Chapter Nineteen

Aragorn woke up and found himself staring up at the flickering candle light, as it danced on the ceiling above him. Why was he lying in a bed? One glance around told him he was still in Legolas's room. What had happened between himself and the elf came back to him. “He hit me,” the ranger said aloud, remembering the elven fist that had come smashing into his face. He hadn’t been able to stop it. Aragorn sat up and gently rubbed the tender spot on his jaw, knowing by the pain of it that it was bruised.

Aragorn then became aware of something under his left hand. It felt cool and soft against his fingers. He looked down and saw a blue flower cradled under his left hand. He gently picked it up and stared down at its simple beauty. Without even sniffing, the fragrance reached his nose. *Oh, Legolas.*

He looked down again and spotted the folded papers. He saw that one had the word Estel written in Westron in the center. With hands that were shaking slightly, he unfolded the parchment. Inside he found a letter written in Sindarin in the neat, precise hand of his friend. He began to read.

Dearest Estel,

By the time you find this, I will be gone. I regret that I had to leave you behind. Please do not be angry with me. I would love to have had you by my side one more time on the last journey of my life. But, it could not be.

You are a great man, Estel, and one day, all of Middle-earth will know it also. I believe that your destiny will be one of legend. Mine is to try and see that such a thing will take place.

You have been a light in my life. Never would I have thought, all those years ago, that a human child would grow up to become so dear to me. Your heart has been true and your actions noble and honorable. Keep it so, and do not despair, even in the darkest of hours, for the light will always return, and you must be ready to greet it.

Thank you, Estel, for all the devotion and companionship you have given me through the years. It has been one of the greatest joys of my life to have called you my friend.

My wish for you is a heart full of happiness, always.

Legolas

Aragorn just sat and stared at the letter, rereading it over and over. Soon, the tears in his eyes blurred his vision until the page was no longer readable. It didn’t matter, for he had already committed every word to memory. He folded the paper and laid it down next to the flower.

The second paper had Thranduil’s name on the front. The man dreaded the thought of having to give this letter to the woodland King. He knew it would cause a pain even greater than his own.

Aragorn picked up the arrow that lay beside him. He ran his fingers along the smooth, almost polished surface of the wooden shaft. The arrowhead was of a design that Legolas had created himself, when he had become a warrior. The green fletchings were perfectly formed and attached to the shaft with great care. Even an inexperienced eye could see that this arrow would fly far and true. In the talented hands of the youngest Prince of Mirkwood, it would never have missed its mark.

Aragorn clutched the arrow to his chest and closed his eyes, believing, at that moment, that he would never see his best friend again.

TBC