Chapter 8.  The Final Years.

So it was that after the deafeat of Sauron, and the crowning  and wedding of the King that the Fellowship  parted for the last time at Isengard. Legolas and Gimli journeyed together through Fangorn on their way homewards, but hey had both vowed to return, to aid in the rebuilding of  Elessar's city.

That had been quite some time ago, and Gimli and his folk had already settled in Aglarond, but there had been no word from the Elf. A part of  Elessar had feared that his closest friend would not return, that he would be unable to resist the call of the sea longing, so he was filled was with great joy and relief  when word reached him that Legolas had entered the gates of the city. Arwen smiled affectionately at the almost child-like eagerness her husband displayed as he made his way hastily to the top of the tower and waited for his friend to come into view.

Finally he spied the graceful movement of the Elf in the distance, his golden hair gleaming in the sun. Legolas looked up towards the tower and waved, his keen eyesight easily spotting the figure standing there. Raising his own hand in greeting, Elessar was about to make his way to the entrance hall to welcome his guest, when he noticed that Legolas had stopped to talk to a group of children, who were obviously fascinated by the Elf. The King sighed, it would be some time before he would see his friend now, for the children had settled themselves on the benches in front of one of the many fountains, and were listening intently as Legolas told them a story.

It was almost an hour later before the happy reunion of the two friends took place.

"Legolas, it is so good to see you!" exclaimed Elessar holding his friend by the shoulders and drawing him into a brotherly embrace, which was returned in kind. "You have been away far too long," he said as he studied him closely. Judging by the light in his eyes that there was nothing disturbing the Elf.

"I am also pleased to see you again, King Elessar," responded Legolas with a courtly bow. Elessar scowled at the formality from one so close, before realising this was just some form of his friend's elvish humour.

"There is no need for such formality between us," he stated with a wicked gleam in his eye.” My friends call me Aragorn, unless they want to see the inside of my dungeons!" he said jokingly.

"Such a harsh punishment that would be, Aragorn," laughed Legolas, "but one that Adar would approve, I think. He sends you his regards."

"Thank you." Aragorn said, indicating for Legolas to sit as he poured them both a glass of wine.

"Tell me, how are you coping with the role of King of Gondor?" asked Legolas. "Is it as unpleasant a chore as you suspected it would be?"

"In fact, no. I have to admit that being a ruler in time of peace is a much simpler and more pleasant task than I imagined. I have my friends and my beloved Arwen to thank for that," Aragorn replied looking thoughtful. "I know I did my best to avoid my destiny, but the path I travelled to find my inner strength was a necessary one."

"That is true. I always felt you would be a great king, although not one who would resort to using dungeons," Legolas said with a smile. "Gimli assures me you are well-loved by your people, but he thinks that perhaps not as much as the beautiful Queen Arwen."

"I am sure he is right, but hopefully you will be here long enough to judge for yourself," he said, thinking once more of sea longing, which Arwen had done her best to explain.

"Have no fear, I will often pass through the Gates of Minas Tirith as long as you are King, mellon nin. Where else would I be, except in Ithilien with my people?" Legolas enquired, wondering at such a strange statement

"Back in Mirkwood, perhaps," Aragorn answered, not willing to broach the more painful subject of his friend’s desire to sail to Valinor at this time. "Gimli tells me that your forest home did not fare too well during the War." Aragorn stated. The pained look that passed across the fair features of the Elf was not lost on Aragorn, nor was the sadness in his voice as he described the devastation of his home.

"No, our realm was invaded by Orcs and parts of the city destroyed. The foul minions of Sauron also set my beloved forest to burn, leaving the trees as only charred and blackened remains of their former beauty."

"Do you still feel guilty for not being there to defend your home?" Aragorn asked. Legolas merely raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question he had thought resolved many years earlier.

"Nay, it was more sorrow than guilt I felt. That is why I have been away so long, for although the Shadow has lifted, the power and light of all the Woodland Elves was needed for the restoration work,” explained Legolas his eyes shining with happiness as he spoke.

"I assume that all is now well?" concluded Aragorn.

"Yes, the city is almost rebuilt and there is new growth everywhere. Eryn Lasgalen is a fitting name for the reborn forest of the Woodland Elves. The work gave us so much pleasure that many of my people have decided to follow me to Ithilien to do likewise. We wish to see the ‘garden of Gondor’ will flourish in the light of the Elves once more,” he said enthusiastically.

"Faramir will be pleased to hear that," commented Aragorn, knowing that the Prince of Ithilien was looking forward to having Fair Folk in his forest once more. Aragorn was also pleased, for it meant that Legolas would remain in Middle Earth for some time yet.

"Yes, he was. I visited his court on the way here to tell him to expect the arrival of my friends in the near future," Legolas explained in answer to the questioning look Aragorn had given him.

"I think you will also make a fine ruler. Shall we call you King of the Forest in Ithilien?" Aragorn asked lightly, smiling at the almost horrified look on the Elf's face.

"Certainly not!" he exclaimed. "I will accept my responsibility as the son of Thranduil, the King of Eryn Lasgalen when my people arrive, but that is all."

"As you wish, Legolas Thranduilion," Aragorn said formally, teasing his friend.

"It appears that I may need a dungeon or two as well for those who offend me. Beware Aragorn. I intend to keep spiders in mine!" Legolas warned with a wicked grin, as he stood and moved to the window to let the cool evening breeze ruffle his hair.

"Speaking of restoration," he said changing the subject as he watched two Dwarf stonemasons add some finishing touches to a wall, "I must do something about this city of yours before I tend to the forest. I notice that Gimli and his friends have been hard at work, and the mithril gates are really a work of art, but there is far too much stonework for my liking," he said with more than a hint of amusement in his voice. Aragorn laughed heartily at the look of distaste that accompanied the words.

After many months of hard, yet pleasant work, the trees and gardens of the White City were flourishing to Legolas' satisfaction and he left to join his friends in Ithilien. Once the settlement was established, it pleased Legolas greatly to play host to his friends from the city, as well as Gimli, and since the duties of the King often meant that Aragorn was away from Minas Tirith for weeks at a time rather than stay there alone, Arwen would journey to visit with the Elves of Ithilien. Legolas and his friends had made a miraculous change in the forest already, and it was a happy reminder of the days she had spent as a young elf in Lothlórien.

This particular visit was almost at an end for Aragorn was expected later that day to escort her home. Arwen had spent the morning with her friends, finishing an elaborately woven bedcover they had made for Legolas. Several of the maidens were enamoured of their fair leader, and Arwen felt sorry for them because she did not think their feelings would ever be returned, for it seemed to her that, sadly, Legolas would never fall in love.

Once the work was completed for the day, Arwen wandered over to the archery range where she knew Legolas was practising. She watched silently as he swiftly fired a succession of arrows, scoring a bulls-eye with every one. Never having been interested in learning to shoot herself, she was nevertheless impressed by his skill.

"How do you do that?" she asked as he walked to the target to collect his arrows.

"Do what?" he said, only just noticing he had an audience, albeit of only one.

"Hit the centre every time, and with such swiftness as well. You make it look very easy, I do not recall my brothers showing such great skill," Legolas laughed, thinking of all the hours he had spent on the practice range as a young Elf.

"Once you perfect the technique, you practice until it becomes second nature to nock the arrow and shoot it in one simple movement," he explained.

"Can I try?" she asked, to Legolas’s surprise. He had knew that she was quite a capable swordswoman, but he could not recall ever having seen her with a bow.

"Be my guest," he said as he handed her his bow and arrow and watched as she tentatively held the bow and tried to nock the arrow. The attempt met with limited success and the arrow barely went halfway to the target before dropping to the ground. They both laughed merrily at her failure, but she insisted on trying again. The result was the same, much to her disappointment. Legolas offered to assist her next attempt and when she had taken her stance, he stood behind her and put his arms around her so that he could reach her hands.

"If you will allow me?" he asked politely, waiting for her permission to proceed with such an intimate contact.

"Of course," Arwen agreed, for she saw no impropriety in his request. They had been friends since childhood and he had never been anything but proper in his behaviour towards her.

Legolas placed his hands over hers and set them in the correct position. "Now draw back like so... and release." The arrow flew straight and true, and hit directly in the centre of the target. Arwen was thrilled and turned to hug Legolas. A second arrow whistled through the air beside them, a little to close for Legolas' comfort, and in one swift movement he released Arwen and had turned ready to fire at the intruder. Fortunately he did not, for the assailant was none other than Aragorn. Arwen ran to her husband's arms and Legolas allowed them a few moments privacy before he spoke, unable to keep the anger from his voice.

"Aragorn, what ever possessed you to do something so foolish? You could have killed one of us! I almost shot you!" he exclaimed. "You should know better!"

"I just wanted to attract your attention. I had a clear shot and knew you were in no danger from my arrow. Besides, had you not been so busy embracing my wife, you would have heard me approach," he said eyes twinkling with delight at the Elf's discomfiture.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy?" Arwen asked with a smile, knowing that Aragorn was teasing his friend. "After all Legolas was merely demonstrating how to shoot, a skill I have never learned. He is a wonderful teacher."

"Of that I am certain, but what exactly was it that he was teaching you?" teased Aragorn, the slightly intimate tone of his voice causing Arwen to blush with embarrassment.

"Do you question my honour or my intentions?" Legolas demanded, allowing his anger to show. Although he too realised his friend was speaking in jest, he failed to see the humour in the situation that could have had dire consequences.

"Certainly not, I know you would never betray me. I trust you with her life as I do with mine. When I am away I rest easy knowing you are watching over my beloved," Aragorn answered with heartfelt sincerity.

"I am pleased to hear that but I suggest you try a different method of attracting my attention in future, for I would hate to think that one of my arrows was responsible for depriving Arwen of your company,” Legolas said, somewhat placated.

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In fact, it was Ithilien that was deprived of the company of Queen Arwen the following year, for after the arrival of Prince Eldarion she had little time to spare to visit with her friends. When the news of the birth of Aragorn's heir reached the forest, Legolas immediately rode to the White City to see the babe and to see if Aragorn had managed to survive becoming a father.

As he made his way through the hallway to the King's apartments, Legolas recalled that over the past several months he had never seen his friend so ecstatic and so nervous at the same time. All he had heard Aragorn speak about was his fear that he would not know how to handle the responsibility of being a parent.

"I am afraid I can offer no advice in that area. Not only am I not a father, but I have not even seen an elf babe." Legolas had told him on one of the numerous occasions the subject had arisen. This particular time they had been sitting quietly in Arwen's garden, as they often did after the evening meal, Aragorn enjoying his pipe; Legolas the warm evening breeze and the starlight. It was a custom that had survived from many years ago in Mirkwood, as it was then called, and had been observed whenever possible ever since.

"But you seem to have no trouble relating to the children here in the City, they all adore you. Is it perhaps that in terms of immortal life you are but a child yourself?" There was no mistaking the mischief in his voice and Legolas answered in kind.

"Children, of any Race are to be cherished, and I find their innocence and naivety very appealing. There may be an element of truth in your jest, but I find I have gained valuable experience from learning to deal with a certain mortal who, despite his age, acts like a child at times. What I will say is this," continued Legolas in a more serious vein, "your child was conceived with love and even though not yet born, he is a joy to you both. He will enter into a world filled with peace and hope for the future. It is a good beginning and I know you will find it within yourself to be the best father you can."

"I can always rely on you for reassuring words, my friend." Aragorn had replied, feeling more relaxed about the impending change in his life. Speaking with Legolas always had that effect on him, and he cherished these quiet moments. "HE?" he asked, dropping his pipe in his excitement, suddenly realising what Legolas had said. "Are you saying I am to have a son?"

"That is a question you had best ask Arwen," Legolas answered enigmatically, refusing to say more.

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Legolas knocked quietly on the door to Aragorn's bedchamber, not wishing to disturb Arwen and the baby. An extremely proud Aragorn smiled radiantly at his friend and ushered him into the chamber, a privilege only afforded to family. Arwen was sitting in the bed delicately cradling a small bundle in her arms and indicated for Legolas to sit beside her on the bed.

"Eldarion, I would like you to meet my dear friend, Legolas," Aragorn said so formally that both Arwen and Legolas laughed with delight. Legolas could already sense a change in his friend, the new father, but that could be discussed later. The Elf gazed with wonder at the beautiful little boy in Arwen's arms.

"Welcome to the world, Prince of Gondor," he whispered quietly placing a feather touch of a kiss on the child's brow. "May the light of the Valar ever shine upon you."

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Time passed by in the land of Gondor, sometimes moving as swiftly as the currents in the mighty Anduin River as it flowed to meet its destiny in the sea, and other times moving as slowly as a ripple across the surface of a hidden pool. Legolas was beginning to despise time, for though its measure meant little to an immortal being; each New Year brought his mortal friends closer to their final days. The thought of losing them was the cause of much of his grief, but the joy he had found in their company had been its own reward and he would cherish their memories for all time.

In particular, Legolas was thankful that he had become friends with Imrahil, who had died many years earlier, for the Prince of Dol Amroth had taught him about the sea, and had given him the plans to build the grey ship that would bear the Elf to the Undying Lands when he could no longer resist its call. Legolas had even built a small model of the ship and presented it to Eldarion as a gift. He smiled to himself as he remembered the look of delight on the young Prince's face as he held it up for Aragorn to inspect.

"This is the ship Legolas is going to build one day. I hope he will let me sail the seas with him, it would be a great adventure!" he exclaimed with childish enthusiasm.

"It is indeed a very nice ship, but somehow I think you will not be aboard when it sails," Aragorn said, taking it in his hands to examine it more closely. It broke his heart to see that its mast bore a small replica of the standard of the King of Eryn Lasgalen, and he quickly turned from his son so that the child would not see the tears in his eyes. Legolas felt his friend's pain and rather than upset Eldarion, he suggested he take the ship and show it to his mother.

"Yes, that is a good idea. I will ask her if it is like the ship in which Grandfather sailed across the sea." Only the sound of small footsteps running down the hall disturbed the tense silence in the room as Legolas waited patiently for Aragorn to speak.

"I thought you had mastered the call of the sea," he said finally, his voice husky with unshed tears.

"No. Aragorn, it has never left me, I have just kept it hidden. Each time I hear the cry of the gulls that find their way inland, my heart yearns to follow them back to the sea. The desire to see the beauty of Valinor grows ever stronger, and sometimes I find myself anxious to leave."

"Why, then, do you remain?" Aragorn asked, feeling the soul deep melancholy of his lifelong friend brush across his heart. The haunted look in the grey eyes that usually held the light of the stars was almost too painful to bear.

"For the love of King Elessar, and to fulfil my promise to visit the White City as long as he lives," Legolas answered with simple and total honesty.

"I do not want to lose you, but if it grieves you to stay, I beg you, do not linger," Aragorn entreated. "Heal your heart and sail to the West knowing that you go with my blessing and my love."

"It is not yet time for me to leave," Legolas said, his mood suddenly brightening as he heard the sound of children's laughter coming from the garden below. Eldarion was showing his mother and his sisters how well the little ship could float. "Come, I think the small ship is departing for the other side of the fountain."

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That had been many years ago now and for some reason this day Legolas felt a need to seek solace in the branches of one of the oldest trees in his favourite part of the woods of Ithilien, which he now called home. Even here he found little comfort, for the trees themselves whispered of sadness. All day long a creeping sense of despair had been casting a shadow over his thoughts, brushing his soul with a feather light touch and he recognised it instantly. "Aragorn!" A feeling of unease urged him to climb to the top of the tree, from where he could just barely see the towers of the White City.

Grief overwhelmed him as he saw that the flags on the towers were lowered, signalling the death of the King. Tears flowed freely as he sang a lament for the passing of his much loved friend, the sweet yet mournful song carried through the forest and the other elves bowed their heads in grief.

As Legolas approached the city, the pain in his heart grew deeper, for he knew that this would be the last time he would enter the mithril gates. There were no children to greet him this time, and it was with overwhelming sadness that the grief-stricken Elf headed for the Silent Street and the House of Kings.

Over the years Aragorn had aged, as all mortals do, the passage of time reflected in increasingly greying hair, and wrinkles of wisdom on the handsome face. As he walked over to Aragorn's resting place, Legolas looked with amazement at the face of the King, no longer old but restored to its former youthfulness by the gift given to the Númenóreans. This was the Aragorn he had met in Mirkwood when he was but a youth, handsome and fearless, even in death.

Legolas reverently touched his hand to his forehead and lips, in the greeting of Men and bent over to place a farewell kiss on the still, cold forehead, whispering the words he had heard used a long time ago, "sleep in peace, King of Gondor. My friend, my brother." Salty, wet tears fell freely, stinging the open wound in his heart. Legolas knew that now it was only a matter of time before he would meet the destiny Galadriel had foreseen for the promise that he had made, to stay in Middle Earth until Aragorn's passing, had been fulfilled. Lovingly he placed the small grey ship next to his friend's still form.

The silence of the night was broken only by the sound of soft tears falling on the stone floor as, illuminated only by an elvish light fading with grief, Legolas stood alone, waiting for the dawn.

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Bidding Arwen a final farewell and passing out of the city gates for the last time, he urged his horse to a gallop and with a final glance backwards, left the world of Men behind and headed for Ithilien.

Gimli was waiting for him when he reached the village. It was obvious that he had been grieving also.

"Your message was received with great sorrow at Aglarond, such a sad loss," he said simply. " There is some good news, however," Gimli continued as they walked towards the dock. " I think you will be pleased to know that your ship is now ready to sail." Legolas almost smiled.

 "That is indeed good news my friend. There is no longer a place for you or I in Middle Earth; our home now lies over the sea. Let us make haste and depart."

So it was that, using the light of the stars to guide their path, the Elves sailed their grey ship down the Anduin to the sea. Legolas stood on the deck letting the salt from the air crystallise on his lips, and the wind ruffle his hair, finally feeling at peace. He allowed himself a last moment of sadness for his friends who belonged to the race of Men, then turned his gaze and his thoughts to Valinor.