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Author's note: Merry Christmas, everyone! This is a special story focusing on the existence and importance of the friendship between Aragorn and Legolas during Aragorn's childhood. I will say some more on its creation at the end. I hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to the Legolas of my youth. To quote our old code, "From Man to Elf".

Part of Him

2951 Third Age

…

Aragorn walked soberly through the tall grasses amid a dense forest, only a few miles from Rivendell. He was travelling along the valley's edge, and through the trees on his right, he could see the great open expanse where the ground fell steeply down to the rushing waters of the Bruinen far below.

His destination was one of glad memories, though it seemed almost wrong for him to be going there alone. He had always come with one of his favorite childhood companions; it being their secret hideout and play place. If Aragorn had ever done anything worthy of remembrance with Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, it had been there.

Aragorn let out a sigh as he saw the object of his journey. A massive oak tree stood before him, its lower branches sweeping near to the ground and its trunk hollowed out by both time and an ax. Several pieces of wood had been nailed to it in various places to make stairs or platforms. A strand of thick rope was tied to a higher branch as a swing, swaying gently in the breeze.

When Aragorn reached the tree, he stretched out his hand and felt the broken, old bark beneath his fingers, memories flooding his mind. He stooped to enter the tiny room that he and Legolas—well, mostly Legolas—had expanded when they first discovered the tree during their little exploring adventures. From that day on, any time Legolas had found himself in Rivendell with time to spare, he and little Estel had come to this tree.

Estel. Aragorn sighed again, feeling the difficulty of the looming days weigh heavily on his mind. He was not simply Estel anymore: he was Aragorn, the heir of Elendil, destined for great deeds. The gravity of these truths was still sinking in, even though it had been more than a month since Elrond had told him of his true lineage and had given him the Ring of Barahir and the shards of Narsil.

One stage of his journey in life was over, and another was beginning. The coming path would be hard, but he had the foresight to know that it would have its own joys and dear companions. It might be that Legolas himself would someday travel with him again, though it seemed unlikely based on logic alone. Darkness was coming to all lands, and Legolas would undoubtedly be bound to protect his own country. Still, there was always hope.

Aragorn allowed his thoughts of the future to fall away as he took in the very familiar area inside the hollow tree. The walls were somewhat smooth, the roof was about five feet high, and the total floor area was roughly four feet by four feet. It had some crude shelves carved in the sides, some of which had the small objects that he and Legolas had collected. A few interesting rocks and a couple of acorns comprised the stock. Aragorn smiled, picking up a blue-green stone from the stash and tossing it in air two or three times. It was time to say good-bye.

Aragorn had given a farewell to everything else before taking leave of Rivendell. He had, of course, spoken to all those he loved before embarking on his journey, including his two elven brothers, with whom he had many other fond memories. He had said goodbye to the valley's fair house itself, to the beautiful river bank where he had often played, and to the gardens, teeming with his mother's flowers. He had looked over all of his childhood sights except this one, and after he was finished here, he would be truly moving into a different age.

For some reason, Aragorn recalled the incident when he had found this particular blue-green rock. He and Legolas had been clearing out the wood shavings created while they further expanded the hollow in the tree when young Estel had discovered the stone among the tree's exposed roots. He had shown it to Legolas, who had proceeded to tell a story about some of the emerald treasures that his father had once acquired. The memory of the telling of that tale was burned into Aragorn's mind, and he grinned at the thought.

Even when Estel had been an adolescent, he had loved to hear stories from Prince Legolas about far away realms, brave warriors, and fair maidens. Lord Elrond had many tales of the high elves and their great deeds in the western parts of Middle Earth, but Legolas had lesser known stories of all that took place in Greenwood before it became sickened by the Shadow. Aragorn had loved to hear these, each one being totally new to his ears. And Legolas had been more than willing to tell Estel stories until the youth was content. Many of their short journeys and hunts had been full of histories and parables, some of which Aragorn remembered in great detail. Legolas had been a very good friend to him.

Aragorn put the stone in his pocket and stood as much as he could in the small hollow. He swept aside some of the leaves that lay blanketed on the ground with his boot, clearing the floor a little. When satisfied, he stepped out into the early fall air and turned around, surveying the scene one last time. Perhaps someday, someone else would find this tree and have just as much fun as he had.

"Farewell," Aragorn said aloud, not caring that most would deem such an act silly. "And thank you."

Aragorn was not sure exactly who he was talking to: the makeshift house itself or perhaps the memories themselves. Maybe it was Legolas to whom he spoke. Either way, he had needed to get it out, and it felt good.

With those final words said, he turned and began to walk away, towards dangers and trials that would test his strength. It came to pass that he triumphed against darkness and eventually rose to greatness. But he could not have been the man he needed to be in the midst of those difficulties without having had friends such as Legolas and fun adventures such as those provided by the old oak tree in his childhood. They were a part of him, and he was glad for them all the days of his life.

Okay, here's a little bit of explanation. When I was little, my best friend and I used to play what we called "Aragorn and Legolas", which basically means that we pretended to be the two said characters and went around our neighborhood, fake weapons in hand, and killed orcs, be they in the form of weeds, grass, bushes, or trees. That's where this story came from. I guess I just wrote Aragorn in my own shoes, because now is the time when I have begun to say goodbye to some things of my youth and look forward to a new age of my life. It's bittersweet, but like Aragorn in this story, I have hope that my friend will be a big part of my future. She and I have been sundered for a while because of some very difficult circumstances, and so this was sort of my way of talking to her, assuming she does find a way to read it. My dear Legolas, thank you for so many amazing adventures! You have made me who I am today!

Oh and guys, PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean a lot to me! I feel like not many people write Aragorn at this age, so tell me how you think I did. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks again for reading!