The White Shores

Sunset

Arwen left the following morning, Aragorn, Eomer, and Thranduil with her. The morning was clear and pale, frost covering the small, newly forming petals. The ride was long, but it was easy going and the others left Aragorn to his thoughts.

He did not particularly want to be with those at the moment. Legolas' not-quite confession had left him reeling. He loved him. The elf, who had been his childhood companion, searching for treasure and adventure with him, loved him. The elf, who had followed him on a journey and never once faltered, loved him. The elf, who had stood silently by while watching Aragorn court and marry Arwen, loved him. Legolas loved him, and Aragorn was not entirely sure that he did not return the feelings.

He had always had crushes on Legolas. They would fade, and return, and fade again. Each time they came back they would be stronger than the last and now, with so long of seeing only Arwen's face in his dreams, the crush felt overwhelmingly like love.

But was he only reaching out to the elf in his grief? Did he only want to feel loved, and wanted, and cared for, so he was pretending to love him? He could never hurt Legolas as Arwen had hurt him, could never fake love and later reveal it was all a parlor trick. Thranduil was watching him curiously, but also with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

If cin negr- mui réd, im'll belth- cin, was the silent, echoing threat. He tried to drown out thoughts of Legolas with the upcoming meeting - the real reason he had come to Mirkwood, but always his mind remembered a blonde elf whose footsteps were as light as feathers and whose smile was brighter than the glittering stars in the sky.

"We are but a mile from the place," Thranduil announced a while later, fracturing an image of Legolas setting a butterfly free. They rode onwards, their pace increased a fraction. Soon, they reached a path, brown stones evenly worn.

"Hobbits were here," Aragorn announced, his time as a ranger taking over his instincts, "And elves."

"Yes," Thranduil agreed, and urged his horse to the front of the party, "Onwards."

He held up a hand when Aragorn could just make out a dock and a boat waiting on the water. The others stopped as the Elvenking rode forwards.

"Lord Thranduil, have you come to join us?" Aragorn heard Lord Elrond's voice and felt a pang of sorrow at his foster father's tone. That gentle, wonderful man would leave Aragorn forever. But Aragorn had other matters to attend to. He bade his stallion to sidle up to Lady Arwen, which Hasufel did.

"Lady Arwen," he hid the turmoil underneath his skin with a vacant expression. "Hold out your hand, please, my lady."

Arwen did, her eyes beseeching him for a flicker of emotion, but he would give her none. He pressed the Evenstar into her warm palm, and then fell back, keeping his face expressionless. He could just make out a single tear trace its way down her cheek before Thranduil spoke.

"I have not come to join you, my good friend," Thranduil replied with some warmth. Aragorn could see the hobbits gaping at him in astonishment and his lips curved slightly. "You know that the Mirkwood elves will not lose their immortality to someone as trifling as men. I am here to bring to you what you lost, and what now seeks to return to you."

Elrond lifted an eyebrow as Arwen rode into the clearing with Aragorn trailing her.

"Mui -iel," Elrond cried, "Have you come to say goodbye?"

He embraced Arwen tightly, so that Aragorn spoke for her.

"She has come to go with you," his voice was a monotone. The hobbits looked at him in wonder, but Gandalf only gazed on in sadness and- was that? - knowing. All the matters were laid before Elrond and the hobbits, leaving out Legolas' declaration of love. Aragorn said his goodbyes to Frodo and Bilbo. When he hugged Gandalf, the wizard whispered in his ear,

"I hope you find happiness with your elf," and pulled back with a twinkle in his eye. The expression almost made up Aragorn's mind for itself. The passengers got on the boat, waving farewell. There was not a dry eye. Arwen was the only one not looking back, but ahead at the sky.

The sun had painted colors of red, pink, and gold across the darkening heavens, and their friends sailed away, the ripples barely noticeable from the sleek boat. Aragorn did not continue watching it.

"Come," he said, swinging himself back over his horse, "I have an elf I need to speak to."

If cin negr- mui réd, im'll belth- cin - If you hurt him, I'll kill you

Mui -iel - My daughter