Pain... wave after wave of pain crashing down on him. This was all that Legolas could feel as he rode numbly alongside Gimli, sitting tall and straight in the saddle like one of the arrows from his quiver. Aragorn was dead, a fact that could not be contested based on the testimony of an orc who had witnessed the Ranger's fall from the cliff's edge and into the tumultuous waves of the river below.

Legolas shuddered, his body wracked with the pain that thinking of his dearest friend's demise brought. As he continued to ride, the distraught Elf turned his mind to pleasanter thoughts, of his and Aragorn's time together in the early days of their friendship. Aragorn had been called Estel when he and Legolas first met, having been recently orphaned and brought to Imladris to be fostered by the Lord Elrond. Legolas had been enchanted by the Human child who had so readily integrated himself into his Elven surroundings, hanging on to every word spoken by his foster father and brothers - but most especially by Legolas himself, with whom Estel had formed an immediate attachment to. The feeling was mutual, for soon Legolas could hardly imagine his life without the presence of Estel.

They spent many happy days together, both in Imladris and Legolas' own home in Mirkwood. Legolas taught Estel everything that he knew about archery and fighting with knives - and even about climbing trees, never once forgetting that his willing pupil was the future king of Gondor. Legolas only hoped that some of the knowledge he imparted on the malleable child would help in the future trials and tribulations that he would have to face to claim the throne.

The years passed, and Estel soon reached his majority, at which point Elrond decided to reveal to him the truth about his past. Estel - forever to be Aragorn from that day on - took the news surprisingly well, having always sensed that there was something different about him and that he was destined for greatness. He was still upset that the truth had been kept from him for so long - and understandably so. But when he discovered that everyone else had known who he was - even Legolas - he lost himself, going into a wild rage before descending into despair at the knowledge that his closest friend had kept something as important as this from him. Reasoning did no good; on an intellectual level, Aragorn understood the need for secrecy. Had the Dark Lord's servants learned of his existence or his whereabouts, more than his own life would have been at stake. It was the principle of the matter, though. Aragorn thought that Legolas had valued him enough as a friend to share something of this magnitude with him; obviously not, though, and his trust in the Elf had been broken from that moment on, leading to his rebelling against his destiny by joining a group of Rangers and taking the name of 'Strider,' yet another in a long list of aliases.

His and Legolas' next meeting would be at the council of Elrond in Imladris. Their interaction was marked with tension; Legolas, while understanding of Aragorn's reaction, had nonetheless been hurt by the Man's outright rejection without so much as an explanation. However strained their relationship had become, though, nothing would stop Legolas from following Aragorn to the Gates of Mordor so as to protect his back and guard his life, giving his own in the process if the Valar willed it.

Through his and Aragorn's lengthy separation, the only thing that had kept Legolas from fading due to grief had been the fact that Aragorn - or Estel, as Legolas would forever think of him as - still lived. Over the course of the Fellowship's quest - in the early days, before the fall of Gandalf in the mines of Moria - Man and Elf spent many nights keeping watch together and slowly rebuilding the trust that had crumbled upon the destruction of their friendship. Legolas explained his reasoning for keeping the truth of Estel's past from him: while Elrond had urged the wood-elf to do so, Legolas himself had deemed it to be right, wanting for Estel to have a proper childhood without the heavy responsibility of a kingship weighing on his mind.

Aragorn had been standing with his legs apart, one hand hovering over the hilt of his sword should he need to draw it in a hurry to defend their camp; his face had been stony and impassive throughout Legolas' heartfelt speech. At a loss as to what more he could do or say to prove his trustworthiness to the man who had been his brother in all but blood, Legolas sank to one knee and bowed his head in submission. At his actions, Aragorn gave a startled cry, like that of a wounded animal, and fell to his knees in front of the Elf, placing his hands at Legolas' elbows and drawing him to his feet once more. Legolas' mouth remained half-open, having been about to swear an oath of fealty to Aragorn in order to convince him that he would never betray his trust again. Aragorn placed his fingers over Legolas' lips, indicating that he remain silent.

"Forgive me, mellon-nin," he murmured so that only elven ears would have heard him. "I have punished you long enough for what I perceived to be a personal transgression against myself and our friendship. I was wrong. I think I knew in my heart that your decision to conceal my past could not have been made lightly, but in my grief it was easier to find someone else to blame. Forgive me."

Legolas regarded him in silence, taking note of the Man's posture and reading the utter sincerity in his eyes. Having judged Aragorn thusly, Legolas spoke: "There is nothing to forgive, Estel. Whatever was said and done is in the past - and there it should remain. I bear no grudge against you, for your actions were justifiable in the moment."

At hearing Legolas' words, Aragorn released a shuddering breath that he hadn't even been aware he was holding in. The next moment found him in Legolas' arms, each gripping the other with a surprising amount of strength, as if they never intended to let go. That night, Legolas fell a little more in love with Aragorn, who had stood ready to be judged for his actions against his oldest and dearest friend whatever the outcome, whether the verdict would have been guilty or not. Both had cried that night, great cathartic sobs that had done much to heal the rift that had formed between them but which was now breached.

Legolas was abruptly jolted back to the present as his horse stumbled over a stone in its path; only Legolas' considerable horsemanship allowed for him to keep his seat. In the distance, Legolas saw what could only be Helm's Deep, and he breathed a sigh of relief that soon he could escape the sights of everyone around him so as to grieve in private. While Legolas would not deny others the right to mourn the loss of Aragorn - and though he himself could be considered selfish for choosing to wallow in his own grief when a battle loomed on the horizon - he felt more deserving than most, having a special claim on both Aragorn's love and his friendship.

No sooner had their company entered the courtyard than Legolas had dismounted and was running. Running where, he couldn't have said; he just had to get away. He no longer cared about the upcoming battle. All he wanted was to join Aragorn, to see him one last time, if only for a moment. Finding himself on the uppermost level of Helm's Deep in a seemingly deserted room, Legolas wondered that he had been able to climb so many stairs when he could barely see a foot in front of his face from the tears he had discovered were flowing freely from his eyes. At last succumbing to the waves of pain threatening to overwhelm him, Legolas sank to his knees - much as he had that night so long ago when he had been prepared to swear himself to Aragorn; the oath-that-almost-was remained unspoken between them, though not unacknowledged.

Curling into the fetal position, Legolas cried long and hard; great shuddering sobs wracked his body so that he could scarcely draw breath. Not that he much cared to; at that point, he wanted nothing more than to join Aragorn in endless slumber. Already Legolas could feel his body shutting down as he prepared to fade from grief. He welcomed it and gladly. Soon, he and Aragorn would be reunited -

"Laddie!"

Legolas started at hearing a voice so near to his hiding place. Shifting into a sitting position, and attempting to erase the evidence of his tears from his deathly pale cheeks, Legolas waited for Gimli to find him. By the sound of the Dwarf's footsteps, it wouldn't be long. Soon, much too soon for Legolas' tastes, he appeared in the doorway, panting, his face as red as his beard and the hair on his head.

"Yes, Gimli? What is it?" Legolas inquired in as polite a tone as he could manage under the circumstances.

"Don't ask questions; just come with me," the Dwarf implored him, his normally gruff exterior softening as he took in the Elf's shrunken appearance, a drastic change from their last meeting.

Ignoring any Dwarf - but especially Gimli - was never wise, so Legolas rose to his feet and followed behind, wondering again at how he had managed to traverse such a path in the near-blind state as he had. Having reached level ground once more, Legolas followed Gimli's pointing finger and gave a violent start.

Walking calmly towards them was none other than Aragorn.

Legolas stood frozen in place for only a moment, before he was in motion, surging forward to wrap his arms impossibly tight around the man he had thought lost to him forever. Uncaring for the moment whether Aragorn was injured or not, Legolas clung to him in a desperate attempt to mold their bodies together and thereby ensure that they would never again be separated. Aragorn responded no less desperately, clutching the shaking Elf to him as his own limbs trembled from the toll his ride had taken as well as from witnessing first-hand the apparent result his death would have on Legolas, who looked near death himself.

No words were spoken; none were needed. Aragorn had found his way back to Legolas, and that was all that mattered.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Legolas withdrew his head from the crook of Aragorn's neck, the better to kiss the Man and thereby act on his long-held love for he whom the Elf already saw as his king. The kiss was brief, no more than two pairs of lips tentatively brushing against each other. Legolas quickly ended it, though, when he realized what exactly he was doing.

"Forgive me," Legolas whispered, ducking his head before attempting to dash out of sight of Aragorn. And he would have succeeded, had not the Ranger's hand shot out and latched onto his wrist.

"Not so fast, mellon-nin," he hissed. Idly noting that Legolas had managed to press the Evenstar into his hand during their embrace, he replaced Arwen's necklace - a symbol of her familial affection for him - in one of his many coat pockets. His grip was light as he tugged the Elf along behind him, yet Legolas followed willingly, his head down to avoid Aragorn's probing gaze from over his shoulder.

Finding a deserted room - empty save for spare armor and weapons lining the walls - Aragorn gestured for Legolas to precede him inside. The Elf stood immobile in the center of the room, staring at his booted feet rather than into the face of his beloved friend. Aragorn observed him in silence, waiting for the other to speak first, until he noticed a single tear trickle down the Elf's pale cheek and drip onto the floor. Stepping forward, he cupped his friend's cheek in his hand and began to tenderly stroke the smooth alabaster skin with the pad of his thumb, managing to wipe away the tell-tale wetness while hoping to ease his friend's burden, whatever it might be.

"What troubles you, Lassë?" he asked softly, having never been able to stand seeing his friend cry.

At the physical contact, Legolas visibly shuddered and his breath hitched upon hearing such an endearment fall from the lips of his only love. Why should Aragorn sully himself by touching one tainted as he was with unnatural feelings for his best friend? He attempted to step away - and thus put some distance between himself and Aragorn - but the Man's only response was to wrap his hand around the back of Legolas' neck, effectively halting the Elf's retreat.

"No - don't run away - not from me," he quietly begged. "Talk to me - please. We've always told each other everything. Don't let that stop simply because you fear my response. Whatever you have to say, know that I could never hate you."

"You should," Legolas sobbed, no longer able to hide his feelings under the guise of stoicism. Though his outburst was unexpected and surprised both Aragorn and the Elf himself, neither reacted other than to stare unflinchingly into the face of the one they knew better than themselves and who they would lay down their lives for without a moment's hesitation.

"And why should I hate you?" Aragorn inquired as if he were asking about the weather.

"Because I love you," the Elf whimpered, his arms involuntarily moving to wrap around himself in an effort to protect his heart from Aragorn's rejection, "And not as a brother or as a best friend. But as you love Arwen and as she loves you." Aragorn stepped forward, causing Legolas to retreat and turn his back on his longtime friend. "Just go," Legolas whispered, "Save yourself the trouble of saying what we both are thinking: that my love for you cannot be."

Legolas waited for the sound of the Ranger's footsteps to fade, accompanied by the slamming of the door to their current hideaway - but neither came. Instead, Aragorn's hands tightly clasped Legolas' shoulders and he spun the Elf around to face him, a fierce blazing look in his eyes.

"I could never hate you for loving me," he said lowly, the tone of his voice leaving Legolas in little doubt as to his sincerity. "Not when I feel the same." With that, he crushed their lips together in a desperate kiss. Legolas was in shock, at first, hardly daring to believe that the man of his dreams had just declared his love so boldly and was now kissing him. Shock soon gave way to desire, though, and Legolas began to kiss back with reckless abandon, winding his arms around Aragorn's neck and carding his fingers through the Ranger's dark messy locks.

When at last they broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Legolas' eyes were closed as he savored the memory of Aragorn's lips on his, if - as he suspected - this was nothing more than a dream.

"Why do you continue to doubt me, meleth-nin?" Aragorn whispered, pressing his forehead to Legolas' and brushing a stray strand of the archer's long blond hair away from his neck, allowing for better access as he clasped the Elf closer to him.

"I've imagined this before," Legolas replied, his voice equally as soft. "I confess my feelings, you reciprocate, and we kiss. But this is the most vivid of all my imaginings. I don't want to wake up if this turns out to be another one of my dreams. But don't believe for an instant that I could ever doubt you, Estel."

"Good, because this isn't a dream and I'm here to stay - forever, if you'll have me," Aragorn whispered as he bent his head to brush his lips together with Legolas' once again, much gentler and more tender than their previous two kisses had been. He felt Legolas smile against his lips and knew that the Elf was starting to believe in his own feelings and accept that he was telling the truth.

"Ai, can this be happening to me?" Legolas groaned, throwing his head back and allowing Aragorn an unobstructed view of his slender neck. The Man wasted no time in attaching his lips to Legolas' pulse point, sucking lightly before descending lower and tracing a path back up to the Elf's cheeks. He ended by planting a tender kiss on Legolas' lips, softly stroking his fair skin as he admired the picture that the archer posed with his chest heaving, skin lightly flushed, and a bemused smirk playing across his lips.

That will never do, Aragorn thought to himself. Once more lowering his head, he sucked determinedly at Legolas' lips, his tongue demanding entrance that Legolas gladly granted. Over the course of their friendship, Man and Elf had sparred many times, both with swords and with words. They now engaged in a new form of 'play' as their tongues battled for dominance, each exploring the other's mouth.

The pair finally wrenched away, desperate to draw breath. Aragorn glanced at Legolas, taking note of the tear tracks that still lined his face but which were less evident than upon his immediate arrival. Legolas, as though feeling the Ranger's eyes on him, turned to meet Aragorn's gaze and smiled, reassuring the Man with his body language - if not with his words - that everything was alright between them and would remain so. After all, it would take more than a confession of love to break a bond such as they had forged in Aragorn's childhood and Legolas' youth.

"Feel better?" Aragorn asked at last.

"Yes, much," Legolas replied, stepping back into the Ranger's warm embrace and wrapping his arms around the Man's waist, his head coming to rest on top of Aragorn's heart where the steady thump-thump reassured the Elf of his beloved's continued existence.

"It beats only for you," Aragorn whispered, his own head pressed against the fair locks of Legolas.

"What?" the Elf was startled, having not been following Aragorn's line of thought.

"My heart," the Ranger clarified. "It's yours - completely - and has been since our first meeting."

Legolas smiled broadly at Aragorn's declaration. Feeling compelled to respond in some way, he said the first words that came to mind: "I love you."

Aragorn returned Legolas' smile. "I love you, too," he replied, pressing his lips to the Elf's brow, eyes closing as he did so, knowing that their time together was short and would soon run out.

As if reading his mind, Legolas spoke gently, "Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. I face death knowing that my heart is yours, as yours is mine. That is enough for me."

"And for me, as well," said Aragorn, kissing Legolas sweetly on the lips before drawing back and gesturing to the door. "We should go."

Legolas nodded his consent, but as Aragorn turned to leave, the Elf reached out a hand to twine his fingers with the Human's so that they presented a united front. Aragorn smiled at the gesture and raised their clasped hands to his lips, kissing Legolas' palm with the utmost reverence before leading the way outside of their temporary sanctuary to face the uncertain future.

Elvish translations —

mellon-nin - my friend

Lassë - Leaf

meleth-nin - my love