Looking down at the cradle, Legolas reached out to the little babe, stretching out his little finger to the child, who grasped it. “Morning,” a familiar voice spoke not very far off behind him. “Aragorn!” Legolas said, with great delight. He did not know what his friend’s mood was, nor did he turn to check with his own eyes, but it seemed to him he heard humor in Aragorn’s voice. “This little one, he’s already trying to wage battle against me,” he added in good nature. Aragorn stepped closer, to his side, and it was now evident the man was rested and felt better.

Aragorn indeed had rested. After parting with Legolas, the knowledge that they were to speak soon, that this feeling of isolation that wrapped him would be broken soon, had sent the man into a deep, satisfying sleep. How long had he felt that isolation, which only now he came to admit? He was not sure, but it mattered not now. “I slept well. Thank you, Legolas,” he said, placing a palm on Legolas’ shoulder, then he looked back down at the child, “He is well rested, too, I see.”

“You slept a day and a half. You really were very tired, Aragorn, and this little one,” Legolas hesitated for a second, “well, we kept each other company.” And with that he smiled. “Oh,” Aragorn said, looking around at the room. He had noticed now that a bed had been moved into the room, and that Legolas’ belongings were neatly arranged on a chair next to it. “Legolas,” he said, disbelief and appreciation mingling in his voice.

“Don’t you dare, Aragorn, don’t say that I shouldn’t have.” The man looked at his friend and said, “I won’t. I owe you thanks for this deed. I was not functioning well since his birth, I know, and I doubt any of the servants could have taken care of him better than you. And still,” he shook his head, “still I wish it had not come to this.”

“Do not trouble yourself, my friend, I have enjoyed my time with him.” And with that, Legolas gently released his finger from the baby’s hold, moved to a table at the far side of the room, and returned with a bottle in his hand. “Would you like to feed him?” the Elf asked, holding out the bottle to Aragorn. The man took the bottle with a hint of embarrassment. Legolas picked up the child carefully and motioned for Aragorn to sit down on the bed. Once the man was seated, he placed the baby in his arms, guiding him as to the correct way of holding him.

“It’s the first time since…” Aragorn began, but Legolas cut him off. “I know. It’s all right. He seems to like you still,” he said, his voice soft and amused. “Legolas,” Aragorn tried to say, and again the words seemed to catch in his throat. He was not rushed nor urged to speak his mind, and as the baby fed, he decided that he could choke on these words no longer.

“It was for him she came back,” Aragorn said. “Not for me.” Legolas kept silent, only listening, his heart grasped by pain at Aragorn’s evident hurt. “She mentioned it once, a vision she had. It was him she saw, running towards me. It was for him she came back. She did not think much of it. She was on her way to the ships, to the Undying Lands. She would have gone but for the vision. I doubt she understood it herself. She really thought it was for me she stayed. And now...”

“Now you thought you’d hate the child?” Legolas asked, without judgment. “No.” Aragorn shook his head. “No, he’s wonderful,” he said, his gaze full of soft admiration. “Now that I look at him, I know I would have loved him no matter what. No, it’s that I couldn’t forgive her. I drew back from her. Not blatantly, not in act, but in thought. In a way, she was already a stranger when she gave birth to our son. It’s that she’s dead, because of this birth, and I still can’t stop thinking of it, can’t blame her, but also can’t forgive.”

“And you blame yourself for this.” Aragorn nodded again, without looking at Legolas. He had not looked upon him since he first spoke of the secret that lay in his marriage. “You mustn’t. Aragorn.” Legolas hesitated for a moment. Not over the words, but on whether to utter them, whether he in particular had the right to say them. But Aragorn was sitting with his son in front of him, his face turned down, yet all of his attention turned to Legolas’ next words, and he had to. “Arwen loved you. Suppose the worst, suppose that she indeed lacked the certainty, the courage to stay behind for merely a man, and she needed the promise of parenthood to strengthen those in her. She did not do you wrong, for I doubt she would have stayed for any other, even with promises of more than that. Nor did you do her wrong, for you loved her, and it is a lover’s right to be hurt, as well as to be forgiven for that. Make peace with her, and be sure that she loved you enough and is in peace with you.”

Legolas’ words offered a comfort that Aragorn did not expect. When he thought of it, he could not see how he could be forgiven for his selfishness towards her. Yet Legolas did not even judge him. He simply understood. It was so good that he had come.

To be continued...