Ah! The final chapter, something I've been longing, and dreading. Thank you for all the support, to everyone who favourited, followed, and most importantly reviewed! You guys are awesome, and a true inspiration. I love you all, more than Legolas.

At the end there is a snippet from the Sequel that I'm planning to write, so if you like it, remember to look out for it, I will do an author note on this story when I publish it. Also, if you have your own ideas about the sequel, PM me or review it and I'll see if I can incorporate it with a special dedication to you.

Kay guys - enjoy, and thank you.

Epilogue

Rosalie had never felt so free since she'd arrived in Rivendell. It's over, it's over, she had been singing in her head for the last two months, sometimes murmuring it under her breath which had annoyed Éowyn greatly, and she knew it. The city had smoked and stood broken, most of the Gondorian Army being roped into restoration. While Éomer and Rohirrim had left for Meduseld, the blonde noblewoman had instead stayed, though Rosalie didn't always see her as she seemed a little more interested in Faramir. Aragorn had been thrown headfirst, mainly by the wizard, into 'royal duties', the phrase making the woman giggle and get even stranger looks from the rest of the nobility.

Since the battles, Rosalie had relaxed more, softening around the edges back into the teenager she'd been before. Surrounded by the Hobbits one afternoon, after a quick insight, and some experience of their diet, it had hit her: I'm not a teenager anymore... huh. She thought, somehow I thought I'd feel different, being twenty and all.

What did make her feel different was Legolas' departure. The elf had just left one day at the break of dawn, the woman only told at lunch as if it wasn't a big deal, and Rosalie had swallowed the disappointment, hiding it from prying eyes. So instead she found herself in the library, absorbing as much knowledge as she could about Middle-Earth, now that she had more time for it. You're such a nerd, she thought to herself, sat at a little table, surrounded by mountains of books, many of them recommended by her friends. Gandalf occasionally joined her, but he disappeared into a private alcove, sometimes coming out with pyramids of scrolls.

There was another reason for excitement amongst the city – word had spread of preparations for Aragorn's coronation. Nobility and dignitary from every corner of Middle-Earth seemed to pop up, arriving weeks before the ceremony, lavishing the ex-ranger with gifts, sending the staff around the palace into overdrive, and flushing Rosalie further into the library to escape them all. Even the Hobbits joined her a few times, not all as accepting of 'Half-lings' and strange blue-haired 'witches' as their friends were.

Éowyn had snuck into her chambers in the morning, laughing while Rosalie had screamed, clawing at the sheets before scowling darkly at her friend. Jerk... she thought, as the blonde woman wandered through to her wardrobe, pulling out a few gowns and inspecting them. She frowned. I don't remember them being there before... What? As if sensing her confusion, Éowyn smiled. "I had them ordered for you," she said, smiling at the glower she got in return. "You needed something appropriate for today, and something I might actually get you to wear."

Rosalie fought the urge to roll her eyes. That might be harder than you think. She held up a chocolate-brown dress, an almost stereotypical medieval design with a slightly deeper hemline which would still be classed as modest, and Rosalie baulked. The noblewoman nodded in agreement, hanging it back up. "I thought you said you got them for me." Rosalie called, finally leaving the confines of her bed, though a little wary of letting her friend see her in the nightie that looked like something her gran would wear.

Éowyn shook her head. "No, I merely asked the women to make some things for the ceremony," she said, "and the celebrations after." She muttered under her breath, and Rosalie frowned, wondering what she had said. Then another thought came to her.

"Éowyn, how do you know they fit me?"

The blonde had turned to her, giving her a sarcastic look that Rosalie had a feeling she learnt off her. "They have your measurements." She replied, like it was the plainest, simplest thing on the planet. Rosalie nodded along, allowing the woman to do her self-appointed task in peace.

She held up another dress, a dark grey one this time, a strange sort of lace woven through the top and skirts periodically. The woman raised an eyebrow and nodded, but this time the noblewoman protested. "You can wear it after the coronation," Éowyn assured her, almost laughing at the expression on Rosalie's face.

The noblewoman eventually took out a blue silky dress with wispy elbow-length sleeves, much like the dresses worn by the elves she'd seen in Rivendell. Éowyn approved it, thrusting it over to the other woman for her to put on, and Rosalie did so without question. The things I do for you Aragorn, she thought, hurrying faster when the blonde chided her, the things I do for you.

Gandalf's bright white robes glowed against the thick black gates he stood before, Gimli waiting patiently to his left, adorned in Gondorian colours, a large, delicate crown of silver balanced on a deep maroon cushion. Soldiers lined the precession, firm and still, grey helmets dull in colour with patterned wings along the sides of them. A silence fell as the tall figure of Aragorn started his sole procession, Rosalie smiling brightly as he passed her, Éowyn and Faramir, catching his eye but his face stayed neutral. He knelt in front of the wizard, who cleared his throat, and began to ask Aragorn for his vows. Almost like a marriage, the woman thought, and then spied her two companions, hands held secretly, covered by the folds in Éowyn's dress. Speaking of marriage... Her thoughts were cut short, eyes catching Gandalf leaning over, picking up the crown smoothly, and raising it high above his head, the sun burning on golden additions.

There was an audible gasp from the crowds, and Rosalie's own lips parted in anticipation. Slowly and steadily, he lowered it onto Aragorn's head, gently and firmly pushing it onto his head, before taking a step back, throwing his hands out wide. "Now come the days of the King!" He shouted, voice echoing through the grounds. "May they be blessed!" Cheering erupted like wildfire, becoming more vigorous as Aragorn stood. Geez, it's like being at a concert, the woman thought, and she was so caught up in the moment, she almost didn't catch Gandalf staring at her meaningfully, raising an eyebrow at her when their eyes met. Rosalie frowned, why is he looking at me like that...? Oh yeah! Her eyes brightened, remembering a conversation she had had with the wizard the day before.

Her brow furrowed, eyes closing momentarily as her hands clenched and her knuckles turned white. Concentrate... Concentrate. When Gandalf had first proposed it, she had argued, wanting to know why he couldn't do it himself. "Your talents need honing," was his patient answer, and the woman had bitten her lip, recognising the truth in his words. C'mon, you can do this. For Gandalf. No, for Aragorn it's his coronation. She almost sighed in relief when she felt it flow, her work already apparent.

White petals floated down from the clouds, seemingly from nowhere, the crowds tittering appreciatively and the woman grinned at the floor. That smile quickly melted into a scowl as she listened to a few men behind her whispering about the wizard's greatness. No, mine! Rosalie shook her head, focusing instead on the achievement. They turned out well; she praised herself, proud of the colour purity, noticing a few dusted with pink, quite naturally, gold, not natural but not so bad, and grey. She had gotten a questioning eyebrow over one of those ones as it danced around Gandalf's shoulder. Oops.

Aragorn didn't seem to mind the occasional odd-coloured petal, plucking a few out the air and then releasing them again. He held up his hands, much like the wizard had done though the silence came far quicker. "This day does not belong to one man, but to all." he declared, voice carrying across the crowds with authority and power. "Let us together rebuild this world we share in days of peace." Applause erupted again, Rosalie and Éowyn clapping along enthusiastically, and Aragorn bowed his head. The woman froze, what is he doing?

The King closed his eyes, murmuring quietly, but his voice rose, the gentle hum of before morphing into words sounding suspiciously like Elvish to the woman. Her jaw dropped at his velvet tone. Nice of him to mention that talent along the trip. Many Gondorian citizens seemed equally as entranced, roaring wildly once he had finished, taking his first steps down as King.

As he passed they bowed, Éowyn, Faramir and Rosalie all doing the same, the woman smirking brightly at him as she watched him pass, pleased when she saw the same amusement in his eyes. The lined soldiers did not, keeping their rank and position formally, and her eyes tracking Éomer stepping out from behind them to incline his head in respect. Rosalie's eyes widened when a different figure strode out from behind the lines, and Aragorn paused as well. He came back. Legolas smiled gently at his friend, and Aragorn walked over, clasping him gently on the shoulder. The elf glanced behind him, and the man followed his gaze, staring curiously at one of the banner carriers.

Legolas caught her eye, his smile warming up, and Rosalie blushed, smiling back, mouthing 'Hi', wanting to giggle when he replied back with a silent 'Hello'. Her attention shifted to the banner-barer, though she kept drifting back to Legolas whose eyes hadn't left her face yet, and the blush darkened. Pale hands gripped the shaft of the banner with the same silvery sheen Legolas' skin gave off, and slowly it lowered, revealing a pale face framed by dark hair pinned back apart from two curls draped in front of delicately pointed ears. Grey eyes shined tearfully up at Aragorn, slightly apprehensive, and the King took a step closer. Rosalie mouth dropped. Wow, she's really... Wait, haven't I seen her before? She scoured through her memories. Yes! She's the elf lady from Rivendell!

Aragorn reached over, his hand rubbing down her cheek slowly, intimately, and Rosalie tried to look away. Geez, that's not the worst thing you've caught two people doing, but it's just so... close? It wasn't close enough for the new King as he lunged forward, wrapping an arm around the elvish lady's waist, drawing her closer and slanting his mouth over hers, lifting her up to twirl her, their faces still joined. Many clapped, and cheered, Éowyn and Rosalie some of them, the former blushing while the blue-haired woman smiled but scrunched up her nose. I'm all for a Disney moment, but Aragorn, this isn't the time.

The King released her, but still held her hand tightly in his, threading her arm through the crook of his, and continued on his coronation procession. Soon, they stopped in front of the four Hobbits, and Rosalie stretched on the tips of her toes to see them. They stood side-by-side, staring up at Aragorn, almost solemnly in their almost identical trousers, and interchangeable suit vests, each a different, deep colour. In tandem, they bowed their heads, shaggy hair fluttering in front of their faces. Aragorn shook his head, and murmured something to them that Rosalie couldn't hear. Then, he sunk to his knees, his Elvish lady following suit, then the people surrounding them, like layers of dominos, people sinking down in a spiralling pattern; Rosalie, Éowyn, Faramir also tumbling slowly to the ground, the woman smirking at the smug look plastered on Pippin's face compared to the surprise on the three other Hobbits, as they watched everyone present to Aragorn's coronation bow down to them gracefully. Frodo looks like he's gonna have a heart attack, Rosalie thought, lowering her head to the floor to hide her smile, not knowing a different pair of blue eyes saw it.

These people really know how to party, Rosalie thought to herself, glancing over the crowds. Aragorn had thrown open the doors to his palace, long rows of tables out in the private courtyard for all to mill about in, dark banners proudly sporting the Gondorian tree and tapestries depicting what Rosalie guessed was local heroes and legends, hung from the usually-bare walls. Palace servants were continuously bringing out plates laden with meat and bread, pitchers of what looked suspiciously like ale, every bit the picturesque medieval celebration scene from movies.

Aragorn seemed at ease, drifting between the upper and lower classes, the Elven lady, Arwen Rosalie discovered her name was, never leaving his side. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The woman jumped, the ale in her cup sloshing over the sides. Legolas looked down at it and winced. "Sorry."

Rosalie shook her head. "No, don't be – it tastes awful." She smiled at him, it freezing when she noticed the identical goblet in his hands, far less than content in it than hers. Ah, crap!

The elf just smiled at her, before staring back at Aragorn and Arwen. "Love," he explained, and the woman fought off her blush. Can I talk about love to him? No! I'll end up... Rosalie snapped out of it, realising Legolas had called her name. The embarrassment came back with a vengeance.

She tried to act nonchalant. "Yeah, I guess."

Legolas eyed her sharply, turning to face her fully. "I guess?" He repeated, and Rosalie cringed a little. Okay, not what he wanted to hear. "Why do you say that?" He demanded, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the rest of the jubilations. She floundered for an answer.

"Well – I just mean – What was – I don't want to have this discussion!" She blustered, voice rising in pitch. I can't talk to him about love when I... Just calm down, Rosalie... Why is he even asking anyway? Why does he have to bring it up? Her thoughts were flashing a mile a minute. It's not like it's a normal conversation topic between two friends, right? Unless... No, he doesn't – he can't. That's ridiculous to think, but...

"Air," she gasped, refusing to allow herself to look at him. "I need some air." She spun quickly, squeezing her way through the crowd, dodging and ducking through gaps to try and escape the elf's burning gaze. Outside, the wind thrummed with conversation, the bubbling joy of Aragorn's appointment still present in the air. The woman leant against a secluded pillar, trying to stop her traitorous mind. I can't think like that, this is just a crush. He can't like me like that -

"Why not?" The question caused her to almost bite through her tongue. What the hell is he doing out here? Rosalie felt like screaming. She turned to face him, surprised to see him only a few feet away. How did I not here him coming? Her surprise turned to horror. Oh my God he heard me.

"Oh my God..." she breathed under her breath, but Legolas took no notice of it, and took a step closer. She staggered back, hitting the pillar behind her.

"Why can't I 'like you like that'?" He asked again, throwing her own words back at her. "What is so wrong with that?" He taunted, sauntering forward with each new question. Something broke inside of her.

"Because I'm me, and you're you, and..." Her mouth opened and closed, no more sound coming out, and she looked at the floor. Strong fingers cradled her chin, pulling it and the rest of her face up to stare at him and his intense blue eyes. He leaned in, and her eyes widened. Oh God is he...? Hot breath wafted over her lips, and unconsciously, Rosalie's eyes closed, the fluttering in her stomach and his close presence making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

"As you like to say, 'for the record'" Rosalie's limbs felt like jelly just listening to him gently mock her. "I do like you like that." Legolas hesitated for a fraction of a second, before leaning in. His mouth slanted across hers, and Rosalie wanted to crow with excitement. His tongue brushed along her lip, and she let him in, shocked at his boldness. I thought they were all... delicate in the medieval age.

Her smile was giant and cheesy when he broke away, foreheads almost touching, their hands connecting sometime earlier. She opened her eyes, her jade meeting his sapphire. A new beginning... she thought, recognise that feeling in her chest. Hope. For a new beginning... with him.

Sequel Scene:

Legolas crossed his arms, staring out onto the forest path, eyes narrowing, ignoring the elf next to him. Twenty years had passed, something that usually passed quickly for most elves, but caused restlessness in him. After Elessar's coronation, Gandalf had propositioned Rosalie, asking her to accompany him where she could learn about herself. He remembered her hesitation, how she had asked for his advice, and lying through his teeth and told her to go with him. How their letters travelled across the lands of Middle-Earth and back over the seasons, how for periods they were frequent and detailed, while others they were few and sparse. But now she was coming. Coming back to him.

He watched the path for an hour, bow strapped to his chest, ears straining for sounds of trouble. Once the Deceiver fell, the Darkness in his home began to wane, the light and beauty returning to his Greenwood. Now, he had the chance to share and boast it to her, and he was going to make full advantage of it.

Hoof-falls caught his attention, his posture straightening, eyes lighting with anticipation. Here she comes, he thought, a grin breaking onto his face as a brown stallion came into view, the rider all too familiar.

Twenty years could do plenty of damage to a human, something that Legolas had feared when now he could see he had no reason to. The woman looked as fresh and fair as he remembered. Her pale skin had darkened gently by a few shades, only bringing out the richness in her green eyes, a colour that reminded him of his home on their travels together and was so unusual in Elves. Her back was straight, head held higher with a louder confidence she had gained since their last meeting. What shocked him most was her hair. Like light chestnut, strands glistened red in dappled sunlight, falling in deep waves like rippling tides, for once the token of the ocean not causing a painful lurch in his chest. However, that blue fire so unique to her was not lost, instead contained to a small curl tucked away behind her ear, as his eyes tracked it down and round the lobe before glancing to her face, noting the apprehensive look.

Rosalie came to a halt a few feet from him, her sudden smile warming his heart. She mouthed her small greeting 'Hi', and he felt his own lips shape into his response 'Hello', echoing the words from so long ago. Here she comes at last.