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It's a few months after Aragorn's and Arwen's wedding that it happens.
Looking back, Arwen supposed it was inevitable really.
Legolas was in Mirkwood and they occasionally received letters and sent them back but, really, they were all so busy that they hadn't met up in months.
Work was taking its toll on Aragorn, she could tell. Work and not meeting up with friends, not meeting up with Legolas.
Arwen knew her husband didn't necessarily love her. They were friends of course, best friends maybe. But they weren't lovers. It was simply for the good of the Kingdom.
That was okay though.
That was the way it had to be.
Something was wrong though.
Something was wrong with Aragorn.
It was obviously something that had been gnawing at him for ages, but she'd never noticed because he was good at hiding it until it got too far.
Like now.
They were sat at the table.
Aragorn was not talking, not eating, barely breathing.
"Please, Aragorn, what's wrong? What can I do to help?" Arwen asked softly
"I- I can't do this anymore," Aragorn whispered, "look," he continued, "this is something he gave me," he took out a candle and showed her.
"Who? Legolas?" Arwen asked, certain it was Legolas.
"He said that when I light it I should be hopeful because the light represents hope, but how can I be hopeful when I'm so far away from him?"
"Aragorn," whispered Arwen, taking his face in her hands, "I'll light it," lighting the candle reverently. "I can see your hope and you miss him so much it's like a chasm inside you where your heart is supposed to be. You miss him so much because you love him. Aragorn, he loves you."
There was a silence in the room.
"We can sort things out; you can spend some time in Mirkwood whilst I'm on the throne for you and then you can bring Legolas here and support me on the throne."
"Go to him," she whispered.
And so Aragorn went.