Tomorrow they would ride out again. Legolas bit back a sigh. He hated to admit it, but he was tired of yet again having to fight. Would it never end? He knew it was the right thing to do, in fact the only thing to do. He fully endorsed Aragorn’s decision to try and draw Sauron out… still he felt uneasy. Something just did not feel right.

To calm his nerves the elf began wandering the half destroyed streets of Minas Tirith. He kept thinking of Frodo – brave Frodo – who was out there in Mordor, with only Sam at his side. Also he mourned once more all the elves that had fallen at Helm’s Deep. So many firstborn dead. He was almost the sole surviving elf of that horrible night. With shame he remembered how he had voiced his doubt back then. But his friend had forgiven him, and they both still lived.

From that he moved on to happier memories, and almost without conscious thought he suddenly found himself on the amazingly huge prow that overshadowed the city below. And then he realized he was not alone. A figure was standing there, almost too close to the abyss, even in the surefooted elf’s opinion.

Legolas needed but a second to recognize the cloaked shape. Hesitantly the elf took a step towards Aragorn, not sure if it was a good idea to get any closer. But he did not dare address the man yet. Fear and sadness seemed to be hanging like dark clouds around the mortal, and the elf was worried that any wrong movement or word on his part might bring disaster.

Desperately Legolas racked his mind in an attempt to figure out what could have happened in the short hours since they had decided to approach the Black Gate. But he couldn’t think of anything. Not sure if his friend had even noticed him yet he made one more step, and now he was close enough to grab the man should he stumble. For a moment Legolas rolled his eyes at his own stupid worries. Aragorn was almost as surefooted as an elf. The man would not stumble, and yet it felt wrong that he now was standing so close to the cliff.

Having learned during the centuries to trust his instincts Legolas after a few minutes softly laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder and whispered, “Will you talk to me?”

Nothing happened; the man had not even as much as twitched at the contact. So he had known that he was no longer alone. But Aragorn said not a word. Really worried by now, Legolas gently pulled the human back, and turned him so that they faced each other. Aragorn let it happen without resistance, but when their eyes met Aragorn’s were empty, and lifeless.

“Aragorn… What is it, my friend? Are you worried for Frodo? Or that Sauron will not accept your challenge?” Legolas did not ask if Aragorn feared for his own life. Too often had he seen the man endanger his well-being recklessly just to help someone else. He knew that had not changed. That made what he now saw all the more frightening.

Aragorn took one deep breath, and then he tonelessly said, “Oh, he will answer the challenge.”

With a frown Legolas tried again. “What worries you then? Aragorn…, Estel, please talk to me!”

The elf was no longer able to hide the deep fear that grasped his heart, and to this, finally, the man reacted. His eyes no longer seemed to look into the far distance, but instead he focussed on his friend now, and then he murmured, “I have challenged him myself. He will come. Just - ”

Confused Legolas pressed his once more silent friend. “How did you challenge him?”

Toneless and flat again was the answer. “Through the palantír.”

Legolas gasped. Had his friend lost his mind? How the human could have done such a stupid thing, after what had happened with Pippin. Rather harsh he said, “Aragorn! That was folly!”

The man roughly jerked his arm free of Legolas’ grasp, and for the first time answered with life in his voice, “It was necessary! Sauron needed to be given a reason to send his troops to the Black Gate; and an army as small as ours on its own would not have drawn his attention. Now he knows I am alive, and here already, willing to take the throne of Gondor. Now he will accept the challenge. Frodo will have his chance.”

For a moment they stared angrily at each other, and then Legolas lowered his eyes. He hated to admit it, but Aragorn was right. The elf realized now that Aragorn most likely had done it with Gandalf’s counsel and approval even. But that still did not explain the mortal’s earlier attitude. And then he saw it – or rather he realized he no longer could see it. Arwen’s token of love was no longer around the human’s neck.

“Estel… the Evenstar…”

Legolas broke off, unsure what to say, how to ask. Again their eyes met, and this time Aragorn had tears in his eyes. Aragorn bit his lips, as if unsure if he should answer at all, but then he whispered, “She is dead. He showed me.”

Stunned the elf shrank back. Arwen Undomiel lost… that was a horrible thought, even for him, and he had not been in love with the beautiful daughter of Elrond. He knew these tidings had the power to destroy his friend. But then he frowned. And hesitantly, he once more addressed Aragorn, who had turned again and resumed his former position at the abyss, “And you believe it? Just like that?”

Aragorn repeated in an almost inaudible whisper, sounding lost instead of desperate now, “He showed me…”

“And you trust a voice in a stone?”

On purpose the elf spoke almost sarcastically and his strategy worked. Again he was faced by an angry human, and when Legolas made a step back, the man followed. This time the elf spoke much softer but still with hopefully enough force to reach Aragorn, “What would you show yourself, to make you lose hope?”

For a moment the man paused, but then his shoulders, tensed in anger, dropped, and desolate he said, “The chain broke… the Evenstar is destroyed.”

Fighting hard for resolve, for belief in something he barely dared to believe in while faced with the despair of his friend and his own feelings of loss and fear, Legolas once more reached deep into himself to find words that hopefully would anchor his friend. “Estel… hope of men… we both know why Elrond named you thus…, and rightly he did. But remember: you are a man, too. There is hope for you, too. Deep in your heart, do you really believe she is dead?”

Aragorn’s head came up. Still he had unshed tears in his eyes, and his lips were pressed together firmly, but he shared a long look with Legolas, and then gave an almost unperceivable shake of the head that in the current situation could mean anything, and the ghost of a smile. And then he walked back to the palace in long strides, leaving a rather bemused elf behind.

~o~o~o~o~

They had no opportunity next morning to talk before riding out. Legolas kept as close as possible to his friend, but Aragorn seemed unreachable, already in royal Gondorian gear, and all the time surrounded by people who had this or that comment or plea to make. And once they had started their ride, Aragorn was riding at the front alone, as was his place as the leader. He looked kingly on Brego but also distant, and again there was no chance for the elf to approach the man. Legolas shared a worried glance with Gandalf but said nothing, because he was not sure if the wizard knew about the palantír and the Evenstar. Also the upcoming battle now occupied his mind; for now it had to be enough that Aragorn was still with them, willing to face this one last fight.

And then they had met the Mouth of Sauron. The messenger told them that Frodo was dead or near as dead, and showed them the halfling’s mithril shirt as proof. Legolas felt something inside him break. This was too much. To have come thus far, to have risked and lost so much, and now Frodo was lost… all was lost. Middle-earth was lost. Just out of habit the elf fought to not show his despair, his feelings of hopelessness. Vaguely he heard how Gandalf ordered the hobbits to be quiet, to not express their sorrow, but he could detect it in the wizard’s voice: Gandalf was about to give up as well. Legolas reached behind, to grab Gimli’s leg in an attempt to give support as well as in need of it himself.

And then Aragorn slowly rode next to the messenger and suddenly beheaded the Mouth of Sauron. In wonder Legolas listened to the once again strong voice of his friend: “I do not believe it. I will not!”

The future king looked Legolas straight in the eyes for a moment. And the elf knew hope was still with them.

~o~o~o~o~

This time Legolas only felt happiness and contentment while he was once more standing on the gigantic prow of Minas Tirith. Laughter and merry voices were all around him. King Elessar had sung the song of his forefathers, and now he was walking though the masses of well-wishers. The elf had to contain himself, to not laugh and sing aloud; he felt so much joy. Middle-earth had been saved. Now the good days would come. Days of rebuilding, days to tell stories and sing songs, days for friendships – and love.

Biting back another bubble of laughter that wanted to escape the Mirkwood elf could not help himself, he just had to glance at Elrond and Arwen in wonder again. He had been so relieved when he had greeted the delegation from Rivendell just a few hours earlier, and had seen not only Aragorn’s foster father with them but also the love of Aragorn’s life. Urgently, he had told them about Aragorn’s experience with the palantír, but Elrond had decided that the time for the king to know was after the coronation. And so now they waited.

From his point of view Arwen was partly visible, but Aragorn could not see her yet. In fact he did not even look in their direction; instead he had his eyes fixed on the Mirkwood elf’s face. Legolas slowly came forward to meet his friend. They exchanged a grasp on each other’s shoulders, as they had done dozens of times in their long friendship, and then Aragorn quietly said, “Hannon le.”

Legolas guessed from the cloud of sorrow, hopefully invisible to most other eyes, still surrounding the newly crowned king that Aragorn was thanking him now, amongst other things, for his support on the night just before the last fight, when both of them last had been on this very prow. There had been neither time nor opportunity to speak privately for them so far, and now again was not the proper time to show the depth of his feelings. So Legolas once more suppressed the pure happiness that threatened to overflow him and just gently smiled with a slight movement of his head and eyes, to make the king look towards the elves of Rivendell. And when the former ranger, foster son to one of the wisest elves, and now king of all men, finally had the love of his life in his arms, and the approval of her father, only then did Legolas allow a few tears of happiness flow down his cheeks.