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Chapter Text

Distant waves crash to the shore. The sound of gentle splashing grows closer by the minute. The overwhelming smell of salt water and seaweed. The sea wants to claim him; perhaps he wants to be claimed. Warm water inviting him in; bare feet in first, until his whole body is submerged in water. Floating. Weightless. Safe. Free of fear or worries. Like a child again.
The comforting sounds of the seagulls calling to him grow more distant as he sinks deeper into the sea slowly merging into the water, becoming one with it.

***

Aragorn son of Arathorn, and more recently, King of Gondor was in his chambers gazing out of the window. He dared not to exit the room, not being in the mood to talk to the guards for the fifth time that day and assure them that their services were not needed, and he could, in fact, walk around unassisted.
His attention was directed at a certain blonde elf sitting very still outside in the garden that was just barely visible from his window. The elf did not seem to know he was being watched, sitting with his long legs crossed, seemingly staring into nothingness. This rather strange behaviour had gradually started over the past few weeks after the initial joys and sorrows of winning the war yet losing so many soldiers. The hobbits had made their way back to their home after a long and deserved healing process, and Aragorn had settled into his new routine as King, with Arwen finally by his side. Middle earth was back to normal. Normal as it could be after a war, yet some seemed more changed, as if the war never really ended for them.

Gimli and Legolas, Aragorn’s dearest friends, had made plans to go travel together, however, weeks had gone by and both Aragorn and Gimli, who was also still staying in Minas Tirith, had started to see less and less of their elven friend. Legolas had started to withdraw from his friends, hardly appearing to dinners and celebrations. Elves were peculiar creatures indeed, Aragorn knew this having grown up among them, and his friend was certainly no exception. But even by elven standards Legolas’ behaviour was strange, and Aragorn couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was not quite right.

At that moment, a sharp knock came to his door and he could hear shouting from behind it. He hurried to open the thick wooden doors, already knowing what he was going to find on the other side. Two guards were holding onto his dwarf friend who was dangling in their tight grip clearly outraged about being manhandled in such way.

“Just you wait until I pull out my axe!”

“Is that a threat?” asked one of the guards angrily.
Not wanting the situation to escalate, amused as he was, Aragorn ordered the guards to release Gimli much to their disappointment.

“But sir! He was trying to get into your highness’ private chambers!”

Aragorn stopped the agitated guard, “Gimli is a friend, he may come and go as he pleases. I do believe this has been discussed.”

The two young guards exchanged baffled expressions but backed away, nonetheless.

“Accept our apology, your highness.”

Aragorn offered them a smile, “No harm was done.” He then signalled Gimli, who was muttering to himself, clearly disagreeing, to follow him into the room, turning once again to his eager guards, offering them a forced smile, “Now, I believe my friend and I have private matters to discuss.”

The guards bowed quickly and closed the doors after Aragorn and Gimli.

“Some guards you have…” muttered the dwarf unamused as soon as the two were alone.

“Apologies my friend” Aragorn said and sat down in one of the many comfortable chairs in the room, as Gimli had done with upon his arrival.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Aragorn asked as they had both sat down and Gimli had started to fiddle with his pipe.
Gimli looked surprised at the question and stammered out: “Is your highness too busy to see an old friend now that you’ve been made king, aye?” he avoided the question.

Aragorn smiled at his friend, “Never would I regret seeing you, Gimli, however, I doubt you have come here to exchange pleasantries.”

Gimli fidgeted in his seat and finally grunted in defeat, “It is that wretched elf! He grows more distant by the day, and I fear there is something sinister going on that he is hiding!”

Aragorn had known exactly what Gimli had come to discuss and was secretly happy that someone shared his worry for his friend.

“I barely see him at all anymore! It is like he is avoiding me at all costs. In fact, It is almost like we are back to how it was when we first met!” Gimli exclaimed.

“Trust me my friend, it is not only you he is avoiding. I don’t think he has been in anyone’s company for a while, and I share your concern.”

Gimli looked relieved, yet more worried if one could look that way, and for lack of anything to say, he proceeded to puff his pipe looking out of the window. Finally, after a minute of comfortable silence he spoke again.

“You know, I’ve grown rather fond of the elf, strange as he is. Talking to trees… -Sleeping in them! He is a strange creature if I’ve ever known one…” he rambled on, leaving Aragorn with an amused smile.

“My point is, I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t even know what to ask! His troubles are a mystery to me, and I wish you could solve it to be frank. You understand him better than I do,” Gimli finally finished.

Aragorn though for a while and then said, “I do not agree that I understand him better than you do, but I understand what you say. I cannot say if I can help him with whatever it is that ails him, but I can promise to try.”

“What good is it to be married to elven kind and still not understand them!” exclaimed Gimli making Aragorn laugh.

“Elves are curious creatures indeed, and Legolas is a wood elf after all. Who knows what goes on in that fair head of his.”

Aragorn glanced outside again and gestured Gimli to do the same. He was not surprised to see Legolas still sat in the same exact spot, his head slightly hung down, long braided hair falling on his face. He did not look peaceful, nor did he seem to be asleep, though elves could look rather strange when sleeping or resting. No, this looked like something different entirely and it made Aragorn’s heard twist with unease.

After a moment of thoughtful silence, eyes still fixed on their friend unmoving though he was, Gimli stated: “He no longer sings.”

And Gimli was right, Aragorn thought. He could not remember when it had stopped but it must have been sudden. Suddenly, Aragorn was reminded of their time during the quest; waking up in the middle of the night at their everchanging camp, only to be lulled back to sleep by Legolas singing a serene melody in Sindarin, in a tree somewhere nearby. Those days now seemed a millennium away. Not a joyful tune, nor a melody of sorrow had been sung recently, and Legolas had remained as quiet as he had still. Unheard and unseen, as if he were not there at all.

With a sigh and a look shared with Gimli, Aragorn decided it was time to talk to his friend.

***

Aragorn managed to just narrowly avoid having his new eager guards follow him outside and made his way to the small garden in the courtyard where he had last seen Legolas, sitting on the floor. There indeed, he found the elf legs still crossed, hazy eyes gazing at nothing in particular. It pained Aragorn to see how much he did not look like himself; his usually vibrant skin looked dull and pale, his golden hair, that hadn’t been re braided for a while now fell lifelessly over his empty eyes. For a moment Aragorn felt like his friend might not have been there at all, simply a shell of whatever was left.

With careful steps Aragorn walked next to Legolas and sat down, mimicking his cross legged position.

“Good evening, your highness” Legolas said, surprising Aragorn with his light tone, and by acknowledging his presence at all. He hadn’t been sure whether his friend was lucid.

“Good evening, prince,” replied Aragorn, earning a faint smile from the said prince, which he reciprocated.

As if it had not been there at all, the smile slipped away and was replaced by the vacant stare from before.

“The stars are bright tonight,” Aragorn noted looking up.

“No brighter than they were yesterday. Or the day before. I fear they will be no brighter tomorrow,” came the monotone reply, void of any emotion. Aragorn frowned. Nature was something the wood elf had always been able to appreciate, to find consolation in.

“What ails you, mellon nin?” he asked, giving up any pretence of seeking mere friendly chatter.

Legolas stayed silent for a long time and Aragorn began to think his question would go ignored but as he was about to ask another question Legolas’ frail voice broke the silence.

“It is… homesickness. Of sorts.”

Aragorn waited for him to continue but as he stayed silent, he carefully said, “You have been away from Mirkwood for a long time, perhaps you should travel back home for a while. I can send messengers to Mirkwood to inform them of your arrival. I am sure King Thranduil would be glad to see you on your feet.”

If Aragorn’s words had reached him, he did not show it but instead continued to stare into distance.

“In fact, I could send some of my staff in the morning- “

“No,” Legolas interrupted. He hung his head lower; his whole face now being hidden by golden hair. “Please, no.”

Aragorn’s confusion grew, as did his concern. “Legolas? I don’t understand.”

Legolas gave a humourless laugh. “That makes two of us.”

After a pause, he continued, “I feel a longing. A longing like I have never felt before. At first, I thought it was for Mirkwood, for the trees, but no tree will save me now. There is no branch green enough to bring me joy, no trunk tall enough for me to hide in, and no tree old enough to whisper me words that will now give me solace.”

“Legolas, I- “

“I miss longing for Mirkwood and the trees. But I don’t think I ever will again. It has been replaced by an entirely different kind of longing.”

Aragorn’s worry and confusion kept growing but he waited for his friend to continue.

Finally, Legolas turned to face him, and Aragorn’s heart ached at how distraught his friend looked, with his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks.

“They’re calling for me, Estel. Can you hear them?” he asked hauntingly, slipping into Sindarin as if he was afraid of someone listening to their conversation.

“Who are calling for you? Hear what?” Aragorn grabbed Legolas’ shoulders both to comfort him, and to make sure that he was truly still there, so frail did he look. Even though he was now holding him, Aragorn feared he would slip away from his reach any minute.

“Legolas!” he said, sounding more frustrated than he hoped to as he desperately tried to get Legolas to look at him. When his eyes finally settled onto Aragorn’s, they were misty and held more emotion than Aragorn had seen the elf express for weeks.

“The gulls. They’re calling me to the sea.” Legolas whispered at last through unshed tears.

Something heavy dropped in Aragorn’s stomach and he let go of his friend. Sea longing. How could he not have known? He, of course, knew what it meant, yet he wanted someone to explain it to him. To tell him what to do and how to help; how to make it go away.

“I can no longer hear the trees.” Legolas said quietly, pulling Aragorn from his thoughts.

Aragorn still could not think of anything to say- what was there to say? – and in the absence of his words, Legolas continued,
“Sometimes, if I really focus, I can hear them cry for me, mourn for me. They mourn because I no longer belong to the woods for the sea has claimed me. The rustle of leaves on a windy day is now foreign to me, the ancient songs belong to me no longer.”

The two sat in silence for a long time, neither of them saying anything. There was nothing to say. The stars no longer looked bright; Aragorn noticed. Instead, they seemed faded and sad. Perhaps they too were mourning.

He could suddenly feel his crown, that was safely in the castle, weighing heavily on his head. What good was the title ´King` for, if he could not even help his friend?
Aragorn placed his hand on Legolas’ shoulder both, for his friend’s comfort but also his own. Legolas continued to stare into the distance with a mournful expression that Aragorn had seen many a time before. Only this time the elf did not break into sorrowful song, like he would have in the past, and as they continued to sit together in the silence of the night, Aragorn could almost hear the seagulls calling to his friend.

Chapter Text

Aragorn explained and Gimli did not understand. He had already been aware of this ´sea longing´, and gulls calling to Legolas. Legolas had spoken to him about it when they first arrived at Minas Tirith, but he had seemed perfectly fine after. Surely it couldn’t be a grave matter. Yet, Aragorn’s mournful face gave him no reassurance.

“Elves can’t die.” Gimli stated matter-of-factly.

Aragorn hesitated, “No. They cannot die of old age like us mortals. They can still die in battle, as you know, and in some cases their physical bodies can fade when their soul at last consumes them.”

Gimli remained silent and Aragorn continued.

“Eventually, elves are supposed to return to Valinor. Legolas, being a wood elf, has always been sheltered by the woods, and been able to live peacefully in the woodland realm. He has never been bothered by the call of the sea, so he isn’t accustomed to it like the elves of Rivendell. I should imagine it feels something like being ripped in two.”

Still struggling to grasp the situation Gimli suddenly felt a surge of anger fill him.
"Elves are blessed with immortality! What makes it so complicated?”

“Ah, but are they?” said Aragorn. “You say they are blessed, but is it a blessing to have to fight through countless of wars, seeing your homeland change and get destroyed? To make your kingdom great again only for it to be burned down countless of times. Is it indeed a blessing to make friendships and alliances with mortal beings, and then have to watch them grow old and die, while you must live on?”

Gimli felt like he had been hit in the head with a heavy stick, and suddenly he felt incredibly selfish. He would never have to be grieved by living without his newfound dear friends. He thought of Legolas living on for hundreds and thousands of years, long after Aragorn and himself had died of old age and felt a pang of sorrow for his friend. All anger seemed to seep out of him and make him smaller.

Aragorn continued, “Death is not something natural for elves. His mother death was tragic, and I feel Legolas has endured more death and loss than he should, and so I cannot blame him for wanting to leave. To go to a place where nothing dies.”

“I didn’t know his mother died.” Gimli grumbled.

Aragorn smiled at him sadly. “I believe he could do with a friend at this time.”

Gimli brushed him off with a grunt, “You’re better suited for that, I am sure.”

“Legolas is very dear to me,” said Aragorn. “But you share a bond with him that I cannot imagine.”

Gimli looked down embarrassed. How was it that he had grown so fond of the obnoxious elven prince? Try as he might, he could not deny how important Legolas had become to him.

Sighing he got up from his slumped sitting position, “Where is the miserable princeling?”

***

The corridor to Legolas’ room was empty and dark. Gimli grew more nervous the closer he got to his friend’s room. Their whole friendship had been built on friendly rivalry, and while there was mutual appreciation and care, they hadn’t needed to show it before, their affection having been shown through light shoves on the shoulder and playful arguments.

Gimli arrived at the door of the room his friend was staying in and knocked lightly. The sound echoed through the otherwise quiet corridor. Gimli waited for a while, and almost decided to head back and perhaps try again tomorrow until he heard a barely audible, “Aragorn?”

“No, it is, uh, Gimli.”

Pause

“I can come back tomorrow if you are busy.” Gimli said, still trying to keep his voice down.

He was just about to turn around and walk away in defeat when he heard, “Come in.”

He took a deep breath and pushed open the wooden doors, letting himself into the room. The room was as dark as the corridor, only the moon casting light directly through the large window in the middle of the biggest wall. The room was decorated plainly with a rather large bed pushed into the furthest corner from the door, a few wooden chairs scattered around the room and a wooden desk with a few unlit candles sat on it. Any other time Gimli would have remarked about the bed being significantly bigger than the one in the room he was staying in but decided against it. He also decided to ignore the fact that the bed looked like it hadn’t even been touched. At last, his eyes settled on Legolas himself, who was sat in the empty corner of the room opposite of the bed. He was looking at Gimli questioningly, his face luminated by the pale moonlight that made his hair look like sparkling silver. Gimli noted that his hair had finally been re braided and brushed and he looked significantly more put together than he had when he had last seen him sitting in the garden. Still, sorrow decorated his face, and Gimli didn’t know if it was the moonlight, but his eyes sparkled with, what looked like tiny diamonds that threatened to spill on his cheeks.

Wordlessly, he made his way over to where Legolas was sitting, and sat next to him, directing his gaze to the moon, mimicking the elf. They sat in comfortable silence for a long time, staring at the moon, enjoying each other’s silent presence like they had done on numerous nights before; too preoccupied by their thoughts to sleep but in need of company. No words were needed. Gimli felt like, suddenly nothing had changed and everything was fine. They were Legolas and Gimli, the unlikely, yet inseparable duo that they had been for months now.

“I suppose Aragorn has informed you of the situation.” Legolas broke the silence at last.

“Aye,” Gimli said, and continued after a pause, “I’m sorry about your mother, I did not know.”

Legolas looked taken aback for a moment but recovered quickly, “Thank you.”

After another pause, Gimli said quietly, “Merry was right.”

“How so?”

“There will always be some folk here, big or little, who need you” * Gimli muttered looking at his worn hands. And it was true. Back when Legolas had first expressed his desire to leave Middle earth and go to the sea, Merry had managed to say what Gimli would not dare.
“I will always need you here,” he added and when he got no response he continued jokingly, “who else is going to drive me mad with their ridiculous elven antics?” attempting to lighten the mood.

“You will die.” Legolas interrupted suddenly, his voice tight as if he was struggling to get the words out.

Gimli turned to look at his friend, taken aback. Legolas was looking at him, his breath coming out in short angry puffs.

“Sooner or later, you will die, and I will be left here... alone” he managed, struggling to get the words out. He kept looking Gimli in the eye, as if waiting for him to prove his statement wrong, to challenge him. But of course, he could not.

“Aye,” he said instead, “I will die.”

"That isn't fair." Legolas whispered under his breath.

"I know."

They continued to stare at each other as Legolas slowly began to loose his composure, his face twisting in a way that looked unnatural on his fair features; his brows furrowed, and mouth stretched into a thin line turned downwards. Gimli could only look at his friend with compassion, his own countenance reflecting the sorrow on his friend's face, until Legolas’ façade finally began to crumble and sparkling crystal tears finally spilled onto his cheeks of porcelain. Instinctively Gimli reached out to gently grab Legolas by the neck, who buried his face into Gimli’s shoulder. They sat there for what felt like hours as Legolas wept, and Gimli held him. Gimli’s heart ached and he wished more than anything in the world, that he could make it better. But of course, there was nothing he could do but to hold Legolas, so he continued to hold him, until his tears ran out, and they were left sitting still in the silence of the night comforted by the sound of each other's steady breaths .

Chapter Text

Legolas didn’t know how long he had been in his room. He knew the sun had set and risen more than once since Gimli last visited him, but he hadn’t kept count. Someone from Aragon’s staff had knocked on the door at some point asking whether he would like to join his friends for supper. He had remained quiet until the hesitant knocks had died down. After Gimli had left him to his thoughts some few nights ago, he had moved onto the bed, preferring the way the soft material felt under him- almost like nothing at all. The stone floor was cold, especially at night, and had almost started to feel wet, as if someone had spilled water on the floor and it had started to seep through his clothes, merging with his body, making him fluid. Fluid enough to simply melt through the tiny cracks on the stone floor and disappear. Like the dirt that ran down the stony streets on Minas Tirith on rainy days, he would be washed away and eventually end up drowning in the s-

Legolas closed his eyes tightly and focused on directing his thoughts at something else. The material under him was soft yet tangible and most importantly, dry. He tried to think of the trees, brown and green, firmly planted on the ground. The harder he tried, the more the green seemed to turn into a pale blue, and the wind that gently shook the leaves carried a salty smell that was foreign to the woods of Eryn Galen. At last, the trees were starting to drown in the powerful waves invading his mind and he snapped his eyes open, rapidly blinking away the moisture that his treacherous eyes had produced in his distress.

A knock on his door interrupted his thinking once again and he couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed at being bothered again or thankful for the distraction. He settled for the former and decided to ignore the knocking until whoever was behind the door would give up and leave. However, the knocking continued, and a firm yet unsure voice called: “Um, Sir? The King requests your company.”

Legolas was not surprised; He had been lucky to go this long without Aragorn or Gimli trying to talk to him. He decided to pretend to be away and remained silent. He would deal with Aragorn later.

“I was told to say, uh.”

Pause

Legolas could hear the man clearing his throat, “His highness said: ´I know you are in there. If you do not come out, I shall have my guards escort you…`” the man trailed off, clearly wishing he hadn’t been the one to be sent for Legolas.

Legolas sighed, almost amused.

The man spoke again, his voice growing more hesitant, “The King wishes to not have to send his guards as that would be very unpleasant for both you and him, and- “

The man stopped quickly as Legolas opened the door and stepped out of the room wordlessly.
The man, who appeared rather young looking, Legolas noted, looked immensely relieved and cleared his voice again.

“Very well. If you would just follow me, sir.”

***

The loud tump of the door closing echoed after him as Legolas found himself in a large room. On the other side of the room Aragorn rose from his seat upon Legolas’ arrival.

“Legolas,” Aragorn smiled widely, “I’m glad you’ve decided to join me.”

"Stop looking so pleased with yourself," Legolas made his way to the other side of the room with long graceful strides. "It won't work again."

"I was rather hoping I wouldn't have to do that again."

Legolas simply scoffed. He had made his way next to Aragorn and the two were now gazing out of the large window. Legolas realised, to his slight embarrassment, that his frequented spot was in full view from Aragorn's window, and made a mental note to find another place to sit and wonder. That is, if he would dare to set a foot outside again.

"Have you spoken to Gimli?" Aragorn asked, breaking the familiar silence.

"Of course. I speak to Gimli all the time," came the dismissive reply.

"I'm fairly certain you know what I am talking about."

Legolas scoffed again, unamused smile flickering on his lips for mere seconds. "I should have known it was you who sent him."

"He worries about you." Aragorn said in a gentle tone.

"Well, worrying does little to help."

"Neither does locking yourself in your room and isolating yourself from everyone, I would argue." Aragorn raised a brow.

"Perhaps it does," challenged Legolas, knowing he was being petulant.

Aragorn merely smiled in return, not taking the bait.

"A letter came today. From Greenwood."

Legolas felt a wave of cold wash over him, "Oh?"

"Your father is glad to hear of your safe return from the quest and send his congratulations for a job well done."

Legolas hummed in acknowledgement; his father never was one for words. Battles, yes; rather silent dinners and meetings as had gotten older, but words of endearment or affection were not something that was commonly shared. Legolas knew he was loved, that was enough. And his father did show love and appreciation for his son in his own ways; entrusting him with important missions, making sure he was well trained since he was a young elfling and rewarding him well for his successes. He knew his father cared for him and was proud of the warrior he had become.

For the first time in a very long time he wished he could be comforted by his father like he hadn't for centuries. He wished he was once again small like a tree that had barely yet seen the seasons change and to hide under his father's long flowy robes, clutching his legs, away from everything scary and new, simply gazing at the world from the opening of his father's long robes. He remembered his father tutting at him hiding away in his clothes, but smiling at him regardless, and giving him loving smiles that were concealed by disapproval.

He longed for someone to tell him what to do; to convince him it will all go away with time. Everything always went away with time, only this time he didn't know how much of it he had. How long would it take for the yearning to become unignorable? How long until all his senses would betray him, leaving him no choice but to leave his life as he had come to know it?

"I am sure he would be happy to hear from you, even happier to see you." Aragorn suggested carefully breaking the silence that had fallen.

"I don't think that would be a good idea." Legolas said, "In fact, I don't think I should ever see him again. That would only bring more heartbreak for the both of us. I'm all he has, after all."

"Your dramatics never fail to amaze me. Why are you acting as if you have already died?" Aragorn said frustration creeping into his voice.

"I might as well have died, such is the dullness in my soul!"

"But you haven't!" Aragorn challenged him again, "You live Mellon! Me and Gimli live! The halflings live; the world is at peace once more and you are not letting yourself see it!"

"You do not know how it feels to have everything I have known and loved suddenly changed and have my mind turned against me." Legolas said solemnly under his breath.

Aragorn's features softened and he let out a compassionate sigh. "You are right. I don't know how you feel, and I can only begin to imagine the turmoil in your head right now, but you cannot let it pull you down. You cannot give up hope without trying!"

Legolas said nothing, his gaze fixed on the spot on the courtyard where he had been sitting a few nights ago in the moonlight. Aragorn approached him carefully, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "We have fought many a battle together my friend, Why would you have to face this one alone?"

Legolas faced away, not wanting Aragorn to see him with his guard down. He didn't let himself believe what Aragorn was saying; he couldn't afford to gain hope where there was none. But he also didn't want to disappoint his friends, not after such a long perilous journey to peace. He thought of Gimli; all the plans they'd made; promises he'd given. Then he grabbed Aragorn's hand that was still resting on his shoulder and held it tight, as if to try and grasp some of Aragorn's determination through his hand.

"Alright." he said. " I will try."

A wide grin spread across Aragorn's face and without warning or hesitation he grabbed his slender friend into a tight hug that- after a while- Legolas realised he had needed more that he thought and allowed him to melt against his friend and believe for a moment, that everything would be alright. The sea would retreat back to where at had been and stay away from him for good.