are weaker than Melkor, and will never be able to rise to his level.’
      “I tire of this.” Elrohir cast his knife aside. At once, a physical darkness flooded 
the room. It came swiftly, like hell on horseback, and was everything the metaphorical 
Darkness, of which Aragorn and others had spoken, was not. It didn’t affect Aragorn’s or 
Glorfindel’s heart, at least not directly. It did not touch their minds. Instead, it ensnared 
the senses and threw the chamber into confusion.
      Glorfindel’s Light shone out for an instant, and Aragorn squinted, looking for 
Elrohir. He found his foster brother collapsed where he’d stood, his eyes rolled up to the 
whites. Aragorn whirled as Glorfindel uttered a surprised cry. The Ranger was just in 
time to see the darkness converge on Glorfindel like an army of orcs.
      Glorfindel’s Light first flickered, then dimmed, then disappeared altogether.
      Aragorn leapt forward, but in the dark he was afraid he would kill Glorfindel 
accidentally and so he sheathed his sword and held out his hands in front of him, wishing 
he had a torch. “Glorfindel! Glorfindel, answer me!”
      The darkness pressed in on all sides, and even began to force its way down 
Aragorn’s throat, stealing his breath.
***
      Sam hadn’t been able to sleep. By rights, he should have been exhausted. But at 
first, with Frodo really and truly alive, Sam had been filled with such overflowing joy 
that he was unable to sit still, let alone sleep. Once Frodo was resting (only after asking 
Sam to stay with him) Sam thought he would be able to do the same. But he hadn’t even 
been drifting towards sleep when Aragorn had come in.
      ‘Now I don’t think I’ll sleep at all.’ Sam smoothed the curls off Frodo’s brow and 
placed a chaste kiss where they had lain, feathery and dark against Frodo’s pale skin. 
‘And it isn’t just that Strider came in. Somethin’s happened, or is happening. And it’s 
dangerous; make no mistake. I think it’s the Ring, but I also think it’s more than the 
Ring.’ Sam sighed and looked around the room quickly to make sure nothing was hiding 
in the shadows. He and Frodo were alone.
      ‘I always thought elf-houses were supposed to be restful. Why does this place feel 
worse’n Bree, like the open road when those horses were chasing us?’ Resigning himself 
to his night-watch, Sam moved about- carefully, so as not to wake Frodo- until he was 
comfortable. He had one arm over Frodo’s chest protectively, and even though his head 
was on the pillow, his eyes moved about the room in an unwavering watch-pattern that 
Aragorn would have recognized and approved of.
***
      Glorfindel closed his eyes. If Sauron had control over darkness, then he could 
make light appear where he wanted, too. The Balrog Slayer didn’t want to be stunned or 
confused by a sudden burst of light. He focused instead on his other senses. There was no 
sound at first, then he heard Sauron taunting Aragorn.
      “You’re only human, Estel; you can’t fight me.”
      Aragorn didn’t answer. Where was he? Could he answer, or was he choosing to 
remain silent?
      The darkness weighed on Glorfindel’s limbs and on his strength. For the first 
time, Glorfindel understood that Sauron had left Elrohir’s body and was a physical 
presence in the room. ‘I didn’t think he could do that. I thought he could only be a 
malicious spirit that compelled others to do his biding. If he can truly be a force in his 
own right, then I see no way out of this situation.’
      Something brushed against Glorfindel’s shoulder and the Balrog Slayer opened 
his mouth to scream. A hand, smelling of earth and pipeweed, kept him from crying out. 
“Stay close, Glorfindel,” Aragorn whispered in the elf’s ear. “We need to stand together. 
Hopefully the others will come soon. I have already tried to call Legolas, but no thoughts 
can get through this darkness.”
      ‘Why isn’t Aragorn shaken to his very core?’ Glorfindel wondered. ‘Where does 
he get his strength?’ The elf-lord resolved to follow Aragorn’s lead. ‘I won’t be taken so 
easily.’ Hopelessness rose in his mouth like bile, but Glorfindel did his best to ignore it, 
focusing instead on the rough hand that moved from his mouth to his shoulder. “How do 
we fight?” he whispered.
      “Words are our only power right now.” Aragorn took a half-step back from 
Glorfindel, though he kept his hand tightly clamped on the elf’s shoulder. “Elbereth! 
Gilthomiel! Fall before your betters, Sauron, for we do not fear you, and you are not the 
strongest thing in Middle-Earth, or even here in Rivendell. Leave before we send you 
fleeing with wounds that will need to be tended long before you can return.”
      “I am darkness, impudent man. You cannot destroy darkness. I have killed the 
only Light here. When I kill the one who tried to use that Light, none will stand against 
me.”
      “Except those that are called to fight you!” Legolas shouted. “There are tens of 
thousands ready to fight against you, Sauron. We will unite, and you will fall.”
      “As long as my Ring lives, I live, foolish elf.”
      “If you really believe that, then why aren’t you trying to take the Ring? Do you 
fear to leave us here where we might destroy your foothold here?”
      “You would not kill Elrohir. He is Elrond’s son.” The blackness pushed at them 
from every direction, but Glorfindel felt its density lightening. They were getting to 
Sauron, or rather, Legolas was. 
      “I care nothing for Elrohir, Elrond or any other except my people.”
      “You would not kill someone who might help your cause.”
      “I don’t need Elrohir. I will take the Ring unto myself and overthrow you. I have 
been trained by five different kingdoms, and I have taken the best of their fighting to 
heart. You will not be able to stop me. So retreat, Sauron. Fortify your walls for the day I 
come to you.”
      Aragorn heard the door open. He sensed Gandalf was near. He released the 
Dunedain whistle of alarm, then dropped to the floor, dragging Glorfindel down with 
him. The Ranger threw himself over Glorfindel, sheltering the elf even as he squeezed his 
own eyes shut against the light and power he knew was coming.
      “Elbereth and Gilthomiel!”
      “Fly, Shadow! You have no power here!”
      Elrond’s and Gandalf’s voices shook the room, and Aragorn, ducking his head, 
stopped covering his eyes and moved his hands to his ears. He heard the creaking of 
every beam and the splintering of tiles somewhere. ‘Sauron was invading more than just 
this room. Gandalf’s and Elrond’s power has extended outside this room to battle him.’ 
The Ranger wondered if he should draw Anduril and declare himself. It would certainly 
frighten Sauron… ‘But I don’t want him to have that knowledge yet. Let me get closer to 
the throne before I shatter his plans. The longer I wait, the shorter time Sauron will have 
to change his plans to include my destruction.’ Aragorn smiled thinly. ‘Flee, Shadow. 
Gandalf and Elrond are more than you can handle here in the North.’
      As if the darkness had heard him, it began to recede. The pressure around them 
drew less and less, and light began to filter through.
      “Follow him out!” Gandalf shouted. “We can’t let him slip into someone else’s 
mind!”
      Aragorn stood and opened his eyes. Glorfindel was rising. He looked shaken, but 
his Light was coming back.
      “Wait!” cried Legolas. “Glorfindel, look out-”
      Aragorn, having heard a hundred such warnings (and he remembered calling more 
than one to Malacai, and to others, during the civil war) shoved Glorfindel down, again 
shielding the Balrog Slayer with his body. An almost unseen spear made of shadow 
grazed Aragorn’s hip, sending him sprawling away from the elf-lord. The spear 
descended.
      Glorfindel rolled, but couldn’t avoid the weapon entirely. Pain that reminded him 
of the Balrog’s whip bloomed in his side. He screamed.
      Elrond and Gandalf converged on the spear, knowing it to be Sauron’s spirit, 
focused on this one final task. As one, they hit the spear with every bit of power they had, 
actually plunging their ringed hands into its depths. The Shadow-spear burned them as 
with white flames, but they refused to withdraw. Commands and names of power flew 
from their lips.
      Legolas dropped to one knee at Aragorn’s side. The Ranger was struggling to 
remain conscious, but Legolas saw the burn and knew how painful it must be. He knew 
Aragorn was almost certainly using that very pain to hold onto his wits. “Do you carry 
athelas? There is none in Mirkwood.”
      “My pouch is loaded.” Aragorn was staring across the room to where Elrohir lay, 
still motionless. “But first tend to Elrohir. He may be in more need than I.”
      Legolas grimaced. “You aren’t my chief anymore, Strider. I don’t have to listen to 
you.” He tugged Aragorn’s pouch open, ignoring the grunt of pain his quick movements 
drew from the man. “It’s true I can apply this without water? It won’t burn you?”
      “It will be a good burn that will ease my pain in time. Let it work, Legolas. Chew 
it first.”
      “I wasn’t born yesterday,” Legolas snapped. “I learned from a talented, if 
arrogant, healer.” The elf lifted Aragorn’s tunic and used his knife to cut Aragorn’s 
britches away. “You’ll have to sew these. Unless you Rangers walk about naked now.”
      “I can’t speak for the others, but my own habits have not ffffshit!” Aragorn’s eyes 
filled with tears, but he forced them back. “Thank you so very much for the warning.”
      “Don’t warn your patients. It only makes them tense. True?”
      “I see you’ve learned everything from me except that excellent bedside manner I 
took such pains to pass on to you.”
      “Has the burning from the spear eased?”
      “Aye, and the burning from the athelas has taken its place.”
      Legolas’ smile was evident in his voice. “You’re welcome, Strider. I do what I 
can.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
      Elladan sat at Glorfindel’s beside, his gaze turned inward. Desperation assailed 
him. “I could take his knife, kill him, then myself. We would have all eternity to sleep in 
Mandos’ Halls. I could hold him against me forever, and nothing else would matter.”
      “You won’t do any such thing,” Elrond spoke from behind him. He laid his hand 
on Elladan’s shoulder. “You are exhausted, my son. Sleep. I will give you something that 
will rejuvenate you.”
      “I cannot fight anymore,” Elladan answered, not looking at his father. “I will 
never be fully rested again. I cannot be.”
      “Then you will go to the Grey Havens; you, Glorfindel and Elrohir. Perhaps I will 
even send Arwen with you. But you will not kill the elf you love. You will not kill 
yourself.”
      Elladan put his head in his hands. “I hate you, Ada. Why can’t you just let me 
be?”
      Elrond laid a soothing hand on Elladan’s head and closed his eyes, focusing his 
healing powers. In moments, Elladan slumped forward, asleep. “I have left you alone for 
too long, Elladan, and all this destruction and pain is the result. I will not leave you alone 
again.” 
      Elrond beckoned for two slaves who had been hiding in the corner to come 
forward. Lindir was first, followed by his younger brother. The Lord of Imladris gazed at 
them. “Tomorrow, I will release all of you, that you may be free elves again. But please, 
for tonight, will you help me?”
      Lindir nodded and he and his brother laid Elladan on another bed. Across the 
room, still unconscious, lay Elrohir. Elrond had closed his younger son’s eyes, but that 
stunned, slack-jawed expression hadn’t left his face.
      Elrond saw to Elladan’s comfort, then went to his younger son. He took Elrohir’s 
hand in both of his and chaffed the skin, seeking any response. He blessed the Valar that 
Elrohir still had immortal blood flowing in his veins. ‘As does Elladan, but I don’t know 
how much that will help. Sauron has indeed struck a fell blow. I may lose both of my 
sons, and also a strong warrior in Glorfindel. In fact, the only blessing of this night is that 
the hobbits were not so much as approached.’
      Elrond closed his eyes and continued to rub his son’s hand. ‘Elbereth give me 
strength for the hours, days and months ahead. Hopefully, all the elves will have left 
before spring. We can leave Middle Earth to its fate.’
***
      Arwen approached Aragorn’s sleeping chamber, her heart beating fast and her 
eyes bright with unshed tears. From her room, she had felt Sauron, and his nearness had 
chilled her blood. Thus she resolved to seek out Aragorn as soon as it was light. The two 
of them had not spoken since he had arrived.
      She hesitated at Aragorn’s door when she heard male voices inside. One she 
recognised as Gandalf’s, but the other was new to her. She wondered where Aragorn was, 
and why these two were having a conversation in his quarters.
      Gandalf sounded tired, but triumphant. “You have almost single-handedly saved 
Rivendell, young Prince.”
      “Forgive me, Mithrandir, but I will take no credit. I am only here to deliver a 
message from my father, then I’m going home.”
      “Be that as it may, you saved Glorfindel, distracting Sauron and warning 
Aragorn.”
      “You can’t know if I have saved him yet,” the unknown elf answered. “He was 
very pale when I left him in the care of Elrond’s healers.”
      “You show contempt for Elrond’s healers. Why?”
      “They are not Dunedain healers.”
      “You mean they are not Aragorn.”
      “Or me,” Legolas objected. “I could help, but Elrond won’t let me. Of course, I 
know he doesn’t care anything for a slave, but-”
      “Elrond has begun to respect Glorfindel more, young Prince.”
      “Quit calling me that. My name is Legolas. Once it was Legolas Dunadan, and 
once, more recently, it was Legolas of the North, servant of Aragorn. But it was never 
‘young Prince’. And if Elrond has turned over a new leaf I’m an Ent.”
      “I can understand why you find it so hard to trust. Being betrayed makes the 
whole world seem sour. But miracles happen every day, Legolas. They happen in small 
ways, seemingly unimportant ways, but they do happen. Can you honestly tell me 
Aragorn’s transformation since your last meeting does not seem miraculous?”
      Legolas didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was tight. “He looks 
like he’s been through a lot. Is that so miraculous?”
      “Nay. But what is miraculous is that not only did Aragorn go through things, but 
those things made him both stronger and wiser. Gone is the man who would ever be 
tempted to bring slavery back. Gone is the man who does not understand his place in the 
grand scheme of things. And also, though it hurts me to tell it, and it will hurt you to hear 
it, gone is the lover you knew. Aragorn’s duty- his heart- belongs to Gondor. Other loves 
still survive, but Aragorn’s spirit has been kindled for Gondor, and he will not rest until 
his fire burns in the White City of his forefathers.”
      Arwen gasped, but Legolas was speaking, his voice rising. “How do you know I 
loved him?”
      “Aragorn keeps no secrets from me. He confessed everything one winter night 
half a dozen years ago. It hurt him to tell of what he had lost with you, but he spoke 
plainly, telling me that he would never make the mistake of loving someone- truly loving 
someone- again.”
      “But he must have children,” Legolas protested. “How can he say he will never 
love anyone again?”
      “He will wed, yes, but his heart belongs to Gondor. The tiny bit- a bit I’m not 
even sure is there anymore- that remains belongs to his Dunedain.”
      “If it remains? Aragorn’s Rangers are everything to him! They always were, and 
always will be.”
      “I told you Aragorn has changed. Open your ears, Legolas, and hear what is there, 
not what you want to hear.” Gandalf sighed. “As for me, I must get some sleep. We will 
have a council as soon as the others arrive, and as soon as everyone- or almost everyone- 
has recovered. I would like to have Glorfindel at this council. What will you do?”
      “I will groom Esteldil and then go to Glorfindel. Maybe I can help him heal, even 
if the healers want to prevent me from offering any help.”
      Arwen ducked into another room just as Gandalf and Legolas left Aragorn’s 
chambers. She listened until she was sure they were gone, then emerged. She went to 
Aragorn’s door and pushed it open. All was dark within the sitting room, but she saw a 
glow coming from the bedroom. Closing the outer door behind her, Arwen walked to the 
bedroom door. She listened at the crack for a moment, then pushed the door open.
      The room was bathed in gentle fireglow. Only a few embers burned in the 
fireplace. Aragorn lay on his bed, his eyes closed and his bare chest glimmering like gold 
in the weak light. Arwen took a seat beside the bed and gazed at the beauty of Estel, 
foster son of Elrond. ‘I am the elf that will save him,’ she thought. ‘I am the one 
Grandmother spoke of. I will help Aragorn. He may not love others- he surely has 
forgotten Prince Legolas- but he will not forget me. I have not seen him since Lothlorien, 
but I know he remembers the promise we made.’
      She ran her fingers lightly over Aragorn’s chest. ‘You are so amazingly strong, 
Estel,’ she mused, ‘but it is obvious you need a woman’s guidance.’ She turned her eyes 
to the shuttered and barred window. ‘And when I have healed you, and seen you through 
this terrible life that men must lead, when I have seen you into your grave at the end, I 
will sail, the last elf to leave these shores. You will make up in a land meant for men, and 
you will know that we have been parted for all time, but you will be so grateful just to 
have loved, and been loved, by an elf maiden.’
      She shook her head. ‘The stories are wrong, you know. I don’t think Luthien died 
at all. Wise as she was, she must have understood that there are two ways to love a man: 
as the savior of a world, or as a husband. Both can bring joy to him, and to the maiden he 
is with, but the second is a sure way to die and the first is the only way to ensure 
continued immortality.’ She bent forward and kissed Aragorn’s forehead. ‘I will you love 
you the way that will help you, Aragorn; you need never fear that I will grieve or that I 
will be parted from my people. But you will also know that I loved you as much as I 
could, and you be grateful that my love with not hurt me in the end. After all, if you knew 
I was going to die for your love, how could you rightly take me? You wouldn’t want any 
harm to come to me. This way is best for both, and best for my ada, too, because he 
would have grieved if he had to leave me here with no hope of seeing me again.’
***
      “Is it just me, or does the world seem brighter this morning?” Kehydi wrapped his 
arms around Saru from behind, drawing his husband back against his chest.
      Saru closed his eyes and sought both within himself and out into the air around 
him with what limited intuition he had. “Aye, I think you’re right. I can’t understand it, 
but you’re right.” He turned in Kehydi’s arms and pressed against him. “Do you think 
about Aragorn?”
      Kehydi blinked, surprised a little at the change of conversation. ‘Then again, since 
we’re talking about light, and Aragorn always helped to drive darkness away, maybe it’s 
not such a change,’ he thought. Out loud, he said, “Often, especially when I’m patrolling. 
Why?”
      Saru had turned his head sideways, resting his cheek against Kehydi’s chest. “I 
dreamed of him, but it was a memory instead of a vision. He was so very gentle with me 
when I was young, when I needed someone to look after me. I know he was only doing 
his job as a Master, but I still remember his kindness.” He drew in a breath. “And do you 
think of Adalai?”
      “Every minute of every day. Have you dreamed of him as well?”
      “I wish I would.” Saru’s voice had roughened. “At least then I would be able to 
see him. Do you think he’s lost? He hasn’t spoken to any of us.”
      Goose-flesh rose on Kehydi’s arms. “Maybe he just went to rest. Mordecai has 
likewise disappeared. Perhaps he took Adalai and knows he cannot return.”
      “Or Malacai took him.” Saru nodded. “I know.”
      Kehydi shook his head. “It wasn’t my father.”
      Saru blinked. “How can you know that?”
      “Because he spoke to Aaron last night. Aaron told me Aragorn is closer than he 
has been in maybe ten years, and that the time of his final test draws near at last.”
      Saru drew back from Kehydi and studied his husband. He noted the worry lines 
that were etching themselves into the man’s face, making him look much like his father. 
“I miss Adalai, and I fear for him, but I know we have other things to worry about.”
      Kehydi tilted Saru’s face up to his and bent forward, kissing him. “Saru, I love 
you, and I want to help you. If any of the Dunedain suffers, we all suffer. Tell me what 
you need.”
      Saru laughed, his voice cracking a little. “I need the Shadow to be gone. That’s 
what I really need more than anything. But I’d settle for Aragorn back with us, and for 
those we lost to return.”
      Kehydi resisted the urge to draw Saru against him. He needed to see his lover’s 
face no matter how good the contact would have felt. “Will you be able to stand against 
the coming Shadow, Saru?” He laughed, blushing a little. “I know how ridiculous that 
sounds, coming from me of all people, but I need to know. If you don’t think you can 
right now, we can strengthen you until you’re ready to fight again. No Ranger has to be 
strong all the time. No Ranger can be. You’ve been so unbreakable for so long; if you 
need rest or talk or anything else, tell me. I can’t stop the Shadow, and I can’t bring 
Aragorn to us, but I can help you the best I can.”
      “There isn’t time for me,” Saru whispered, “not when so many children need to be 
comforted and the world moves around us. Mordecai, Rowena, Aidan and Cein need me. 
Even Raven needs me because he’s still not convinced he can do right by our daughter. 
He is afraid of many things. Aaron needs me because he sometimes wearies of being the 
eldest Dunedain, and the responsibilities that title carries. It was so much easier when the 
oldest Dunadan was Malacai because he was already confident in leadership. Aaron isn’t. 
You aren’t, at least not completely, so you need me, too. Annaleh needs me. I comfort 
her. The rest of the Dunedain need me because I heal them when they are injured or sick. 
There isn’t time for me to heal or be alone or talk or anything!” Saru realized he was 
nearly shouting and dropped his face into his hands. “You see, Kehydi? If I let go, even a 
little, I’m hurting the others. I need to be strong and-”
      “He has tried to get to you.” Kehydi’s eyes were wide with fear and sorrow. He 
took Saru’s hands in his and met his husband’s eyes. Saru didn’t flinch, but his eyes were 
dark with some emotion Kehydi couldn’t read. He searched his husband’s eyes as well as 
he could, but it wasn’t in his nature to look for this sort of thing. ‘What am I going to do? 
How can I help him?’
      The crackling of underbrush drew Kehydi and Saru out of their troubles for a 
moment. They weren’t within the confines of the camp, and suddenly they both 
understood what fools they had been for seeking privacy away from their people. Kehydi 
thought, ‘Aidan will become second-in-command when he-’
      Saru had drawn his sword. “Show yourselves!” His voice carried with it an 
unbreakable note of command.
      Aaron emerged from between the trees. With him were Annaleh, Nella, Jamien 
and Halbarad. “Why did you come out here without protection?” he snapped, his eyes 
going from Saru to Kehydi.
      “He came to find me,” Saru answered, putting his sword away. His eyes had 
darkened again. “I am so tired.” He smiled sadly. “The world is brighter this morning, 
and I feel it, but the light that has come is too little too late.”
      Aaron strode forward and put his arm around Saru’s shoulders. At once, Saru 
leaned against him. “Come with me. There are ways to recover.” He marched away, 
taking Saru with him. Annaleh followed.
      Halbarad and Nella looked at Kehydi, Nella with uncertainty and Halbarad with 
shock in his eyes. ‘Saru is never weak or tired,’ his eyes said.
      Kehydi sighed. “Come on; let’s get back. I’ve caused enough problems for 
today.” He led his Rangers back towards the camp, his mind taken up with Saru’s 
confession of exhaustion. ‘Whatever you are going to do, Aaron, Mom, please let it be 
the right thing. Save him.’
***
      Aragorn touched Glorfindel’s forehead with the tips of his fingers. ‘Come back, 
Glorfindel. Come back to us. We need you. Please come back. Without you, we are lost. 
Please, come back. The world needs you. Elladan needs you. Imladris needs you. Come 
back to the world that calls you.’
      Tireless, he had been repeating the message for nearly six hours. Even when 
Arwen had brought him bread, cheese and wine, Aragorn hadn’t known who was offering 
the food. His eyes were focused inward, searching the darkness for Glorfindel. She had 
brought the refreshment two hours ago. It still sat by the bed, untouched. And still 
Aragorn called, refusing to give up, refusing to lose another to Sauron.
      He saw a glimmer in the darkness and turned instinctively toward it. “Glorfindel, 
is that you?”
      Legolas materialized before him and touched him in that sensationless way that 
spirits have. “I’m here to help you find Glorfindel.”
      “Shouldn’t you be resting? You only just arrived and-”
      “Shut up, Strider. I’m here whether you approve or not, so deal with it.”
      Aragorn nodded. “Aye, you’re right; I’m being a fool.” Without further comment, 
he resumed calling for Glorfindel. Beside him, keeping contact with him, Legolas didn’t 
call. He searched, feeling about him for Glorfindel’s presence. The world felt very dark 
to Legolas, and he was almost afraid of what he might touch in the space between minds, 
in the places where monsters lived. But Aragorn was confident and determined; Legolas 
took strength from him.
      “Light…”
      Legolas moved closer to Aragorn. “Did you speak?”
      “It wasn’t me.” Aragorn gathered his force of will around himself and Legolas 
like a cloak. “Listen.”
      “Light…”
      ‘If that is Glorfindel’s voice,’ Legolas thought, ‘it is much changed.’
      Aragorn whispered, “Gondolin.”
      The other voice came closer. “Light…”
      Aragorn spoke again, his voice soothing and calm. “Gondolin, the City of Light, 
calls you, Lord Glorfindel. Will you return?”
      “Gon…dolin…no more…”
      ‘How does he know it’s Glorfindel?’ Legolas thought.
      “It lives within you. Honor the memory of its glory. Come back to Imladris. You 
are needed, Balrog Slayer.”
      “…cannot fight… Light…”
      “You don’t need your Light. It is not your only power. And I do not call you back 
to fight. I call you back to rest. I call you back to purify the valley with your laughter, to 
cleanse the air with scented blossoms. I call you back to live a simple life. Will you 
come?”
      Out of the darkness a new light emerged. But it was a weak, flickering thing, little 
more than a spark. Glorfindel approached, his face ghostly pale, his hands trembling. “I 
am so very tired, Estel. Can there really be happiness and peace and rest for me?”
      “I pray that it can be so,” Aragorn answered.
      ‘Why don’t you lie to him and tell him yes?’ Legolas wanted to scream. ‘Can’t 
you see that you’ll only scare him away with the truth?’
      “You are not Sauron, come to tempt me.” Glorfindel reached up and touched 
Aragorn’s face. “I will follow you, Heir of Isildur. If you will lend me a little strength, I 
will follow you back to the world.”
      Aragorn took Glorfindel’s hand. “Legolas, will you share your energy with us?”
      Legolas took Glorfindel’s other hand.
      “Where is Elladan?”
      “He sleeps. He dreams. He grieves. He is going to need help, Glorfindel. But you 
won’t be the only one to give it. We all will.”
      “Elrohir must be saved. Elladan needs his twin.”
      “Aye, but he also needs you. Let Elrond and Gandalf worry about Elrohir.”
      Glorfindel nodded. “I could hear Mandos calling me, Estel; he called, but I didn’t 
want to go. Tired as I am, I still want to fight. It is not my time yet to leave this world.”
      “I pray that it will not be your time until all the elves are ready to sail over the 
Western Sea.”
      Glorfindel smiled. “Hope of the elves and hope of men, I love you.” And he 
kissed the corner of Aragorn’s mouth.
      A flicker of jealousy licked at Legolas’ heart. Glorfindel loves Elladan. And even 
if he doesn’t, I can’t be with Aragorn. It just won’t work. He laughed at himself. I could 
maybe make it work, but what then? What about when Aragorn dies? What about when 
he becomes king? The fine, upstanding bigots of Gondor would hardly welcome a male-
male relationship with open arms. And I won’t do anything to endanger Aragorn’s path 
to the throne of the White City.
      Legolas could feel Aragorn drawing back, pulling Glorfindel with him. 
Following, Legolas lent Glorfindel his strength as the three of them emerged from the 
darkness between minds and reappeared in the physical world.
      Glorfindel, lying on the bed between them, opened his eyes. “I must see to 
Elladan.”
      “First you must see to yourself. Elladan will still be here when you have rested.” 
Aragorn leaned forward and kissed Glorfindel’s brow. “I love you, Balrog Slayer. I love 
all that you are, and I only ask that you find it in yourself to help heal this valley.”
      ”What did the world do to you to make you so serious, Estel? Even when Frodo 
lay, nearly taken by the Shadow, you didn’t speak this way.”
      Aragorn glanced at Legolas before answering, “I hurt too much to relax my guard 
or speak an unmeditated word.” He rose; his lips smiled at Glorfindel, but his eyes 
remained somber. “I need to check on Frodo and on others. Will you be all right?”
      “Yes.”
      The two elves watched the man away.
      “He’s too good for this world,” Glorfindel said. “But without him this world will 
be lost.” He yawned. “Aye, and he was right; I still need to rest. It’s hard work returning 
from the brink of death.” Without turning his gaze on Legolas, he caught the younger 
elf’s hand. “Will you watch over Estel? He needs someone to watch his steps and guard 
his back. And none of his people are here now. They and you are the only ones he truly 
trusts.”
      Legolas, relieved to hear that Glorfindel believed in Aragorn’s continuing love for 
his Dunedain, wanted to smile and leave well enough alone. But Glorfindel deserved to 
know the truth. “He doesn’t trust me anymore. We’ve been apart too long.”
      “If he didn’t trust you, he would have removed you from this healing chamber. He 
wouldn’t have let you near me.”
      “He tried to push me away.”
      “No he didn’t. He made a token protest, the same he surely makes to his men 
before entering a battle that may claim many lives. He doesn’t mean it, they know it, but 
the offer or rebuke must be issued. To do otherwise would take away free will.” 
Glorfindel’s eyes were drifting closed. “Keep a sure guard behind him, Legolas. I beg 
you do that for me.”
      “I would do it even if you didn’t ask.”
      “Aye, I know, but I have to make my own token pleas. They help me sleep.”
***
      “Manta. Mantaray mantatay. Malka mantatay manta mantanay. Anaya nay.” 
Aragorn cleared away the leaves about his mother’s statue and wiped it clean of dirt. The 
language of Rohan poured from his lips like sweet wine, making the air rich with sound. 
He abandoned thoughts of all but the words that swirled about him and the statue before 
him. He wouldn’t let any unclean thoughts- or even distracting thoughts- soil his time 
here. This alone had always been his sanctuary when every other place offered endless 
questions and echoing loss.
      Above him, the trees creaked, their leaves rustling in sympathy.
      “Mantatay nalari. Mornatay claray shai. Lori naytatay antarlamay.”
      ‘You grieve for a statue, man of the North. What do you hope the statue will bring 
to you? Comfort against the darkening world? It is but a lifeless bit of marble. And 
nothing can fight the darkness, whether it be dead or alive. Stint your useless noise and 
wait for the end I bring.’
      Aragorn knew he couldn’t fight alone, and that there were few left in Rivendell to 
help him. He threw his head back and screamed into the shadows, “Life from life, 
strength from strength, one from many, world without end, Rangers draw close to me! 
Hear my plea!”
      In his mind, Sauron laughed. ‘You will never be rid of me, mortal man. I am 
eternal.’
***
      The light had faded from the sky and still Saru huddled on the pallet, shivering. 
Everything hurt, or so it seemed, and his breathing was so shallow that he felt light-
headed. Nothing Aaron or Annaleh had offered had helped him. As the day closed, Saru 
slipped further and further away from them.
      The Dunedain felt his waning strength as an anguish that ate at their very core. 
Many gathered about the central fire to sing, wanting to keep the night away and hoping 
their song would give Saru what he needed. But others didn’t sing; these grieved in secret 
and looked at the coming night as Saru’s last. And while he wasn’t Aragorn, Malacai, or 
even Kehydi, his predicted death was a blow to every Dunadan old enough to understand 
such things.
      Cein had drawn Rowena and Mordecai out with her to the fire. She stood beside 
Raven. Aidan she had not been able to persuade. He had gone off by himself. She 
worried about her brother, but she feared more for her papa and thought of Aidan’s 
disappearance as selfish and childish.
      Kehydi knelt beside the pallet he had built and kissed away the tears on his 
husband’s cheeks. At first he had been heartened by the tears- ‘my love has enough spirit 
and strength left in him to cry’- but as the sun set, Kehydi was forced to admit that Saru’s 
tears were like a nearly-mortal wound that had been left unattended too long. In a very 
real sense, he was bleeding to death; his tears were the blood he shed. And none, it 
seemed, could save him.
      Aidan sat in the crotch of a tree, his eyes closed and his mind focused on one 
need: Aragorn needed to help Saru. And the young man didn’t care if Aragorn wasn’t in 
the camp; he could still be reached. Aidan believed in his heart that it could be done and 
he refused to let anyone tell him otherwise. ‘It happened in the days of Elendil; it can 
happen now. No one and nothing will stop me from reaching Aragorn. If our chief is so 
mighty and has helped so many, surely he can help my papa. After all my papa has done 
for Aragorn, our chief should be here for him.’
	He called, not feeling the least ashamed that he might just be shouting in his own 
mind. ‘Aragorn! Aragorn! Help us! Aragorn, we need you! The Dunedain need you! 
Please, Aragorn, answer me!’ He tried to imitate the sound of the Dunedain whistle of 
alarm in his mind. After repeating the whistle three times, he began to ‘shout’ again.
      Not far away, someone else heard his cries. They came to Saru like the sound of a 
child sobbing in a thunderstorm: almost lost amidst the rain and crashing thunder, but 
audible to a parent who had been trained to the sound. Tears still streamed down his 
cheeks, but Saru left his body for a moment and drifted to where his child begged for 
help. When he realized that it was Aidan, he was surprised. His second-eldest son had 
always been strong in and of himself. He had been more like those that had died or gone 
away- Aragorn, Malacai, Mordecai- than any other Ranger Saru could name. As Aidan 
grew, Saru had envisioned him fighting at Aragorn’s side, perhaps serving Aragorn’s son 
as steward under the King of Gondor. 
      Saru reached out to his son, touching his mind. ‘Aidan… What is it?’
      Aidan’s fury lit Saru’s mind, and the redhead was shocked by its intensity. ‘I call 
for Aragorn and you, the one that needs help, try to comfort me! Go back and rest, Papa; 
Aragorn will come. He has to come. Without him….’
      ‘I’m not even close to dying, Aidan.’ But Saru knew his own weakness, and he 
guessed that his son knew, too. He explained, sensing Aidan’s mounting anger, ‘Aye, I 
am that weak, and we both know it. But if it is my time, Aidan…’
      ‘Don’t talk to me about time! The only reason it could be your time is because 
you’ve been bled dry for everyone else. You’ve given too much of yourself. Well, now 
it’s time for someone else to give to you.’
      ‘It isn’t as if they haven’t been trying. Please, you need to understand-’
      ‘I understand that only Aragorn can help you now. And I’m going to reach him. 
Go back to sleep, Papa; I’ll bring him to you.’
      ‘Aidan, even if he is nearby, he could never come in time.’
      ‘He will contact you as we are talking now; through your mind. And he will save 
you. I know he will.’
      If Saru had been a different person, he might have asked after the source of 
Aidan’s faith, especially since his son had never so much as seen Aragorn. But Saru 
knew about faith, and the seeking of things that should be even if the world was 
darkening. He didn’t ask, but said, ‘I love you, Aidan. And if Aragorn doesn’t come, it 
isn’t your fault. Do you understand me?’
      ‘Even if I don’t like it, yes, I understand. Now go rest.’
      Saru retreated.
***
      Aragorn’s spirit was jerked out of his body. In the grove, his human form 
collapsed, still breathing but unresponsive. Sauron, confused, but thinking that he had 
won, screamed his triumph.
      Legolas heard that cry and made his way to where he had last seen Aragorn, 
fearing the worst.
      The Heir of Isildur didn’t fight the pull; he recognized it as akin to the one Elendil 
was said to have felt when he and Gil-galad were separated on the field of battle before 
Barad-dur. He reached out and embraced it as a way to escape Sauron for a short 
moment. ‘Maybe this is the answer to my call,’ he thought.
      ‘Aragorn?’
      The Ranger blinked. ‘I don’t know you, but your mind feels familiar to me.’
      ‘I remind you of Malacai. And of Saru.’
      ‘Aye.’ Aragorn remembered something else about the state that had connected 
Gil-galad and Elendil during that long-ago battle: their minds were completely open to 
one another. There would be no holding back. He reached out and touched the man’s 
mind. ‘You are Saru’s second-eldest son, Aidan.’
      ‘Aye. I need your help. My papa is dying. Please come to him. Help him. Dad has 
done everything possible. We are at a loss.’
      Behind the calm words, Aragorn felt Aidan’s grief pushing forward like a black 
wave. ‘What happened?’
      ‘He has been bled dry in giving everything he is to the Dunedain. He has nothing 
left for himself. Please say you can help him.’
      ‘I will try. Lead me to him.’ Aragorn fought against his fear, knowing it would 
carry to Aidan and knowing also that Aidan would feel the struggle, perhaps understand 
that Aragorn, too, was human. He didn’t fear the young man, but what he might find. Had 
the Dark Lord taken Saru’s will to live? Had the shapeless bastard been among Aragorn’s 
Dunedain?
      ‘I think we could have seen this coming if we’d known how to look,’ Aidan 
whispered. ‘We failed him.’
      ‘You did nothing of the sort, Dunadan. How could you see what is hidden?’
      ‘But that’s our stock-in-trade!’
      Aragorn started to answer, but something tried to fly past him in the darkness 
between minds. He reached out and caught it, instinctively drawing it close. The thing- a 
soul, surely- struggled against him for a moment, then collapsed, weeping.
      Aragorn kissed the soul, wrapping it in love. ‘Saru. My Dunadan, please don’t 
leave.’
      ‘Ara…. Aragorn? Is it you?’
      ‘Yes, Saru. Don’t leave. We love you. We don’t want to lose you.’
      ‘My son reached you…’ Saru’s tears flowed faster.
      ‘Aye, he did.’ Aragorn, hoping his healing powers would carry over such a great 
distance, imagined wrapping Saru in a cloth made of promise, love, athelas, all things 
good and true. ‘Do not leave, Dunadan. We love you. Do not leave. Promise me.’
      ‘I am so very tired, Aragorn. Please don’t make me promise. I cannot keep going. 
The world brightened this morning a little, but it can’t help me now. I won’t be healed 
until Sauron dies, if he can ever die. I cannot see his end while this world lasts.’
      ‘He doesn’t have to die for you to live, Saru. And you don’t have to heal 
completely to live. Show me your pain, Dunadan.’
      ‘How do I do that?’
      Aragorn saw the first tentative flicker of Saru’s hope. ‘A wound need not heal 
completely, true? A scar can be left. Provided that the wound is cleaned thoroughly, a 
scar will not hurt its bearer. Let me find your pain, clean it as I may and start the process 
of scarring.’
      Saru leaned against him, giving Aragorn his weight. ‘I trust you.’
      Aragorn said, ‘Aidan, will you go to your father and tell him that Saru is in good 
hands? Tell him I will return Saru when he has healed.’
      ‘Yes, Aragorn, I will go. And thank you.” Aidan’s warmth encircled both Aragorn 
and Saru.
      Aragorn briefly considered asking Aidan to stay; he was helping his father. But 
Aragorn understood that Saru might not accept strength from his son. And there was no 
time to persuade him.
***
      Legolas felt sick with fear the moment he saw Aragorn. The man lay with his face 
in the leaves he’d swept away from around his mother’s statue. Blood trickled from a cut 
on his forehead where he’d fallen against the stone base.
      ‘Please, no.’ Legolas rolled Aragorn over, moving so that Aragorn was cradled 
against his chest. He cleaned the wound and healed it, all the while reaching out to 
Aragorn with his mind. ‘Who did this to you? Who would hurt you here?’ He didn’t 
sense Sauron, and his mind was too filled with worry to think of the Dark Lord. Unable 
to reach Aragorn through their reestablished connection, Legolas tried to tell himself that 
Aragorn was fine. He was unconscious, yes, but his heartbeat was strong and he was 
breathing deeply.
      Closing his eyes, Legolas wondered who he could call for help. If he called 
Gandalf, would the wizard hear him? Or perhaps Elrond was the one to call. Aragorn was 
his foster son, after all. ‘And even if I don’t like Elrond, I can’t let my prejudice keep me 
from seeking help for Aragorn.’ Yet he still hesitated. ‘Maybe I could call Glorfindel. No. 
He needs to rest.’ Resigned, he thought, ‘So be it.’ Focusing on the space between minds, 
he sent, ‘Elrond! Elrond! Aragorn needs you! Please, help him!’
	‘Legolas, where are you?’
      ‘In the garden by Gilraen’s grave. Aragorn is hurt.’
      ‘I’m coming.’ A pause, then, ‘Legolas, how can you speak to me this way? Only 
lovers can talk this way.’
      Legolas laughed. ‘Frankly, that’s the last question you should be asking right 
now. Just get here. And bring Gandalf if you can find him. I don’t know what attacked 
Aragorn, only that it happened. He fell and cut his forehead, but I am more concerned 
that I cannot reach him in the way I am talking to you.’
      ‘Keep him still if he wakes up. We’ll be there soon.’
      Legolas removed his ceremonial cloak, glad for once that he had worn the 
vainglorious thing, and covered Aragorn with it. ‘Stay, Aragorn Dunadan. I command 
you to stay.’
      In his arms, Aragorn groaned and his hands fisted at his sides.
***
      ‘Whatever he was to you, Strider, he is mine now. Give him to me.’
      Aragorn understood in the back of his mind that he wasn’t really standing before 
the Black Gates, and yet his impressions held him. He could smell the sulfur and the 
stench of congealing orc-blood. Around him, the Nine paced on their horses. The Ranger 
thought, ‘Their horses fell, so I know this is a treacherous vision. But that doesn’t stop it 
from being dangerous. If I fall here, if I let him take my Ranger, those things will be for 
real.’ He didn’t even waste energy asking why Sauron wouldn’t leave, and how the Dark 
Lord could reach so far north after his defeat in Imladris. The Heir of Isildur kept one arm 
around Saru. His sword was drawn- a plain sword, since Aragorn was no fool- but the 
man knew this battle would be fought with force of will and with words. “Stay close,” he 
whispered to Saru.
      In his heart, Aragorn feared that he hadn’t been able to clean and start the healing 
on enough of Saru’s wounds. He had no way of knowing how much was enough, and he 
feared for Saru. But he would be burned alive before he would admit that to the Shadow 
that was trying to overthrow him and steal one of his people.
      ‘You own the orcs, the fear and the darkness, Sauron. And the orcs hate you. The 
Valar created darkness so that light could exist, and every man can rule his heart, 
crushing fear. So perhaps you really own nothing except your own soul. If you have one.’
      ‘And what of you, young one?’ Sauron asked. ‘Will you fight me as your arrogant 
captain does?’
      Aragorn admitted to himself that, if nothing else, Sauron knew how to strike 
where the defenses were weakest. He opened his mouth to respond, but Saru spoke first.
      ‘Strider, how did you reach me in time?’
      Aragorn blinked. What sort of question was that with Sauron lurking so close?
      ‘I didn’t know you had traveled so near to us. The rumors of your return weren’t 
optimistic enough.’
      Saru knew Aragorn wasn’t in the Dunedain camp, and yet he spoke as if he did. 
Aragorn grappled with that paradox for an instant, then he realized that Saru was 
distracting Sauron and warning him away at the same time. Our chief will defend us, 
Shadow, Saru seemed to be saying, and as long as he is near, none of us will give up.
      ‘I suppose it is because I am gifted with a fast horse. I arrived only a moment after 
you collapsed.’
      ‘I defeated you!’ Sauron shouted. ‘Your body is in Imladris!’
      ‘Thank you for responding to my message to join me in Rivendell,’ Aragorn said. 
‘Who came with you?’
      ‘My son and husband and a few others.’
      ‘As soon as we can leave this place, I will tell them how glad I am to see them 
again.’
      A ball of light wrapped itself around Aragorn and Saru.
      ‘Leave, Shadow. This is your final warning.’ Elrond’s booming command shook 
the spirit-world, and the images around Aragorn and Saru began to quiver and fade.
      As they were carried away from the failing vision, Saru whispered, ‘Thank you, 
Strider. I can be strong now.’
      ‘I pray I will see you soon, but I know not what will happen in Rivendell. Much 
has changed recently.’ He paused, then asked, ‘Is it safe to talk here, Lord Elrond?’
      ‘Yes, Estel; your words will only be shared between us three.’
      Saru spoke before Aragorn could. ‘We know about the Nine and the One Ring 
having lain long in the Shire. We also know it is gone; that a group of four hobbits 
escaped with it into the wilderness. They were headed, we guess, to Bree.’
      ‘They reached Bree. I found them there. They are now in Rivendell. Soon we will 
decide what is to be done with Sauron’s ring.’
      ‘Our hearts go with you, Aragorn, and we await your call to join you in the city of 
your fathers.’
      ‘I love you, Saru Dunadan. Take this message back to the rest of our people: I will 
travel south and I will send for the Dunedain at the proper time. Tell them also that I send 
my love and my gratitude for what they are doing about the Shire.’
      ‘I will.’
      Aragorn felt their link severing and he let Saru go, saying only, ‘I am proud of 
you, Dunadan.’ When Saru was gone, Aragorn turned to his ada, who had changed from 
the ball of light to his true likeness in the spirit-world. ‘You came to find me. How did 
you know I was gone?’
      ‘Legolas knew and called me to you.’
      Aragorn bowed his head. ‘I do not deserve to have him look after me this way.’
      ‘Whether you deserve it or not, he will do it. Content yourself with that.’ Elrond 
gave Aragorn a moment to digest his words, then he said, ‘We must return now.’
      A moment later, Aragorn opened his eyes. He felt the warm arms around him and 
wondered again why Legolas still felt such loyalty to him. ‘The separation that didn’t 
occur because I hurt him should have happened because we have been apart for so long 
and because we have both changed.’ And yet, Aragorn was forced to admit that at least a 
part of him wanted to keep Legolas at arm’s length because he was afraid of what might 
happen to both of them if they were allowed to grow close again.
      ‘My delayed confession to Arwen not withstanding, I will not let any elf die for 
me, but especially my beautiful Legolas.’
      He met Legolas’ gaze as the elf peered down at him. “Thank you, Legolas. It 
seems I will never be out of your debt.”
      Legolas smiled and allowed him to sit up. “If you didn’t insist on taking on the 
whole world without help, you wouldn’t find yourself  in such an ignoble position quite 
as often.” Then his gaze turned serious. “Who attacked you?”
      “Sauron. He was in two places at once- here physically, or as close to physical as 
he can get- and with the Rangers in spirit. He was trying to take Saru.”
      Legolas caught Aragorn’s shoulder in a painfully strong grip. “How is Saru?”
      “He is strong again. He had lost much of his strength- given it away to others- but 
I was able to help him.” He smiled. “Mostly because he didn’t really want to die; he was 
just out of options.”
      Legolas nodded and rose gracefully to his feet. He held a hand out to Aragorn, 
and the man allowed himself to be helped up. He didn’t need the help, and the touch  
made him feel uncomfortable, but he longed to touch Legolas. 
      “Now what?” Legolas asked. “Will Sauron return?”
      “Before he does, I hope to be far from here with the ring.”
      Legolas paled.
      “Not for myself!” Aragorn cried, holding up his hands. “But there is a part of me 
that argues we can only be rid of Sauron if the ring is destroyed. And there’s only one 
place that can be done.”
      They were walking back towards the main house. “Also, I hope that if the Ring is 
with us Elrohir and Elladan will recover.”
      “You’re wishing for a miracle there,” Legolas said, “especially where Elrohir is 
concerned.” He glanced at Aragorn and saw the man’s rueful expression.
      “Aye, I know it well. But hope is my name and the shaft on which my wheel of 
fate turns.” 
      Legolas blinked. “I’ve never heard that phrase before. And it’s not like you to use 
imagery. Where did you hear it?”
      “In Harad. I was there sixteen months ago.” He chuckled. “I’m glad to have the 
make-up off my face. It was a little disconcerting looking into the mirror and seeing a 
strange face looking back at me.”
      “You had to darken your face?”
      “And add scars and tattoos.” He chuckled, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t 
speaking to Malacai. His worries about Legolas had faded for the moment. “As if I don’t 
have enough scars. But most of them aren’t where others can see them.”
      “Will you tell me about your travels? I would hear. Mirkwood is so boring.”
      Aragorn laughed outright. “Truly? Well, I must admit I wasn’t sure how you 
would react to the satins and high living of King Thranduil’s court.” He clapped a hand 
on Legolas’ shoulder. “I’m sure we can find a quiet place to talk for a few hours.”
      “What about the Shrine of the Sword?”
      Aragorn smiled, thinking that he had often gone there to think as a child. “Aye. 
That is perfect.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
      “So after the orcs decided I wasn’t anywhere around and headed East, I 
practically fell out of the tree.”
      “You shouldn’t have been climbing trees with a sprained ankle.” Legolas was 
grinning, his eyes sparkling in the soft light from the torches. He couldn’t be sure, but he 
thought maybe Aragorn hadn’t relaxed this much in far too many years.
      Aragorn chuckled and downed the last of his wine. “Better that than a sprained 
head.” He was sitting cross-legged, leaning against a stone wall in the Hall of the Sword. 
His Ranger cloak- almost surely the same one he’d worn the last time Legolas had seen 
him in Mirkwood- had fallen open, showing the finery he had been given earlier that day. 
It made an interesting contrast and Legolas smiled to himself.
      “I didn’t want to become overly friendly with an orc’s loving scimitar.” Aragorn 
shrugged, his eyes alight with the memory. “Still, it was one of those stories that will 
keep the Dunedain listening.” His eyes changed a little and he murmured, looking at the 
wall over Legolas’ shoulder. “Assuming I see them again. When you’re going to Mordor, 
nothing is for sure. But traveling with hobbits…”
      “How do you know you’re going to Mordor? And what makes you think Elrond 
or Gandalf would let the hobbits go?”
      “As to the first, there’s only one way to destroy the Ring. It’s what Isildur should 
have done in the first place.” Aragorn met Legolas’ gaze. “And no matter who else goes, 
Frodo has to go because he’s very resistant to the Ring’s evil. Not perfectly, but he’s 
certainly better at keeping the Ring’s influence at bay that I would be.” Sighing, he stood, 
albeit a bit unsteadily. “Men are weak, Legolas. I’ve told you that more than once.”
      “Obviously you’re not the only weak ones,” Legolas said, moving to Aragorn’s 
side and putting the man’s arm around his shoulders, supporting him as if he were 
wounded. “If Gandalf could resist, he would have taken the Ring to Mordor long ago.”
      Aragorn nodded. “Aye, I believe you, but I am still afraid of what my blood may 
make me do.”
      “Why do you fear the past? You are Isildur’s Heir, not Isildur himself.”
      Legolas saw Arwen slip from between two pillars and glanced at Aragorn, 
wondering if the man wanted to stand on his own. But Aragorn looked completely done 
in; the combination of surviving injuries, calling forth spirits and having drunk more than 
his share all worked against him.
      Aragorn raised his head and smiled sadly. “I thank you, my Lady.” He cleared his 
throat and leaned against Legolas. “I would speak with you in the morning, my Lady. But 
for now, I need rest. Please excuse us.”
      Arwen watched them go, her eyes dark with secret joy. ‘He wants to see me in the 
morning. And perhaps we will at last get a chance to be alone and renew our pact.’
      In Aragorn’s room, Legolas eased the man down on the bed. As Aragorn leaned 
forward, struggling to get his boots off, Legolas poured another glass of wine. He took a 
pinch of sleeping-leaf from his pouch and mixed it with the wine. Aragorn needed an 
undisturbed rest this evening. Turning, he saw that Aragorn had managed to get his boots 
off, but hadn’t bothered with anything else. Before the man could lie down, Legolas 
helped him to his feet, removed the cloak, and eased Aragorn back down, covering him 
with a blanket. “Drink, Aragorn. This will ensure you have peaceful dreams or no dreams 
at all.” When Aragorn had drained the glass, Legolas smoothed the man’s hair away from 
his face and murmured, “Sleep, Strider. You’re safe here.”
      Aragorn’s eyes were closed. But as Legolas stood, the man caught his hand. 
“Legolas…”
      “Yes?” Legolas’ heart beat faster.
      “Thank you, Dunadan. I would have died long ago if I didn’t have the hope of 
seeing you again.” His words were growing slurred. “Iuhoo.”
      “What?” Legolas leaned close. “What did you say, Aragorn?”
      Aragorn licked his lips. “I lluhvvv you.” He slept.
      All the strength fled Legolas’ legs and the elf dropped to the floor beside the bed, 
still holding Aragorn’s hand. ‘Aragorn… Aragorn, I can’t…’ Legolas pushed himself to 
his feet and dropped Aragorn’s hand. But he couldn’t quite make himself leave. Instead, 
he slipped under the blanket beside Aragorn, drew his chief against him and fell asleep.
***
      Frodo yawned and stretched. The space beside him was empty, but not yet cold. 
Turning his head, Frodo saw Sam building up the fire, managing quite well despite the 
fact that this room was obviously meant for an elf.
      Sam glanced over his shoulder, smiling, his eyes alight. “Good morning, Mister 
Frodo. How are you this morning?” Frodo had been awake a little yesterday, but he 
looked stronger this morning, more aware of where he was.
      The younger hobbit’s joy was infectious and Frodo smiled in return. “Hello, Sam. 
What time is it?” He sat up and pushed the covers aside.
      “A little after luncheon, I’d say. If you like, I’ll go see what I can find to eat.”
      “I’ll go with you. Just let me get dressed.”
      “It’s no trouble, Mister Frodo.” Sam was gathering Frodo’s clothes and bringing 
them to the bed. “I can go poke around a bit.”
      Frodo stretched again before holding his hand out for the shirt Sam was holding. 
“It’s all right, Sam; I’m more than ready to get up. I want to explore the valley.” He 
pulled the shirt on over his head. “Are Merry and Pippin still in bed?”
      “I don’t think so. They were up late last night, though, and the night before. 
Merry came in a little bit ago saying there was some sort of storm last night. I don’t know 
about no storm, but it got dark; I couldn’t see any stars when I looked out the window. 
Oh, and Strider looked in on you two nights ago and said he wanted us to stay here. He 
seemed worried, Strider did. I haven’t seen him since then.”
      Frodo frowned and his hand went to the chain around his neck. “Have you seen 
Gandalf?”
      “No, Mister Frodo. I haven’t seen anyone except Merry. And he came in about 
four hours ago.”
      “What about yesterday?”
      “Well, I saw Merry and Pippin, and a beautiful lady-elf brought us some food- 
you ate yesterday at around tea-time- but no one else.”
      Frodo had finished dressing and he stood. He refused to be troubled by the fact 
that he couldn’t remember much of yesterday. ‘I must have still been healing,’ he 
thought. “Let’s go see what the afternoon has to offer.” He shook his head. “I didn’t 
realize I’d slept so late.”
      “You needed your rest and Gandalf said I was to make sure you got as much rest 
as you seemed to need. There’ll be a feast tonight, he said, if everyone’s well, but he 
wanted to make sure you got plenty of rest beforehand.”
      “I won’t tire myself out, Sam. Let’s go find the kitchen.”
***
      Elladan curled up in the corner of the high, stone windowsill, making himself as 
small as possible. His hand kept drifting to his belly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to feel 
anything yet, but unable to stop himself. ‘Why did I have to be cursed with this? Why did 
Sauron make Elrohir rape me? Haven’t I suffered enough? Haven’t I had a hard enough 
time keeping Glorfindel safe and fighting the memories of being raped by those men and 
living in this forsaken valley? Haven’t I suffered enough?’
      Moaning softly, he continued to rub at his stomach, fearing the worst. ‘The baby 
could be a monster. Or it could be just like Elrohir… And like me,’ he admitted after a 
moment. ‘Weak and unable to fight.’ Shivering, he tried to make himself even smaller. ‘I 
can’t fight. I never really could. I played at protecting Glorfindel, but I can’t fight like I’d 
have to if there was to be any hope of triumph.’
      He ran his hand over his belly again and whispered, “The only way to protect the 
world from another elf like Elrohir or me would be to kill myself.”
      Someone gasped and Elladan’s head snapped up, seeking for the danger that had 
snuck up on him. At first, he didn’t see anyone. Then he looked a little lower and saw the 
hobbit staring up at him. It wasn’t the Ring-Bearer, but the one who served the Ring-
Bearer. ‘Not as a slave, but as a loyal servant,’ Elladan thought bitterly. ‘What’s this 
one’s name?’
      Elladan smiled. “Hello, Samwise. What can I do for you?”
      Sam was looking up at him with the most disturbing, worried expression Elladan 
could ever remember seeing on a hobbit. They were usually such cheery people. “Please 
don’t kill yourself, Elf.” He blushed, but didn’t look away. “The world needs you. There 
are dark times coming; Mr. Frodo says so. But you can’t let them hurt you. You have to 
fight them.” He reached up and caught Elladan’s hand. He had to stretch far to do this, 
and Elladan lowered his hand from where it had been resting against his abdomen to 
make the reach a little less for the Halfling. “Strider says we’ll need all kinds of strength 
to fight the Enemy. He says not everyone has to fight the Dark Lord. Some are going to 
sing, some will laugh, some will cook-” again, the blush- “and some will talk and figure 
out what needs doing. Not everybody has to fight. Maybe you could sit with me and teach 
me how to make elf dishes. Or you could laugh at Master Pippin’s jokes. Or you could 
talk with Strider and Gandalf. They’ve been busy these last two days. Maybe if you 
talked with them they’d figure things out faster.”
      Tears were filling Sam’s eyes.
      “Just don’t die, Elf. Please. I love elves; they’re in all the best stories. And they 
almost always know how to make things better.”
      It was on the tip of Elladan’s tongue to say that not all elves were like that, but the 
sight of the upset hobbit made him guard his tongue. He jumped down from the high sill 
and knelt in front of the hobbit. “Master Samwise, you are wise beyond your years.” He 
kissed the Halfling on the cheek and stood. Sam was red to the tips of his ears. “I must go 
speak with Lord Glorfindel. Where are you headed? Maybe I can help you find your way 
first.” He had no intention of speaking with anyone, but the hobbit wouldn’t leave until 
he was reassured.
      “I was just going to the kitchens. But I know where they are.” Sam was eyeing 
him. “Are you all right now, Master Elf?” 
      Elladan opened his mouth to lie and discovered that he was going to speak the 
truth instead. Sam obviously wasn’t fooled by his show of change, and so Elladan was 
forced to reconsider his thoughts. ‘Besides, suddenly I need to see Glorfindel, to know if 
he will accept me this way… No, that’s not why I need to see him. He will accept me; I 
know Glorfindel. I want to see him.’ Elladan met Sam’s eyes. “I feel much better, Master 
Samwise. And I wish you joy of the kitchens.” He bowed, smiling, then started away.
      “Master Elf?”
      Elladan turned, his eyebrows raised. “Yes, my friend?”
      “I… I was wondering what your name was.”
      “I am Elladan, son of Elrond.” He felt the words strengthen him and his eyes 
sparkled. “Welcome to Imladris.”
      Sam gawked at him, then turned and hurried away towards the kitchens.
      Hardly believing his good fortune, but determined to use what he’d learned, 
Elladan set off in search of Glorfindel. His mind tried to drift back to the baby inside him, 
but he refused to worry about it until he had a chance to talk to his lover.
***
      Glorfindel, sitting in the tall maple tree by Rivendell’s main courtyard, watched 
the man arrive and climb down off his horse. He stared around him and touched the 
sword at his side as if for reassurance. ‘He looks like Estel,’ Glorfindel thought. ‘At least 
his face is noble like Estel’s and he has the bearing of one of from Lake-Town or even 
Gondor. I wonder who he might be.’
      The front doors of the central hall opened and Glorfindel gasped as Elladan glided 
out, approaching the man with serene confidence.
      Elladan’s voice was rich and full. Glorfindel’s eyes filled with tears to hear it. 
“Welcome to Rivendell. May I ask what you seek here?”
      “I’m looking for the Last Homely House.”
      “You have found it. I am Elladan, son of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. How may we 
help you?”
      The man looked around again. “I feel like I’m being watched.”
      Elladan smiled. “Many elves prefer see and remain unseen. It is our way.”
      The man shifted about. “I need to speak to Elrond.”
      “He is in council right now. But I will find someone to take care of your horse and 
I will find you a set of rooms.”
      “Let me do that, Elladan,” spoke up a soft, lilting voice from the shadows near the 
door. Arwen stepped towards the new arrival.
      Glorfindel blinked, startled by how tired and self-absorbed she seemed, as if she 
was hurting. ‘What has happened? There hasn’t been another attack, or if there has I 
haven’t sensed it.’ He dropped from the tree and made his way towards Elrond’s 
daughter, his worry making him unmindful of the man.
      The new arrival drew his sword half out of its sheath when Glorfindel appeared, 
seemingly from nowhere.
      Elladan stepped between the two of them. “You’re not in danger, sir. Lord 
Glorfindel guards this house and was only coming to see who you might be.”
      ‘Aii Elladan, I would laugh with joy at hearing you sound this way if the situation 
wasn’t so tense.’ Glorfindel made a half-bow to the man and stepped close to Arwen. 
Speaking quiet Quenyan, he asked, “What is wrong, my lady?”
      She blinked, startled, then sighed. “Estel doesn’t want my company. I came into 
his rooms this morning and he was asleep. That elf from Mirkwood, Legolas, was sitting 
in a chair by the bed. He told me that he would take care of Estel, that I didn’t need to 
trouble myself.” She scowled. “I wish he’d let Estel decide if I should be there or not.”
      “It doesn’t sound as if Estel doesn’t want you there. He was asleep.”
      “But he said I could visit him in the morning and it’s now afternoon and when he 
came out of his chambers he went straight into a council with my father and Gandalf and 
Legolas. Why couldn’t he have at least told me that he was going to invite Legolas into 
his rooms this morning?”
      “Maybe he didn’t invite Legolas. Maybe Legolas came after Estel was asleep. 
They were close, long ago. Maybe Legolas only wanted to check on him. After all, Estel 
was attacked yesterday.”
      She seemed to consider that. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just jumping to 
conclusions.” She smiled and gave Glorfindel a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, 
Glorfindel.” she glided away.
      Glorfindel watched her go for a moment, then glanced back at the courtyard. 
Another elf had come and taken the man away, and now Elladan was standing, holding 
the horse’s bridle and gazing at Glorfindel.
      “Elladan…” Glorfindel crossed to his lover and looked into his eyes, stunned by 
their change. “What happened?”
      “A hobbit made me see the world as I should.” Elladan touched Glorfindel’s 
hand. “I’m not saying I won’t sill drift, Glorfindel, but I see things differently now.” 
Tears stood in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve felt like this since Estel was ten or eleven 
years old.” He shook his head. “It’s been too long, however long it’s been.”
      Folding the reins, he asked, “Will you come help me rub this gorgeous creature 
down?”
      Glorfindel smiled. “Of course.”
      In the cool dimness of the stables, they worked at removing the stallion’s saddle 
and other trappings. Glorfindel noted the gilt that decorated much of the leather. “He’s 
important, whoever he is,” the blonde murmured as he removed the bridle.
      Elladan scooped food into the trough. “His name is Boromir. He’s son of Lord 
Denethor, Steward of Gondor.”
      Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “Then he is of Estel’s kin. I wondered. Why is he 
here?”
      “He wouldn’t say. He didn’t seem to trust me.” Elladan snorted, a light sound, 
then giggled, then began to laugh hysterically.
      The stallion ignored him, but Glorfindel slipped under the tall horse’s belly so he 
could reach Elladan in an instant. Wrapping his arms around his lover, Glorfindel guided 
Elladan’s head to his shoulder. He stroked the beautiful, black hair and murmured, “Shh. 
Shh. I’m here. You’re all right.”
      Elladan’s breath hitched. “I can’t- I can’t believe how close to death I was. I 
thought the world was going to end, and I wanted to die before I could see its end. But 
there was never any reason to think that. I was just being selfish and lost and…” He 
laughed again, then let out a shuddering breath that was nearly a sob. “Oh, Glorfindel, I 
am such a fool.”
      “Not now you’re not.” Glorfindel kissed Elladan’s hair.
      “But I was?” Elladan was trying to laugh again, but his tears were coming now.
      “I’m not going to answer that. Every elf is a fool sometimes. All I’m going to say 
is that you’ve returned and I missed you, Elladan.”
      Elladan looked up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I love you, Glorfy. Thank 
you for staying with me. I don’t deserve-”
      “Don’t,” Glorfindel commanded, his voice broaching no argument. “I won’t hear 
it. Speak of something else.”
      Elladan closed his eyes, then opened them again. “I am carrying Elrohir’s child.” 
He was amazed how easy it was to say the words. Having Glorfindel close made it easier.
      The blonde paled, but said, “We’ll love the baby.”
      “What?” Elladan shook his head. “Glorfindel, you act as if this were any normal 
child, not made by incest and rape!”
      “It’s not the child’s fault,” Glorfindel answered. “Our baby can’t be judged by 
how he or she was created. I say again: we will love the baby.”
      “Yes… Yes, you’re right.” Elladan leaned against Glorfindel, sighing as his 
lover’s arms tightened around him.
      Silence reigned in the stable for several minutes.
      “Glorfindel?”
      “Aye?”
      “Will you marry me?”
***
      Lindir sat beside Elrohir, watching the son of Elrond sleep. ‘I can’t imagine 
what’s going to happen to him now. He is too weak to fight against Sauron, and there is a 
part of him that agrees with what Sauron promises. How can he ever come back to us? I 
don’t even remember a time when he wasn’t cruel.’
      A hand fell on his shoulder and Lindir looked up, startled. “Estel, I thought you 
were still in council with Lord Elrond and Gandalf.”
      Aragorn sank into the chair beside Lindir and took Elrohir’s hand, chaffing it 
slightly between his own. “He wants to talk to Gandalf alone.” Smiling, he added, 
“Besides, I’ve had enough of sitting about and talking. If I ever become King, there will 
be plenty of time for that sort of necessary nonsense.”
      Lindir smiled. “True enough.”
      A companionable silence settled itself around them.
      “Have you seen Elladan?” Aragorn asked.
      Lindir felt as if someone had poured ice water down his back. “No. He hasn’t 
been in here.” He added silently, ‘Either to see his brother or because he tried to commit 
suicide.’
      Aragorn clapped a hand on Lindir’s shoulder. “Don’t look so, my friend. Elladan 
has healed at last. Master Samwise, the gardener who came with the Ring Bearer, 
demanded of him why he wasn’t acting like an elf. Did with a few well-chosen words 
what none of us could do.” Abruptly, Aragorn threw his head back and laughed. “Elladan 
marched right into the courtyard and met the man from Gondor without so much as a halt 
in his step or a tremor in his voice.” Grinning, hardly able to contain his good cheer, 
Aragorn added, “Legolas told me. He saw everything.”
      Lindir sat silent for a moment, taking it in. “I almost can’t believe it.”
      “Neither can I, but the change is there. It’s undeniable.”
      Lindir looked down at Elrohir. “If only his brother would heal. If he can.”
      “Elrohir’s road is going to be longer, I think.” But despite his somber words, 
Aragorn’s eyes still sparkled. “Let me sit alone with him for a while and tell him of 
Elladan’s triumph. Maybe he will hear and draw strength from it.”
      Lindir stood. “Just don’t be late for the feast.”
      Aragorn nodded, already focused on his brother. “I won’t. Will you go and peek 
in on Legolas for me? He should be making small talk with his horse.” Aragorn chuckled. 
“And please tell him- no, ask him- to give Roheryn a good run. If he wouldn’t mind.”
      “Of course.” Lindir started away.
      “Wait. Please.”
      The elf glanced back at Aragorn as the man stood up and walked towards him.
      “I’m still half-acting like a Master.” Aragorn knelt before Lindir. “Forgive me, 
please. It’s ingrained in my tongue.”
      Lindir’s eyes were filling with tears. He blinked them away before reaching down 
and touching Aragorn’s shoulder. “There is nothing to forgive, Estel. Now please get up.”
      Aragorn rose and smiled. “Thank you.” He watched Lindir away, then returned to 
Elrohir’s side.
      “I have an amazing story for you, my brother. Are you ready?”
***
      Frodo sank gratefully onto the bench he and Sam had found in one of the many 
gardens. The other hobbits stood around him, all smiling, but all worried secretly about 
the friend they had almost lost.
      Watching a butterfly glide from a red flower to a white one, Frodo said, “I wonder 
what makes one flower better than another.”
      Pippin glanced at the butterfly and grinned. “Maybe one is cherry and the other 
tastes of mushrooms.”
      “No, it’s because one is warmer than the other, like a single warm stone versus a 
hearth,” Merry said.
      “My old gaffer always said the butterfly’s friends with all flowers and just wants 
to visit each,” said Sam knowledgeably.
      Frodo closed his eyes, taking the sound of Sam’s voice in like a strengthening 
cordial. “I like his way of looking at things.” Frodo opened his eyes, smiled at Sam and 
stood. “I’m all right now; we should get ready for the feast.”
      Pippin rubbed his stomach. “We’ve been looking forward to this for weeks and 
weeks. Strider told us to look forward with longing to the tables in Rivendell. Well, I’m 
tired of looking forward.”
      The other three chuckled and started towards the main house.
      ‘It’s almost like we’re back in the Shire,’ Frodo thought as he watched Merry and 
Pippin scamper ahead as if they were still children instead of nearly adults. ‘The air here 
is so pure and soft; it reminds me of the Shire in spring when the sun’s starting to warm 
the earth and every bird in every tree seems to be bursting with a need to sing.’
      “Mr. Frodo, do you need me?”
      Frodo glanced at Sam, and saw that the younger hobbit was holding out a hand to 
him.
      ‘I don’t nee it; not in the strictest sense.’ Frodo took Sam’s hand and leaned on 
him a little. “Thank you, Sam. I hope to be stronger by tomorrow.”
      “Well, good food’ll help that, Mr. Frodo, but I’ll always be here to steady you if 
you need it.”
      Frodo smiled and squeezed Sam’s hand. “I know, Sam. You’re always so good to 
me.”
      Sam blushed. “It isn’t any trouble. You could say I was made for it.”
      Frodo opened his mouth to reply, but Pippin shouted from up ahead, “We’re 
going to eat if all if you don’t hurry up!”
      “We’re coming!” Frodo called, but he didn’t walk any faster. Neither did Sam. ‘I 
wish we could stay here forever,’ Frodo thought. ‘If only this was the real end of my 
journey.’ He knew it very well could be, but he didn’t believe it. ‘The Ring was trusted to 
me; I’ll have to see this through until the end.’ He glanced at Sam, who was staring in 
fascination at a flower neither of them had seen before. ‘The selfish part of me wants 
Sam to come with me. But he shouldn’t. He can’t. It was so hard for him to leave the 
Shire; I shouldn’t ask him to go any further.’ The Ring seemed to grow cold against his 
skin and Frodo shivered. ‘But having Sam at my side makes me stronger, makes me think 
there’s actually hope of finishing this journey and maybe, just maybe, getting home 
again.’
      “Mr. Frodo, are you all right? You shivered.”
      “Quite all right, Sam. I just want some warm soup to make me feel better.” Still, 
he didn’t walk any faster. The warmth of Sam’s hand in his made him forget the Ring 
again for a little while. “Sam… What do you think of the elves? Now that you’ve met a 
few?”
      “Well, Mr. Frodo, I don’t think it matters what I think. They’ll be elves just the 
same whether I like them or not.”
      “Yes, I know, but I’m just curious. Do you like them, Sam? Are they what you 
expected?”
      “Well, Mr. Frodo, it’s like this. When I was young, I tried cabbage for the first 
time and hated it. Cabbage, can you imagine me hating it?”
      Frodo laughed. “Go on.”
      “Well, I got to like it as I went on, but it never changed. And the elves are like 
that. Except I’ve liked elves from the first. But I need to get used to them, like I needed to 
get used to cabbage. The elves won’t change, but I’ll change and get more comfortable 
with them. And probably like them more, too, as I… Well, maybe I’ll become friends 
with them.”
      “I’m sure you will, Sam. From what you told me about the one elf you’ve talked 
to, you’re already his friend.”
      “He was strange, and no mistake,” said Sam. “It’s like all the life had gone out of 
him, but he still had to walk around. It was like those Barrows.” It was Sam’s turn to 
shiver. “But he wasn’t dangerous, not like the ghosts. He was just sad, like someone who 
got lost and couldn’t find anyone to tell him the way home.” He stopped walking and 
turned to face Frodo. “He reminds me of someone, but maybe I’m just being silly. My 
gaffer says I was never good at comparing things.”
      “Who does he remind you of?” Frodo took Sam’s other hand in his and met the 
younger hobbit’s honest, brown eyes.
      Sam was blushing again. “He’s like Strider, Mr. Frodo. Not so… hard-looking, 
but hard on the inside, like he’s been hurt by something and needs to find someone to 
help him through it.”
      “I think you helped him there, Sam. You said he seemed changed after you 
talked.”
      “Yes… But he’s not really who I’m worried about. He’s better, and his pain was 
deep, but Strider… His pain is hidden, even though he has all those scars. He hides it 
from himself, if you take my meaning.”
      “You’ve seen it, too. I thought I was imagining it.”
      “He’s been hurt badly by something, but he doesn’t know he’s been hurt. Or if he 
did know, he’s forgotten it. And I can’t help him. He’s too…”
      “Distant?” Frodo suggested. When Sam nodded, Frodo said, “I know. Strider… 
Aragorn… needs something from us, and from the world. But he doesn’t know what he 
needs, or he won’t allow himself to look for what he needs.” He squeezed Sam’s hands. 
“I’m glad you know, Sam. Maybe together we can find out what it is Aragorn needs and 
help him.”
      Sam nodded. “I just hope that whatever he needs can be found.” They started to 
walk again, still holding on to each other. “Maybe it’ll be in this house that’s supposed to 
help everybody heal.”
      “Maybe. But I think what he needs is either something he already has and doesn’t 
know how to use or something he’s going to find in another place. I get the feeling he’s 
been in this house before and it’s hurt him as much as it’s helped him.”
***
      When the time for the feast drew near, Aragorn left Elrohir in the charge of a 
young elf from the Grey Havens who had become Elrond’s slave only a dozen years ago, 
and thus was completely comfortable with freedom. The elf, young by the standards of 
his kind, was named Lesgalen and he reminded Aragorn of Saru: quiet and unfailingly 
gentle. The two of them had talked a little, and Aragorn learned that Lesgalen would be 
leaving for the Grey Havens in the spring. But for now, he was content to wait and watch 
over Elrohir. “Crowds make me nervous,” he’d told Aragorn, smiling a little. “That’s 
why I spend most of my time in the healing houses. It’s quiet here.”
      Aragorn left him after speaking his thanks and headed for the bathing rooms. He 
stopped by his own room to find ceremonial garb had already been lain out for him. 
‘Apparently I’m meant to make a good impression, to show that I was once the well-
dressed, innocent foster son of Elrond.’
      Entering the bathing rooms, his clothing slung over one arm, Aragorn was met by 
Glorfindel and Elladan, who were also preparing to bathe. His eyes alight, Elladan asked, 
“Will you join us, Estel? There isn’t much time before the meal, but I wanted to talk to 
you.”
      Aragorn removed his clothes and followed the two elves into the inner chamber. 
He was unashamed to be naked before the two elves who had known him all his life. But 
when he stepped into the next room, he saw that the large bath was already occupied and 
he blushed. He didn’t bolt only by force of will.
      Legolas was rinsing his hair as he sat on one of the marble benches built into the 
side of the bath. He saw Aragorn and smiled, then ducked his head so that his face was 
hidden by his hair.
      Aragorn slipped quickly into the water before Legolas could move his hair again. 
Elladan and Glorfindel sat down on Aragorn’s left. For a long while, all four scrubbed 
and rinsed in silence. Aragorn’s eyes were drawn again and again to Legolas, but he 
forced them away each time, cursing himself as a lustful bastard. ‘But my manhood does 
not rise when I see him,’ he thought, confused and saddened. ‘I only see the elf I betrayed 
and lost.’
      “Ada says there are still more travelers we have to wait for,” Elladan said.
      Glorfindel nodded. “Then he will hold the council?”
      “Yes. I just hope Elrohir is strong by then.” Elladan closed his eyes and sat in 
silence, his sorrow plain.
      Aragorn reached out and touched his brother’s arm. “You have healed, Elladan; 
Elrohir will follow suit. I’m sure of it.”
      Smiling, Elladan said, “I have faith in your hope, Estel, but I can’t help worrying 
about him. Sauron is so strong…”
      “The sons of Elrond are stronger,” Aragorn answered.
      Elladan laughed, a genuine, free sound. He lifted his eyes to Aragorn’s face, and 
Aragorn watched the shadows flee. “That makes you sound conceited, brother.”
      Aragorn shrugged, more than willing to banter with his eldest brother. “I speak 
only the truth. Draw from it what you will.”
      Elladan punched him in the arm and Aragorn laughed, then punched him back.
      “Gentlemen, I think we have a banquet to prepare for,” Glorfindel put in, his eyes 
dancing. “You’re one of the guests of honor, Estel, so I hope you show up on time.”
      Before either the man or the elf could answer, Glorfindel tossed his head, threw 
them a teasing smile and climbed out of the bath. “As for me, I need time to brush all the 
tangles out of my hair.” His head high, golden bottom gleaming, Glorfindel walked out of 
the room, still soaked.
      Elladan grinned, stood and followed Glorfindel out. He called over his shoulder, 
“Don’t take too long, Estel; the hobbits are already starving, I hear.”
      “Hobbits are always starving,” Aragorn called after him, but not unkindly.
      “Like young Rangers,” Legolas murmured as he continued to rinse his hair.
      Aragorn gazed at the golden locks as they cascaded down Legolas’ back. Before 
he could stop himself, he said, “I like your hair that length. It suits you.”
      “All of Mirkwood’s royalty has it ridiculously long. It’s a law.”
      Aragorn wasn’t sure if Legolas was serious or not, Curious, he asked, “Really?”
      Legolas smiled at Aragorn through a part in his hair. “King Thranduil commands 
it. He says that we are better than all other elves and must show off our glory in every 
way possible.” Legolas flung his hair back so that he could look at Aragorn without the 
golden locks impeding his vision. “Do you know what I say to that? Mmmalvel shakari.”
      Aragorn snickered and flung a little wave of water in Legolas’ direction. “That’s 
not very nice, Legolas. Does King Thranduil speak the language of Rohan?”
      “No. Neither does he speak Quenyan or Dwarvish or the language of Harad. It 
isn’t in his nature.” Legolas tilted his head to one side. “Don’t you think he would enjoy 
being called an arrogant ass of a spider?”
      “Somehow I think that’s an insult in any language,” Aragorn said. He stretched. 
“We should get out. There will be time for teasing later.”
      “Unless the council is tomorrow.” Legolas climbed out of the water and Aragorn 
followed suit. The two grabbed towels off the wall and began to dry themselves quickly. 
“Then, who knows?”
      Aragorn’s eyes narrowed. “I hope only that we can get out of Rivendell without 
Sauron noticing.”
      “Then you’re sure Elrond will want the Ring to leave Rivendell?”
      “As he said, the evil of the Ring can not be hidden by the magic of the elves. It 
has to be moved. Where to I know not, but to somewhere.”
      “But Sauron can find it anywhere,” Legolas said. He hung up his towel and 
slipped into his leggings.
      “I’m hoping we’ll go to Mount Doom and destroy it.” Aragorn shook his head. 
“It’s the only way, unless Gandalf thinks we should toss it into the sea.”
      “But it might appear again!” Legolas cried. “How can he think that will help? 
Besides, Sauron needs to be destroyed utterly, and only unmaking the Ring will do that.”
      “Be still, Dunadan,” said Aragorn affectionately. “Gandalf didn’t suggest it; he 
only hasn’t negated it yet. There is still time to change everyone’s mind.”
      “Do you think you’ll take the Ring?” Legolas asked, beginning to brush his hair.
      Aragorn shuddered. “If I’m lucky, I’ll scarcely have to see the cursed thing. No, 
someone stronger than I could ever be will take it. Maybe Frodo. He has lived with it 
long and has only given in to it a few times.” He held out his hand. “May I borrow your 
expensive brush, friend elf?”
      “The Dunedain always share, don’t they?”
      Aragorn’s cheeks colored. “I called you Dunadan, didn’t I? I didn’t want to hurt 
you. I’m sorry.”
      Legolas shook his head. “I’m not offended or even troubled, Aragorn. I would 
join your Dunedain again if I could.”
      “Maybe… when this is all over… you can stay with us for a while. Wherever we 
end up.”
      “I’d like that.” Legolas had braided his hair and was fastening his ceremonial 
cloak about his shoulders. “And I’d rather you call me Dunadan than Prince. I’ve already 
had to speak to one person about that.”
      Aragorn smiled. “Then I will call you Legolas Dunadan, my trusted friend.”
      Legolas’ gaze was distant. “I like that.” Then he came out of his reverie. “We’re 
going to be late.” Striding forward, he clapped Aragorn on the shoulder.
      As one, they started for the dining hall.
      Aragorn touched Legolas’ hand. ‘He has forgiven me. I almost can’t believe it… 
But, if I can believe in Elladan’s recovery, I can believe in miracles.’ When he smiled, 
years of strain and struggle slipped from Aragorn’s face.
      Legolas, meanwhile, was marveling at how quickly he reverted to a Ranger’s way 
of walking- a wary glide that almost defied movement. A Dunadan on the prowl could 
almost seem to move and stand still at the same time. Not that he or Aragorn was 
hunting, but neither did they move with a carefree and unwatchful air; they’d both spent 
too long in the wild to ever walk down a corridor completely at ease. ‘My father trained 
many things out of me, but a Ranger’s way of walking- Aragorn’s way of walking- is too 
much like breathing to be forgotten.’ He remembered ambling through the hallways of 
his father’s palace, accompanying his brothers on some mission or other. ‘I adapted to 
their way of pacing, but it felt unnatural from the first to the last.’ Legolas’ chest felt 
tight. ‘And now that I’ve seen Aragorn again, how can I ever go back? How can I leave 
him again? I don’t care if he can only love me when he’s asleep. I don’t care if he has to 
follow tradition and law and marry a woman. All I want is to fight at his side forever. To 
stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Saru and Malacai and guard Aragorn’s back.’
      He spoke, reminded suddenly of those he hadn’t seen in decades. “Aragorn, how 
are Saru and Malacai and Annaleh?”
      Aragorn stopped walking, and instantly his face was etched with a grief the depths 
of which Legolas hadn’t seen since the civil war. “Saru and Annaleh are both well. Saru 
has four children with Kehydi and all are happy and at peace, or at least as happy as it is 
possible to be in these dark days. Saru’s eldest was killed in a battle not so very long ago. 
That battle took twenty-three others, including Malacai.”
      Legolas couldn’t speak.
      Aragorn glanced at him, then looked away, his throat working as he fought 
against the urge to cry. He hadn’t told anyone of Malacai’s death. Gandalf knew, of 
course, but only because he was Gandalf. Aragorn hadn’t said anything of it. “I haven’t 
seen my Dunedain since last you and I left for Mirkwood. Malacai’s spirit came to me 
and told me all that had happened.”
      Legolas laid his hand on Aragorn’s arm. “Aragorn…”
      The man turned, and Legolas held him. Aragorn shuddered beneath his hands, and 
Legolas soothed him with hands and voice. When Aragorn drew back, he was smiling 
through a few tears that had managed to escape his careful control.
      “I am so blessed to have you here, Dunadan.” Aragorn cleared his throat. “You’ve 
always been the answer to my prayers. Thank you.” And he kissed Legolas on his 
forehead before stepping back and wiping his face. “We should go in.”
      Legolas caught Aragorn’s arm before he could take more than a step. “Wait, 
please.” He tightened his grip until Aragorn looked back at him. “This isn’t over. We still 
need to talk. I need to talk. Please say you’ll spend time with me before you are to leave 
Rivendell.”
      Aragorn took Legolas’ hand in his, removing it from his arm and holding it 
between his calloused ones. “I promise.”
      Legolas nodded, accepting. Still holding Aragorn’s hand, he led the way towards 
the doors of the dining hall, which were in sight at the end of the corridor. Struggling to 
make his voice light, he said, “I’m holding you to that promise, Strider. Don’t think you 
can escape me.”
      “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
***
      Arwen watched Aragorn walk in, practically on Legolas’ arm, and her eyes 
narrowed. Beside her, two of the hobbits were chattering away like magpies, but she had 
ceased to listen as the minutes dragged on while everyone waited for Aragorn to appear.
      ‘I don’t mind that he’s fashionably late, but why couldn’t he have walked in 
alone? Does he have to hang all over Legolas?’ She watched the two approach, both of 
them bowing to her father, both using the Dunedain-bow, a slight modification of 
Rivendell’s own, in tandem that would have been comical under other circumstances.
      ‘You’re wrong, Glorfindel,’ she thought. ‘I think Aragorn wanted Legolas in his 
room after all. He has no sympathy for an elf maiden’s feelings.’ She sighed and almost 
missed her cue.
      “Please join us in a toast,” Elrond said, standing.
      Arwen rose beside him and tried not to look at Aragorn. But her eyes were drawn 
to him and she noted with a small measure of triumph that Aragorn and Legolas had to sit 
a little apart.
      “To the miracle of creation, to the meeting of friends kept long apart, to the 
bravery that has been displayed by our travelers.” Elrond drank, the others following. But 
before anyone could sit, the Lord of Rivendell asked, “Would you set us on with a word, 
Aragorn?”
      ‘He’s so cute when he’s surprised,’ Arwen thought, her anger mollified. ‘After all, 
Legolas is male. He isn’t a threat to me. He’s just an old friend, that’s all. Surely Aragorn 
will want to spend much time with all the elves here. I can be patient and wait my turn.’
      “I speak to the music and joy of friends reunited and to the dance of loved ones 
triumphing over the Shadow.” He drank. Most of the others followed. Over the rim of her 
cup, Arwen watched Glorfindel set his cup aside and start to clap. An instant later, 
Legolas joined him, followed by Elladan. The whole table followed then, though Arwen 
could tell by the confused expressions on three of the hobbits’ faces that they didn’t 
understand the need for applause. Nor did she.
      When everyone was seated, she spoke to her father in a whisper, asking him to 
explain what had just happened. “Doesn’t it bother you that they didn’t applaud you?”
      “Aragorn’s speech has grown fair,” was all her father would say.
      Arwen sighed, then turned to her food. ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ she 
thought, frustrated and a little petulant. ‘The only thing I know is that I must speak to 
Aragorn before he can slip away tonight.’ She watched Aragorn laugh at something one 
of the hobbits had said. Aragorn’s head was back and his shoulders were shaking with 
mirth. ‘Have I ever seen him so carefree?’ She smiled. ‘No, but he will learn to be like 
that with me.’
      One of the hobbits said something else and Aragorn laughed so hard he spit his 
wine back into his glass, which made that end of the table explode with mirth.
      ‘Well,’ Arwen thought, ‘maybe not that relaxed. He does have an image to live up 
to, after all.’
***
      “Will you dance with me, Lord Aragorn?”
      The tables had been moved, leaving the floor open for dancing. Musicians had 
tuned their instruments and were warming up their fingers.
      Aragorn watched as almost everyone made their way to the floor for the opening 
circle-dance. He bowed to Arwen. “I would be delighted, my lady, but I think we’re 
supposed to join in the pairing dance first.”
      She sighed. “Yes, of course.” She retreated to the inner circle which was made a 
dozen Rivendell elves, the man from Gondor (who had been coaxed onto the dance floor 
by one insatiable Pippin), the hobbit in question and Legolas. The outer circle held eleven 
more Rivendell elves, Merry, Frodo, Sam. Aragorn joined this circle. Everyone in the 
inner circle had a partner in the outer circle. Aragorn stood across from Arwen, but knew 
that it wouldn’t stay that way.
      The music began. Aragorn, his hands held by Merry on his right and Lindir on the 
other, stepped to his left, moving in the opposite direction of the inner circle. He had 
danced many such reels with the Dunedain in happier days and to do so again made him 
smile.
      The music stopped. Aragorn found himself facing Pippin. Grinning, he took 
Pippin’s hands as the interlude began. The two danced in a tiny circle, Aragorn noticing 
that Pippin moved with an obvious enjoyment and self-assuredness that reminded 
Aragorn of the children of the Dunedain. Pippin didn’t know that this dance had once 
been considered a mating ritual.
      ‘Best he not know,’ Aragorn thought as the interlude ended and both circles 
returned to their places. The chorus began again. Again the circles danced in opposite 
directions. Aragorn was paired up with Glorfindel, a young elf-maiden he didn’t know, 
Arwen and Gandalf.
      “One more time!” Merry and Pippin cried, delighted at the pairings they’d made.
      The musicians obliged. When the music stopped again, Aragorn found himself 
facing Legolas.
      The interlude began, but at first Aragorn just stood there. His mind was telling 
him to reach out, take Legolas’ hands, get this over with, but he seemed frozen in place.
      Shaking his head, Legolas took Aragorn’s hands and started moving, guiding the 
dance, though technically the older person in the pairing was supposed to lead the dance. 
Aragorn let him lead. He wasn’t even really in Rivendell’s main hall, anyway.
///Flashback///
      Aragorn stood, relinquishing his drum to Mordecai, who had come to spell him in 
the song so that the chief of the Dunedain, who usually called the dances and started 
them, could dance. The Rangers shouted in anticipation as Aragorn took Mordecai’s spot 
in the inner circle.
      The Dunedain musicians were more concerned with unusual pairings that would 
make everyone laugh than with decorum. And they had an eye to teasing their chief. 
First, Aragorn danced with Corah, a three-year old doll who was having trouble keeping 
up. Aragorn swept her into his arms and danced that way. Next he was paired with 
Annaleh’s elderly aunt, a woman who danced so briskly that she showed up Aragorn, 
making a fool out of him. Aragorn laughed so hard tears streamed down his cheeks as the 
interlude ended and he returned to the circle. 
      As the musicians moved on to other targets (forcing Malacai to dance with a man 
half his height and making Kehydi dance with his grandmother) they seemed to forget 
about Aragorn. When the music stopped a third time, Aragorn found himself standing 
across from Legolas.
      The young elf had just turned twelve, and he grinned up at Aragorn, reaching out 
to take his master’s hands. Aragorn allowed this and danced with him, but as the music 
continued, Aragorn heard it less and less. He was taken by the innocent laughter in 
Legolas’ eyes. He thought, his chest tightening, ‘Someday I will take this child to be my 
whore.’ He felt sick and had to look away.
      “Master, what’s wrong?” Legolas asked, moving closer so that he was pressed 
against Aragorn, his face turned up so he could stare into the man’s eyes.
      “Nothing, Legolas. I’m just… I was just thinking.”
      “But you said we shouldn’t worry for just this one night,” Legolas said. “Having 
two Rangers wed doesn’t happen every day, right?”
      ‘He’s right… And Nathe and Sarcka have been waiting a long time. I shouldn’t be 
worrying about the future. There’s still time to change it, after all.’ He said to Legolas, 
smiling, “You’re right. I’m breaking my own rules.”
      Legolas jumped up, throwing his arms around Aragon’s neck. Aragorn supported 
him as the elf started kissing his cheeks, his chin, his mouth. “Don’t do that or Master 
Malacai will have to call a council to yell at you.”
      Aragorn laughed, even as his body reacted to the elf in his arms. “Aye, I know.” 
He set Legolas down. “Come on; we’re missing the dance.”
///End Flashback///
      “Aragorn?”
      The man blinked and found his face an inch from Legolas’. “Yes?” He felt dazed.
      “The music’s stopped.” Legolas’ cheeks were flushed. “The couple dances are 
starting, I think.”
      Aragorn took a step back, but still held Legolas’ hands. He opened his mouth to 
ask Legolas to dance, but Lady Arwen appeared at his elbow.
      “Will you dance with me now, Lord Aragorn? You promised.”
      He nodded distractedly and took her hand. As he was led to the middle of the 
dance floor, he looked over his shoulder and said to Legolas in the language of Rohan, 
“Please wait for me. I want to dance with you.”
      Then he turned back, smiled at Arwen and led her into a slower, statelier dance. 
‘I’m playing with fire by asking Legolas to dance,’ he thought, but he didn’t seem able to 
stop himself. ‘It’s a good thing the One Ring isn’t in my sight right now. I don’t seem to 
have any sort of control.’
      Arwen was smiling up at him. ‘On the other hand, this is the opportunity I was 
looking for. Now I can tell her that we’re not destined for each other.’ He felt his stomach 
twist and knew this wasn’t going to be easy. ‘Why didn’t I make it back to Rivendell 
before now? Has she thought of me all this time? Her words haven’t been of love since I 
arrived…. But then again, I have been quite worried about Sauron. Maybe I just didn’t 
notice.’ He swallowed. ‘I have to tell her.’
      “My lady-”
      She put her finger on his lips. “Not now, Estel. We’ll have a chance to talk.”
      “But, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s important. It’s about us. I’ve 
decided that I can’t-”
      “Estel, don’t. I promise we’ll slip away early. I have something to tell you, too. 
And it’s also about us.” She smiled charmingly. “I’ll even let you go first if you don’t 
interrupt this dance to tell me.”
      He sighed. ‘Looks like I have no choice.’
***
      Legolas sat beside Glorfindel, who was taking his turn at the elven fiddle. The 
music was slower now. The celebration would be over soon. Aragorn hadn’t asked him to 
dance. He had danced exclusively with Arwen or sat at her side while she chatted. ‘I 
shouldn’t be jealous,’ Legolas thought. ‘Aragon can’t even tell me he loves me. We both 
know it wouldn’t work. I can’t be jealous. I have nothing to be jealous of.’
      Then he thought, ‘But if he can’t be with me, why can he be with her? She’s 
surely a greater prize than me because she’s the only daughter of Elrond.’
      “You’ve been staring at him all night, Legolas,” Glorfindel noted, not losing a 
note as he played. “If you want to talk to him, go over there and talk to him. Estel has 
ever been dense when it comes to those that love him. As perceptive as he is in so many 
other things, he misses romantic cues.” He shot an oblique glance at Legolas. “And you 
aren’t being overly obvious.”
      “Then how do you know what I’m thinking?”
      “I’m a lot older than I look. Go over and talk to him.”
      “But… he’s talking to Arwen.”
      “But he needs to be talking to you. Go over to him, Legolas. Say to him what you 
need to say. Ask him what needs asking. You’ll be miserable if you don’t. Things are 
going to start moving very fast the day after tomorrow. Take this chance while you may.”
      He set his fiddle aside, not caring that this drew surprised stares from the other 
musicians. Grasping Legolas’ shoulders, Glorfindel glared at the younger elf. “Speaking 
as someone who waited too long in silent suffering for love to come to me, I order you to 
go to him. Don’t let him go without at least finding out what he really wants.”
      Legolas swallowed. He felt suddenly cold. “All right, Glorfindel. I’m going.” He 
stood.
      “And don’t let her intimidate you!” Glorfindel called sotto voce as he picked up 
his fiddle again.
      Legolas heard Aragorn speak when he was ten feet away, his ears tuned to his 
former chief’s tone. “I must, my lady. I gave my word.”
      “He’s surely forgotten, Estel. It was only a token gesture, I’m sure, as you haven’t 
seen him in so very long.”
      Legolas hid himself behind a pillar and continued to listen. He didn’t even dare 
look at Glorfindel, though he sensed the older blonde flinging arrows at him with his 
eyes.
      “I never make token gestures if I can help it, Lady Arwen. After the feast is over, 
you will have my undivided attention so I can explain something to you. But for now, I 
promised I would dance with him. And dance I will.”
      Legolas peeked around the pillar in time to see Aragorn rise and walk across the 
dance floor, seeking him. He glanced back at Arwen and saw the fire in her eyes. Turning 
away, Legolas slipped towards where Glorfindel was playing his fiddle so hard Legolas 
was surprised to see that the wood hadn’t ignited yet.
      Strong arms wrapped around him from behind. “Legolas.”
      The smell of pipeweed and earth made Legolas dizzy with pleasure. He pressed 
back against Aragorn, hearing the man gasp. He gasped as Aragorn lifted up his hair with 
one hand and drew it aside, exposing his neck. Lightly, so lightly, Aragorn kissed him.
      Before Legolas could give in to the kiss- he wanted to, needed to- Aragorn 
stiffened and let Legolas’ hair fall. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have done that.”
      ‘Yes you should have!’ Legolas cried silently. ‘And you should do it again! 
Please, Aragorn, don’t do this to me!’ But he remembered Arwen sitting, watching 
Aragorn with fire in her eyes. Legolas didn’t completely understand that fire; was it need, 
love or anger? But he recognized the way she had been talking, as if she was afraid of 
losing Aragorn to someone else. ‘To me, actually. She thinks Aragorn and I might be 
lovers. If we could be, I would laugh in the Lady Arwen’s face and tell her that, yes, we 
are lovers and there’s nothing she could ever give Aragorn that would make him stop 
loving me.’
      His skin went cold as Aragorn led him into the waltz. ‘But love isn’t everything. 
It never was to Aragorn. Duty is everything. His Dunedain are everything. I am only one 
small part of his life, a part that he would sacrifice to save Middle Earth.’
      “I’m being a fool, Legolas,” Aragorn said, moving closer so that no one else 
would hear him.
      Legolas noted out of the corner of his eye that Arwen was dancing with Erestor. 
Was she maneuvering him closer to them? ‘Now I’m just being paranoid.’
      Instantly, his Ranger training answered, ‘A Dunadan is not paranoid; he is 
watchful. Be watchful and don’t second-guess your instincts. More often than not, there 
isn’t time. And if there is, chances are you’ll only make things worse by rethinking what 
you’ve already decided in your heart is true.’
      “I thought I could give you up.” Aragorn blinked his too-bright eyes. “I can’t. I 
thought I could pretend to love another, and pretending would make it so. I was wrong.” 
He cleared his throat. “I thought I could live without you. But that would be like living 
without sunlight, without hope.” His lips smiled, but his eyes were filled with sadness. “It 
would be like living without my Dunedain.” His eyes said that this was a distinct 
possibility and Aragorn wanted to at least have one thing he could love.
      “Please, Legolas…” He shook his head. “No, I won’t beg you to love me and stay 
here. But I want you to. I want to be with you. I know it is a terrible thing I ask, but-”
      “But my people are of Mirkwood,” Legolas answered, touching his fingertips to 
Aragorn’s lips. “We were never meant to cross over the Sea.” He replaced his fingers 
with his lips. Drawing back, he didn’t smile. The commitment he was making was too 
serious for that. “I will love you until the end of my days, Aragorn, and I will not be 
moved from your side again.”