Rivendell smelled like home.

No matter how far he wandered, Aragorn -- son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, self-exiled Ranger -- always returned here.

In Rivendell all paths of his life joined. His childhood, the past, was here.

Arwen was here.

She represented his future. Since he was old enough to know he had one.

Today had seen the forming of a fellowship. A company of nine. Nine to save their world.

Past, present, and future.

In two days' time the present would once again demand its due. The time between would be filled with a pleasantly tense balance.

"Aragorn."

The voice behind him was calm and melodic. Clenching his hands on the stone balustrade of the balcony, the Ranger did not turn.

"You're being human again, aren't you." Legolas spoke with quiet humor, the only kind he ever displayed.

He came to stand beside Aragorn. Too close.

Aragorn gave him a sideways glance.

Dressed in more casual clothing for the night, the Elf looked cool and perfect. The thought made Aragorn smile. All Elves looked that way, whenever they wanted.

He had treasured memories of this Elf looking far less calm, though no less beautiful.

The fair Prince of Mirkwood had always been and would always be, beautiful.

"You're being an Elf again," he retorted gently. Legolas' impulsive defense of him at the Council of Elrond touched him deeply, despite the embarrassment he felt at being so identified.

Legolas shifted closer so their legs touched.

"I would have you join me, in Elf-being." the offer was made in the same calm tone. With the same near-silent amusement.

"Legolas..." half-turning, Aragorn was treated to another example of impulsivity; Legolas leaned in and kissed him, quickly.

"Lie with me," Legolas urged, his face an inch from the Man's. "It has been too long since I felt your touch."

Staring into eyes of the brightest blue he'd ever seen, Aragorn swallowed. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as the two natures inside him collided.

On the trek from Bree, before the tragedy of Weathertop, he'd been both entertained and exasperated by the never-ending curiosity of the Shire folk.

After ferreting out as much personal information about him as they could, Merry and Pip both latched onto the fact that he'd grown up with Elves. The fair folk were legendary to the Hobbits and they'd practically buried him with questions.

He well remembered how round their eyes had grown when he'd tried to explain Elvish attitudes toward sex and love.

"You mean to say Elves don't *marry*? They don't find a mate and raise a family?!"

"Not the way Hobbits do, or men. They bond with a single person to raise a family, but Elves do not hold their bodies sacred for one partner only."

"They - they *cheat*? On their mates?!" Sam had been properly scandalized. "There is no faithfulness, no fidelity?"

"They do not see things as you or a Man would," Aragorn tried to explain. "Their lives are so long, to love only one person seems foolish."

"All Elves?" Sam demanded forcefully. "Are they all so free with their favors?"

Samwise had very specific ideas of right and wrong, Aragorn reflected. This trait might make him the perfect companion for young Frodo.

"There are a few who choose celibacy still. The rest do not hop willy-nilly from bed to bed, Sam. Many choose a favored few that they return to as the years pass."

Pippin's glance had ben sly.

"Do you know any of them?" the youngest Hobbit asked.

Startled by the innuendo, coming from someone he saw as innocent, Aragorn stumbled with an honest answer.

"Yes. When among the Elves I adopt their customs. This is what I grew up knowing."

Frodo had spoken then and changed the subject, probably to protect Sam's sensibilities. The subject hadn't come up again. Fortunately, it seemed Hobbit curiosity, once satisfied, moved on to other things.

Now Aragorn saw Legolas' eyes compete with the star-ed night for beauty, and wondered which world he lived in this moment.

"How long has it been, Shield-Brother?" he asked softly. He asked gently because now he worried. He knew this Elf too well to underestimate the importance of his asking. Legolas' position and beauty served to isolate him and limit his choices. The open freedom of Elven-kind was not for him.

He was one of the few Aragorn had meant when he told Sam.

Legolas broke eye contact and looked away. His shoulders were suddenly tense. Aragorn put a hand on one and squeezed.

"I do not mock you," he apologized. "If it is I you have waited for, I am honored."

Legolas looked at him again. His face was faintly hopeful.

"Arwen and I have chosen the path of Men in this," Aragorn said, as he had once before. It had been her decision; a small taste of how Men lived.

It seemed Legolas was too stunned by the rejection to reply. Before Aragorn could apologize again or explain, he was excusing himself.

"Strange are the ways of Man indeed!" a small, forced smile came with the words. "I will leave you to the stars, then, and seek my bed. There is much to do and little enough time to do it on the morrow."

His words could not disguise the hurt on his face. Aragorn tried to stop him, but short of creating a scene, there was nothing he could do.

Legolas was down the stairs and out of sight before Aragorn could think of any other words to say.

The stars brightened as the night passed.

Left to his own devices, Aragorn found he did not want to go inside.

He did not want to seek the shelter of an empty bed.

Though he was not an Elf, he had been raised in the same traditions.

Refusing Legolas' advances was as foreign to him as it had been to his friend.

With the world of Rivendell now silent save for the occasional snatch of quiet song between lovers, he felt lost.

Out of place.

It had been too long since he came home.

And he had rejected the only welcome he truly understood.

His feet took him wandering. Even here he could not stay in one place.

It was a trait he shared with Legolas Greenleaf. The Prince regularly left his wood and sought adventure.

Elves could not live boring lives, or they would not live here. Or not live at all.

Once, when the two of them were not young but what lay between them was, Legolas had tried to explain.

"If I am bored... If I am lonely or sad, the call of the Sea grows stronger. The more I have to do here, the less I want to answer it."

Aragorn wanted Legolas to stay in Middle-Earth as long as possible. He'd done his best to quiet that call.

Most Elves found families; friends, lovers, art and music. A place and a reason to stay. Until the reasons faded and they looked to the West.

Legolas had never been one to follow the path before him. He would make his own, and live with the journey.

Standing on the open stairs that led to the guest wing, where they were all quartered, Aragorn considered his journey.

At this moment, where was that journey taking him?

Arwen had long since retired to her bed. She had duties in this Kingdom and needed rest to fulfill them.

Though he knew if he went to her she would wake and gladly give him her attention, he felt unwilling to do so. They would have many years together to spend thus.

There were others that would welcome his sleepless self.

But none that needed him.

With his feet on the landing, he paused again.

He was not yet bonded to Arwen.

She had never spoken of it when he followed his own path.

Never a word of loneliness or criticism. That wasn't the way of the Elves.

Just as any vow not sworn in moonlight didn't exist, except in theory.

He and Arwen had agreed.

Yet no vow had been taken.

The last time Aragorn touched Legolas Greenleaf had been nearly four years ago. He had been younger and more susceptible to beauty.

And even then he had recognized the loneliness in Legolas' heart.

Aragorn frequently questioned himself.

He carried the blood of Isildur, who had failed when the World needed him most.

His heir feared, above all else, to find that same failing within himself.

Not insecure, he merely questioned.

Determined if his feet were indeed on the correct path before he stepped out.

Now, this night in Rivendell, his heart took a question and twisted it.

If this path led him to hurt a friend - one he loved dearly, in the way of Men -- could it truly be the way he was meant to go?

He'd seen the hurt on Legolas' face.

He knew the effort it took for that Elf to ask for comfort in any form.

The more he though about it, the more convinced Aragorn became that he had chosen poorly.

His decision had been based upon his needs and not those of one dear to him.

Legolas would never come to him again. Was that truly the circumstance he sought?

Change came without effort. He knew which room Legolas had been assigned. He knew which room each of them was in. To not know would be to risk the fellowship, even here.

Almost as quietly as an Elf's, his feet carried him to the farthest chamber.

The chamber door was slightly open, as he'd known it would be.

His childhood in Mirkwood, in the great underground fortress of Thranduil, had left the youngest of his sons with a deep dislike of being closed in. Little wonder Legolas sought open sky and endless forest. Aragorn had visited Mirkwood in his youth. Though the palace was beautiful, in the way of all things Elven, there had definitely been a sense of imprisonment.

Not the least reason was Thranduil himself; a strong-willed being of uneven temperament, his love for his family bordering on possessive.

Aragorn was almost surprised to find Legolas there, in the chamber. He suspected he was only inside because of the offer he'd made; he was no doubt hoping Aragorn would do exactly this, change his mind and come to him.

Entering, Aragorn closed the door behind him and walked half the distance to the curtain-shrouded bed.

He felt eyes upon him, though he could see little in the dimness. The large windows admitted what starlight there was, but this was a dark time of the year.

"What do you seek, Ranger?" Gentle words. A pale hand drew back an edge of curtain, but he saw nothing beyond it.

"Second chances," he whispered. Elves' ears weren't as good as Elves' eyes, but he was heard.

"For what?" Real curiosity now, and the tall, slim body kneeling up where he could see it. Hair like sunlight spilled and hid the face he sought.

"Mortals live so quickly, we often speak in haste." He went closer to the bed, almost within reach. Legolas' eyes peered at him like stars through a sunbeam.

"And I thought you had grown past that." a soft laugh and the hand reached to grab the front of his tunic and pull him in. Aragorn stumbled and tumbled into the bed, feeling laughter in his own heart.

"Legolas - let me, I want to say -"

"Hush, son of Arathorn. This is all the explanation I require."

He was pushed back and straddled. The surprisingly heavy weight of the Elf settled on his hips. Calloused hands framed his face, fingers stroking his short beard.

"I have missed you."

"If we had some light I could see how much." Aragorn followed Legolas' hands, firmly planted on his own chest, walking his fingers up the Elf's arms to his shoulders, trailing over his neck to cup his smooth jaw.

"Man eyes," Legolas teased.

"Sweet Elf skin," Aragorn breathed, thumb stroking a cheekbone. "Soft as moonlight on water."

Legolas pressed his cheek into the caress. Tracing with his fingertips, mapping a face he knew as well as his own, Aragorn felt the brush of lashes and closed eyelids.

"I will get you your light," Legolas sighed, and he sounded happy.

Happy the way watching dawn from the crown of the tallest tree made him. Aragorn felt a fuzz of pride and gratitude, that his mere presence could make him this happy.

Legolas shifted away. Touching him as he moved, Aragorn felt only soft skin over sleek muscle. The Elf made a quiet sound of approval as Aragorn's hand slid down his back to cup a bare buttock, the muscle flexing as he balanced on the edge of the bed, hands above his head.

A flame flickered to life in a lantern hung from the dark wood frame. He might have taken a minute to admire the craftsmanship, the skill and time that had gone into the bed and the linens and the room, but this was what he'd grown up with. The only beauty he cared to see was the Elf above him.

Turning to look down at him, Legolas gave Aragorn a small smile. His hair flowed over his shoulders and his bare body glowed.

"I have seen you thus more times than I can count," Aragorn spoke, feeling reverent, hoping it was reflected in his voice.

"I remember each and every time, from first to last." With a movement that would have crippled the Man, the Elf twisted his body and slid to the bed beside him. Propped on an elbow, he traced Aragorn's features with a single fingertip. "The first is as vivid in my memory as if it were this morn."

"We were well matched that day." Aragorn caught the hand with a smile, bringing it to his lips.

"Both new to the love of males and as skittish as foals new-walking."

"We found our way." Using the hand he held to pull Legolas closer, Aragorn leaned in to scent his hair and neck. "You have not changed, melethin."

"We all change, Aragorn. This is not the body of the boy I knew."

"This is the body of the Elf I first touched."

Clever fingers unlaced Aragorn's tunic and stripped it over his head. Together they loosed his breeches, getting both naked as quickly as could be managed.

Kicking the pile of fabric to the floor, Aragorn laughed.

"I should ask Gandolf for a spell -- a charm that will whisk away our clothes in a second."

"And deprive me of the pleasure?" Legolas rolled to his back and stretched, arching provocatively. He held out a hand to Aragorn. "I would feel your weight. Anchor me, methethin-nin."

"Gladly." With a heave Aragorn rolled atop the slender form, so much stronger than it looked. Their groins met with a familiar tingle.

"Look upon me, Aragorn," Legolas arched again, reaching for him. "Let me see myself through your touch."

Aragorn did not speak of Legolas' beauty. It was incidental. Though he could not ignore it - indeed, though he adored it -- the physical beauty was not what had always drawn him to this particular Elf.

A hint of unexplained pain, a small smile and gentle humor. Love of forest and field, unsurpassed skill with bow and twin blades. Courage beyond any he'd previously seen - though the Hobbits might now teach him otherwise. There was much more to Legolas Greenleaf than his stunning beauty. And so few seemed capable of seeing so.

He wanted to start slow. It had been a long time, for both of them. Knowing how Legolas needed to be grounded to this world, to Middle-Earth, Aragorn wanted to take his time and slowly wake the passion that lay between them.

They kissed. Legolas' mouth tasted of spring and frosted green, welcoming him as eagerly as his arms. Before he realized it, Aragorn was lying between his thighs, their arms gripping tightly, hands stroking feverishly. So often quiet, Legolas moaned and twisted, his legs spread wide, hips tilted to encourage his lover's entry.

"Slow, slow..." Aragorn gasped.

"I will not wait! Fill me, Aragorn." Long legs went around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Let me -" he wanted to prepare him, to ease the way, but Legolas pushed higher.

"Please, dark light."

Balancing on an elbow, Aragorn reached down to grasp himself, steady and aim. The entrance to Legolas' body was hot and humid, small and tight. It took far more effort to force the head in than he was comfortable with. Legolas' breath caught and held, Aragorn felt the Elf working with him, bearing down to accept the intrusion.

The head popped in. To prevent his scream, Aragorn bit down on the moonlit arm nearest him. He tasted blood, eyes squeezed painfully tight.

Legolas moaned. Aragorn heard pain.

<I am sorry, Legolas, golden love> he panted in Legolas' tongue. <Breath and open to me, let me touch all of you.>

"More," Legolas gasped. His strong legs pulled insistently, crossed high on Aragorn's back. "Do not stop!"

With his own moan Aragorn lurched forward, going deeper. He buried his face in Legolas' neck, hands sinking deep into flaxen silk.

Beneath him Legolas softened. His body yielded, welcoming Aragorn. He sank into the heat of a star until there was no further to go.

"Yes..." Legolas groaned. "Please."

Satisfied now that the pain would pass, Aragorn lifted his hips as much as Legolas' grip would allow and began to thrust. Legolas moved under him, moved with him. His organ was caught between them, rubbing roughly in the hair of Aragorn's belly.

Now Legolas moaned with each stroke. Aragorn heard himself grunting as he went home, every time. He lifted his head and took the open mouth brutally, ravaging it for every trace of sweetness.

Legolas' arms spread wide on the bed. His hands spasmed, lying palms up, fingers stretched. Opening his eyes. Aragorn slid his hands up the deceptively slender limbs and twined his fingers with them. Their hands clenched tight. Legolas moaned into his mouth.

It had been long enough since that everything familiar held an edge of newness. Aragorn was far enough removed from his memories of their last time together that he wasn't quite certain how to read his lover's body. It made everything that much fresher and richer.

Oh, he understood why the Elves sought new experiences. To live so long without them -- he couldn't bear the thought of this beauty lost to his world.

Legolas moved urgently now, his moans fading as breathing became difficult. Leaning back as far as he could without breaking the pounding rhythm, Aragorn tried to keep his eyes open to watch him.

The blue eyes snapped open. Legolas bared his teeth, hands clenching painfully on Aragorn's.

The blue was so intense Aragorn felt as if Legolas was staring into his soul.

"Ellesar!" Legolas gasped. His movements faltered and Aragorn thrust harder, holding onto those hands, returning the intense gaze.

"Legolas..." He panted. <Golden love, first in my heart.>

"Ai..." once pale lips, now bruised-berry colored, parted to release the beginnings of a scream. Aragorn felt the channel he plundered begin to tighten and drove himself to new effort.

The scream rose to a war-cry. The blue eyes fogged. Legolas writhed beneath him and stiffened. He clenched around Aragorn so hard he saws stars. His seed flowed with a force barely remembered.

Gasping, he eased down and lay his sweaty head on Legolas' smooth chest. Their arms remained outstretched, hands loosening slowly.

Legolas' heart pounded like the sea on the cliffs.

After some time his legs loosened. Hearing the hiss of pain he tried to hide, Aragorn freed a hand and helped him ease a leg back to the bed. The other stayed around his hip.

He used the free hand to caress the fair face. Eyes half shut, Legolas watched him with an open, easy trust.

<Thank you, Aragorn-mine.> he breathed, catching a finger in his teeth and biting gently. "I live in this moment an eternity."

The words brought a sting to Aragorn's eyes. Closing them, he rolled to his side, keeping Legolas' thigh wrapped to his hip. He held them close together, and sighed when Legolas ducked his head and nuzzled into Aragorn's neck, his arms around the Man's head and shoulders.

"The night passes," Legolas' words were muffled by the position. "Do you pass it with me?"

Biting back a sudden sob, Aragorn increased his hold. How could this one be so insecure? So many parts of Legolas were unexplained, and he would not ask.

<Where would I go that compare with this?> he raised Legolas' face for a tender kiss. <How could I come, planning to leave?>

The kiss was returned just as sweetly. To taste him now, after Legolas had spread his seed across Aragorn's belly, was to taste him different. Warm rain and the last shining glimmer of fading sunlight.

The lamp flickered. Legolas sighed and sought the closer embrace once again. Aragorn held his head there, running his fingers through the golden hair, softer even than Arwen's.

The Evenstar was renowned for her beauty, but Aragorn knew well it existed in too many forms to be so tightly defined.

They had a long, perilous journey ahead of them. The challenges they faced would keep the Elf occupied. The call of the Sea would not reach him while there was a world to save. And if it did, Aragorn would be there to sooth it away. There were others in the Fellowship that might also be willing to share this glorious experience and gift Legolas with unique memories.

As long as there were things to do, Legolas Greenleaf would be here to do them.

They slept. The dawning of the day would bring many.