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Aragorn had never thought to see him again, his long time friend and lover. When Legolas had disappeared after his coronation, it had hurt, but he had understood. Legolas couldn’t stand to see him with Arwen. He hadn’t faulted Legolas for his desire to leave, but the lack of farewell had hurt the most. He’d assumed that the elf had sailed to the Undying Land. For years Aragorn had mourned him, questioned his choice, wondering if he’d made the right one. Arwen had never faulted him, had understood his great capacity of love, had known that just because he loved another did not mean that he could not love her also or any less.
Things had changed after the birth of their first child, his beautiful Eldarion. He was the light of his life, and he couldn’t be sad in his presence. Arwen’s next pregnancy was hard on her, and she’d barely survived the birth of their twin daughters Coria and Carad. She never fully recovered and it hadn’t truly surprised him when she didn’t make it through the year. There was little time to mourn as a new war was brewing as the survivors of the fall of Mordor, the remaining minions and creations of Sauron finally pulled themselves together enough to be a true threat.
The years passed quickly and by the time the war finally ended his children were grown and married, having children of their own, and he wondered where the time had gone. Aragorn still looked as he had always, having aged little since his coronation thirty years prior, his elfin blood shining through. A hundred years of peace passed before Aragorn decided it was time for him to step aside and let his son rule.
Aragorn was tired of the politics, tired of watching his friends die, tired of sitting stagnant and doing nothing. He missed the wilds and its mysteries, and not a month after his son was crowned he set off alone despite the protests of his family wanting him to bring guards. No, where he was going, they would be a hindrance. His first stop was Rivendell. The quiet emptiness was painful to behold. In the twenty years he had spent there as a youth, it had never been so still. The place was still filled with magic, still welcoming, but the plants were already encroaching, taking back that which was always theirs. He couldn’t stay there. The memories were too painful.
He still could not believe they were gone, his father, his brothers, his friends and teachers. His wife was dead, his lover long gone. His family and kingdom had no need of him. For one hundred years he wandered and little changed. His family grew, prospering in the still reigning peace. For the first time in a century he followed the familiar path to Rivendell. There was an odd feeling, a disturbance in the air, a type of presence that he had not felt in centuries. It was familiar, but Aragorn still hesitated.
Cautiously he moved forward down long empty hallways towards a cracked doorway leaking light, his own old room. Pushing the door open, he was met by a sight he’d never expected to behold again. The tanned skin and long blond hair were spread against the pallet as Legolas laid sleeping. He stepped forward, hesitant, unsure if what he was seeing was real. Aragorn never expected to see him again, knowing that when he died he would not go where elves went, believing that Legolas was truly and forever lost to him. He couldn’t help but fear that this wasn’t real, that it was some torturous dream.
Aragorn might have made a sound or maybe Legolas sensed him because those beautiful violet eyes were suddenly locked with his. The elf looked just as shocked as Aragorn felt.
Legolas’ lips parted in astonishment before he finally whispered, “Estel.”
The word, a name Aragorn had never expected to hear again, broke the spell that they had been locked in, keeping them frozen in place. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they were wrapped around each other, holding onto each other for dear life.
He had not used the language in lifetimes, but the words came to him effortlessly. “I’d thought you’d left for the Undying Lands. I never dreamed of seeing you again.
“Melamin, I thought you long dead. I did not think you still lived.” Legolas hesitated a moment before asking. “What of Arwen?”
“She died. A long time ago. She never recovered from her second pregnancy.” He’d never talked of it, never had a proper time to mourn, and it still cut him deep, just thinking of her.
Legolas had no words for him, knowing that nothing he said could ease his sorrow, so he held him, offering him the little comfort he could.
Some time passed before Aragorn spoke. “What have you been doing these long years?”
“Searching.”
“Did you find what you were searching for?”
“Yes, melamin. You have finally returned to me, barely changed after all these years. Will you still have me?”
Aragorn’s answer didn’t require any words.