The War was won, the Ring destroyed forever.  A new King ruled in Gondor, beside him a fair Elven Queen.  All seemed poised to be right and just and good in the world now, and there was great rejoicing in all the surrounding lands despite their sorrows.  A new Age had come with the Return of their King. 

But joyous though it was to dwell and celebrate with Aragorn in glory, several of his companions had at last begun to hear the call of the homeward road.  Legolas the Elf was no different, and he felt again the need to walk beneath the familiar trees of his own land, to return to his father and to his own people.  He still felt misplaced in Gondor, where he and his kind were still regarded with awe, if not with lingering fear or mistrust.  The Men of the South would be better disposed to accept them in time, for their Queen would open their hearts and gently purge them of all stain of doubt and aversion to the elder race.  Her companions from Imladris had not yet quit the city, and so Legolas was not a lone Elf amid mortals.  That was a comfort here away from home when he felt the need to speak to one of his own kind, or when he would have alone borne the brunt of unthinking Gondorian reverence or antipathy.  It seemed he had been largely eclipsed after the arrival of the great Elven Lords and Ladies, obscured in the shadows cast by their light, and in that he was strangely content.  He knew the part he had played, and that was enough.

He sat now in the palace courtyard, high above the rest of the city with nothing but free-flying cloud above him, cross-legged on the flagstones beside the royal white sapling.    Gently he ran a hand along the contours of the sapling’s slender trunk, each delicate limb, now in bloom in mid-July, singing softly all the while.  The young tree seemed to thrive beneath his touch and at the sound of his voice, for such was the Elvish way with all good things that grew.

This rarest of heirlooms represented in its own way everything for which he had fought and risked death in the past war, the precious right for those of a new age to live and grow in peace unmarred by fear of conquest or destruction, free to feel the warmth of the sun while it would shine.  His last months in service to the Fellowship were privately significant in their own way, but of this he spoke little to anyone, if he spoke at all.  His griefs were his own, and he would trouble no other with them.

The tread behind him was light, but he heard and recognized it at once, his song fading into a smile.

“Good day to you, Elessar, my lord,” he greeted the newcomer graciously, though he did not turn.

“Do not name me your lord, Legolas,” Aragorn protested gently from above, rounding him in a bright swirl of white mantle to take an easy seat near him.  “I bid you as a friend to honor me only as such, for I would lay no other claim upon you.  Elf-friend for me is title enough.”

Legolas smiled but did not reply.  His kind spoke eloquently with their eyes, a silent and subtle language Aragorn had learned long ago.

“You feel the day is coming, my friend, when you must return to your father’s halls at last,” he ventured in their native Sindarin, and without question in his tone.

“Yes,” Legolas admitted.  “All things must come to end in time.”  He sighed, then smiled.  “But if the Fellowship must be broken, it is breaking now in friendship,” he said, “and many of us will yet be united again.”

Aragorn nodded with a flash of his winged crown.  “We will have need of you and Gimli both when you should see fit to return and help us rebuild.”

“I would be using my father badly if I did not stay with him for some time after my return,” Legolas said.  “He will have been disappointed that I did not accompany the heralds he sent for me.  I would not be surprised to hear that he worried himself sleepless each night I have been away beyond his power."

Aragorn, Legolas knew, perhaps appreciated his position more than any other of their company.  Mirkwood had endured the foul tyranny of Sauron over the past twenty centuries, and it seemed only right that one of their own should represent all of Elvendom in his fall.  They had earned the satisfaction.

Legolas had been silent regarding the means by which he had secured his father’s permission to pledge his allegiance beyond their own borders, but he knew Aragorn suspected already that it had not been easy for either of them.  Thankfully it seemed the Powers had seen fit to keep him by their grace whole and hale, without so much as a wound to show for his audacity. 

“Frodo, too, has expressed his wish to depart soon,” Aragorn said at last.  “If you all will but wait until Éomer’s return we may all honor Théoden by accompanying him to his final rest beside his fathers at Edoras.  Then may we continue in our separate ways.”

Legolas met his gaze again, kindly.  “So be it,” he agreed.  “When the others of Arwen’s escort go, so shall I.” 

They both glanced skyward as a merlin soared gracefully past them, several of which nested in and around the city.  On a whim Legolas called it down, catching the dark bird easily on his wrist.  His father was fond of falcons, and although this one was not as large as those Thranduil generally preferred, it was proud nonetheless. 

Aragorn sighed, and seemed almost frustrated.  “Legolas,” he said at last, “you are a son of Kings, a Prince of the Immortal Eldar.  Yet you follow me unreservedly and never say a word for yourself.  You defer to my every wish.  You seek my will in everything, and you sit silently in the shadows while others are honored.  I knew you would be the last to tell me you were unhappy here.  You must understand I do not desire lordship over you who should be free from all bonds but your own; I would not command one who saw the dawn of my forebears, and who had earned his right to stand amid Lords Undying ere I took my first faltering steps.  I trust you have not taken too deeply to heart that which I said in Rohan, for I was weary and crass and my courtesy suffered for it.”

Legolas had arched a brow during this forthright speech and apology, unexpected as it was, the merlin alighting to his shoulder.  “You said I had forgotten to whom I spoke,” he returned solemnly.  “I have not forgotten, then or since.”

“I know you have not,” Aragorn assured him.  “For my sake, I would have you stand more oft upon your own authority, assert your own will, lest I again forget to whom I speak.”

Legolas was silent.  He had not imagined his deference was irksome to Aragorn; it was simply his nature to be agreeable, strikingly contrary to that of his proud-spirited father.

“If it be your will, I shall consider it,” was all he said in reply.  “But who told you I was unhappy here?  I am loath to leave now that your reign has just begun.  It is true that I must go, for the north road calls me, but while I stay I am content.”  He lifted his shoulder to the wind, and the merlin took flight again, gliding majestically back toward the portico of the palace.

“Legolas Greenleaf,” Aragorn said in wondering admiration.  “To me it seems you walk in the spirit of your kinsman of old, Beleg Cúthalion, rightly named the truest of friends.  Ask of me your desire and you shall have it.  What reward would you have for your service to me?”

Legolas looked askance at him for a long moment as though the thought had never before crossed his mind.  It was not in hope of rich honors that he had thrown his lot in with them.  He could think of no single desire to name, though he could plainly see that Aragorn greatly wished to grant him something, and it was the way of great lords to give gifts.  The Dark Lord had been defeated and they lived to see it; who could ask for more?

“I would have your happiness,” he said at last.  “If you wish to honor me and the battles we fought together, you will restore to Gondor the pride of yesteryear, and maintain the peace as you can.  If you wish to honor me, see that my efforts were not spent in vain.”

Now Aragorn was silent, considering such an answer as that.  “There are few indeed who yet live in this world,” he said, “who, when offered the unreserved generosity of the King, would ask only that he fulfill his duty.  That I will do, and more.  But, come, Legolas.  How may I reward you?”

Legolas said nothing.  In fact he seemed deliberately to ignore him.

“Very well,” Aragorn said at last, drawing himself up regally where he sat.  “If you will name nothing you desire, I shall have to grant you a victor’s crown of my own choosing.  No,” he insisted, raising a hand to silence any protest, “let me speak.  Whenever it should be that you return in days to come, I shall grant you a fiefdom of your own in the fair land of Ithilien.  I have heard the others mention your wish for such.  Ah, yes, they tell me more than you know.  You shall be accorded royal peerage with myself and Prince Faramir, and whatever Elves accompany you shall dwell there beneath your rule.  I should also like you among my confidants, for you are ever above suspicion, and a trustworthy friend is often more than a king may hope for.  Will you accept these small tokens of my esteem, for my sake?”

Legolas regarded him in silence for a while yet.  “For your sake,” he consented at last.  “Though I was willing to accept the rule of Faramir.”

“Oh, no,” Aragorn protested.  “Mortal Men, even Men of Gondor, shall never rule the Firstborn.  It is only right that they follow a lord of their own.  And moreover, I would have no other than mighty Thranduil’s son with Faramir upon my eastern flank, for such a league of friendship will strengthen Gondor immensely.”

These points Legolas had to admit, and in this Aragorn was appealing to his more altruistic inclinations, purposefully it seemed.  “Very well, Aran Telcontar,” he said.  “I shall be your peer and confidant if it pleases you.  But I have at last a request of my own if you are yet disposed to grant it.”

“By all means,” Aragorn urged, “name it!”

“That you treat me no differently than you did during the war,” he said.  “With you, I am a friend before aught else.”

Aragorn smiled.  “As you wish, Legolas,” he said.  “If such is all you ask, how can I refuse?”