The Mirkwood Prince 
Kele-kesen
When Legolas comes to Rivendell after eighty years to speak with Elrond 
about the Quest of the Ring he does not expect to find Aragorn there. 
Slash (A/L, F/S, M/P). R&R. AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any product of Tolkien's 
genius. I do not own anything from New Line Cinema. 
Archives: Please ask me before you take: kelekesen@hotmail.com. 
Dedicated to Marianne. She came to school today and though she isn't a 
fan of slash, I'm still going to give this to you.

He came in the early morning with Boromir, the Steward of Gondor, and 
Gimli and his father, the dwarves, riding together in the breeze. Now they 
arrived at Rivendell though, that comradeship seemed to have been 
forgotten and they were peaceably squabbling together as they 
dismounted.  

Elrond, dressed in a maroon robe showed them where they were to sleep 
and Legolas was grateful, for he was exhausted after the night's ride. The 
rather extravagant nature of Elrond hit him when he woke up, and he 
stared for a long while at the black marble, the crimson curtains and the 
dust, only waiting for a chance to get out. He stood up; wrapping a sheet 
around his middle he went to the curtains and drew them to let in the 
sweet air, giving a fragile life to the place that only nature can give. 

Legolas leant out of the window and breathed a lungful of the evening air 
in. Already he missed Mirkwood, he was not too fond of Rivendell, its 
pomposity and dryness made him yearn for the pure air and startling 
beauty of his home. He had not been to Imladris for eighty years. It 
seemed too long. 

His window overlooked a courtyard and to his surprise he saw Boromir 
already up and dressed, going towards, if Legolas could remember it 
rightly, a hall in which there were many curios that Elrond had gathered, a 
magpie was put to shame against the Half-Elf. 

Legolas, being an elf, was naturally curious and, slipping on his clothes, 
made his way down to the hall, a pleasanter room than his bedroom, it 
opened onto the gardens and was airy, though dim. He saw Boromir, just a 
little ahead of him, going towards a stone plinth on which lay a sword. The 
elf breathed in sharply. It was the sword of Isildur, the sword that was 
broken on the steps of Mount Doom, many years ago. It reeked with age. 

The Steward of Gondor looked over to a shadowy corner, which even 
Legolas' eyes could not pierce through, but then turned back, "The sword 
that was broken," he murmured reverently, picking it up and cutting his 
finger on its sharp edge. As the blood trickled out he turned his eyes again 
to the corner and again. "Nothing more than a worthless trinket," he said, 
dropping it down on the floor. Legolas winced. 

Boromir turned and left the room as silently as a Man could, but the Elf 
did not move from his position. As he watched he saw another Man come 
out of the darkness. His hair was dark brown, his eyes aqua, but he looked 
worried, and old. There was something truly elvish about him that could 
not be mimicked, and he was slightly dirty. Legolas realised as he looked 
on that this was the son of Arathorn. He had known Arathorn in the old 
days and Aragorn his son so exactly resembled him there was no 
mistaking. 

The Man went over to the plinth and stooped to pick up the sword. While 
his back was turned, his voice rang out, "Who are you?" 

Legolas felt a tremor of surprise at being addressed when he thought 
himself still hidden. After waiting a second in case there was anyone else 
in the room, he stepped out. "Legolas," he said, informally. 

"You're a Mirkwood elf," the voice stated, "I can tell by your accent." 

"That is right," Legolas dropped his eyes. The Man had still not turned 
round; he placed the sword on the plinth and stood for a moment. 

"I have never been there, but it is said to be one of the most beautiful 
places in the world." 

"You are Elrond's foster son," Legolas whispered, his mouth had gone dry. 
"Estel." 

The Man turned. For five full seconds their gaze lay upon each other - the 
elf carelessly dressed, his tunic half undone showing pale white skin, his 
golden hair untamed and his blue eyes turned with a fire never seen before 
in any mortal or immortal, and Aragorn felt hopelessly drawn. They both 
unconsciously breathed in sharply as their eyes travelled the other's 
bodies. 

"Not for many years has that name been used of me," the Man, Estel, said, 
"Usually my name is Strider - I left Imladris, I was a Ranger for many 
years." 

"I have heard much of you," Legolas said, "You were with the hobbits - 
the one bearing the Ring and the other three." 

"Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo," he said, reciting, "all foolhardy." Legolas 
laughed.  

He felt lighter than he had for many years but his reverie was soon to be 
spoiled. A light step warned them that someone else was approaching. 
They both stiffened. 

"Arwen?" Aragorn whispered. 

"Shush," Legolas moved to go. 

"Do not leave!" the Man caught silently at his hand. "Arwen would be 
glad to see…" 

"Arwen would not!" Legolas snapped. 

"Why?" Estel said hopelessly as Legolas turned against the moon, set in a 
bed of blue velvet. 

"I was once betrothed to the Evenstar," Legolas said and vanished into the 
gloom. 

He walked on a few paces, idly. Suddenly he longed to see Figwit and 
Glorfindel. In the "old days" as his mind instinctively phrased them, when 
he had been betrothed to the Undomiel, he had made firm friends in 
Imladris. Elrond, he considered though, had never really liked him, the 
eyes hardened when he had to speak to him, and he was abrupt and near 
rude. But, not quite rude. Elrond toed the line neatly. 

Aragorn though, he was quite different even after being raised by Elrond, 
he was kinder, he was easy to make laugh, elvish in every way apart from 
physically. Legolas stopped and closed his eyes, resurrecting Estel in his 
mind, his eyes, his hair - Galadriel had been right. But then Galadriel was 
always right - fortunately Thranduil, his father hated her and regarded her 
as "a liar and gossip" or he might have believed her prophecy… 

He turned his footsteps towards a large tree in which he and Arwen had 
often dallied, it being quiet and out of the way, and also the only part of 
Imladris that Legolas could say honestly was truly beautiful. He found the 
tree and leapt into it, it went high until you could see the Misty Mountains 
just a little ahead, and beyond that… Mirkwood. He had always dreamed 
of going places when he was older. Now, he wished to fly home, as fast as 
may be. 

Legolas became aware of a little scuffling at the base of his tree and, 
curious - but also slightly nervous he looked down. "Oh!" he said, before 
covering his mouth, "I didn't realise… I didn't realise you were there!" 
The hobbits leapt apart, faces as guilty as two male hobbits found making 
out can possibly be. "We're… sorry," they said almost in unison, "We… 
don't tell Lord Elrond," 

Legolas looked at their faces, "You're frightened?" he said, leaping down 
and looking at them closely, "Yes you are. Why? You're the hobbits that 
came from the Shire… Merry and Sam?" 

"No. Merry and Pippin." 

"But, you are frightened?" Legolas sat down in the lotus position. "Why? 
There's nothing shameful in it." 

Merry looked at Pippin, "In the Shire…" he whispered as if his voice had 
gone, "It is shameful. Their families spurn them for an indiscretion like 
that. Sometimes," he stopped, "the death penalty is in force." 

Legolas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply for a second, "It happens all 
the time, and though the death penalty is not in force in Imladris, you are 
shunned. I won't tell Lord Elrond. I was meaning to in either case. But, it 
is not safe here. Though long have I been away from Rivendell I still 
remember a place at the edge of the place, a clearing with a cave. I cannot 
stop, but if you go that way you should arrive at it shortly. Elrond often 
takes his walks past this tree but he doesn't venture further afield. If I were 
you I'd go now. Quickly." 

The hobbits looked at each other and scuttled off. Legolas watched them 
leave and then put his hand to his eyes and on his finger the trace of a tear 
glistened. 

He did not sit there long. He yearned for his friends, eighty years is a long 
time to be separated and they had been good friends. Figwit and 
Glorfindel, both noble, both lords, both Quenyan. It would be heartening 
to see them again. But, he was tired, though he had only been awake two 
hours and his bed seemed more attractive than even two old friends.

Elrond's eyes flickered around the council. They were all there, the hobbit, 
Gandalf, Estel, Boromir, Legolas, Figwit, Glorfindel… sitting awkwardly 
in the sunlight. He smiled stiffly and began to speak. 

Legolas swung his legs under his chair and his eyes met with Figwit, who 
was mouthing something at him. 

"What?" he mouthed back. 

"Nice to see you!" Figwit did the mouthing equivalent of shouting, "You 
deaf, dumb…" 

What he would have said remained lost in history as Estel jumped up to 
counter Boromir's words, "And what would a Ranger know about such 
matters?" 

Legolas closed his eyes and before he knew what he was doing he had 
leapt up, "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You 
owe him your allegiance." 

The shocked, pale face of Boromir imprinted itself upon his mind, before 
Aragorn said, a hint, only a hint of red in his cheeks, "Sit down, Legolas." 
Legolas sat, his face burning. Figwit saw this, nudged Glorfindel, who was 
actually trying to listen to Elrond's speech and whispered something to 
him. 

"Do you fancy the Ranger?" they mouthed, mimicking Boromir's face, 
"Do you owe him your allegiance?"

Trying to fight down his ensuing giggles, Legolas turned his mind back to 
the council. But, Figwit and Glorfindel had done their work well. A ripple 
of whispering spread through the council like wildfire, but, luckily for 
Legolas, before it reached Aragorn (it had got to Frodo at the other end 
first, surprisingly) Elrond happened to notice and intervened. 
"Is there something funny about the destruction of Middle-earth, Lord 
Figwit? Lord Glorfindel? Prince Legolas? It's like a bunch of children in 
here." 

Legolas bit his tongue and tried not to giggle again. He saw Estel's face 
though, it looked surprised, and he looked down before turning his gaze 
back to Frodo. 

"Ah, well that's the effect of the Ring," Gimli said, knowingly. For once, 
he had brushed his beard. It now looked like a small bush, "I will be dead 
before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" 

Legolas leapt up to avenge that insult and Figwit, loving a council brawl 
as much as the next Elf, leapt up to help and soon half the elves in 
Imladris were joining in the scuffle. 

Gandalf rolled his eyes pityingly, and the Ring, sitting there still, saw no 
way of returning to Mordor. It began to call to Frodo, who felt the tension 
on him becoming unbearable. The Ring knew this, using its entire force to 
make the Halfling bend to his will. It would have broken anyone. Frodo 
closed his eyes, reaching out his fingers… 

"I will take the Ring to Mordor!" he cried. Silence fell; Legolas looked at 
Frodo and felt a profound shame that he could not have done that. Well, he 
would remedy it. "Though, I do not know the way." 

Elrond began to choose members to accompany him, one of the first to 
volunteer was Estel, the second was Legolas; well he could at least start to 
correct his shameful behaviour, and Gimli and Gandalf also chose to 
come. Sam, appearing behind a large bush also pleaded his case, and 
Elrond showed a rare leniency in letting him go also. Then, when Legolas 
began to wonder when the ceaseless addition of members would stop, 
Pippin and Merry appeared and ran down. They stopped dead when they 
saw Legolas, and their cheeks went red. 

"Uh…" they began. 

Elrond had had enough, "You can go too… you…" 

And that was more or less the end of the council. Legolas took a walk with 
Figwit and Glorfindel, savouring old times and recalling everything they 
did in the old days in Rivendell. 

"And…" Figwit continued, laughing, "Have you heard of Arwen's 
betrothal?" 

"Betrothal?" Legolas said, halting. "Who to?" 

Figwit pinked slightly and wished he could recall his tactless remark, 
"Uh… Aragorn… Estel? Elrond's… foster son." 

Legolas closed his eyes, but a crystal tear ran down his cheek, "So," he 
whispered, "the prophecy is coming true…" There was total silence for a 
second.  Legolas opened his eyes, "You never heard of it?" he said 
hysterically, "Galadriel's prophecy! Ha! Oh, she hated me, she hated me!" 
and turning, the elf ran, tears beginning to pour down his face, not 
knowing where he was going, or what he was doing. 

Glorfindel turned on Figwit, "You tactless…" 

"There's no point," Figwit said distantly, "It's happened. I can't change my 
fault, Glorfindel. I can remedy it but it will always be in his heart." 
Glorfindel looked at him, "Figwit… it's no one's fault, not even Legolas' 
that what happened did. You were thoughtless and you had a fault in that, 
but you will learn to change these lapses." 

The younger elf looked at Glorfindel, "Thank you…" he whispered. 
Glorfindel smiled paternally at him, "He needs some time on his own. 
Should we go to the bridge?"

Legolas crumpled by a bush, holding his hands over his eyes as if to hide 
from the future… he had wondered about Estel. He was almost too… 
excited about Arwen and desperate that Legolas should meet her. He was 
determined to postpone the meeting for as long as possible and so… 
His cheeks were wet with tears and they came pouring down in an 
uninhibited mass. He wept silently though, and no one except another of 
his kind with sharper senses than normal would have noticed him. 
His heart still burned from Figwit's careless announcement, still seared 
from the shame he felt when Galadriel had told him… had told him… 
had… he rocked back and forth, closing his eyes and trying to slow the 
tear flow. Ennor was so beautiful; he did not wish to leave it… Tol Galen 
was still in it's summer of life… "Ai!" he cried out unknowingly and the 
Ranger walking past heard the cry and knelt down. 

"Who is it?" he called, "Who is it?" 

Legolas shuffled away, his hair catching in the branches and ran. He felt 
Aragorn's feet after him, a steady unyielding thump and, closing his eyes 
in pain he realised that whatever he did, Aragorn must not catch him. Or… 
He swerved suddenly and tripped over a tree root, knocking his head as he 
sunk to the floor… Aragorn must not catch him… but he was 
unconscious. 

Aragorn knelt down by the elf and pulled Legolas into a sitting position, 
then picked up a phial of vinegar he carried around with him and held it 
under his nose, at the same time cleaning a bright red cut on Legolas' 
head. The vinegar, used to drag people out of unconsciousness, say in 
battle, was effective. His eyes flickered open and he went tense. 

"Get off me!" he screamed immediately, "Oh, Valar!" he started to kick at 
Estel, who surprised, let go. Legolas faced him leaping up from the 
ground, "Why did you have to follow me?" he snapped. 

"You are distressed and…" 

"No excuse…" Aragorn stood up and faced the elf. 

"I did it for the best, Legolas." He clutched the elf's hands and for a 
moment they stood completely still. Legolas seemed to be losing himself 
in Aragorn and the hypnotic blue of Legolas' eyes. Legolas felt himself 
weakening, the pull of Aragorn… 

"Estel?" Arwen's voice, making them both jump. Quick as a flash, Legolas 
was gone and Aragorn was alone in the clearing.

 Elrond received a message from Galadriel that morning. He had put off 
opening it, but now Arwen had reminded him… His finger grasped the 
paper, thick and strong and he opened it.

Elrond, 

 They have met, the Silvan and the Man. And they will continue to meet 
unless you stop them. If you wish Arwen to get married you must push the 
nuptials forward before Aragorn leaves on the Fellowship.

It was not signed, but Elrond could tell that evil was closing in on 
Imladris. He hated Legolas, he loved Arwen, he had a fondness for 
Aragorn. What would he have, Arwen with him forever… or… Legolas 
and Arwen dead? Elrond sat down and began to play with his black 
sunglasses. Where he had got them from would remain a mystery. 

He loved Arwen… but her heart would break if Aragorn spurned her. He 
hated Legolas and he wanted his child happy, if that meant choosing a 
mortal life so be it. 

"Tell the Heir of Isildur and the Undomiel to prepare for a formal 
engagement before the Fellowship leaves," he ordered. Nothing could be 
arranged for a marriage at such short notice, but he trusted Galadriel most 
of the time and he knew that was what had to be done. 

TBC...

Chapter Two 
Kele-kesen
When Legolas comes to Rivendell after eighty years to speak with Elrond 
about the Quest of the Ring he does not expect to find Aragorn there. 
Slash (A/L, F/L, F/S, M/P). R&R. AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any product of Tolkien’s 
genius. I do not own anything from New Line Cinema. 
Archives: Please ask me before you take: kelekesen@hotmail.com. 
Dedicated to Marianne. She came to school today and though she isn’t a 
fan of slash, I’m still going to give this to you.

Aragorn gazed into the water, "Elrond, father," he said, "I am not ready for 
marriage." 

Elrond frowned, "Thirty years before you were willing. You begged me to 
allow you to wed the Evenstar. Now, the change." 

"Thirty years is a long time for a mortal," Aragorn replied, his eyes 
flashing. "And… oh, Elrond…" he closed his eyes, "I can’t decide as 
suddenly as I used. Give me some time." 

"The nuptials must be over before you leave for the Fellowship." 

"I know, I know." Aragorn turned and started to walk away, "I will be 
back in an hour, with my reply." 

He could not marry Arwen. Estel felt like a man cornered. The love there 
had once been between them had faded and died and for himself at least, 
he had found a new love, and yet, Aragorn thought as he paced the banks 
by the river, he had not known it until now. Legolas Greenleaf, son of 
Thranduil, Silvan elf, last in line for the throne of Mirkwood. A strange 
love, to love another of the same sex was a terrible crime… and… and… 

"Legolas?" a voice called. Aragorn opened his eyes, looking around for 
who spoke. An elf stepped from behind a tree. 

"Figwit?" 

Figwit grinned, "Ah, the Man! You wouldn’t have seen Legolas, 
anywhere, hmmn?" 

"I saw him on the bridge, about an hour ago," the Heir of Isildur remarked; 
non-committal. 

"Oh, alright then. He won’t have gone far. Thanks, Estel."  

Figwit ran off, his black tunic glinting under the stars, Strider following 
him quietly, a dark suspicion growing in his mind. Figwit was attractive, 
they had known each other before, they were good friends. Could… but… 
Aragorn shook his head, dispelling gloomy fears. Legolas might have a 
girl back in Mirkwood… he was being stupid… 

Legolas was sitting on the bank by the water, his hair glinting golden and 
his eyes flashing azure. Aragorn had never seen him look so beautiful. His 
lips were half open, and he was singing, a song about Tol Galen, his home. 
Figwit stood still and listened, never was such a beautiful voice heard in 
Imladris. 

"Legolas?" he said, slipping into a little used dialect of Sindarin, which 
Estel did not know, "I’ve come to apologise." 

Legolas looked up, "There’s no need. I… should be used to it by now." 

"Forgive me," Figwit whispered, his eyes filled with tears, "I was tactless." 

"You are younger than me," Legolas told him, standing up, "You did not 
think, but that is natural." 

Figwit nodded, fighting back the tears. Legolas hugged him. "Come!" he 
said, reverting to Quenyan, "I have a desire to be alone with you." 

That was enough for Estel. His heart broke, though his love was only 
hours old and closing his eyes he left the glade. His path was clear before 
him now. He must carry the burden of his ancestors, even though he knew 
he would die in the process. Figwit… lucky Figwit, he had got a jewel 
amongst elves. And, he would have a second chance… Arwen. Arwen, 
Arwen, Arwen. He had chosen.

Figwit and Legolas wandered down the bank laughing and talking of past 
and present and what the future would hold. They stopped by a bench, and 
sat down. 

"Do you remember this?" Figwit asked, "Do you?" 

Legolas blushed. "I could not forget it."

Figwit inched closer, "Do you remember… what I said… and what 
happened?" 

The Prince nodded briefly. "I never told a soul. It was my last day in 
Imladris." 

"Nor I. Not even Glorfindel. But, I think he suspected." Figwit looked 
deep into his eyes, "Galadriel said this was fated. She said… that you 
would fall in love with the next fiancé of Arwen. And, I am not engaged to 
Arwen. Aragorn is." 

Legolas snuggled his head into Figwit’s shoulder, "She may be wrong." 

"She never is." Figwit kissed him, "Do you care for Aragorn?" 

"No…" Legolas muttered uncertainly. "No…" 

"You do." Figwit whispered, "I know it. We were apart too long. But, I 
mind not, I will let you go to Aragorn." 

His eyes closed and he looked old and tired for a moment, "I may die, but 
if I live through the next few weeks I shall go to the Havens, wait for you. 
Aragorn will not live forever." 

"I know, but you will." Legolas mumbled. "And, maybe I should plan for 
the future. Our future. If it is fated for me to love Aragorn, then I can do 
nothing to stop it. But you are my abiding love, Figwit and though I may 
change… you’ll be the one I come back to." 

He stroked a coil of his hair, "Figwit…" he murmured, and "I can’t stop 
this. I’ll never stop it. I feel like we’re alone… just the two of us… 
freaks." 

"The two hobbits, the Ringbearer and the gardener are in love," Figwit 
sighed. 

"They are?" Legolas kissed him. "I know Pippin and Merry are… but, I 
feel so isolated." 

"We shall be together tonight," Figwit said, "and all the rest of eternity…" 

Legolas kissed him again and they clutched each other tightly, making up 
for the inevitable separation that was soon to tear them apart, Fate was at 
hand and crept over their lives. 

Soon, pure darkness fell over Imladris. 

Legolas woke stiff and cold with Figwit’s head on his lap. He struggled 
into a sitting position, "Figwit?" he whispered, sharply, "Figwit?" 
Slowly the elf beside him woke, blinking his eyes like a reptile. "We 
stayed here all night?" he asked blearily. 

"We must have done!" Legolas replied and began to stand up, knocking 
the elf’s head onto the stone of the bench. 

"Ow!" 

"Shush! Elrond walks these gardens in the morning! If we were 
discovered…" Figwit stood up shakily and Legolas touched his hand, 
"Today I leave for the Fellowship, Figwit. If I die…" he kissed the elf. 
"Tell Thranduil, I never understood him. I loved him, but…" tears choked 
his voice. "I love you, Figwit. I love you. Goodbye, until the Havens." 
Figwit kissed him in return, crudely. 

They parted.

Legolas bade goodbye to Glorfindel, who was not to attend the leaving of 
the Fellowship. He was sitting alone in a courtyard all in black, his hair 
pushed back behind a hood. 

"You mourn?" Legolas whispered. 

Glorfindel nodded, "You will break Figwit’s heart. He will certainly die. 
And, he knew you as you were before you met Aragorn." 
Legolas bit his lip until the blood ran down his cheek, "I’ve sent him to the 
Havens, where I shall shortly join him." 

"It will be the end of you, Legolas. Two loves! And who is to say you will 
not die of loss of Aragorn!" 

"I…" Legolas turned, horrified at the notion. 

"At the moment your feelings for Aragorn are not strong, but they will 
become so." Glorfindel whispered, then, seeing how distraught Legolas 
looked, hugged him. "But," he whispered, "do not give up hope. Live for 
Figwit." 

Legolas nodded, closing his eyes, and left, walking the short path to where 
the Fellowship were assembled, swinging his bow onto his back. Elrond 
was talking excitedly, and two figures arrayed in white stood. 
Gandalf who Legolas had not seen since his arrival came up, "The idiot!" 
he muttered fluently, "he is determined to outwit Fate! Arwen, Aragorn, 
they are marrying." 

Legolas nodded, "I had feared Elrond would choose this route." he replied, 
"Ah! But were it so easy to change a future!" 

Gandalf turned round, "My blessings on the couple!" he shouted at the 
proud father. 

Elrond nodded. He wondered at Aragorn's strange manner, he was stiff 
and wooden as if his choice did not matter anymore. And I would like to 
know on what it rests, he thought. 

Someone pronounced them man and wife, then the Fellowship, rigid, 
assembled to leave, and the couple bade farewell. and who knew how long 
it would be for... and what bitterness the meeting would create? 

Frodo went to the front relinquishing his tight grasp on Sam unwillingly. 
Turning to Gandalf he whispered, "Which way to Mordor?" and the 
wizard replied. 

They were to leave and as the Fellowship took their first step, a cry rang 
out and Figwit and Glorfindel ran to the courtyard. Figwit hugged the Elf 
and Glorfindel pressed his hand. 

"We would not leave without saying goodbye." they whispered.  

Legolas bowed his head and replied, "Thank you." 

They surged back, standing, ironically next to Arwen and waved as they 
left on the quest of the Ring. 

TBC...
The Quest for the Ring Part One: Confession 
Kele-kesen 
Disclaimer: Does not belong to me, belongs to Tolkien, but whether he’ll 
want it again is another matter. 
Archive: kelekesen@hotmail.com, please ask. 
Warning: Slash, male pregnancy, sex scenes. 
Pairings: Legolas/Boromir, Legolas/Aragorn, Frodo/Sam, Merry/Pippin. 
Summary: After Frodo nearly dies Sam decides to tell him how he feels. 
Boromir and Legolas meet and Aragorn has a  
discussion with Legolas about Arwen. R

Frodo opened his eyes and let in the sunlight, searing and blinding his 
sight. He was aware that the pain had stopped  
and that he was lying in a bed and that Gandalf was sitting next to him. 

"Where am I?" he whispered and the wizard touched his shoulder. 

"You’re in the House of Elrond, in Rivendell," he told the hobbit, "and 
you’re very lucky to be here!" 

Frodo nodded, but one thing overrode his senses, "Did Sam make it?" he 
asked. 

"Yes, and Merry and Pippin, Strider also. Sam’s hardly left your…" the 
wizard was interrupted as Sam burst through the door and running to his 
master grabbed his shoulder firmly. 

"I thought you were going to die," he jabbered incoherently, "I thought 
you were going…" 

"I’ll leave you together," Gandalf said, noticing the happy faces on both 
hobbits and guessing in some way what was to come. He smiled at them 
both and left the room. 

Sam blushed, "I…" he muttered, "I thought you were going, mister 
Frodo…" 

Frodo hugged him, "But I haven’t gone." 

"I just wanted you to know," Sam said shyly, "…I’m going back to the 
Shire – tomorrow. I’m going to marry Rosie Cotton. I’ve had my 
adventure and found it enough, mister Frodo." He stopped, surprised at the 
expression of his master. 

Frodo closed his eyes and winced in pain, "No…Sam… ‘tis my arm 
troubling me," he lied. 

"Well," Sam stood at the furthest end of the room and put his arms behind 
his back. His face was scarlet, "There’s something I’ve got to tell you," he 
whispered, "an’ I’ve been trying to hide it… but," he blinked back the 
tears, "it ain’t just a crush, mister Frodo… I’ve felt like this for some time 
now." 

Frodo’s face was expressionless, "Go on…" he whispered. 

Sam shuffled, "You’re gonna turn me out after you hear this," he 
muttered, "and I don’t mean to spoil our friendship… if there ever was 
such a thing, an’ all, but when Elrond said you were conscious, well, I felt 
I had to tell you ‘case I never got another chance. I love you, mister Frodo, 
an’ there’s no two ways about it." There was a long silence. Sam  
blushed purple and edged away, "I knew…" he mumbled, "I don’t care if 
you don’t care so I’ll marry Rosie and, try to forget about it if you can. I’ll 
still love you an’ all, but I’ll keep silent." 

Frodo opened his eyes. The harsh, unreal blue shattered the dreamlike 
state Sam had fallen into. They stared at each other, taking in every inch 
and drinking in the quietude. Frodo put his hand to his face and took his 
fingers away again. 

They were wet. 

"Silence?" he whispered. Sam stepped forward. "Silence?" Frodo repeated 
again, "Never constrain yourself to that, Sam. You are a pessimist 
sometimes, like now. You’ll marry Rosie Cotton? Because you think I 
can’t…" Sam started to laugh. "Stay back!" Frodo muttered weakly, "Stay 
back! Sam, you foolish hobbit, why didn’t you think to tell me before?" 

Sam blushed, "Because…" he choked, "I thought, it would spoil it… and 
then you nearly died… everyday I was telling you and…" he closed his 
eyes, recalling, "and you were always so still." 

Frodo laughed through his tears, "Well, I’m not still now and, Samwise 
Gamgee, I love you too." 

Sam gaped. "But… why didn’t you say?" 

Frodo leaned forward and hugged him, "Because you were too young, too 
innocent and I wasn’t sure."
Sam laughed and for the first time their lips met. "I love you," he breathed. 

"I love you." 

The idyllic scene was seen by only one person. Boromir, Steward of 
Gondor, newly arrived in Rivendell glimpsed it through an open window 
as he was walking on the terrace. His envy sprang up like a snake… if he 
was Sam! If he was Frodo! How lucky he would consider himself. But, 
Boromir had and loved no one. The Steward of Gondor was alone. 
Many tongues could be heard from below, a myriad of sweet elvish voices 
blending into a harmonious laugh and yet some coarser tongues could be 
heard and some new. Boromir went to the railings and gazed down. 
Several Rivendell elves could be seen, a dwarf, and two hobbits and an elf 
standing laughing together, and the elf was undoubtedly one  
of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen.

* * *

Legolas was amazed at the versatile natures of the hobbits. Already they 
seemed to have adapted to life in Imladris, laughing and talking with some 
of the noblest lords as if it were second nature. Robust, merry and 
altogether mortal, Legolas mused as he watched Pippin punch his cousin 
playfully on the shoulder. They take note of their mortal life but  
yet… they do not seem to care. It’s like a charm. And, though they are 
relations they are closer to each other than is natural… 

He was aware of someone watching him and he lifted his head. A Man 
leant against the railings over the courtyard, calmly gazing at him. The 
impudence of the Man was incredible; he had an arrogant bearing as if he 
was the only one who mattered. Legolas met his calculating stare with one 
of stone. It is the Steward of Gondor, he realised. Only he  
could be so arrogant. Thranduil, my father has many tales of the 
haughtiness of Boromir. He is very different from Merry and Pippin, he 
takes life seriously, coldly, and he believes himself to be immortal, like all 
Men and their life is just like the passing of a spider to the elves, the ages 
pass them by and they hardly weary but Men grow grey and feeble. He 
couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow old. He aged but it was slowly 
and his father felt as young as he did, but Thranduil was more fond of 
hearth and fire now, not the splendid beauty of Mirkwood. 

For the first time Legolas realised why. Thranduil, his father was already 
considering the Grey Havens. Already his eyes had turned to that place of 
rest… but it was too soon, too soon! Legolas had also been considering it, 
but he knew Thranduil, Ada, wanted to be there eternally. 

Peace. It was the great ambition of the elves, and happiness, but happiness 
followed peace and was not… 

"Elf?" the Man had spoken.  

Legolas resented this and so replied coolly, "Man?" 

The Man looked ruffled, "I am Boromir, the Steward of Gondor. Do not 
call me "Man"?" 

How dare he, thought Legolas, taking pleasure in annoying him. "I am 
Legolas Greenleaf, youngest son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. Do not 
call me "Elf"." 

Boromir’s face crinkled into a laugh, "We are about even, then," he told 
the elf. "I am sorry for offending you." 

"And I you, but no offence was taken," Legolas lied. Boromir vaulted over 
the railings in one sudden movement and stood easily beside Legolas. The 
prince drew in a sharp breath. "That was worthy of an Elf!" he whispered. 

"Ah, but was it worthy of a Man?" Boromir teased. 

"Truly, more than worthy," Legolas laughed, "I have never seen a Man 
with such grace!" 

"Except for the Ranger…" Boromir looked sullen suddenly. "He was 
raised with the elves and knows Lord Elrond intimately. I should wonder 
how?" he joked vulgarly.

"Estel had Elrond as his foster-father," Legolas snapped, taking offence as 
rapidly as a snake. 

"Ah! I apologise! Again! You are feisty, elf." He looked mocking. 

"And you are a common Man," Legolas said and began to walk away. 
Boromir seized his arm, "Have you ever seen the beauty of Rivendell, 
Legolas?" he said, changing the subject. He was now more informal. 

"Many, many times," Legolas said stiffly. 

"Can I walk with you awhile… you could show me this place?" 

"I am not a guide and you have done nothing to merit me doing that." 

"Please?" 

"Ah! The Man is humble!" Legolas joked, "Very well." 

Boromir grinned, "Begin!" 

"Disrespectful Man!" 

"Ridiculous Elf!" 

And so they began to walk about Rivendell. Legolas realised as he led 
Boromir along the many winding pathways how beautiful the place was.  
He had been there since a child and had never noticed it’s rich ostentatious 
beauty. He had noted Mirkwood’s many a time; it was subtle, modest but 
none the less beautiful. With Boromir gaping by his side, he seemed to 
notice so much more and the Man certainly added something to Imladris. 

Now Boromir was at ease with the elf, he walked slower and laughed and 
his arrogance seemed to have vanished. He often looked at Legolas to see 
if he was enjoying himself and Legolas had to admit that he was. Boromir 
was very pleasant company, very, very pleasant company.

"And here," Legolas began as he stepped onto a bridge over a pretty, 
trickling river, "is… uh… a bridge." 

Boromir laughed. "Very eloquent, Legolas," he mocked. 

"It’s where lovers have often come to plight their troth." 

"Elven lovers, maybe. I shall never marry." 

"No?" Legolas tried to sound non-committal. 

"I am the Steward of Gondor, my father was not married and his father 
was not married either." 

"How…?" Legolas began and then stopped and blushed. 

Boromir looked amused. "Yes, it is possible. You don’t need a ring and a 
certificate of marriage to have a baby." 

"I…" Legolas was shocked, "out of… wedlock!" 

"Well, they couldn’t have it in wedlock!" Boromir laughed, "It is 
forbidden." 

Legolas looked mystified and Boromir smiled to himself. "I don’t 
understand…" 

"You don’t need to." 

"But I want to!" Legolas said angrily. 

"No!" Boromir laughed, "It shall be my knowledge until I think it is better 
to tell you." 

Legolas laughed and they continued their walk.

* * *

"How long did you know?" Frodo breathed. 

"Since, since, I first saw you," Sam replied, his eyes sparkling as he stood 
up. 

"When you were five?" Frodo giggled. "You were a bit young!" 

"I always knew." Sam said, moving over to the window and looking down 
on Merry and Pippin. "How about you?" 

"Since you came into my service, I knew. You were underage then, 
young," Frodo remembered. 

Sam was looking at Merry and Pippin, "I never knew their secret," he 
breathed, "until that day in the forest." 

"What?" Frodo asked. 

"Merry and Pippin," Sam said simply. 

"Oh, but they’ve… they’ve been together for ages. I had to tell Merry that 
Pippin fancied him and vice versa." 

"Really? That must have been horrendous." 

"It was," Frodo said with feeling. 

"How will they react, d’you think?" 

"They’ll say "Oh, alright then," and go." 

"You’d better be sure." 

"Why?" 

"I couldn’t stand it if someone found out." 

"They’re my cousins, they wouldn’t… I mean, they’re…" 

"But Merry and Pippin have always been lax." 

"So?" 

"I… don’t know." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I just don’t know." 

"What are you saying?" 

"I don’t feel safe." 

"Well, neither do I, join the club." 

"Frodo…" Sam whispered and then Elrond entered. 

"Nice to see you awake… Frodo?" the elf nodded and went across to the 
window. "I have seen many things happen today," he said, "and some are 
more miraculous than others." 

"Sir?" Sam mumbled, "Sorry… we don’t…" 

"You’re not meant to," Elrond smiled faintly, "it will all make sense soon. 
Sam, B- someone wants you in the courtyard." 

Sam nodded, "Oh, B- that person! Yes!" 

He hurriedly left the room. Elrond turned his piercing gaze onto Frodo. 

"As for you, Ringbearer, you must sleep. I have prepared something for 
you…" he held out a bottle. "I advise you to rest. It will be a long time 
ahead." 

"Sorry?" Frodo said, but he took the bottle and shook it. 

"A sleeping draught." Elrond told him. 

Frodo mumbled thanks and then opened the phial and drained the 
contents. Before he could move a muscle he was  
asleep. 

Elrond grinned mirthlessly and followed Sam.

* * *

Legolas was dozing in a corner when he heard familiar footsteps and his 
eyes snapped open, "Aragorn!" he said, happily. 

Aragorn smiled tenderly, "How are you?" he said. 

"Fine!" Legolas was ecstatic; he was very close to Aragorn and had not 
seen him for a long, long time. He hugged his friend, "and how go things 
with you?" 

"I have been in the Wilderness," the Man whispered, a shadow falling over 
his face, "I have been in the Wilderness," he repeated, "and it has been 
torture all through. I have been waiting to return… return home, to 
Rivendell." 

Legolas looked down, "Arwen…" he breathed. 

"Yes. She is my life. "Aragorn sat down on the stone. 

"She loves you." Legolas put in weakly. 

"If I was sure of that…" Aragorn trailed off miserably, "you would marry 
her at once," Legolas finished.

"Yes." 

"She does." Legolas put a comforting arm on his shoulder. 

"Ah! But I would believe you!" Aragorn said, dazedly, "Legolas, if I told 
you something would you…" 

"What?" Legolas asked. 

"Would you…?" 

"What is it?" 

"Estel?" Elrond called and Aragorn stood up as his foster father came 
over, "I need you to talk to Elrohir…" 

"Yes, yes, ada. I’ll talk to you later, Legolas." 

"Yes,"  Legolas whispered. "Talk to me later." 

TBC…
 
 
 
 
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