Disclaimer: I don't own it! I never have and never will.

A/N: So, I was asked in nearly every review I got for "Maybe Someday" for a second chapter/sequel. As I like reviews and love to make my readers happy, HERE IT IS! Thanks for reading! Hugs and bunnies! (Oh, and this is really really A/U…)

thoughts/memories

song

Spend all your time waiting

For that second chance

For the break that will make it okay

There's always some reason

To feel not good enough

And it's hard at the end of the day

Aragorn Elessar, King of Gondor and Arnor, sighed wearily, rubbing a hand over his lined and worried face. He was so tired of late. Tired of having to deal with the petty squabbles of nobles or the new requests for aid from some town or farm or another, tired of attending meetings and balls and functions. He was even tired of the land, of roaming nature. He was tired of everything. He felt drained and weary, sorrowful—of late he had been missing his foster father Elrond and his other Elven family members more than usual. But mostly, and this was perhaps the worst of all, he felt—old. Aragorn, who had been called Estel, and still was by close friends and family, had always felt young at heart, always been positive and full of life. Now, he seemed old and tired, like the bent old man he supposed he was.

Aragorn knew his time was running out. He was nearing the end of his life. And, for the most part, he had no regrets. Save one. He regretted the fact he would never see Elrond again. During the day, this regret became a pale shadow in his mind, pushed aside by his duties, but at night…At night, it grew and flowered until it choked him. He wished he could see his ada. Just one more time…to say goodbye, to be near the comforting presence of the only father he had ever known as the darkness of mortality swallowed him. This regret, yes it was regret, not fear, only woke at night. For at night, the stars shone brightly, reminding him of Elrond, but the shadows made it hard to hold on to the hope of ever seeing the Elven lord again.

I need some distraction

Oh, beautiful release

Memories seep from my veins

They may be empty and

Weightless and maybe

I'll find some peace tonight

Each night, Aragorn went to sleep, half hoping to be released to Mandos' Halls. Hoping to find the peace and rest he so desired. And every time, he felt ashamed of such thoughts. He thought of Arwen and Eldarion and his daughters, but the memories never stopped. Everywhere he turned, something reminded him of times with his father, with the twins, with Glorfindel or Erestor. He went to sleep, hoping for peace. Peace that never came.

In the arms of the Angel

Fly away from here

From this dark, cold hotel room

And the endlessness that you fear

Yet, every morning, he managed to wake with renewed hope. He dreamed—of what he could never remember—but it always left him feeling stronger. His fear, fear that the dull monotony, the weary hours would never cease, was calmed, always faint and distant in the morning.

You are pulled from the wreckage

Of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the Angel

May you find

Some comfort here

He sighed, closing his eyes, trying to bring the memories of Elrond, the twins and Imladris to his mind. To his nearly heart-shattering sorrow, the memories were faded, fuzzy and out of focus. The years had taken their toll. A feeling akin to fear brought tears to his eyes as he realized he no longer had a clear picture of his Elven family in his memory, the picture was being lost to time. A few tears slid down his cheeks and he bit back an anguished cry, trying to not make a sound—it would not do for anyone to think the king upset.

Soft arms wrapped around his shoulders. He turned, his eyes saying what his voice would not, could not say. Arwen watched him with sad compassion. He was not happy in Middle-Earth any longer and she knew it. But she was afraid, she did not wish to lose him, did not think she would be able to bear it. Still, she knew her husband longed for their family long departed over the Sea. She knew of his weariness and his desire to see Elrond again, if only to say good-bye. So she tried to lend comfort where she could. She knew they had not much time left.

So tired of the straight line

And everywhere you turn

There's vultures and thieves at your back

The storm keeps on twisting

You keep on building the lies

That you make up for all that you lack

It don't make no difference

Escaping one last time

It's easier to believe

In this sweet madness

Oh, this glorious sadness

That brings me to my knees

Legolas Greenleaf and his companion, Gimli, son of Gloin, watched as their friend stared out across the garden and they were shocked by how old he appeared, how tired and worn. Legolas laid a hand on the man's shoulder and was dismayed when he started, turning to look at who had come upon him without his awareness. He let the tension flow away and Legolas saw the toll that the bickering nobles and indecisive councils had taken on his friend.

Aragorn saw the worry in his friend's eyes and smiled wanly as if to say, It's nothing my old friend, just the same old vultures, parasites, and thieves…Except I am no longer as young as I used to be… For a moment, there was a spark in the man's eyes, lighting his face as Legolas chuckled softly, Of course, my friend, you are nearly a child now, no longer an infant…I am sure you can handle the other children…

But it only lasted a moment, the lie, the façade was cracking, and it no longer stayed in place as it once had. But Legolas knew it mattered not. It did not matter that Aragorn could no longer keep up his mask of youth and happiness as he once had. In this he was one with his human friend. He, too, longed to leave, to see long departed loved ones, though he was as sure of his reunion as Aragorn was unsure of his own…Aragorn, the one who had been always hopeful, found it hard to see that far, instead, the fear and grief and their whispers that he would never again see his family were easier to believe. The sorrow and weariness that held a place in the man's heart, that kept him awake into the night, they were far easier to see than a joyful reunion with those he called family.

Aragorn knew. He knew Legolas saw through the cracked and flaking mask he presented to the world. A sob built in his throat and tore loose as the stars shone softly overhead. The man slowly sank to the damp, grassy ground, looking nothing like the strong king he was and instead resembling the young man, frightened and alone, bearing a burden too large for him, a young man Elrond had helped to grow and bear the burden laid upon him by his heritage. Except this time, Elrond was not there. Legolas knelt and gathered the man into his arms, trying to give as much comfort as he could, though he knew none but Elrond would be able to fully assuage what afflicted his friend. There were some things that even the best, closest of friends, even a brother could not sooth. Some things that only the quiet, strong assurance of one's ada could wash away…

In the arms of the Angel

Fly away from here

From this dark, cold hotel room

And the endlessness that you fear

You are pulled from the wreckage

Of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the Angel

May you find

Some comfort here

Arwen closed her eyes, tears washing her cheeks. Aragorn kissed her forehead and smiled. She knew what it meant, she saw it in his eyes, You will join me, soon…

He was leaving. The people of Gondor believed him dead. They thought he had finally succumbed to age and time. Arwen would that she had the choice to let them believe the same of her, but it was impossible. The people could not lose both their King and their Queen, both of whom were loved by all, in such a short period. They would need to see the faith and trust Arwen put in her son, Eldarion, in his ability to rule as justly and wisely as his father had.

Indeed, even Eldarion thought his father dead. It had been Legolas' idea. Convincing them that the Valar would see Aragorn as a part of Elrond's family, mortal or no, and possibly not even that for it was clear that Aragorn suffered from longing, a longing akin to Sea-longing, they had used Elrond's healing wisdom and sent Aragorn into a sleep that mimicked death. So the people, and even Aragorn's children, believed him dead and he was free to sail with Legolas and Gimli.

Aragorn had been unsure at first, saying he was mortal and forbidden entrance to Valinor. But Legolas, seeming to take on the personalities of both Gandalf and Elrond at their most stubborn, informed him that if it was a matter of blood, did he not have the blood of Elrond's twin, Elros? When Aragorn pointed out that Elros had become mortal, the Mirkwood Prince rolled his eyes and countered him, inquiring how many times they had tended each other's wounds and even Elladan and Elrohir's wounds, sharing blood. Aragorn had sighed resignedly, shaking his head in denial. Legolas had informed him that, by rights, by Elven law, to exchange blood was to become blood kin, thus, he was of an Elven family, two Elven families and of Elven blood and therefore had every right to request admittance to Valinor. Convinced, or at least resigned, Aragorn had agreed to the journey. He now watched the shoreline of Middle-Earth fade into the distance.

It was a time that seemed untraceable, short and yet agonizingly long, before another shore came into view. Aragorn swallowed hard. It could only be one place. Valinor. Legolas smiled reassuringly as their small boat made contact with the sandy shore. A party greeted them and, after a short discussion during which a message was received, Legolas and Gimli were allowed to disembark from the small vessel. Aragorn swallowed hard and followed, expecting to be stopped. He did not believe his heart would be able to bear being turned away, not when he was so close to seeing Elrond again. He lightly, almost hesitantly, stepped onto the gleaming white shore and let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. People grinned with joy, Legolas was already being pulled into the group and welcomed, as was Gimli, though he was welcomed with a somewhat more reserved and unsure manner.

He looked around unsurely and was suddenly nearly thrown to the ground by someone—no two someones—tackling him. He looked into the eyes of those he had called brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. They were grinning in delight and welcomed him with such enthusiasm that a small smile tugged at his lips. But still there was something missing. Where was Elrond? As wonderful as it was to see his brothers, Aragorn wanted nothing more than to see his ada.

The crowd quieted, as if signaled by some invisible sign and suddenly Aragorn knew. Glancing either way, he saw Elladan and Elrohir on his right, grinning madly and gesturing for him to go, and Legolas, standing with his mother and father, as well as those of the Fellowship who had come across the Sea on his left. Legolas smiled a little and nodded and Aragorn took a shaky step forward, then another, and another. He worked his way through the crowd that watched him expectantly, parting for him. And suddenly, he saw the one person he had wished for so long to lay eyes upon again. Elrond. It took less than a heartbeat and Aragorn—Estel—was in the arms of the Elf he had called father, tears running down his cheeks. Elrond smiled fondly, simply holding the man, tears in his own eyes. And it was then Aragorn knew. He knew what it was he had dreamed while back in Gondor, the dreams he could not remember but had left him able to face another day. They were of the safety and comfort he felt in the arms of his family. Those memories that had grown dim with time that his conscious mind could no longer access, he had seen in dreams and the one that had always brought the most comfort was the memory of the feeling of Elrond's embrace. In those arms he finally found the comfort—the peace—he longed for.

You're in the arms of the Angel

May you find

Some comfort here

Fin

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