Soon, he knew, Legolas would have to go back. He was the king of Mirkwood, since King Thranduil left for the Undying Lands, and he had lingered here too long already, helping Aragorn with daily troubles and court matters, not to mention raising the child. The infant did not yet have a name. Aragorn postponed the choice, trying to figure out how exactly he would name the child so that Arwen would be pleased as well.

Aragorn sighed. He felt that the idea of Legolas’ departure was harder for him than it should have been. He was keeping himself busy this afternoon, reading the correspondence, avoiding thoughts of the moment Legolas would announce his departure, thinking of his life in the castle afterwards. Even through the mourning, Legolas had managed to cheer him with his unusual sense of humor, always somewhat based on the contrast between the kindness of his soul and the mischievous meaning of the words. Once Legolas was gone, what would make him smile, besides his son?

“Aragorn.” Legolas entered suddenly. In the past few days, he had quickly caught up with Aragorn’s dislike for court manners. “There is an urgent matter we must discuss.”

That was that, then, Aragorn thought. It was time for Legolas’ departure. He would not have been able to imagine the grief that fell upon him, and he spoke swiftly, without thinking. “Won’t you stay a little while longer?”

At that, Legolas blinked once, confused a bit. “Aragorn.” It did not surprise him that the man knew what was in his heart. Many were the times during their quest together when they had no need for words. “I would, but there are complications...that I have no power over.”

“What complications?” Aragorn’s hand clenched around the handle of the chair. “Your kingdom? I do not ask that you part from it, only that you linger a while longer.” Legolas shook his head in disagreement. “It’s not the kingdom that worries me, Aragorn, but I have already lingered longer than I should have. It is time for me to go.”

“If it’s not the kingdom that troubles you, what is it then? Whatever it is, we will find you a way to prolong your stay. After all, it cannot be harder than slaying an Oliphaunt.” Legolas smiled widely at that. It was good to hear Aragorn kid, as he had not done so since Legolas’ arrival. In truth, most who met the man thought that he never was inclined towards the humorous, and Legolas knew otherwise. He knew Aragorn would shut that part in him in times of danger and distress and reopen them when he found peace. That small jest was now so precious for the Elf that he dare not relinquish the emotion that evoked it. Not without an explanation. It was one, though, that he did not wish to offer, but perhaps it was time. Aragorn had shared a secret with him. It would be just to reciprocate, whatever the price.

“Aragorn,” Legolas began, “this is not easy to explain. I will do my best, however, and hope that you should understand this, and especially that you will understand that it was not right of me to speak of this sooner.” A slight pause in his speech made Legolas self-conscious that his gaze lay upon his palm, as though hiding, admitting a shame. He was not ashamed, not of this. He raised his eyes to meet Aragorn’s with pride and dignity. “It is not right that I remain here without your knowledge of the way I feel. I call you my friend, and that you are, but you are also the man I love.”

The words flowed from the Elf’s mouth in his usual, melodic flow, but Aragorn did catch a small tremor in it towards the end, incredibly subtle, but at the same time very obvious to the former Ranger’s ears. He had heard the admission, yet knew not what to answer, and even less what he felt.

In those few seconds that Aragorn was rendered speechless, in those very seconds did Legolas realize he had no hope to have his love returned. He spoke on, with growing confidence that the confession was right - no matter its consequences - and that there were still a few things left unsaid. “I do not ask anything of you, not even a response right now, but if you still look upon me as a friend –” Aragorn noticed, unconsciously, that the tremor was gone from the Elvish voice. “If you still wish for me to stay, then I will stay, as such. It was from our friendship that my love did grow, and it will never be outgrown. Aragorn, no matter what, I hope you still see that.” And with this last saying, Legolas turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand that reached his arm and squeezed it with great affection.

“Of course you are my friend,” Aragorn said, “and always will be. Your stay is always welcomed here. More than welcomed.” Legolas released a breath that he had not perceived he held, yet did not want to be careless. “Aragorn, if there are questions on your mind, ask now. I will answer truly, and then leave you to your thoughts and to a decision made with more consideration. I’d rather leave now, with mutual consent, than have our friendship tainted by a decision we will not be able to carry out despite our best intentions.”

Aragorn redrew his hand and sat back down. “What shall I ask you, Legolas,” he said, more than asked, though his head buzzed with questions that he could not yet put into words. “Nothing, there is nothing to ask or answer. You are my friend. You have been my support through this dark hour and many others. I will not ask you to leave.” A kind of numbness grew out of the buzzing, a feeling he could not understand.“

“I will leave you to your thoughts nonetheless, Aragorn, and when you are ready, I will delight of your company, as I always have. My offer for answers still stands.” And with that, the Elf made for the door. “Legolas,” just as the Elven-king stepped to the door - his hand not yet on the doorknob and his figure proud and tall in front of it - a thought had almost formed in the numbness of Aragorn’s mind, “Is this the reason you had not sailed for the Grey Havens?” Legolas turned around and, with complete serenity, he gave his positive answer with a nod. Then he turned and left.

Aragorn remained seated in his chair. The thought, the one that had almost formed, it stung now at him, that Arwen had remained not for a life with him - she knew she’d have that and yet the death in it had scared her away - and Legolas remained here for him, though he was offered nothing in return. In the window, toward which Aragorn now turned, the colors of a setting sun were changing the face of the earth. It was like a soft caress, it happened every evening, through the night, and then morning rose again. It seemed a certainty, but one which he had not paid attention to before. Beyond that one thought in his mind, he still could not find anything of which he was certain.

To be continued...