~~~~~

Elvish translations:
Cuil-nîn - my life
Gûr-nîn - my heart
Gwador - sworn brother
Fëa - spirit
Hannon chen - thank you
Meleth - love
Melethen - my love
Mell-nín - my beloved
Mellon-nîn - my friend
Namárië - farewell

~~~~~



Legolas felt the sense of dread and oppression settle over him like a shroud the moment he rode through the great steel and mithril-banded gates of the capital city. He had never been wholly comfortable in Minas Tirith - there was too much stone, and not all the trees and gardens planted by his people and tended by generations of Gondorians could fully soften its choking heaviness. But the errand on which he was so reluctantly drawn carried its own grievous burden.

His horse threaded its way carefully through the crowded streets - so different from the half-deserted courtyards of his first remembrance - as he ascended the seven levels of the city. Reaching the Citadel at last, he halted beneath the spreading canopy of the White Tree, its branches heavy with swollen buds among the already unfurled leaves, dark above and silver beneath, that trembled in the breeze flowing up Anduin from the Sea.

'You are well come, Prince Legolas,' a tall Man clad in the black-and-silver livery of the Tower Guard greeted him somberly.

'I thank you, Bergil, is it not?' the Elf responded as he slid gracefully from his steed's back.

'Beremond, son of Bergil,' the soldier answered. 'I doubt you remember me, I was barely more than a child when last you came to the White City.' He motioned to another guard to see to the Elf-lord's mount. 'You will want to see the King at once,' he said, and it was not a question.

'Is he...' Legolas trailed into silence, unable even to finish his own thought. He no longer knew which he feared more - that he was too late, or that he was not.

'He yet lives, though I fear it shall not be long now,' the guard answered heavily. 'He has gone to the Silent Street.' A cold chill shuddered through the Elf's slender frame at the words. He remembered the stultifying halls of Rath Dinen, from Boromir's memorial, and Faramir's passing. Beremond led him past the entrance to the Great Hall, across the courtyard and down narrow, flagged walkways until they reached a great door in the rearward wall of the sixth circle. The porter nodded them through in mournful silence.

The feeling of oppression grew as Beremond's footsteps echoed against the flagstones. They descended through walls of dark, veined stone until all view of the sky above was lost, the flickering lanterns which lined the walls lending the only light. Legolas could not afterward remember how long or how far they walked, until it seemed they were winding down into the depths of Mount Mindolluin itself. Even the passage into Moria had not filled the Elf's spirit with the dread of this slow, relentless descent. Then, he did not know what terrors he might face; and Aragorn was there to give him strength. Now, he knew exactly what torment lay before him, and Aragorn himself would be the cause of it.

Finally, the guard halted before a great domed building, fronted with carven images of long-dead Kings.

'Here I must leave you, and return to my post. The King lies within.' Beremond bowed, and Legolas saw the glitter of silent tears as the Man turned away. Dreading this entrance more than that to the Paths of the Dead, the Elf entered the doors of the rotunda.

The huge space was empty save for a single stocky figure that paced the length of the room, halting when he noticed the Elf. 'You took long enough to get here,' Gimli growled, his voice hoarse with affection. 'I thought I would have to come and get you myself.' The Dwarf clasped the Elf's forearm in rough acknowledgement, neither of them needing words to speak their grief.

They stood silently for a long moment, and then Legolas raised his head at last. 'The Queen?' he asked, wondering why they two were alone in this place.

'She is with the children, and the twins.' Gimli sighed heavily, a sound Legolas thought he had never before heard the Dwarf make. 'She will follow close behind him, I fear. And he has given the tokens of Kingship over to Eldarion.' The Dwarf nodded toward a doorway on the opposite side of the hall. 'He is waiting for you.'

'Gimli...' Legolas faltered.

'I know." Gimli's large hand settled on his friend's shoulder. 'I'd rather face the hordes at the Black Gate again, myself. But he needs this.' His hand slid down helplessly to his side. 'I'll wait for you here, until...' The Dwarf's harsh voice caught in his throat. 'I'll see that you are not disturbed.'

Legolas nodded sightlessly, and paced with leaden feet through the doorway, to face the Man he had long ago given his heart, his body, his soul, and now must face losing forever. The King of Gondor and Arnor half sat, half reclined on a low couch before an open window that looked onto a small walled garden. His hair was more streaked with grey, the lines in his face more deeply carved than when Legolas had seen him last; yet he looked more like a man in the prime of his years than many the Elf had passed in the crowded streets. Though his eyes were hooded with weariness, they lit in joy as Legolas crossed the room to kneel at his side.

'I knew you would come, gwador,' he said, and Legolas heard no weakness in his voice. 'Hannon chen.'

'But...' the Elf stammered, for perhaps the first time in all his long years. 'But you are not... I feared...'

'You feared to find me feeble and decrepit, like Théoden before Gandalf broke Saruman's spell,' Aragorn murmured. 'I know, mellon-nîn. I know why you stayed away.'

'I saw what the years did to Faramir ere he passed,' Legolas confessed in anguish. 'I could not bear to watch you wither with age as he did. Forgive me - I was afraid, and weak.' He lifted his hands to frame the Man's beloved face. 'I feared to see you wasting unto death; but you are still strong, meleth! Come out from this place, cuil-nîn - you should not be here.'

The King turned his head to press a kiss into the Elf's trembling palm. 'I would have spared you this if I could, gûr-nîn. The blood of Númenor has granted me a life-span thrice that of the Men of Middle-earth; but long though the years have been, they are come to an end at last.'

'Nay,' Legolas cried, clasping Aragorn's hands in desperation, the emotion he had tried so hard to suppress overwhelming him. 'Nay, Aragorn, it is not yet your time. Will you not let me redress the years I foolishly wasted?'

Aragorn shook his head sadly. 'I may not resemble Théoden yet, but if I linger, that is what I should become,' he said. 'I am a healer, and I know what my body is telling me. If I do not leave now, I will soon need to leave perforce. Would you have me linger 'til I fall unmanned and witless, just as you feared? What harm would that cause to my kingdom, what suffering to those I love? Nay, Legolas, so did the downfall of Númenor begin, when Men began to cling unnaturally to life. Do not tempt me so, when together we withstood the temptation of the Ring! To me has been granted the grace to recognize my time, and to go when I will. Now, therefore, I will rest.' He reached forward to gently raise the Elf's head, silver-grey eyes meeting blue ones swimming with tears. 'But I am glad I may take my leave of you ere I go, melethen.'

'What of Arwen?' Legolas asked guiltily. "Surely she should be here...'

'She does not begrudge you this, as she has begrudged you nothing throughout the years,' Aragorn answered. 'We have said our farewells, and I know she shall join me shortly, in whatever befalls the souls of Men when we pass from this life.' He lifted a hand to caress the Elf's golden hair. 'But for you, Legolas, the wait shall be long, I fear.'

'So much time we could have been together,' Legolas lamented. 'Years I might have spent by your side.'

'We may have been apart physically, but you were always with me,' Aragorn asserted, 'as I was always with you. Could you not feel it, meleth? I did not need you near me to love you, or to know that you loved me.'

'I regret now every day I did not hold you in my arms, every chance I threw away to show you how much I love you,' Legolas said bitterly. 'Only now do I see what my fear has cost us both.'

The Man drew the Elf into his loving embrace. 'Let not your memories be marred by sorrow. Our times together may have been few, but could all the ages of Arda better them?' Aragorn persisted. 'Remember the first time we loved, Legolas, when we met after so many years on the borders of Mirkwood?'

'I remember,' Legolas whispered, closing his eyes and surrendering to the beauty of the memory. As clearly as if it were happening anew, he could feel the thrill of Aragorn's flesh against his, taste the heady sweetness of the Man's kiss, hear the cries of pleasure falling from both their lips as they joined together as one, body and spirit…

'My fëa bonded to yours that day, as surely and as strongly as it already had to Arwen,' the King avowed. 'Truly I am the most blessed of Men, to have shared the love of the two fairest Elves in Middle-earth. Take the memory of that love with you to Valinor, Legolas, where it will stay ever-green and hallowed while the world endures.'

'But never more than a memory,' Legolas protested. 'An empty shadow, to mock me through all the long years I will face alone.'

'Nay, for each time you relive those memories, I shall be with you,' Aragorn promised. He interlaced their fingers and met the Elf's eyes confidently. 'Our bond will endure, though uncounted ages of the world lie between us.'

'You truly believe that,' Legolas wondered. 'How can you be so sure?'

'Do you remember what you told me the day we first kissed, mell-nín? When I complained that Men were inferior to Elves? "Eldar and Edain are both the Children of Ilúvatar, and if he gave different gifts to the Second Born, they are surely not lesser." The One who made all the beauty of the world, who endowed his Children with the power to love each other, will surely not suffer that love to be ended forever. We will meet again, melethen, at the end of all things, when all the Children of Ilúvatar join in the Final Music.'

Legolas lowered his head to rest against the King's broad chest, sensing at last his struggle to keep lungs filling and heart beating. 'Forgive me,' he whispered. 'I was wrong to despair.'

Aragorn laid his hand on the golden head in benediction. 'There is nothing to forgive, Legolas,' he murmured, catching his breath.

'You are in pain!' Legolas realized, lifting his head to search the silver eyes of his beloved.

'I have waited for you as long as I may, but it is wearying,' Aragorn admitted. 'I would rest now, Legolas.'

The Elf closed his eyes as tears welled beneath the lashes.

'Do not be afraid to weep, melethen,' Aragorn soothed him. 'In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. For we are not bound forever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory.'

He cradled his love's ageless face in his hands one last time. 'Let me sleep with your taste on my lips...' he murmured.

Legolas lowered his head and pressed his mouth reverently to Aragorn's. For a moment, the years rolled away and he was kissing Estel for the first time beneath the bud-filled trees of Imladris. He felt, rather than heard, the King whisper 'Namárië' against his lips, and then all was silence.

'Estel, Estel!' he cried, and bowing his head he wept for long moments. When the tears slowed at last, he rose and walked back to the hall where the Dwarf stood waiting. At the threshold, he turned to gaze one last time at the still form of the King, but he did not feel the emptiness he had dreaded. I will do as you bid me, melethen, he promised. I will keep our memories alive, until we are together again at last.

'Is he gone?' Gimli asked quietly.

'Ennas nâ-enui Estel,' Legolas answered. There is always Hope.

~~~~~

Then a great beauty was revealed in him, so that all who after came there looked on him in wonder; for they saw that the grace of his youth, and the valour of his manhood, and the wisdom and majesty of his age were blended together. And long there he lay, an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world.

Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring.

~~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King