Remember How to Smile

Chapter 15: Life Goes On

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The signs were easy for Estel to read. The barely crushed snow and the nearly imperceptible footprints of the elves he tracked were enough for him to follow his brother’s path. The twin’s footfalls were slightly heavier than their full-blooded elven kin but the light prints they left would not have been traceable by any other human. Estel had been raised with them, so he knew by now what to look for as he tracked their steps.

All those games of ‘ditch the little brother’ had paid off. It was something the twins had taken to doing with their younger human brother. When the youth wasn’t paying good attention to their whereabouts the elves would simply disappear, forcing Estel to track them to their hiding places. It had served to teach the man how to be observant, to never lose touch with his surroundings, and to use all of his senses to their fullest.

And he had learned well.

Quietly the human gained the position of the elves he followed. His steps were placed so as to dampen the sound of his footfalls. He was nearly impossible to hear as he approached them. He remembered from past experiences that it was not wise to surprise hunters when they were tracking prey and he had no clue what the situation might be when he came upon the twins.

Elrohir was ten feet away from him when the elf felt the man’s presence and turned toward his younger brother.

“There you are,” Estel barely whispered as Elrohir pressed a forefinger to his lips cautioning the man to silence.

A good pace away from them Elladan stood completely still, his bow drawn and sighted in. If Elrohir hadn’t pointed him out Estel might have missed him standing in the tall foliage as he was. There was no clue as to what the prey was and the man dared not ask for frightening it away.

This far up the hillside the undergrowth was thicker and the tree groves were thinned. Smaller animals could easily hide in the tall foliage and avoid being seen.

Shifting closer to the youngest twin, Aragorn had only meant to move out of the way. However he wasn’t paying as much attention to his steps now that he had found whom he had been tracking. His soft leather boots pressed down on a dry branch. The twig snapped under his full weight before he could stop and move aside.

The snap resounded in the quiet woods around them like a shot fired from one of Gandalf’s fireworks.

The brush in front of Elladan shook and a loud squealing growl alerted the young man as to their quarry.

A wild boar parted the shrubs with his long curling tusks. The herds of swine in the hills surrounding Rivendell were a territorial, cantankerous and completely unpredictable stock of wild pig. Shaggy coarse fur fell from their shoulders like manes and covered their stocky short bodies. Their tusks curled back from ugly, huge mouths framing the sides of their heads in magnificent semi-curls. When startled, the beasts were incredibly quick-tempered and fast.

The boar, surprised by the voices and the strangers' proximity to its territory, charged at the nearest offender.

Elrohir grabbed Estel and jumped aside, dropping down into the brush out of sight. Rolling over in the long grasses, the twin shielded the young human from any harm.

Elladan was closer to the creature and had not the warning that his brothers did. The boar seized upon the sight of the elf and swerved towards him.

The speed of the animal surprised the elf and he had no time to move out of the way. His bow was still taut but Elladan only registered the immediate threat. As he jumped backwards, the boar brushed against his leg sending him sprawling off balance and gashing a deep cut across his calf. His bow hit the trunk of the tree behind him forcing his aim down and causing him to lose his hold on the string. The sickening sound of an arrow penetrating flesh resounded seconds after the creature had charged out of the meadow heading for safety in the thick woods around them.

Elladan dropped to the ground with a cry, folding in a heap over his left foot.

The whole scene had played out in the span of a heartbeat.

Elrohir rolled off of Estel and sat up looking around for his brother. The close ground coverage obscured Elladan from view.

“Here,” the wounded elf called brokenly. He was rocking back and forth trying to get the pain under control.

Scrambling quickly to their feet, Elrohir and Estel gained their brother’s side. It took both of them to pull Elladan back so they could get a good look at his wound.

The shaft of the arrow protruded from the soft suede boot at an angle. With a groan, Elladan leaned against the tree behind him and let his brothers work with his foot.

Elrohir gently dug the arrow out of the dirt below Elladan’s boot. The sharp arrowhead had no barbs on it unlike the tips they used to hunt deer and so it had pierced straight through the elf’s foot and shoe.

Aragorn’s fingers expertly felt the bones around the shaft. “I don’t think it hit any bones,” he assessed quietly. “It seems to have pierced through between his big toe and the one right next to it. Its struck flesh only.”

“That was a stroke of luck,” Elrohir replied absently. He had finally worked the arrow free of the ground and pulled Elladan’s foot into his lap for a better look.

“Luck?” Elladan growled darkly. “There was no luck involve in this mishap at all. Only the blundering of our younger brother. Can’t you get that thing out?” His grumbling turned to whining as they inspected the wound.

“Stop squirming! You are not going to die,” Elrohir commanded. “You know the boar are temperamental, it was only accident. If the hog had missed you, you wouldn’t have fallen against the tree and this would not have happened. Now be still. This is going to hurt a bit.”

Estel for his part was simply ignoring the elder twin. Under different circumstances, were their roles reversed, he would probably be in no better mood.

Elrohir unsheathed his hunting knife and began scoring the shaft of the projectile just above the arrow head. A few moments later he glanced up at Estel who was holding the shaft steady above Elladan’s boot.

“I’m going to snap the head off. When I do you’ll need to pull the arrow out as quickly and as straight as you can,” he instructed, staring evenly at his younger brother. This was the first time Estel had dealt with such a wound and he had never before had to perform such a task. “If you don’t, it will increase his pain. I know you can do this, Estel. Are you ready?”

The young human’s eyes were wide with worry and he simply nodded in understanding. He was already beginning to feel guilty for startling the pig into bolting.

“Elladan, this will hurt. I need you to relax as much as possible,” Elrohir spoke up as he glanced around Estel.

Elladan nodded but it was obvious that he was not complying. He was trembling slightly from the adrenaline run-off and shock was setting in. He mumbled darkly under his breath, something about their father finding out.

“Wait,” Elrohir whispered. He moved away to find his pack, easing Elladan’s foot into Aragorn’s hands.

Rifling through the bag he found a small vial of tiny crystals - mentasis. His brother was in too much pain for him and Elrohir was loathe to cause more. Returning to his twin he held out his hand, a small, clear crystal that looked like sap from a tree lay in the palm.

Elladan knew immediately what he held and, with a nod of understanding, placed the medicine beneath his tongue. The crystals were a potent herb that when ingested slowed down a person’s system and dulled the pain. After a few moments the elder twin relaxed once more against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

Scooting back down by Estel, Elrohir positioned himself holding his twin’s booted foot once more.

“We need to move quickly now. I gave Elladan a very small dosage; it will wear off soon.” He spoke softly, fixing his gaze on Estel. “I’ll count to three. As soon as I snap the head off, pull the shaft out.”

Not waiting for confirmation, Elrohir began his count.

Estel heard the distinct sound of the arrow being snapped in two and jerked the shaft from Elladan’s booted foot.

A soft cry from Elladan caused Estel to wince as he threw the arrow into the woods behind him.

Elrohir moved back towards Elladan talking softly to him as Aragorn pulled the elf’s boot off. He cleaned the wound, top and bottom, packing it with numbing herbs that would keep it from getting infected. Taking a strip of cloth, he bandaged it up as bet he could and glanced back at his brothers.

“I don’t think he’ll be able to walk,” Estel observed.

“I can walk,” Elladan stated simply, his stubbornness showing through as the drug began to wear off.

Elrohir rolled his eyes and hooked his hands under his brother’s arms, hauling his twin into a standing position.

“No you cannot. You’ll have to let us carry you,” the younger twin countered. “Now if you do not comply, I will force more mentasis into your system until you are senseless and we’ll simply drag you home. Understand?”

At the soft rebuke Elladan relented. He glared at both his brothers as they made they way slowly back down the hill towards Rivendell.

~*~

“And I’ll have you know he complained the entire time on the way home. We were too slow, too rough. It hurt too much and on and on. Honestly that was my first experience with such a severe arrow wound. It took us the better part of an hour just to get off the hill carrying his heavy carcass,” Aragorn finished his story laughing along with everyone else. “I was actually for drugging him and dragging him home by the time we reached the valley.”

“Actually just gagging him would have been nice,” Elrohir added cheerfully. He smiled at the glare the comment evoked.

“It was weeks before he could walk and by that time we were all glad he could!” Aragorn continued. “You were a horrible patient even with Father!” He glanced around at his older brother.

Elladan, trying to retain his dignity, simply shook his head and continued walking.

“There was nothing funny about the whole thing at all,” he muttered under his breath.

“Actually after the fact it was terribly funny,” Elrohir corrected him. “The look on your face when that boar charged and your bumbling reaction to get out of his way were incredibly comical. If you had simply dropped your bow or better yet fired off that shot and hit the ugly beast it would have been different. It was not all Estel’s fault on that one!” He softened the jesting by placing his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

“Although no one would ever admit to that until now! He used that against me for years,” Aragorn chimed in. “And that story has been told so many times as an example of what not to do when hunting that I was sure everyone had heard of it. Or maybe it was just that Glorfindel loved to tell it over and over again because it made him laugh so hard.”

A clod of snow hit Aragorn square in the back of the head causing him to step off balance. Surprised the man turned and glanced behind him.

Elladan stood there, a glare on his face barely hiding his mirth.

“It is NOT funny! And I hate that story! If it had been you who had been wounded and not I, father would have had a fit. I don’t want to hear that story repeated any more! I’m sick of it! I had thought that finally being rid of the Balrog Slayer I would never have to hear it again!”

Everyone quieted at the tirade. Only Trelan’s soft laughter as he tried to be serious could be heard in the ensuing silence.

Quietly Elrohir approached his twin.

“Brother, we love to tell that story because we love you. All of us have stories that we can entertain one another with,” Elrohir tried to soften his brothers ire.

“Yes Gandalf found it very entertaining when Estel told him,” Legolas added. “I have never seen him laugh so hard.”

Aragorn gave the elf a good shove and coughed repeatedly trying to cover up what the prince was saying.

“You told Mithrandir!?” Elladan fairly shouted.

The whole group was laughing now as Elrohir gently restrained his twin.

“Don’t worry Elladan, we’ll get him back later. We have a few choice stories no one has heard about you, dear brother,” He tossed the threat at the King. “I am sure we can entertain everyone most well tonight in the Hall of fire.”

“I fail to see what is so upsetting. Mithrandir is in Valinor now; there is no threat to your reputation,” Aragorn smirked as they began walking again.

“True, Estel, but there are all those who live in the Undying Lands to entertain,” Legolas whispered. His observation caused Aragorn to wince and laugh.

“Thank you, Legolas, for pointing that out. Well, still, there are no tales you can tell that can embarrass me anymore. The worst have already been told,” the King deflected hoping desperately that he was correct. He knew how this form of sibling blackmail worked. If he could make them believe he didn’t care or that it wouldn’t matter he might be able to stall them.

The darkened silhouette of Rivendell loomed in the near distance and they picked up their pace.

“We’ll see about that,” Elladan retorted. “There’s still the story of why Glorfindel put a lock on his door and would never allow you in his room again.”

“You wouldn’t...” The mention of that particular tale caused the human to blush and break out laughing.

Elladan just shrugged and opened the back door of the lower access to the house. The storm had picked up strength and flurries of snow now beat against the stone building.

Hustling everyone inside, they bolted the wooden double doors shut behind them. The room was nothing more than a small alcove that led into the various parts of the interior of the house by three different doors.

Elrohir lit a glow lamp in the corner of the room shedding light over the occupants. He opened a set of vents located in the walls and warm air flooded the recess, quickly heating the air around them.

The room was large enough for the whole company to stand in and remove their outer wear. The door to the left led to the storage rooms where the supplies and weapons were cached. Elladan took the packs and quivers from his guests and lined them up along a shelf in the storage area next to racks that held their bows. He quickly resealed the door as that particular room was not heated. Snow from the companions' clothing and shoes shortly littered the stone floor turning into tiny puddles as boots and cloaks were removed and replaced with more comfortable clothing.

The door in the middle led into the house proper and it was this portal that Elrohir ushered the elves and men through. To the far right the last door opened into a hallway that angled up to a flight of stairs emptying into the kitchen.

By this door Legolas and Aragorn stood huddled, helping one another out of their sodden clothing.

Aragorn leaned against Legolas as he removed his wet boots. The elf helped steady the man as he stood on one foot unlacing his left shoe.

“I wish you had brought your coat,” Legolas whispered softly as Aragorn handed him back his cloak. The elf placed the wet article of clothing on a peg near a heating vent to dry it out. The man was shivering slightly. “The air chilled quickly today. Faster than even I expected it to.”

The elf shook his head, prompting a cloud of snow to fall from his shoulders. He untied his own boots and handed them to Aragorn who placed them on a shelf next to the old ranger’s ones he had been wearing earlier.

“I wish I had, too. Next time I promise I will listen to you better,” Aragorn consented, smiling warmly. The years had made him more compliant to the caring criticism of his elven friends. “You know when Ada was here and had the power of Vilya we never had storms like this – ever. I cannot remember severe weather at any time while I was growing up. I never imagined it would be so different in all respects without his presence. You were right, my friend; your sense of nature is still perfect.”

Legolas returned the smile and grasped his friend’s shoulder pulling the man close. He remembered all too clearly what it was like to see his home bereft of the power of his elven father’s presence.

“I will help you prepare dinner if you would like,” Legolas offered.

Aragorn actually thought over the offer for a few minutes before coming to a conclusion. Behind them the others were dusting themselves off and stowing the weapons for later use. The two friends had moved away a bit stepping back into the warmer recesses of the house.

“I’ll make you a deal. You come in and entertain me with conversation and I will make the best wild berry potatoes you have ever had,” Estel offered.

“Deal.” Legolas readily agreed. “We’ll see you all in a few hours.” He called back to the others as he and Aragorn headed in the opposite direction going to the kitchen.

Elrohir watched them walk out of sight. He would give them some time alone and then take Draecyn and anyone else he could coerce into accompanying him to help out. Making dinner for the horde that was now staying in Rivendell was no small thing; his brother would definitely need help.

His brother...

It felt good somehow to have his brother back for first snow after so many years gone. The King of Gondor did not walk the halls here. Estel, little brother of the elven twins did. He had missed the banter and the laughter and the embarrassing stories. He had missed the kinship. And his heart found a peace in the fact that for whatever small amount of time they may have, Estel was home. The first storm of the season had always been a celebration in the Last Homely House. With the family back again under one roof it was the perfect excuse for another celebration. Grabbing his twin and pulling him towards the wine cellar he told Elladan of his intentions for the evening.

It took a few minutes to get the kitchen heated and the glowglobes lit so they could start working on dinner plans. Aragorn stoked the fires of the stoves hotter, warming the stone cooking vents so they could bake the evening’s supply of bread. Legolas had gone for water and not yet returned so the king slipped quickly down to the cellars. The twins had gone hunting earlier in the week and a side of venison still hung from the rafters. This time of year there was no worry that meat would rot quickly. The cellars were below the ground and the special vents in the ceiling allowed the cold winter air to circulate.

When he returned to the kitchen Aragorn found Legolas pulling out a small stack of herbs and spices. Vegetables of all kinds surrounded the water basin and he had begun to work over the abundance, culling just what he needed.

“How are your hands feeling?” Aragorn asked absently as he set the meat on the cutting board. He stepped nearer the oven to warm himself.

“They are better,” Legolas informed him. The elf felt his fingertips gingerly. The tingling was barely perceptible but still a reminder that his body was working towards healing. “It will just take time I fear. More time than I would like!” Legolas laughed lightly.

“Oh! That reminds me. I almost forgot!” Aragorn muttered cryptically. Setting down the knife he was holding, he untied his apron laying it on the counter. “There is something I found that you need to see. I’ll go get it and bring it back. I’ll only be a moment.”

The human hurried for the door but halted on the threshold and turned back towards the elf.

“You can keep from burning yourself or dropping hot things on your hands or falling over for no good reason until I return, correct?” he taunted laughingly. The king barely dodged the sodden towel that was thrown at his head.

“Get out of here, you filthy human. I do not require your baby-sitting,” the elf retorted fiercely.

Aragorn’s laughter rang down the hallway as he ran towards the Library. He skidded to a halt before the tall bookcases that spanned the width and height of his father’s study on the far wall.

Absently his fingers brushed over the spines of the books as he quickly searched for the specific one he had in mind. Slowly a frown creased his face. This wasn’t right. There were quite a few books missing, including the one he was seeking. Glancing about the room he spied a blocky lopsided structure in the corner of the study, constructed solely by his father’s books.

Aragorn quickly recognized the crudely made structure.

“Eldarion!” the man growled softly as he knelt by the oddly shaped stack.

The largest tomes fortified the base of the child’s ‘fort’ supporting the thinner books that perfectly recreated the roof of Dari’s construction. It was something he and his father did often in the library at Minas Tirith. Aragorn had not taken his son down to the lower levels to where the scrolls were kept. He dreaded just what the boy’s imagination would think to create out of those and shuddered at the thought of the scribes finding their precious rolls stacked in the shape of a child’s playhouse.

Kneeling on the ground, Aragorn searched for the book he was looking for. It was larger than most that Elrond kept but one of the the massive tomes that the elf had collected over the years. Instead this one he had used to pour his wealth of knowledge into. A blue leather-bound book with simple black elvish on the edges, it was one of Elrond’s personal journals.

He found it supporting a corner of the ‘fort’ and quickly pulled it out of the stack causing the structure to fall in on itself. Dari would be disappointed but Aragorn made a mental note to come back later and help his son build a new one.

Sitting down cross-legged on the ground Aragorn flipped through the pages of the book. There, two-thirds of the way through, pressed between the pages, was an old letter. It was yellowed from age and worn from use but still perfectly preserved. Gently pulling it out of its’ protective casing, Aragorn gained his feet and rushed back to the kitchen.

Legolas was stirring a pot on the stove. The contents were bubbling and filling the room with a spicy smell that made Aragorn’s mouth water.

“What are you making?” The king inquired as he walked up behind his friend.

Legolas threw a dash of herbs into the simmering concoction and turned towards the man.

“Only the best gravy that was ever created for venison,” the elf answered merrily. He stirred the liquid as he explained. “My father’s cooks used to make it after the great hunts and I would sneak down into the kitchens for a taste of it. They caught me one time and kept me down there with them, teaching me how to make the gravy myself. I think you will find it much to your liking.”

The elf took a wooden spoon and ladled out a small portion. He held it toward the human, one hand beneath the spoon’s cup to keep it from dripping on the floor. Aragorn took a sip of the dark liquid, breathing through his mouth to cool off the contents.

Hints of foreign spices and sweetness of fruits mingled with the heady flavor of Dorwinion. The balance was perfect and he could not deny that the flavor was nearly intoxicating.

“Very good!” the king exclaimed. “But, where did you get the Dorwinion from?” Aragorn asked in surprise.

“I found a case of it in your cellars. I think your brothers were hiding it all along,” Legolas confided with a smile. “I say we keep their secret until the right moment or the proper story!”

“Agreed! Those fiends, they know full well they have that down there. They were hiding it. I’ll bet you they weren’t going to share,” Aragorn concurred. He moved closer to Legolas and picked up another spoon attempting to get more of the gravy.

“But where did you go?” the elf questioned. He playfully batted at the man’s hand when Aragorn tried to dip his spoon into the pot.

“Oh, right!” Aragorn set the ladle down and pulled out the letter he had retrieved. Without an explanation he handed it over to the prince.

Legolas took the worn piece of parchment in his hands. The edges of the letter were torn from time and repeated readings. It had been all but pressed flat from being secured inside the tome that Elrond had placed in it and the wrinkles were flattened into the paper itself.

Aragorn took the ladle from Legolas’ hand, using the elf’s distracted state to sneak another taste of the gravy.

Legolas studied the letter curiously. The writing was an odd mix of elvish and the scrawling handprint of the hobbits. Certain words that the writer had found were best described by the fair folk’s tongue had replaced the common word.

As he read a smile spread slowly across the prince’s face.

__________________________

Dear Elrond,

My uncle has repeatedly told me you are the wisest person he knows. Now I understand for myself how true it is.

You were correct when you told me there is no way to pick up the threads of an old life. When I originally asked you how I was supposed to go on, when in my heart I began to understand there was no going back for me, your reply came:

‘There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep…that have taken hold.’

I thought at first perhaps it was an elvish riddle again.

Forgive me.

I have found that statement to be true over the ensuing years. There are some wounds we take in living that cannot be healed in this life. Gandalf has spoken to me regarding the elves’ gracious offer and I do believe I am ready to accept it. Thank you for making a way for me to live at peace.

I will have the hardest time explaining all this to Sam. He will understand later when the mark of the Ring has weighed his heart down. But it will take longer for him. Right now he exists for two lives when he should be living one. He is divided in his love and loyalty (between myself and his family) and he cannot always be torn in two. He will have to be one and whole for many years. He has so much to enjoy and to be and to do. His part in this story will go on. I intend to help him believe such as well.

My part is taking a different path, as Bilbo would say. But it is only around the bend in the road that I precede Sam. I know I will see him again. That is why I am accepting your offer. I will make all the necessary arrangements and meet up with Gandalf at the set time.

It will be a pleasure to see you again my friend.

Sincerely,

Frodo Baggins
__________________________

The signature was slightly smeared where the little hobbit had accidentally placed his palm on it too soon after signing it.

“I think, my friend, that there are many ways that the sea calls to many different peoples. For hobbits, or specifically Sam and Frodo, it was love of friendship. I think Sam could understand your plight very well,” Aragorn spoke up with a small shrug, when Legolas glanced at him. “I found it the other night when I was going through Ada’s journals. There is a lot to be learned from what he left behind. I think he would want you to keep that, as a reminder that it’s easy for the soul to be divided and only time can heal it. It is also a reminder that nothing can severe friendship.”

“Gandalf once told me that the path to humility lay in having hobbits as your companions. I think that old wizard was right,” Legolas laughed softly as he folded the letter and placed it inside his breast pocket. “Thank you. Your father was speaking the truth you know. There are some wounds that can’t be healed. But I also have much to do and be here in Middle-earth. I will be one and whole again soon, Estel. I can already feel it happening.”

“I know, mellon nín. That was why I thought you should be the one to keep that. The path to healing isn’t always swift or easy and it will serve as a good reminder should you fall into doubt,” Aragorn commented softly. He was busy cutting the venison into cubes with a large knife and hadn’t looked up.

When he felt Legolas’ arm around his shoulder and the weight of the elf’s presence behind him, he slowed his movements. He smiled back into the fair face.

“Should I ever forget or find myself in need of a reminder I would only have but to look at you and know the truth.” Legolas whispered.

Before Aragorn could respond Elladan stopped in the doorway and leaned against the door frame.

“Slacking off are we? Have you no care for those in your house that go hungry?” He feigned indignation. “Even your own son is starving to death and you two simply stand around bandying words?”

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder at Legolas.

“Do you think if I throw this knife at him I can hit him?” he asked the prince offhandedly. He flipped the carving blade in his hand so that he held the edge in his fingers.

“I’d just wing him though,” Legolas offered his viewpoint on the subject.

“Maybe a leg wound only?” Aragorn questioned. He tested the weight of the blade in his hand.

“Yes good thinking. That way he can still cook breakfast in the morning,” Legolas agreed.

“Without complaining...” Aragorn kept up the steady stream of banter.

“I doubt seriously that there would be no complaining. But at least he would have full use of his hands,” Legolas quietly concurred.

“Leg it is then,” Aragorn announced, “That is unless you would like to help or leave.”

“You two are horrible!” Elrohir informed his brother and the prince. He poked his head around the door frame. “I overheard what you were saying. You will not lay a hand on Elladan. I’m the only one who gets to pick on him,” the youngest smirked with a laugh.

He dodged the playful smack from his older brother.

“I say we help them. We’ll never get dinner tonight with the two of them cooking. We might as well wait for a hurricane in Valinor!” Elladan taunted.

Their teasing offer was accepted when Aragorn threw them a couple of aprons and stepped aside to make way for them at the cutting table.

Elladan joined Estel helping him with the meats while Elrohir went about seeing to the bread. Before he stepped back near the stove, Legolas patted his chest pocket barely making the letter crinkle beneath his fingers.

“Thank you,” He whispered to Aragorn.

~*~

Legolas was healing quickly now that he was no longer divided in his spirit by the call of the gulls. His body was able to rest and begin rejuvenating. The fact remained, however, that he was not yet completely well.

Aragorn was convinced this was true. He had followed his friend out onto the rooftop and concealed himself in the shadows without so much as a twitch of acknowledgement from the elf. This alone verified the healer’s suspicions. And so the King contented himself with watching Legolas.

At the moment he was finding it incredibly difficult not to give away his covert position. The two beings seated in front of him, not a stone's throw away, were in a heated conversation. And the results were more than amusing.

Legolas was perched on the edge of the rooftop of Imladris, his feet dangling over the ornamental parapet. His lithe form was silhouetted by the rising moon as it breached the mountains. It seemed his hair shimmered in the soft glow. To his left a squatter, smaller figure made a distinct dark outline.

Gimli’s booted feet rested just at the edge of the roof. He had shifted farther back from the steep drop-off than his companion. His proximity to the edge and his fear of heights had done nothing to counter his temper however.

“And I say again that you are wrong! You do not know the comfort that a dwarven wife can give. Why if you had one...”

“Stop right there!” Legolas fairly shouted his friend down. “I do not want to hear another word about your bearded lifemates. It is enough that I must endure the tales of how you meet them and your courting practices. Please! Do you want me to jump off this roof? Do you?”

The small shape next to him harrumphed loudly. Crossing his arms and glancing away the dwarf muttered something under his breath that Aragorn could not quite hear.

Legolas however had heard the remark clearly. Glancing sharply at his smaller friend, the elf leapt gracefully to his feet and glared down at the dwarf.

“You would know nothing of the union between an elf and his lifemate so it would do you well not to speak, Master Dwarf. You should be glad that I enjoy your company for the most part even when you are being cantankerous and disparaging,” Legolas retorted. His smile widened when the smaller being tipped his head back and glared at the elf.

“And I suppose your comments earlier could not be misconstrued as discourteous, elf?” Gimli demanded. He squinted his eyes trying hard to glower and not smile.

Regally, Legolas bowed down and whispered in the dwarf’s ear.

What he said Aragorn would never be able to pry out of either of them. But it set the dwarf off into another tangent of sputtering and stammering as he tried to find a good comeback.

Without waiting to hear another word, the elf balanced perfectly on the edge of the roof and began to walk its length. Aragorn started slightly and moved forward.

He acutely remembered what happened last time Legolas had been showing off on the thin ledge. The elf wavered slightly, imperceptibly to all but the healer who watched him so carefully.

“You! You get back here right now! I am not through with you... you Silvan elf!” Gimli shouted as he clambered to his feet. It was more difficult for the stout being to follow his nimble friend and he resorted to yelling at the prince.

With a flourish the elf turned on his heel and faced Gimli. He was a good fifty feet away from the dwarf and a large smile decorated his features.

“My dear dwarf, I do believe my patience has found its end and it is time for me to retire for the night. Therefore, I must take my leave of you before this conversation goes any further,” Legolas laughed. After bowing deeply to Gimli the prince simply stepped off the ledge of the roof.

For the fraction of a second it seemed to Aragorn that Legolas hung there suspended over nothingness before he dropped from sight.

With a shout Gimli raced forward as fast as his legs would carry him. Crouching down on his hands and knees he inched towards the edge of the parapet. A hand on his shoulder startled him and he lost his grip, trying to glance behind him.

Aragorn swiftly grabbed the small rotund body and pulled Gimli back from the edge. He was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face and he found it difficult to speak clearly.

“Is that you, my friend?” a lilting voice called up from below.

“He’s alive?! He survived?” Gimli pushed away from the human. Gripping the edge of the roof, the dwarf peeked over the side.

Aragorn knew full well what Gimli would see. He knew this roof by heart and this place here by the broken tiles was just above the balcony that bracketed his rooms. Leaning over he smiled down at the elf that was standing below him.

Legolas was seated on the bench, reclining against the pillows Arwen had left there earlier in the day. Crossing his arms behind his head he stretched out languidly and returned the human’s smile.

“Legolas,” Aragorn spoke by way of salutation. “Enjoying the veranda are we?”

“Why don’t you join me? The night is young and it is pleasant out, now that the winds have died down.” The last was spoken as a slight and a taunt. Legolas shifted his gaze to the dwarf who was watching him and smiled wickedly at the bearded being. “Its so peaceful down here.”

Without giving a warning Aragorn swung himself off the building’s lip. He caught the edge of the gutters that ran the length of the roof and balanced on his tiptoes on the top of the balcony’s balustrade. Letting go of his handhold he stepped down onto the planter next to the railing and jumped to the floor of the veranda, finishing his escapade with a deep bow while the elf applauded.

Straightening up once more, Aragorn eased into a standing position with a slight grimace. His hand moved to the small of his back as he walked slowly over to where Legolas sat.

“I used to do that all the time,” he commented glancing back up to the roof’s edge. “But I am definitely feeling my age tonight. I am no youngster anymore, my elven friend.”

Aragorn seated himself on the bench as Legolas scooted over. The elf regarded him with a wide smile.

“You are still younger and more able than our dwarven friend,” Legolas teased. He followed Aragorn’s gaze up towards the parapet. The top of the dwarf’s head and his eyes were all that could be seen as he held on for dear life to the edge of the roof.

“Well, someone is feeling better, I would wager,” Aragorn acknowledged softly. Ignoring Gimli’s shouted comments about elven humor, he turned his attention to Legolas.

The prince didn’t answer right away; he had known all along that Estel’s balcony was directly below him and had every intention of escaping his small companion in just such a manner. He really had wanted a nice quiet evening. But things never quite turned out how he planned.

And while it was true Legolas felt better, he wasn’t sure he was back to normal. He wouldn’t have dared to pull that stunt anywhere other than here. And if the truth be known he had for the slightest moment felt a bit more unsteady on his feet than he was comfortable with.

Without complaint he held his hands palm up. The right one was still bandaged but they both had more feeling in them than they had in many nights.

Aragorn squeezed them gently, running his thumbs across the elf’s palms. He glanced up questioningly, watching Legolas’ face for any feeling.

The elf nodded slowly in response.

“You can feel that?”

They both were ignoring the increasingly loud, one-sided conversation coming from above them.

“Yes, I can,” Legolas answered. “Its still not like it should be. It’s more like they are just waking up. But I can feel your fingers touching mine.”

“Good. That’s all I wanted to hear,” Aragorn confirmed. He winced as Gimli got a notch louder.

Letting go of the elf’s hands the human glanced back up at the dwarf.

“Gimli!” he out-shouted the red-faced being. “Stop yelling, Dari is supposed to be sleeping. You are going to wake the entire house!”

“Well, if you would pay attention to me I wouldn’t have to be so loud,” came the grumpy retort.

The dwarf was still peeking over the ledge unwilling to chance leaning out any farther.

“You are always loud, Master Dwarf. Your kind is just that way,” Legolas teased.

“Legolas, you aren’t helping. Stop getting him so riled up,” Aragorn growled.

“Why...” Gimli’s stammered response was cut short as the man stood up.

“Get down from there and stop shouting, right now,” Aragorn ordered in his commanding tone. He pointed at the elf in warning to stave off any remarks the fair being might have been thinking.

Raising his hands innocently Legolas remained seated and mutely watched the exchange.

“And how do you expect me to get down from here, I should like to know,” Gimli whispered, his voice still loud on the quiet night air.

“Well, how did you get up there?” Aragorn asked. He stepped forward, hands on his hips, and glared up at the eyes looking down on him.

“Well, how do you think?” The grumpy retort only caused his companions to begin laughing. “I walked up the stairs and out onto the roof to make sure that fool of an elf did not fall off – again.”

Legolas stood to his feet and jumped on the bench ignoring Aragorn as the man tried to warn him off.

“I didn’t fall off the first time, you bearded rock-dweller!” the elf called up.

“Only because I prevented you from doing so! You clumsy excuse for an elf! Who goes prancing on roofs in the middle of the night? No one with common sense I’ll tell you that!”

With a sigh Aragorn threw up his hands and walked into his rooms.

“I’d leave him there if I were you. If Arwen hears you two you’ll be in bigger trouble. Now get in here.” He called back over his shoulder to Legolas, “It’ll irk him more if you simply shut up and walk away. Trust me.” His friend’s voice faded softer as the man walked deeper into the room.

There were so many things the elf prince could think to retort back to the dwarf. He even knew a few good curses in dwarvish that he had learned from his father and they were right on the tip of his tongue. However Aragorn’s caution brought him up short.

To the outsider it would seem that the elf and dwarf were constantly at odds. But behind the back and forth banter and the taunted name-calling was a deep unbreakable friendship built on mutual trust that had been fired in the heart of adversity. That an elf and a dwarf could be such close friends was a completely unfathomable thing – before the War of the Ring that was. Aragorn knew this better than anyone else. He also knew the heart of the elf better than even the dwarf and so he had given Legolas the only advice that would stop their good-natured bickering and give the house some peace.

And it worked.

With a wicked smile the elf glanced up at his small friend and quietly followed the king into the interior rooms.

The dwarf’s tone of voice changed immediately from demanding to pleading.

“What...wait! Help me down! Legolas! Get me down! Oh, blasted elf!”

The heavy thumping of the dwarven boots could be heard as Gimli shuffled back to the roof hatch.

Inside Aragorn’s quarters, both the human and the elf were giggling helplessly.

“We better get back downstairs before we get caught by...” Aragorn’s statement came to an abrupt halt as the two friends turned towards the hallway and caught sight of the figure framed in the doorway. They both froze mid-step.

“Get caught by whom, my love?” Arwen asked coldly. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her head was tipped to the side in that stance she would take when irked.

Aragorn glanced sheepishly at Legolas, trying to quickly formulate a reply.

“Spare me,” Aragorn’s wife stopped him from explaining. She grabbed a hold of Legolas as the elf tried to squeeze past intending to leave the two some privacy. “Dari is awake and afraid of the ‘monster’ walking on the ceiling. I suggest that the two of you get in there and explain to him why his Uncle Gimli was on the roof and that there are NO monsters in Imladris.”

Her icy gaze took in both the human and elf that stood inside her rooms. With a glare at Aragorn she released Legolas who quickly stepped outside and waited for his friend.

“Sorry, love,” Aragorn whispered as he pressed out the door after Legolas.

Arwen simply watched him squeeze past, her eyes conveying enough without her having to say a word.

“You’re in trouble,” Legolas whispered as they padded down the hallway towards Dari’s room.

“I’m always in trouble,” Aragorn whispered back. He picked up his pace as Dari’s tiny voice could now be heard calling for him. “You better come up with a good story because I’m fresh out and I need an explanation that will sit well with Arwen.”

He pushed open the door to his son’s sleeping quarters and entered, followed by Legolas.

“It’s alright, Dari. Uncle Legolas and I are here now. What’s wrong, little one?” he soothed as he walked to his son’s bed.

Dari was partially hidden under the bedclothes peering up anxiously at Aragorn and Legolas. “There’s a dragon on the roof,” he whispered. “I heard him, right up there!” he pointed.

Aragorn sat down on one side of the bed and Legolas folded his legs under him and sat on the other.

“There’s no dragons up there, Dari,” Aragorn assured, attempting not to smile too much. “That’s just Uncle Gimli. He and Uncle Legolas were... playing.”

Legolas shot Aragorn a look that seemed to say: “That was the best you could do?”

Aragorn shrugged. I didn’t see you coming up with anything, his silent gaze replied.

“Playing? On the roof?” Dari seemed a bit intrigued by this and cautiously let his head slip back out from under the covers. “Can I play on the roof?”

“No!” Aragorn and Legolas said at nearly the same time, and then laughed.

“Maybe when you’re older,” Aragorn said more gently, ruffling his son’s hair. “Much, much older,” he muttered under his breath.

Dari did not seem entirely comforted yet and regarded his father with large eyes when the King started to rise. Clambering out from under the covers he curled up in his father’s lap, twining his hands in the loose ties of the older man’s shirt.

“Don’t go. Stay. Tell me a story,” he pleaded. “Uncle Leg’las always used to tell me stories before bed when we were in the bad place.” Dari craned his neck out around his father’s arm to assure himself that Legolas was still there too.

Aragorn gently folded his little boy into his arms and settled back against the headboard of the bed, pulling the covers partially up over both of them. His gaze brushed Legolas’ for a moment. He smiled.

“Like the one about the plant that nearly ate you!” Dari said contentedly when Legolas moved up to sit next to Aragorn so he could see them both.

The prince flushed slightly and shook his head with a smile. Well, he hadn’t expected that to come back and bite him.

Aragorn chuckled. “Oh he did, did he? Well let’s see if I can’t think of some equally good story for tonight...”

Legolas saw the glint in his friend’s eyes and moaned softly, resting his head resignedly back against the headboard.

Aragorn smiled as he began the tale. “Once upon a time, there was an elf prince who was having a very bad day. See, some traders from Lake Town had arrived very early and the guards had to get him up to open the gates, and then...”*

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*reference to "Legolas' No Good Rotten Day".