It had been a month almost to the day since Legolas’ return from Mirkwood, and all their plans – of marriage and of kingdom – were to be announced today to both their realms. With their lands united, Minas Tirith remained closer to the heart of the new kingdom – Laicelen – and so it was decided that the palace would remain there. They stood in their royal bedchamber, now full of shared spaces, of their belongings mixed together, selecting the clothes for the announcement.

Aragorn was looking at his official robes, trying to decide which one he should wear. Since Legolas came, it seemed the number of his green clothes had increased dramatically, as he knew the color to give the Elf great pleasure when he wore it. He thought of picking out a tunic, an incredibly fancy one, which reminded him somewhat of his ranger’s tunic, and at the same time emphasized the changes he had gone through.

“That would look amazing on you,” Legolas confirmed, and not a moment later, he moved closer to Aragorn, his hands were already hugging his love from behind, as he whispered, “I am so lucky,” into his ear, then kissed it. “We both are,” the man corrected him, leaning back into the embrace. Aragorn’s next words came as of their own, detached of the thoughts running through his mind. “It’s been a long way, has it not?” Legolas responded without much thought, waiting for those hidden thoughts to surface. “Mmm,” was all he mumbled, tugging quickly and playfully at the man’s jacket. Then he added, “Nervous?” Aragorn shook his head dismissively. “No. But I do want to ask you something.”

“Not my kingdom, I hope,” Legolas joked, “I have not another one to give you.” Argorn turned around to him and drew their faces together, as his lips matched the smile spread on his lover’s. “Not your kingdom, promise. My love, do you remember…” Aragorn’s eyes wandered a bit, caught in a memory, in a sight of splendor. “Do you remember the outfit you wore on…”

“On your coronation?” It amused Legolas, the way they sometimes knew exactly what the other wanted. “Yes,” Aragorn said, and there was no longer need to ask whether his lover would agree to wear the very clothes in which – for the first time, though without much understanding – he felt his heart react to the beauty and love that shone from Legolas. It was, as he discovered, a reaction brought on, a feeling that had grown in him during their quest, a feeling starting with friendship and stemming into much more.

“Do you, Aragorn son of Arathorn, take this Elf, to be…”

“Do you, Legolas son of Thranduil, take this man…”

It was as if they had heard the words, but did not; reacted to them with the correct answers, but never moved a muscle; walked through the great audience that has gathered, including many old friends, answered greetings with smiles and words of thanks, but could not see any of this abundance of love that was showered upon them. They could only see each other, could feel only each other, even without looking.

It was, much like the coronation that was about to take place, a ceremony that combined the traditions of Elves and Men, thus making it an oddly long one. It was odd, because no one seemed to care. Riddel had been correct in his forecast, and as celebrations of one day were announced, the people of both kingdoms demanded they be prolonged.

They kissed; they spoke, danced, and entertained the many guests and subjects that came to witness the occasion. It was extremely unreal, yet it was – all that was. Aragorn and Legolas’ hands clasped together as they walked through the audience.

The wedding took place outside, the festive dinner took place inside one hall, and the coronation was to take place in another, much larger hall. The morning before the wedding, their biggest surprise arrived in the form of Gandalf and Frodo, waiting to see them. The wizard refused to answer any questions as to how and the sort, but agreed to say that though the journey to the Undying Lands was a final one, there were few things which were truly final for a man already dead and reborn. It did not matter how it came about, since simply seeing their old friends had filled Legolas and Aragorn with joy. Gandalf was asked to conduct both ceremonies, and in his usual way he hinted that he already supposed the job to be his.

That afternoon, the hobbits and Gimli had arrived as well, and there were no limits to their joy at reunion. Frodo and Sam spent most of the evening catching up, secluding themselves a little from the rest of the company. Gandalf waited until all other friends retired, then sat down to speak with the new couple. He spoke of the future, of children and death, of joy and sorrow; he laid out before them the possibilities that stood before them, without offering guidance, leaving all decisions to them. Then he smiled at them and reassured them that, come what may, they would have their happiness.

With that, he retired, leaving Aragorn and Legolas to make their choices. There was little doubt in either’s mind. They would receive Gandalf’s gift, the ability to have a child, and Aragorn knew there was no point in arguing with Legolas over who should receive this ability. He did not wish to watch Legolas go through the physical pain, but knew he could not win this argument. The Elf was far fiercer than he in insisting that his immortal body would adapt better to pregnancy.

It troubled Aragorn that so much pain was still awaiting Legolas, further down their paths ever intertwined, for the man would eventually pass away. Legolas would take Gimli with him to the Undying Lands. There he would face a life without the man again, a life that would send his heart racing towards his doom. It was unthinkable to Aragorn, that during their years of friendship, Legolas knew he would never have his love returned, yet it did not break his heart. The knowledge that Aragorn was alive and well, loved and happy, even though he was not with him, was enough to sustain the Elf’s life. Yet, when his time would come, nothing could save his love from death. That life, that Legolas would choose to face alone, would tick away, slowly and agonizingly, until the process was complete, and his broken heart tolled him with his life, without anyone’s knowledge. They would meet again, Gandalf had promised, on white shores unimaginable to them as yet, and there, they would never be separated again. There was no justice in it. Fate angered Aragorn still, for it was Legolas who had first suffered the unrequited, and Legolas who, again, had to go without him at the end.

A look into Legolas’ eyes made it clear, though, that his love had accepted this fate with the compassion of which only one who never dared to hope for better was capable. Their lips met, and Aragorn’s warm and salty tears ran down both faces and into the taste of the kiss.

“Do you, Aragorn…do you, Legolas?” And a kiss to seal their eternal vow.

The end.