A/N: Hey Internet people! This is my first attempt at Fanfiction-ness! Reviews would be greatly appreciated. They'll help me to become a better writer!

I give you fair warning: this is a slash fanfic. If you don't like slash, then don't read.

To all those hardcore LotR fans: Keep in mind that this is a Fanfiction. Not everything in here will be perfect. This is simply my take on the characters - None of whom I own :'( I use a few phrases in Sindarin Elvish in this story. Please don't flame me if I used the wrong form of a word or something. I'm not a linguist. I'll put the meanings in a note down below.

Enjoy!

Ernilen

'A moment's rest . . . just . . . a moment,' puffed Gimli as he struggled to keep pace with the two taller men. 'Dwarves . . . are not built . . . for distance.'

The lean Ranger slowed to a trot, giving his aching legs a break from their cross-country discipline. A few metres ahead, their Elven companion rolled his eyes as he drew to a halt, irate at having to accommodate for the Dwarf's inabilities.

Gimli sank to the ground, relieving his muscles of the stress. Aragorn strode over to a flat patch of land to examine the tracks of the hoard of Orcs which they pursued. By the trampled grass and kicked-up dirt, Aragorn estimated that the trio was roughly a day and a half behind on the hunt. Legolas approached Aragorn by his side, tapping his booted foot in impatience. The Ranger rose from his study on one knee, sliding his gaze from the impeccably crafted buckles that adorned Legolas' Elven shoes to the Prince's able thighs, then finally to his silken hair. Aragorn smirked. Even under the intense conditions of the chase for the missing Pippin and Merry, Legolas had managed to remain looking as poised and attractive as ever.

'Are we to continue?' inquired Legolas, lightly tossing a lock of hair over his shoulder.

'Oh, not already,' groaned Gimli, catching his breath. 'It's been only but a minute since we stopped for air!' The Elf stomped over to his fellow traveler on the ground, and glared down at him from his towering height.

'Have you forgotten the purpose of this quest? Do you think we undertake such stress for sport?' Legolas' voice rose only slightly, though his eyes betrayed his utter irritation. 'The Halflings have assisted and relied on us, and now is not the time to betray their faith.'

Gimli cast his eyes downward, put to shame by the truth in the Archer's words. Aragorn moved nearer to the pair and set a strong hand on Legolas' shoulder to calm him.

'Dusk draws ever closer. Let us make camp for the night. We shall relieve our weary bodies, and then set out again at dawn.' When Legolas made a move as to object, Aragorn waved an arm in the direction of the setting sun. 'The Orcs cannot advance much farther over this terrain with ease. Their numbers prevent them from doing so. Besides,' Aragorn bent to assemble a scanty swath of twigs and dried leaves for a small fire's kindling, 'we would serve no aid to their rescue in our weakened state.'

Legolas sulked as he tended the meager fire. He did not wish to waste any time with which they could track their missing allies, and though he would never admit to it, he quite relished the brief period of relaxation – even with his Elven agility, he was indeed tired beyond his limits.

The dim light emitted by the fire cast shadows over the groups' faces. As the three ate a small portion of the Lembas bread, Legolas gazed across the fire pit at the Ranger. The evening lighting was poor, but sufficient enough to see by. Legolas studied the expression on his companion's face. He appeared tired. No – tired was not nearly what he seemed.

Worn-down.

Defeated.

. . .

Broken.

Legolas yearned intensely that he could do something, anything to release the Ranger from the look of pain he wore. Their journey had only just begun, yet it seemed that the farther they travelled, the more complications arose. Already they had been hunted on multiple occasions by creatures of the darkest realms. Frodo and Sam departed on their own, realizing the safety of their companions was at risk. Pippin and Merry were taken captive by an execrable band of Orcs, and were no doubt straining to keep hope and survive. Many a life had been sacrificed for their sake; a few were even those of close friends. Gandalf himself, their guide and protector had perished in combat with the Balrog, and their sorrow for his passing had slowly crept its way into the group's atmosphere. This was no longer the same quest as when they first set out – It had developed a life and will of its own.

No one spoke as the meal was shared, for all three knew what thoughts dominated the others' minds. They attempted to exile the consideration that their efforts could be in vain, as the crackling of the flames spoke volumes for them.

Gimli was the first to break the silence that enveloped them.

'What is it you miss most? Of being home?' His question was a simple one, yet it hit the heart of each of them. 'For me, I'd say the ale,' reminisced the Dwarf as he ripped off a chunk of the Lembas bread with his teeth. When he spoke next, crumbs settled into his scraggly beard. 'Aye, back at the mountain, we could drink to our hearts' content. 'Cept for on Sundays.'

Aragorn paused to consider Gimli's query. There were plenty of things he wished for that remained back home – clean clothes, a steady horse to ease his exhausted joints. . .

Arwen.

When he had first met the Elven beauty those many years ago, he felt what he had thought was love. Perhaps it was only admiration. Whatever he had felt, he now knew that it had not been love.

It was not until twenty-nine years and numerous affairs had passed that the two met again, not so long ago in Lothlórien. Aragorn hadn't forgotten her elegance. She was as stunning as she had been in his youth. It was at this time that she finally returned his emotions, pledging her love and sacrificing her immortality for the sake of their union.

Aragorn had been shocked at the sudden change of heart she had had upon seeing him again. Was this indeed what he had been waiting so patiently for? Would her love be all that he had ever wanted it to be, and more? The longer he wondered about it, the more he came to grasp that it was in fact not what he wanted. No, he knew that something had changed, deep inside of his soul. Yet he had not the heart to tell this to the woman he had once so greatly coveted. He was a different man, and did not believe that he could ever come to love her as he once had – or any woman for that matter.

So what exactly was it that he missed the most? He felt an odd sensation run down his spine as he accepted that it was not the dark-haired goddess that he missed. He attempted an air of nonchalance as he finally responded to Gimli's question.

Aragorn leaned back with his arms crossed behind his head and replied 'I miss most a comfortable bed to sleep on,'

A tense quiet filled the spaces between the friends. Legolas was the only one of the three that had not supplied an answer yet, and his lack of eye-contact signified that he cared not to comment in the slightest.

'And what of yourself, Elf-Prince?' Legolas set aside the piece of Lembas bread he had been eating. 'Surely you desire to return to your life of luxury at the palace. Clean rooms, fresh food, servants who'll obey your every wish?' Legolas winced as the Dwarf crunched the Elven bread between his teeth.

The Elf pondered Gimli's statement. His old life – luxurious? Legolas found that he felt it had been quite the opposite when he reflected upon his treatment at home. As the Prince, a great deal was expected of him, and over his many years, he had grown to feel suffocated by his prenatally assigned role in life. It seemed to Legolas that he was the servant in his own life – always being told what to learn and do, where to go, how to act; He was even forced into being convinced with whom he should fall in love with.

The Prince seemed greatly perturbed by the inquiry of the Dwarf, and answered tersely, 'I lived no such life,' He had indeed never been one for large ceremonies or the archaic Elven traditions, especially their rigid customs concerning sovereignty and its pertinence to marriage. Well, it mattered not any longer – He had escaped his fate for the time being, and intended to leave it as far behind as was possible in his prolonged lifetime.

Taking notice of the obviously sore subject, Gimli decided to further provoke the Elf. After all, travelling on foot for days was nauseatingly boring – The Dwarf seemed to be either constantly out of breath for speaking, or shoveling food in his mouth on the few occasions in which they rested. The statuesque Archer never gave the appearance of tireing, and his seemingly endless supply of energy had begun to grate at Gimli's morale. The need for entertainment was overflowing in the Dwarf's wearisome mind. Aggravating Legolas was the only thing that seemed to satisfy his craving for a bit of good fun.

'Come on, Princey! You can't say you never took advantage of your status once or twice. For elite treatment, or to woo a woman, perhaps?' Gimli smirked. He saw how both the Ranger and the Prince flinched at this last mention of a woman. How clever he was!

'Oh-ho, now! I see what you're hiding now!'

Aragorn's eyes widened with shock. 'You do?'

The Dwarf only chuckled to himself. 'Of course! With your good looks and standing as a Prince, it mustn't be difficult finding women willing to participate in "producing an heir!" Ha!' Gimli winked at Legolas. 'Now, tell me all about this woman-friend of yours.' Legolas stood abruptly, turning his back on the shorter man. He needed to escape this conversation – the direction in which it was headed did not bode well for the Elf. He did not wish to subject himself to the inevitable mockery that would arise if the truth was released.

'Aww… I've upset the poor little Princey!' The Elf strode into the darkness of the surrounding woods. 'Come back, little Princeling! Ha-ha! Don't be upset! We'll escort you back to the safety of your kingdom! The battlefield is no place for royalty like yourself!' called out Gimli after the retreating shadow that was Legolas.

Aragorn rose with a sigh. 'Truly, Gimli – Was it necessary for you to push him so?'

The Dwarf feigned being appalled, 'What?' He threw back his hands for effect. 'How was I supposed to know he'd react this way?'

Aragorn was much too tired for such foolishness. The constant bantering between the two creatures was growing to be intolerable. 'We've all been under a great deal of pressure as of late. You get some sleep, I'll handle this.' The Ranger left Gimli grumbling something by the fire about the 'pantywaisted Prince-boy' to pursue the Elf.

Aragorn found the Archer sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree. 'You know he didn't mean it all. He was only teasing you,' said Aragorn.

Legolas looked upwards at the other man. Aragorn's face was so caring. The lines on his visage softened the Ranger's expression. Never before had someone looked at Legolas with such emotion written upon their face, and never before had someone stirred his heart so. The Elf didn't deserve this man's companionship, did he? Surely if the human knew the truth of what he had committed, he would hold Legolas in contempt?

'Was he only teasing, Aragorn? You do not know of what you speak. I am not the person either of you believe me to me.'

The Ranger was shocked. He had thought he and the Elf were on good terms. They had told each other of many personal affairs. Did Legolas still not deem him worthy of his trust after all they had been through together? What could the Prince be speaking of? Aragorn knelt before the solemn Elf and took a pale hand in his own. It was soft and delicate. Aragorn found it almost impossible to believe that these hands, with their slender bow, had slain many an Orc had he not witnessed it with his own eyes.

A few stray breezes of wind whispered through the boughs of the archaic trees. The gusts that reached Aragorn's ears sounded as if they sung praises to the foliage of their having stroked the face of the Elven existence.

As Aragorn admired the gorgeous Elf, he felt a need to comfort Legolas and banish all self-deprecating thoughts from his mind. He identified the compulsion to confess to him all the emotions that he held within his heart.

'My Prince, in all of our endeavors, I have found you to be a being of incomparable bravery, selflessness, and valor. How could you, my dear Elf,' whispered Aragorn, caressing Legolas' cheek with his palm, 'be anything other than the being of unprecedented royal qualities that I see before me?' The Prince blushed a deep red at Aragorn's endearing titles for him, contrasting sharply with his pale features.

'But as a Prince, I've fail–' The Elf was cut off by his friend.

'Was it not yourself who sought to make haste, sacrificing your own comfort for the safety of the Halflings?' Aragorn brushed back a few fair locks from Legolas' face, tucking them behind the Elf's pointed ear. 'If that is not an acceptable illustration of your Princely selflessness – your true self, then I have not an idea what would be.'

Legolas was mesmerized by the other man's voice.

A silver shaft of moonlight slipped between the branches of the trees, lighting across the Ranger's features. Aragorn supposed he knew why Legolas had been bothered so by Gimli's comment about the mystery woman. While the Dwarf thought the Prince had had some secret affair with an Elven beauty, Aragorn understood otherwise.

The Elf had never spoken fondly of any Elven women – at least, not in a romantic sense – and Aragorn had come to a conclusion about his companion that made him think a great deal not just about Legolas, but about his own desires as well.

He'd admit that the Prince was not sore on the eyes, nor was his voice harsh on his ears. The gentle lilt of Legolas' vocal intonations pushed themselves deeply into the Ranger's welcoming heart. In fact, Aragorn found that lately, every time the Elf spoke with him in his native tongue, his legs turned to blades of grass – rooted to the spot under the other man's gaze, yet Aragorn felt as if even the softest of breezes could push him to the ground.

When was the last time a woman had ever caused such a trembling in his soul? The Ranger could remember not. He felt sorry for Arwen, as his mind was made up.

Aragorn knew now what he must do. He leaned in close to the Elf-Prince's beautiful face. He could feel Legolas' breath on his cheek, the Archer's fine hair brushing across Aragorn's features as he brought his lips to the gorgeous being's cheek. Legolas' breath caught in his throat when he tried to speak

'Aragorn?'

'Yes, my love?'

Legolas' heart began to beat harder and faster than the crashing waves of the Sea of Rhûn. Its pounding droned out all other sounds as he clung to Aragorn's preceding words as if both their lives relied upon it. In a sense, they did. Their alliance had grown to something much greater than the Elf could ever have imagined, and this was the instance in which all their unspoken thoughts would be released. Legolas was almost frightened to speak and disturb the pristine moment. He could not help falling in love with the man, and he no longer tried to fight it. Perhaps there was truth in Aragorn's remark about his worth as both a Prince and an individual. He did not care what others' views of him distorted to, based solely on his affairs with other men. Legolas could wait no longer to deliberate the consequences of his following actions – He felt as if he might shatter if he held this in much longer.

Legolas took a steadying breath as he prepared to voice 'Le no an-uir nîn?Be mine. Mine, and only mine, from this day forth, until the sun no longer rises on the horizon each morn, and our time on Middle-Earth has expired.'

The Ranger ran his fingers through Legolas' hair, treasuring every minute detail of the moment – the play of light from the moon dancing aloft the ancient branches, the sweet scent of pine that wafted from the trees, the soft touch of the Archer's hand in his as they embraced in the seclusion of the forest. He didn't care what Gimli thought about Lady Galadriel – Legolas truly was the fairest creature in all of Middle-Earth. He closed his eyes and kissed his Elf.

'Ae anírach – anything, Ernilen.'

The End

A/N: Yaaaay! So, how was my first story? Please review! See you around!

Le no an-uir nîn : Will you be mine forever?

Ae anírach: If you wish

Ernilen : My Prince (familiar)