The White Shores

Epilogue

Thranduil watched as Legolas and Aragorn strolled through the extensive elven gardens. It had been two months since the two had become partners, and they were as inseparable as always. They were talking now, whispering jokes and stories and sweet nothings to each other as they walked.

Aragorn looked furtively around, then plucked a pink flower from a bush and tucked it behind Legolas' ear. Thranduil's son laughed and batted his hand away, but he did not remove the flower.

The two had only grown closer with time, and they had promised to visit Thranduil often and for a long time. The dwarf - Gimli - traveled with them and they had no problem with him at all, Legolas even occasionally preferring his company over Aragorn's, though usually that changed quickly.

Thranduil knew, as the dying sunlight flitted through the trees and the tunes of elvish songs floated by on a breeze, that Aragorn would age and die while Legolas would remain young. When Aragorn moved on from this world, his son would be inconsolable, and Thranduil was already preparing for the heartbreaking day of seeing his son lose his light and his life.

But for now, the two were happy and safe together with no thought of the future but with each other.

And that was as it should be.

Sighing, Thranduil turned from the window and glanced at a jewel beside his bedside, one that had lost his glimmer many a year ago.

"Ah, Siladis, what am I to do then?" he whispered, a pain glimmering in his heart. As always, a warmth settled over him as he touched the jewel. Whether it truly was his dead wife or if it was just his imagination, Thranduil was comforted, and he left the room in higher spirits.

His child was filled with love, and everything would be okay.

Far away, still at sea, Arwen wiped a single tear from her cheek as she turned her back on the mortal world she could never return to. On one side were two hobbits who had no regrets, on her other a father who was ready to leave, a wizard who was past his time, and a wise elf queen who knew it was the age to move on.

Taking a deep breath, she let all thoughts of Aragorn, a mortal king whom she had thought she loved, fade away on the dying breeze behind her. She lifted her eyes to the shimmering sight before her, the white beach of the Undying Lands.

Elrond put his arm around her and she leaned gratefully on him, thankful that her father could lend her strength on her final, most important journey.

Aragorn and Legolas sat under the hanging branched of a weeping willow, laughing about some joke that was told centuries ago that was no longer funny. When they recovered their wits, burst out laughing at the fact that they had found it humorous at all, and recovered their wits again, Aragorn grabbed Legolas' hand.

Under the gently swaying branches of the weeping willow, with light pink flower petals drifting down around them and a brook bubbling nearby, Aragorn looked deep into Legolas' eyes.

"I love you, mui mel."

"And I, you," Legolas replied without hesitation.

There, deep in the elvish lands, they sealed their love and never lost sight of it in all the long years they lived

Muil mel - my love