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Day and night, Legolas sat by the bedside of Aragorn, in deeper and deeper turmoil as the old man's condition worsened, afraid to sleep in case his lover slipped away without being able to say a proper goodbye. Legolas could remember the Aragorn of all those years ago, leading armies against the Dark Lord, calling out the name Andúril as he drew his sword and engaged in battle with the foul armies of Sauron, his sword working like an extension of his body as he dodged and swiped, stabbed and parried, felling countless Orcs and Uruk Hai for hours without a trace of fatigue.

That man had gone long ago. Age had finally caught up with Aragorn, and now each day, Legolas wondered if it could be his last. The man's breathing was shallow and ragged, his skin had a deathly pallor, and his once dark hair turned grey like the mountains.

And now in this darkened room, drapes drawn across the windows to block out the bright sunlight that hurt Aragorn's weakened eyes, Legolas clutched at the hand of his beloved, sending out a silent prayer for 'just one more day' with his beloved.

Aragorn slept most of the time now, only waking to take liquid food - he was unable to digest solid food long ago. He was a mere shell of the man he used to be. Awaking now, he and peered through the gloom of the room, but could see little more than the outline of Legolas, bent over the bed, sleeping.

He did not want to awaken the elven beauty, yet he could feel he was slipping away. And, if these were his last few moments, he wanted to spend them with the one who had been held so dearly in his heart through the years. He squeezed the elf's hand, his wrinkled old fingers entwined with the slender, still youthful fingers of Legolas.

The elf awoke quickly, and taking one look at Aragorn, shifted his chair closer.

"Legolas," Aragorn could only speak in whispers now. Legolas moved closer, for although he could hear the man's whisper perfectly, he needed to feel such closeness with the man who had loved him for so many long years. Legolas could tell from Aragorn's face what he was going to say, but asked anyway.

"What is it?"

"I'm dying. I want your face to be the last thing I see...before I die," as he spoke, tears glistened in his eyes, mirroring those in the eyes of the elf's. "There's a letter in my pocket...when I go, you are to read it...it is for you, my beloved."

Legolas nodded, searching for something to say. There was so much he wanted to say to Aragorn now, yet he could not find the words. He sighed, not making any move the wipe at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Kiss me," Aragorn whispered. "One last time."

Still unable to speak, the elf bent forward, covering the old man's lips with his own, allowing all the love he felt for him flow into the last kiss they would ever share together. Uncertainly, he probed his tongue into the Aragorn's mouth, unsure if he would want such a kiss, for his weakness had grown by the day. Aragorn responded by parting his lips more, using all the strength he had left to engage the gentle searching tongue of his lover with his own. He could feel the love in that kiss as strongly as he felt it in their first kiss, and he remembered all the times they had shared together, the good and the bad. He would gladly take up another lifetime, if only to re-live all the times he'd shared with Legolas, good and bad. But time was no longer on his side, and he could feel himself drifting further and further away with every second that passed by. So much he didn't get to do, so much he never said...no chance now.

Legolas kissed gently, not wanting to harm his lover, so frail that he was afraid to hold his hand any tighter in case he broke the fragile bones. He put his heart and soul into the kiss; when he felt Aragorn ease up, he drew back, looking down at the man. Aragorn smiled weakly up at him then closed his eyes, and with a deep sigh, slipped away from the only true love he'd ever known.

Legolas allowed the tears to flow from his eyes for hours, until he was unable to cry anymore.

"You'll stay in my heart forever, melamin,[1]" he whispered, planting a kiss on the man's forehead.

Then, remembering what his lover had said only minutes before he died, he carefully reached inside Aragorn's pocket, and withdrew a folded paper, addressed to him in the mans handwriting.

"My dear Legolas,

If you are reading this, my time has come and I have passed into the shadows."

And then a verse:

"Thank you, for our life,

Together we used to lay,

I would relive every second,

Every hour, every day.

Would live another lifetime,

If only to see your smile,

Would fight a thousand armies,

Just to hold you for a while.

Would face the darkest evil,

Would battle to the death,

If only to say "I love you,"

With my final breath.

My life here is over

And to you I pray

That you remember the good times

The way we used to lay

The way we talked for hours

The love we always shared

No love as great as ours

Shall ever been compared.

Nothing came between us

Except the call of death

And I shall say, "I love you"

With my final breath.

I must be somewhere else now,

But hold this in you're heart

I will wait for you, my love,

We'll never truly be apart.

Remember, that even now we are separated by death, I still love you.

Eternally yours,

Aragorn."

By the end of the verse, fresh tears were streaming down Legolas's face. He and Aragorn had spent a great many happy years together; Aragorn was his life. And now, he was gone. Yet Legolas knew he was there in spirit, he could feel it. He knew what had to be done, and he knew what he had to do.

Within a week, Legolas had overseen the burial of his lover. He had lovingly dressed Aragorn's body in the clothes from the days of the Fellowship, which now hung off the thin form; finally wrapping the cloak around him, pinning it with the beautiful elven leaf brooch from Lothlorien. He ensured the finest casket was constructed for the man's body, and lowered it into the ground himself, whilst their friends looked on. He did not allow himself to cry, not until the burial was over, and all had left. Then he sat at the graveside, staring at the mound where Aragorn was buried with glassy eyes.

Days later, Legolas, the last of his kind in Middle Earth, boarded a boat and sailed over the sea, never to return.

The tale of his and Aragorn's love was lost as elves became myth; fading, and forgotten. Yet if man were to listen to the gentle whispering of the trees, he would hear them speak of the lost love story, summing it up in a mere whisper:

"To the world, they meant little, but to each other, they meant the world."

*~fin~*

[1] melamin - my love