I'm Happy, Brother.

AFTERLIFE

When Aragorn awoke he stood barefoot in the body of a much younger self.

He first noticed the cool of the grass which is what pulled him from a stupor. Red and yellow leaves blanketed the ground, falling from the trees as well.

He wore light brown loose pants which stopped a bit above his ankles.
And a white tunic which hung off his body. The cold of a charm touched the dip at the base of his neck.

A warm breeze had been drifting by him since his eyes opened, and it tousled his hair.

Fluffy clouds decorated the sky and the sun was a pleasant light.

It was fall in this place, which he recognized as a part of Rivendell.

The sound he heard was running water, and as he turned to look he saw the back of a man.

Skipping stones along the skin of a stream.

He turned to Aragorn casually and with a lopsided smile he spoke.

"Took you long enough princess, I wondered when you'd join me."

Gwaine.

Aragorn took a hesitant step forward  then another.

Tears of joy and heartbreak burned his eyes, falling down his cheeks as he broke into a run. The distance seemed longer than it was, though that could be because Aragorn stumbled so much. Legs shaking something fierce.

Gwaine dropped the stones and opened his arms in time as Aragorn crashed into him.

Aragorn said the man's name into his shoulder, and sobbed with relief.

He held him tightly and was held in return.

"I'm right here," and his voice sounded the same.

He smelt the same, and he idly noticed how his hands still felt warm.

They hugged for what felt like seconds, though it could've been hours, or perhaps an eternity.

When it broke Aragorns face was wet with tears.

"Gwaine" he said again, his hand went up he hold his face.

Gwaine looked younger.

His hair darker, and his skin as sun-kissed as it had been when they'd met. With windswept tresses and his scruffy young beard.

The same eyes that enchanted his dreams.

Though he'd retained every scar he'd gotten in life.

Aragorn said his name again and Gwaine nodded. Tears in his own eyes.

Aragorn would've sobbed into an abysmal nothing but instead chose to swallow it and collided into him with a kiss.

Gwaine kissed back.

It was innocent, as if it had always been so easy.

Everything felt right. Whole now that his other half was in his arms.

Like the gasp of breath after swimming under water.

His lips tasted like apples and sleep;
and he felt, to Aragorn's joy, nothing like Arwen.

All his life, kissing Arwen alone, he'd never felt full, or satisfied.

He'd never truly gotten a flutter in his stomach and chest at any touch but Gwaine's.

Hers was too soft, and warm. With lips that tasted like berries or lip tint.

Gwaines face was cooled from the breeze, with a pleasant scratch from his beard, with lips as perfect as he'd imagined.