Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters that belong to Tolkien, that would be a contradiction of terms.

The door to Legolas' room bust open with a loud bang. Legolas dropped his book to the floor and leapt to his feet, out of his chair. He relaxed when he saw who it was. "Estel, what are you… Are you well mellon-nin?" The young man was trembling, pasty white, and his eyes were red and wild.

"No, no I am not," the human choked.

"What is it?" A hand on his shoulder, Legolas gently guided his young student into the room. "Please, sit." The human rejected the offer, and went to stare out of the window. "Talk to me."

"I can not," said Aragorn. His face was tinged with a cool emerald glow from the trees at the window. "I can not speak of it now."

Legolas paused for a moment, but Aragorn's back was rigid. He could not tell whether the tension was from distress or from anger, so asked, "Why did you come here if you did not wish to talk?"

"I had… to get away. You will not judge me, or expect what I can not deliver. You will not throw responsibility on my shoulders. You, at least, are my friend."

"So talk to me, let me help," He considered moving closer to Aragorn, but refrained: he had no idea how the human would react. Aragorn turned his face away from the question, so Legolas went over Aragorn's words in his mind. "Responsibility… Estel…?"

"That is not my name," Tears started to spill over onto his cheeks, "I am not who I thought I was."

"You are still the same person!" exclaimed Legolas. "You will not change."

"I am Elendil's heir, son of Arathorn. I have to complete a test that may claim my life," spat Aragorn, running a frenzied hand through his hair. The light glinted off a ring on his finger, one which Legolas recognised as the Ring of Barahir. So he had been told everything.

Gazing sadly at Aragorn's stiff profile, Legolas told him, "We have faith that it will not. I know that it will not."

"No one can know, no one. Ada's foresight can not penetrate the clouds of uncertainty. But you knew, all those years. How could you not tell me?" The human angrily demanded, "I thought you were my friend, not just my teacher, held under Elrond's thumb like everyone else."

"Estel…"

Bitterly, Aragorn cut across him, "No you can not call me that. I am not permitted to be called that. Do you believe me when I say that I believe he expected me to be pleased? How can I be? I have to risk my life, be wanted dead by so many."

At a loss for what to say, hating seeing Aragorn hurt, Legolas could only murmur, "I know, mellon-nin. It is not right, it is not fair on you."

"Everything in my life has been a lie. My own mother could not look me in the eye. How can I believe anything that they have said before? Even their words of love."

Legolas sternly said, "You can not say that. Every word of love, I know is true."

"How can you know?" moaned Aragorn, turning around.

Seeing his swollen red eyes, contrasting with his far paler than usual skin, Legolas could not help but take a step closer. "I know…" He realised then what he had not allowed himself to admit, the nagging thought that had tugged at him for the past three years, every time he saw Aragorn. It was love, he knew that he loved Aragorn. "…that I love you."

Aragorn's yes widened as he gasped, "Wha-" But Legolas stepped forwards and pressed his lips to the human's.

Legolas gently took Aragorn's face between his hands, even as Aragorn's mouth began to move against his. Tentatively, not wanting to scare him away, Legolas slipped his tongue towards Aragorn's lips, running it over them, asking if he would be granted entrance.

Suddenly, Aragorn pulled away, shocked. "Legolas… why?"

Breath caught in his throat, Legolas said, "I need you to know… how I feel… that these feelings will not change."

"Stop! Do not say this!" snapped Aragorn, fearfully backing away from the elf. "How can you…"

"This is how I feel, just how I feel," Legolas said, reaching out a hand, "Forgive me if I was too… forward."

"I can not deal with this, Legolas! I came here for peace, not more burdens."

"Forgive me," Legolas let his hand drop back to his side and turned away, blushing furiously. "Forget this if it helps. I do not wish for you to be burdened." He felt like a fool. He had picked the worst of times to give into his feelings.

Fresh tears cascaded down Aragorn's cheeks, and Legolas felt a physical ache in his chest. He had made Aragorn cry. "I can not forget," stuttered Aragorn.

"Aragorn…" Legolas started.

"I… I can not stay here. I must go," Aragorn interrupted, moving further towards the door. At the threshold, he paused and in a begging voice, pleaded, "Please tell me you have mislaid your sense… please, Legolas."

"I will not lie to you," said Legolas, bowing his head. "I can not help but love you."

With this, Aragorn turned on his heel and fled in a swish of his cloak. Legolas, who had not missed the mistrust in Aragorn's eyes, sank down to the bed. A friendship he treasured above all others had been severed by something as simple as a kiss. Nothing would ever be the same.

Slowly, Legolas raised his himself to look out of the window, and saw Aragorn running below him, lithely flitting through the trees. He was barely a shadow, and he disappeared quickly. To the emptiness, Legolas whispered, "I am sorry."

000

Aragorn ran, he just needed to get away, to clear his head of all the things he had been told. It was too much for one human to bear, too much responsibility on his two young shoulders. He had been alive for two decades, it was not enough. He was supposed die, but he was not ready to lose his life. First he had to live! But what was living? You needed a purpose, love, happiness, to feel alive, or so he had been told. He had a purpose - to reclaim the throne of Gondor – and apparently someone to love him, but he did not want to be loved by Legolas. He wanted only to be loved by him as a friend.

And what exactly was true happiness?

"Some would say that perfect sunset. Others, the smallest beauty, or the thrill of whatever excites them. Or indeed, the moment of true bliss with a lover," a soft female voice, that reminded him somehow of crisp, sweet apples yet the sigh of a light breeze, said from behind him.

Whirling around, Aragorn's hands flew to his sword. He had not realised that he had spoken out loud. But then, when he saw the woman, no… elf, no… goddess, before him, he froze. She was a vision, perfection in elf form. Long, silky black hair flowed in a thin, dark sheet, her pale skin was flawless, and she had a red flush in her cheeks from riding the horse she sat on. The blush accentuated her perfect rose lips. Her eyes were… entrancing, and they held Aragorn's for countless moments. He lost track of time in the perfect, hypnotising gaze. That stare, he thought, he would remember for an eternity.

It only broke when the she-elf tilted her head slightly, and chuckled, "I personally favour the latter option."

Aragorn had absolutely no idea what she was saying. Nothing made any sense anymore. It felt as though he had been placed under a spell, and he could only put one word to it. Love. Maybe it was time for him to grow up, and what better way than to have a lover? He was not in love with Legolas, but this woman… She would not make a relationship a burden; she would lift every burden from his shoulders and enable him to fly, to soar above all the lands. That was what he wanted, what he needed.

Gracefully, like a dancer, the elf maiden slid down from her horse. She walked towards him, and her steps were almost predatorily, stalking, proud, but making no sound. When she reached him, Aragorn, who had been paralysed in place, felt his chin being lifted so that he looked into her eyes again.

"What is a young, handsome man doing out here all alone? Where were you running to?" she asked, scanning his face.

Somehow, Aragorn felt intimately connected to the woman, in a way he never had before. He had felt a connection the moment her skin had touched his. Managing to get control over his mouth, Aragorn replied, "Anywhere that is away from here. I can not stay in Rivendell."

Sounding surprised, the woman asked, "What is so wrong in my home that you must flee It is the most beautiful of places." She smiled, "What is your name?"

"Es… Aragorn," he stumbled over his own name, and a blush flooded his cheeks.

"You do not seem certain," observed the woman.

"I know that. And what is yours?" Aragorn veered away from the subject and turned it onto the mysterious, fascinating elf-maiden.

"Arwen." The word floated through her lips, and rolled into his ears like a wave. It was the softest, most beautiful word he had ever heard. She gave him a cool, calculating look, and then held out her hand. "Come with me."

What was Aragorn to do but take the proffered hand, and let this Arwen lead him, out of the woods and back to his home?

"Look at the valley," Arwen murmured, and waved her spare hand across his eyes. "Do you not see the beauty Aragorn?"

It was true: Imladris really was beautiful. The light of sunset glistened off the white marble that was the uniform material across all of the buildings, and shined across the blue river that snaked through the land from the roaring waterfall. The water made the whole land fertile, and the trees looked like cones of emeralds.

"I do, I see all the beauty." But he was not looking down at his home, he was gazing at her.

"I was speaking of the scenery," she laughed, and the sound was like silver bells chiming across rippling water. It was entrancing, enchanting, like everything else about her.

"I was not."

"This I could tell." Smoothly, she leaned forwards, the dark blue eyes coming closer and closer until their lips met. Aragorn's mind went blank. All he knew was Arwen.

000

Legolas had to do something; he could not just stand there waiting at the window for Aragorn to return. It was too early to sleep, too late to eat… He decided to find someone to talk to, to distract him from his error of judgement. It was not long before he found himself in the huge library of Rivendell, where the books, scrolls and maps written throughout the ages were stored and kept in prime condition. And there he found Glorfindel and Erestor.

"Legolas!" Glorfindel gave the Mirkwood elf an enthusiastic grin, that Legolas knew meant he wanted something from him. "Come, sit, join us. Better yet, stay standing and convince my lover here to let me go and train."

From his position with his head on Glorfindel's lap, Erestor smiled and put down the scroll he had been studying, marking the place with a pebble. Legolas noticed that he was leaning back slightly, in a way that effectively pinned Glorfindel in place. At Legolas' questioning glance, the dark haired elf explained, "He must finish that report for Lord Elrond before midnight."

"Ah." That explained it all. The Balrog Slayer preferred action to paperwork, but his lover was trying to tame him into being a little bit more responsible. However, since the beginning of their relationship, the couple's friends had noticed the normally very quiet, very reserved Erestor start to become more outgoing. Seemingly not enough to let Glorfindel escape without doing his work though.

Groaning, Glorfindel went back to the piece of parchment he was writing on, but Legolas was very aware of Erestor's gaze still on him. He avoided his eyes as he took a seat opposite them.

"What is wrong Legolas?" asked Erestor, quietly. "You look upset."

Glorfindel looked up, frowning, and nodded his agreement. "You are right. And now that I think of this, why are you not celebrating with Estel? You are his best friend."

Cynically, Legolas snorted. "Es… Aragorn does not think that it is anything he can celebrate. And I was his best friend, past tense. And does everyone know?"

"What?" Erestor gasped, swivelling upright. "What in Valar's name happened?"

"Answer my question first," Legolas coolly replied. "I do not want to speak of my crime. I made our friendship shatter."

"No, you can not have done," protested Erestor, but Glorfindel cut across him.

"We were there when the Lord Elrond told him of his heritage. Not many others know, only about a dozen."

"A dozen? And you were there?" Legolas immediately appeared more alert. "Tell me what happened. Aragorn's account was a little… unclear."

Erestor took over, and quietly explained that Aragorn had just returned from a trip into the Wild with Elladan and Elrohir, as Legolas knew, and deemed it fit to tell him of his destiny. Aragorn listened open-mouthed and disbelieving and, once all was done, merely nodded stiffly and left the room, his face still, as if set in stone.

When the dark haired elf finished telling, Legolas buried his head in his hands. "No wonder he took it as he did," he muttered, half to himself. "Elrond did not have to break it to him like that."

"He took it badly?" Glorfindel asked. "He should have been pleased."

"Yes, he should have," a voice behind Legolas said. At once, Legolas knew that it was Elrond.

Whirling around, Legolas spat, "You told him he was likely to die! How is any young human supposed to respond to that?"

Calmly, Elrond replied, "He needed to know the truth." As ever, the Elven Lord stood tall and proud, dressed in the finest clothes. Elladan and Elrohir, his identical twin sons, flanked him.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Legolas asked, "Could you not have told him gently, in private, and at a better time, when he had not just returned form the Wild?"

"I can not dote on him forever. He is a man, he needs to face his world."

"You ask too much of him!" Legolas exclaimed. "You have not withdrawn your affection from your other children, why should you have abandoned Aragorn? He is the one with the most responsibility and –"

"You answer your own question Legolas. He has the most responsibility."

"All the more reason to help!"

"He will be alone in taking over the throne of the city of men, if he ever does," Elrond simply stated.

Legolas was struggling to see Elrond's side of things: the Elven Lord had not seen the pain Aragorn had been in. "You are wrong. The people who love him will be there, as friends and as family. You are wrong about all of this, and now you have driven -"

Elrond seemed to swell indignantly, and he thundered, "Who are you to question my actions? You have overstepped the mark. Aragorn was raised as my son, and he will do as his father says. His mother is not here. Who else does he have?"

"He has me," Legolas quietly said. "Or he did."

"You are a guest in my home, hired to help Aragorn when he was younger, and to protect him." As the second son of King Thranduil, Legolas had received the best of training, at the hands of masters. It had been hoped that Legolas could import this knowledge to Aragorn, and he had done so willingly. "You have overstayed your welcome."

Legolas could not believe what he was hearing. What right had he to send him away, it was for Aragorn only to judge. But Aragorn was angry and upset at him. Sighing his defeat, Legolas said, "Very well. May I stay one more night? It is almost dark."

"You may," Elrond said in a superior tone, as if granting the most gracious of favours.

Shaking his head, Legolas left the room. Behind him, he could hear a shocked Erestor and an outraged Glorfindel protesting on his behalf. They had been friends for a decade, the young Estel bringing them together. Though he was grateful to them for trying, he could already tell that it was futile, and maybe it was better if he left Aragorn for a time and return when things were calmer. When Aragorn was calmer.

As he trotted up the stairs, towards his rooms, he suddenly heard soft laughter, which he recognised, coupled with a female voice that he did not. "Aragorn!" He flew up the last flight of stairs, and swung around the corner, only to hear a door slam. The corridor he was faced with was deserted, but he knew the sound had come from the left hand side. He knew who those rooms belonged to. The whole left side belonged to Arwen.

What was Aragorn doing with the daughter of Elrond? He was not sure he wanted to know.

A/N: Hehe, look, prequel. Firstly, ewwwwwwwww I just wrote Aragorn/Arwen. Secondly, I hope you liked it. Thirdly, reviews and ideas are very very very welcome. This fic won't be updated on a regular basis, like every other week or something, just as often as I come up with ideas for it. The sequel, Perfection, is yet unwritten but the ideas for the prequel and the sequel of hidden child are competing in my mind.