Hi everyone, this is my first fanfiction in 10 years, so I'm really rusty! I hope I do justice to the friendship between these amazing characters, and the genius that is Tolkien. Nevertheless, comments and reviews are very very much appreciated =)

Disclaimer: All that is recognizable is not mine. I am humbly borrowing Tolkien's fictional genius, all of which my quill is indeed not fit to write about.

PS: In this story, I mentioned that Tauriel died in the Battle of the 5 armies. Of course, with the 3rd Hobbit movie not out yet, this could very well turn into alternate-movieverse. Sorry in advance to all Legolas-Tauriel supporters though, I just couldn't imagine how she would survive, not when (SPOILER ALERT) Kili was mentioned to have died in the book.

PPS: Aragorn is implied to be sickly at the beginning of this story, at age 150. We all know that he lived another 50 years after, but hey, Legolas doesn't have to know that. =P

Enjoy, and please do throw me some suggestions on how to improve/proceed from here! Much appreciated!

It was happening again.

Pale, slender fingers whitened as their grip tightened around a branch, as if attempting to keep a hold on sanity itself. The sturdy old oak tree hummed sympathetically; a gentle reassuring tone heard only by the distraught wood elf nestled safely within its boughs. If one would gaze from below, the elf's serene features, as he laid his forehead against the bark of the great tree, would betray none of the anguish he felt within his heart. Only his blue eyes, when open, would be marred with pain - with the occasional sheen of years of tears unshed; his elven pride simply did not allow him to display such...humanity.

Legolas Greenleaf; prince of Mirkwood, Lord of Ithilien, beloved brother-in-arms of the King of Gondor himself, allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability in the arms of the trees he so loved. Who would have imagined, he grimly thought, he – the archer unfazed in the face of the legions of Mordor, merciless in the lethality of his bow, could be bowed by something as intangible as the shifting shadows in his mind.

Hazy faces swam behind his closed eyelids. Indistinct shouts and echoing clashes of metal upon metal resounded in his mind, as if he was once again in the heat of battle. Images were flashing before his eyes – bodies strewn on dusty battlegrounds, the lethal glint of swords slicing through the air, the insidious spread of crimson bloodstains on elven tunics, eyes wide with shock and pain…

Yes, those eyes he particularly remembered; after all he had held their gaze in horror as they fell, time slowing as his body subconsciously leapt into action, but always seemingly too slow to reach them before they fell. He would grasp their clammy hands, his frightened blue eyes never leaving theirs as he fought to anchor them to life – watching helplessly as their eyes dimmed from shock to comprehension, and then to horrifyingly serene acceptance as life gradually faded from them. Never would he forget the pain, like cruel knives ripping through his heart as he gazed at those glassy, lifeless orbs each time – Naneth, Tauriel, and perhaps frighteningly soon, Estel…

The shifting shadows in his mind were clearer lately; the memories more vivid than they have been for decades. Perhaps it was due to the gnawing fear that had been growing lately, especially after the grand celebration of King Elessar's 150th birthday, during which his speech had been unceremoniously interrupted by a violent coughing fit. Royal healers were called, and the guests were ushered out hurriedly. Legolas, ever faithful, had been by his side and beside himself with worry. It was then something hit home; something that Legolas had kept at bay with denial throughout the decades of peace they enjoyed together after the defeat of the Dark Lord. That night, amidst the almost-overpowering scent of athelas, the facade was shattered, and the elf was once again acutely aware of sting of mortality, and of his own immortality. The curse of watching those who held his heart depart to where his agile, ever-youthful legs could not follow.

Aah, the curse of immortality. One wonders how a heart can still beat resolutely, when it had been torn out of his soul again and again and again. For mortals can look towards the time when their strength would fail and eyes grow dim, to be welcomed into the eternal rest of the Halls of Mandos, while cursed immortals like him would be forced to endure the pain of saying goodbye, of being left behind by the passing of each soul. He briefly wondered if there would be solace on the day he reached the shores of Valinor but no - he musn't entertain that fleeting thought now, lest the temptation be too strong to resist. Hence, with a sigh, he banished the thought once again, deep into the recesses of his mind, for the sake of the mortal who had won his allegiance, his loyalty, his devotion, his love.

Love. He never was truly able to define the word, nor identify the emotions it stirred within him. With Tauriel, it had been the burning passion in his heart; one he had often confused between the protectiveness of an elder brother, and the jealousy of a lover. With the Lord of Gondor however, it was different - how could he even put it into words? It was the unflinching trust and unspoken understanding borne of years of fighting side by side. It was the surge of loyalty, and devotion with which he would offer up his bow and his very life.

It was the very thing that would make him willingly embrace this pain, day after day, to grasp every last remaining moment that remained with this frail, mortal life.

He knew he could have torn away long ago, or at least withdrawn from the King's life, to prepare his heart for the inevitable farewell. Perhaps it would ease the parting blow. Yet, how could he trade every moment of just being available - open to every emotion, every feeling, and every experience of being with the friend who had so much of his heart? To love at all is to be vulnerable; and Legolas would not trade the sweetness of this friendship for the selfishness of protecting his own heart from the inevitable. Even if the inevitable tormented his every waking moment.

It was happening again.

King Elessar paced restlessly in his study. His footsteps echoed dully against the cold marble floor. At times he would pause, lifting his eyes to gaze into the fading glow of evening light in the distance. The peaceful spectacle of nature outside his window did little to calm his anxious thoughts. Granted, he had recuperated well from the ordeal 2 weeks ago, but it had shaken him and all who were around him. Including one elf in particular.

"You worry about him"

It was a statement, not a question. He turned at the sound of that gentle familiar voice. His fair queen came up behind him, her eyes soft with understanding.

Aragorn sighed.

"He has been different since then. There is a haunted look in his eyes; I do not know how to describe it. Something ails him, and it pains me to see him so."

Arwen placed her slender arms around her king's neck, feeling the tenseness ebb out of him as he returned the embrace.

"He fears. Do you not understand?"

"Fears what?"

"The same fear that haunts me each night as we retire to bed, a'maelamin. The fear that you would not wake to see the dawning of a new day, that each conversation may possibly be our last. The fear that Estel may one day be gone from us."

Still holding his wife in his embrace, Aragorn looked questioningly into her eyes. Grey met grey, and he saw the truth in her words. It pained him to realize that his queen was tormented too by his mortality, as much as she rarely revealed her true fears. She continued, her voice soothing.

"Weary yourself not with guilt, Estel. It was a choice I made, and never once have I regretted it. And it is a choice Legolas made as well, when he chose to resist the call of the sea to remain in Ithilien. He loves you, and you know that. It's only natural that he should fear as well."

The King of Gondor sighed again.

"But how would we truly live, if we live in constant fear of death? I miss the carefree Legolas of old."

Arwen smiled sadly.

"It isn't his fault. Legolas has been through much in his life. The violent loss of his Naneth when he was young, King Thranduil distancing himself…even as a mere elfling, he had to learn independence. A well-respected and loved prince he was, but immensely private about his emotions. And then there was Tauriel, the captain of Mirkwood's guard that he grew fond of. He lost her too; first to the dwarf, and then in the battle of the 5 armies."

Aragorn nodded, recalling the story. Legolas had not told him much; just that his father had never approved of her, and that she had perished fighting alongside a dwarf. Arwen continued.

"The torment of an Eldar, to continue living with the memories and loss for eternity, with no solace or rest. It is only natural to protect one's heart, forging kinships only with fellow immortals. And so he did, until he met you. You taught him to live, to love again. His heart, well guarded for millennia, was laid bare when he chose to love you, an Edain. And that is why; he fears the day that you would pass to a place that he cannot follow. The day that he would continue existing, but stop living."

But he grieves unnecessarily, Aragorn silently thought. Blind optimism, perhaps, but he had recovered well, and wished dearly for his friend to be sharing this time with him.

"My death may be inevitable, but his fears needn't be. If only he could recall the joy of living in present moments, instead of dwelling on what's to come".

Arwen smiled.

"Maybe, Estel, it's up to you to remind him"

So how did you guys like Chapter 1? Please rate, review, and throw me suggestions! Thank you!

Edain: Human

Naneth: Mother

A'maelamin: My beloved

Melamin: My love