Title: Resurrection of Evil

Rating: T (for graphic images, smut and violence)

Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of the characters or related trademarks. I make no profit with this story.

Warning: Much smut and A/L. Explicit scenes. Violence.

Summary: After the harrowing experiences in Mirkwood, Aragorn returns to the Dunedain. When Legolas visits him, dark dreams start to haunt Aragorn. Will tragedy strike again?

A/N: Here it is, the new story!! Thanks for all the support!! This story continues where *Something wicked this way comes* ended. It is set a few months after Legolas's arrival in Rivendell after the gruesome attacks in Mirkwood. The reading order of my stories is as follows:

~Season's Tales~

A Winter's Tale

A Spring's Tale

A Summer's Tale

An Autumn's Tale

~The Black Heart ~

Something wicked this way comes

Resurrection of Evil

Chapter 1: Stranger in the night

Aragorn was exhausted. With his hood drawn deep into his face, his shoulders hunched and his whole body bent low over the neck of his steed, he braced the raging winter storm as best as he could. The howling wind lashed tiny ice crystals at him from all sides, and Aragorn had long ago surrendered to the fact that he could not entirely protect his face from the harsh cold. His cheeks and nose were red from the chill in the air, while his lips felt frozen. He was not sure if he could move them even if he wanted to. But the small village of the rangers he was headed to was only a few hours ride away, and if nothing untoward happened he would reach it before midnight. The plains around him darkened with the sinking sun, and Aragorn knew that it would be wiser to stop and wait until morn before riding on. But he was cold, and tired, and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for a week. And so, he huddled deeper into his cloak, turned his head away from the freezing wind, and rode on.

It had been a few months since Aragorn had left Imladris and returned to the village the rangers had established many decades ago in The Angle, only a day's ride south of the ford at the Bruinen. The village was well hidden between the rolling hills of Rhudaur, and few travelers strayed that far from the road. No paths led straight to it, no signs pointed the way. But those who knew where to look easily found their way to it. Aragorn's parents had lived there, and his uncle and cousins still did. Whenever Aragorn rode with the rangers, he stayed in his parent's old house, which had been unoccupied since the days he had been brought to Rivendell at the age of two. Aragorn had made good friends in the village, and although it still did not feel like 'home' to him, he always felt a thrill of anticipation when he entered it.

Not so this time. When Aragorn joined the rangers before the first snowfall of the last year, he was loath to do so. Not because of the fact that the village was not home to him, nor because of the prospect of long and arduous patrols that awaited him. No, he was not so much loath to join the rangers, but to leave Imladris. Legolas had been in Imladris. It had been a surprise and a relief to Aragorn when he had learned that Legolas had come to Rivendell last autumn, to try and mend their relationship. They had talked, talked a lot to be precise, and when autumn had slowly turned into winter, Aragorn had been sure that their relationship had a begun to heal.

They both felt strongly for the other, felt a connection between them that only strengthened through the time apart. And then there was the passion neither could deny. Aragorn had longed to touch Legolas, to be close to him, to share with him the love and affection, that burning desire that always flowed through his veins when he was near him. But he had not given in to this desire, and neither had Legolas. Both knew that their bond had been threatened and damaged in Mirkwood, and they had silently come to the decision that they wanted to mend the bond on a purely non-physical basis. Passion was a good way to heal a broken heart, but this healing would not last. Only when they both wanted to heal the mind, to be friends and brothers in arms again, could they also be lovers again. And if he was completely honest with himself, Aragorn had to acknowledge that he had not been ready to be intimate with someone. Not after what Lithdal had done to him. To open up to Legolas verbally had been difficult enough. To give himself completely, to yield to another…that had been too difficult at the time.

And then the rangers had asked for his return ere he had felt ready. Now, many months later, Aragorn regretted that he had not lain with Legolas. It had been over a year now, and Aragorn began to forget how it was. Whenever he thought about him at night, he felt his love and passion rise, and he wanted nothing more than to climb on his steed and head to Mirkwood. He missed Legolas. And not only the intimacy they used to share in bed, but also their conversations. Legolas had become his confident, and Aragorn missed sharing his thoughts and feelings. Alas, Legolas had returned to Mirkwood the same day Aragorn had returned to the rangers, and he hadn't heard of him since. His brothers had written to him and reassured him that Legolas arrived in Mirkwood safe and sound, but since then communication with Rivendell had been sparse.

It was mostly due to Aragorn's own busy schedule. Shortly upon arriving in the village he left again on a patrol that took far longer than he had anticipated. As soon as he returned, he was summoned to a ranger camp near Tharbad, where he had been snowed in. He had been unable to return to the village or send any message North. Now, in early February, the snow had thinned and Aragorn had immediately left for the village. It was still cold and he knew that the winter was not over yet, but that could not deter him. In his packs he carried letters to family members of the rangers who stayed behind in Tharbad, as well as a few letters of his own. He had written to Legolas during the dark, cold and long nights he had stayed in Tharbad, but had been unable to send. He had not yet decided if he would send them, and he was too tired at the moment to think about it. All he wanted now, after days of riding through the snow and cold, was to fall into his bed and sleep.

A few hours later, Aragorn's equally tired horse climbed a small snow covered hill. Looking down, his face numb from the cold, Aragorn finally made out the tiny orange glow of torches. Beneath him, the village nested between two rolling hills that were but dark shadows in the night. Sighing in relief, Aragorn pressed his knees into his horse's flanks. They made their way slowly down the hill, and when they reached the wooden palisade that protected the village from wild beasts and the worst of the storm, Aragorn could barely keep his eyes from sliding shut. Valar, he was tired. He gave the password and the guard let him enter, greeting him warmly upon recognizing him. Aragorn merely nodded his head tiredly, then led his horse towards the common stable. He dismounted awkwardly, for his thighs were numb with cold. His fingers barely managed the saddle belt, but he diligently brushed his horse down, gave him food and water and some treats, before he shouldered his packs and left for his own bed.

*****

Legolas was shrouded in near complete darkness when he woke. His keen elven eyes had no problem in piercing the darkness, but he saw no intruder. What had woken him? For a moment, he lay completely still, listening. A scraping sound reached his ears and immediately Legolas was on his feet, his hand reaching out for his dagger. Silently he made his way over to the door and opened it just enough so that he could look out. What he saw made his heart jump faster in his chest. A smile formed on his lips, but it wavered and Legolas was suddenly nervous.

He watched as the door to the small house was pushed open. Rain and snow were blown in, before a tall figure appeared in the doorway. The door was closed rather slowly, the bolt automatically slid shut to keep the door from being blown open by the storm. Legolas watched as Aragorn leaned against the door for a moment, his shoulders slumped and his proud back hunched in exhaustion. The smile faded from Legolas's lips as he watched his friend and lover, whom he had not seen in months, settle his packs on a stool, before he slowly peeled himself out of his wet leather overcoat. His movements were slow and stiff, as if he was hurting all over. Apparently Aragorn was so tired, that he did not even notice the glowing embers of a fire in the hearth, a hearth that should by all means be dark and cold.

When Legolas had pictured Aragorn's return and their reunion, he had not imagined this scene. Legolas had reached the village but a few days ago. The winter in Mirkwood had not been as harsh as in the last years, and when he had learned that at least one pass over the Misty Mountains was, well not free of snow but passable, he had left Mirkwood behind to see Aragorn. He had missed him, oh Valar he missed him so much. When they had parted in Rivendell so many months ago, Legolas had felt as if there were still a lot of things left unspoken, as if there were things that had been left in the dark. That feeling had tormented him, urging him to go and see Aragorn as soon as possible. And of course, Legolas had felt the bodily pull as well. It had been more than a year since he had last lain with Aragorn, and he missed their shared passion almost as much as he missed Aragorn's shy smile and shining eyes.

He had never been in this Dunedain village before, and the twin sons of Lord Elrond had accompanied him here, ere they had left for the Grey havens to meet with old friends that lived there. The rangers had welcomed him with open arms. It seemed that Aragorn had told tales of his and Elladan's and Elrohir's adventures, and the rangers knew that Aragorn and he were good friends. Because of their close friendship, the rangers had given him Aragorn's house to stay in until Aragorn's return. That they were lovers too, they did of course not know. While bonds between males were acceptable in elvish culture, it was an abnormality among humans. Legolas knew not whether the Dunedain followed the elvish or the human way, but Aragorn had never told him of relationships of people of the same gender among the Dunedain. Therefore, Legolas had kept quiet.

Legolas had been surprised to find out that the house was not very big. It consisted of but two rooms, a larger living room, with a hearth and cooking area, and a bedroom. In the living room stood a wooden table, its surface polished by frequent use, as well as a low bench and two stools. A small cupboard held a few pots and plates. The bedroom had a bed, complete with a straw filled mattress and blankets and furs. A large wooden chest with metal fittings stood under a small window. A low table held a chandelier. There were no personal belongings in the house, no pictures, no books, no signs that anyone lived here. Had it not been for the few pieces of clothing that Legolas had found in the chest, he would have thought the house unoccupied. It had saddened Legolas's heart to see this house; compared to Aragorn's quarters in Rivendell, this house seemed cold and lifeless. Love-less.

No one had been able to tell him when Aragorn would return, for they had had no word from the camp near Tharbad. Legolas had hoped that Aragorn would return soon, but he had not anticipated that he would truly come home so soon. The journey from the South was a long and hard one, and with the snow and cold, it would be truly dangerous. Legolas had thought that Aragorn would wait for warmer weather. Indeed, he had already made plans to leave for Tharbad himself, seeing that elves were less susceptible to the cold.

Those plans were now rendered unnecessary. Aragorn had returned to the village. Legolas watched with rising worry as Aragorn slowly shrugged out of his wet tunic, letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground with a dull thud. He was shivering. Although it was dark, Legolas could see that Aragorn had lost weight over the winter; his shirt and breeches were too big for him. Aragorn removed his sword belt and daggers, laying them carefully on the table. He made sure that the leather was not knotted in any way, his sword and daggers not too wet from the cold. It was a testimony to Legolas of the dangers his friend had faced these last few months; Aragorn was practically dead on his feet, too tired to care whether his pack was sodden with snow or his tunic laying on the dusty floor…but he cared for his weapons, no matter what, for he knew of the possibility that he could need them in the middle of the night.

Next, Aragorn sat down heavily on the low bench. Legolas's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched how Aragorn rested his elbows on his knees and placed his weary head in his hands. The young human sighed deeply and moved his hands through his wet hair, obviously at the end of his strength. It was enough; Legolas could take no more. He wanted to hold his friend and lover, take away his pain, his weakness. It was painful to see his strong and proud lover so….vulnerable.

With another deep sight, Aragorn leaned down and began to nestle at the sodden and icy lacings of his well worn boots. In but two long strides, Legolas was at his side and sank into a kneeling position. He placed his warm hands over Aragorn's, stilling their motion. Startled, Aragorn glanced up, his hands automatically reaching for his weapons. But Legolas held his hands in his. Blue eyes met surprised grey, and Legolas spoke softly, "Here, let me do this, Estel." And with but a few quick movements, Legolas removed the sodden boots from Aragorn's feet. Placing Aragorn's feet gently on the ground, Legolas looked up at his friend. Aragorn had neither moved nor spoken. Slowly, Legolas began to question his decision to come to the village and surprise Aragorn. Maybe he should have stayed in Mirkwood….send word first….

"Legolas." It was but a whisper, but the disbelief and surprise was clearly audible in Aragorn's voice. Looking up into the tired grey orbs, Legolas nodded his head. "You are here." Aragorn said, and slowly, a smile formed on his lips. "You are here." He repeated, then reached out and stroked Legolas's cheek. "Aye, I'm here, Estel. I missed you." Slowly, Legolas moved closer; his eyes shone bright with the relief he felt at Aragorn's obvious delight upon seeing him.

"I missed you too, Legolas." Aragorn whispered, his lips barely moving. And before both knew it, their lips met in a slow kiss, which was tender and loving and oh so deliciously reminiscent of their past. They stayed thus for a long moment, their lips touching and tongues stroking, before Legolas drew back. Gazing into Aragorn's face, he saw the happiness that shone in his eyes, but also the deep exhaustion. He got to his feet and held a hand out to help Aragorn up.

"Come to bed, Estel."

Legolas closed the bedroom door behind them and helped Aragorn to remove his shirt, breeches and socks. Valar, the young man's skin was cold to the touch, and he was shivering. Legolas quickly ushered him under the blankets and then quickly climbed in beside him. Instinctively, Aragorn sought his warmth and snuggled up to him, but he kept shivering. Admittedly, it was not very warm in the bedroom. Legolas wrapped Aragorn up in his arms and stroked his back, while he continued to place tiny kissed on his tousled hair and face. In response, Aragorn snuggled up closer, but the exhaustion of the journey and the long winter finally caught up with him. Within but a few moments, Aragorn fell asleep, secure in Legolas's arms. Legolas held him close, and while he drifted off to elvish dreams, he thought that he had not been this close to Aragorn since before Winter solstice, more than a year ago.

*****

Morning had not yet dawned and the roosters were still sleeping peacefully when Aragorn woke. At first, he stayed motionless, reveling in the sensation of being warm again. He had almost forgotten that feeling during the long and hard winter. While his senses became fully alert, he also noticed the pains and aches in his body. His shoulders and legs hurt from the constant strain of riding, and there was also a dull headache forming behind his eyes, reminding him that he hadn't drunken enough or slept enough these last few days. Sighing, he stretched his limbs…only to realize that he was not alone. Startled, Aragorn snapped his eyes open, only to be met by amused blue orbs.

It was still dark in the room, and for a moment, Aragorn felt his heart beat in his throat as memories flooded his head, but then his suddenly wide awake mind supplied him with a name: 'Legolas', and Aragorn could not help but smile up at the beautiful face above him. His head rested upon Legolas's shoulder, and his right arm was draped over Legolas's chest, while his body was cuddled up close to Legolas's slender figure. It felt good, it felt safe…and it felt right. Aragorn sighed once more, this time in happiness, and rested his head back on Legolas's shoulder and closed his eyes.

A moment later, he became aware of long fingers stroking his bare back, up and down, and then in small circles. In the darkness of the room and the near complete silence, Aragorn could hear his own heartbeat hammer in his chest. He was well aware of his state of nakedness. And the closeness to Legolas was triggering some feelings in him that had long lain dormant. Oh, had Legolas always smelled that delicious? Of green grass and giant trees? Of summer and wildflowers, of leather and hay? It was an intoxicating scent, and Aragorn took a deep breath before releasing it slowly. He could not remember that Legolas had ever smelled so inviting.

For a second, the long fingers stopped their stroking, and Aragorn felt a tremble race through Legolas's body. A moment later, the elf shifted under him, and then the fingers resumed their gentle stroking. But now, feeling Legolas so close and having missed him for so long, Aragorn felt heat built in his lower regions. Even the simple fact of feeling Legolas's fingers on his shoulders, of smelling his unique scent, awaked Aragorn's desire for his lover.

With his eyes still closed, he placed his lips against Legolas neck, surprised when this simple gesture elicited a sharp intake of breath from the elf. He felt another shiver race through Legolas's body and the caressing of his shoulders stopped abruptly. Worried that he had done something wrong, Aragorn looked up at Legolas's face. What he saw made his blood heat up and pool in his lower regions. Legolas's eyes were filled with pure love…and a great amount of lust. The blue orbs had darkened with the emotion. But Legolas waited, his eyes showing his questions, as well as his hesitation. But Aragorn wanted Legolas, too, was tired of his hesitations. He reached up and engulfed Legolas's lips with his own.

Their kiss turned passionate, and a few moments later Legolas's clothing landed in a heap on the floor. They touched and kissed and explored, slow and tender, but with passion. They had to rediscover the other's body, and they took their time. Neither of them spoke a single word, for no words were needed. A long while later, Legolas rolled atop of Aragorn, who automatically spread his legs to accommodate his lover. Letting his lips nibble at the soft skin of Aragorn's neck, Legolas let his fingers wander downwards and around Aragorn's slender waist. But when his fingers touched Aragorn's entrance, he stopped, unsure whether to go on or not.

He met Aragorn's gaze questioningly, and for a moment he saw hesitation, even a tiny amount of fear in the grey orbs. They had not loved each other for more than a year, after all. But then Aragorn kissed him and slung his arms around his neck. And when he ended the kiss, his nose touched Legolas's in but the briefest of touches, but it was unmistakable that Aragorn wanted him to continue. And so Legolas did, but he took his time and went slow. When he finally breached the young man, he did so as slowly as he could, letting Aragorn adjust to the sensation. Only when Aragorn moaned under him, bucking his hips eagerly and therewith urging Legolas to go on, did Legolas unleash his own passion. They came quick and powerful, just seconds after each other. And before Aragorn let Legolas withdraw himself from him, he took his face in his hands and kissed him sweetly.

Wrapping themselves in the blankets and furs, Legolas spooned behind Aragorn, and they fell into a deep slumber, their arms entwined. All was well again.

*****

When Aragorn woke next, milky light streamed through the curtains. Somewhere behind the window, a dog barked happily, perhaps chasing a goose or getting his breakfast. Yawning, Aragorn shifted his weight in Legolas's arms. The elf's strong arms tightened immediately, holding him close. A feathery kiss was placed on his neck, and a whispered "Good morning, Estel." reached his ears. Aragorn smiled and slowly stroked Legolas's bare arm. This felt so good. It was almost as if he was still dreaming, and if it was so, then Aragorn never wanted to wake up.

They lay thus for some more minutes, enjoying the silence and their closeness. But they could not ignore their state of nakedness for long; they had been apart for too long, and now that they had rediscovered each other, they longed to touch and nip, to hold and be held. Legolas let his warm hand travel across Aragorn's taut stomach, drawing small circles around his belly button. Meanwhile, his lips nuzzled the soft skin at Aragorn's neck, causing the young man to sigh softly.

Enjoying the tender kisses, and especially the warmth of Legolas's lips on his skin, Aragorn felt himself sink deeper into the mattress. His tiredness forgotten, he cleared his mind, so that he only felt – not thought about – the sensations that flooded his body. Legolas's kisses became warmer, his tongue gently teased his jaw. When Legolas's hand moved lower, stroking his thigh, up and down, Aragorn felt the heat pool in his groin. Oh, how he wanted this. How he had missed Legolas.

Reaching down, Aragorn closed his fingers around Legolas's hand and guided him to his half erect shaft. Moaning himself, Legolas began to stroke him, while he tried his best to not rub his own erect member against Aragorn's backside. He wanted Aragorn to enjoy this as much as he would, and he did not want to rush things. But Valar, it was not easy. Aragorn felt his shaft pulsate with heat, and small tremors raced through his body. Again and again Legolas flicked his slender fingers over the head of it, and it was driving him crazy. Tendrils of molten lava seemed to shoot through him with every stroke, and Aragorn could not keep the lust filled moan from spilling from his lips.

Behind him, Legolas felt his own member swell and pound, and when Aragorn's lust filled moan reached his ears, he felt his hips buck automatically against Aragorn. Feeling Legolas's proud length bump against him, Aragorn bit his lip. This was blissful torture. But he knew that he would come undone soon, and he rather wanted to feel Legolas inside him when he did. So, he took Legolas's hand that still stroked him, and guided it towards his thigh, then down his leg. It took Legolas but a second to understand. He shifted behind Aragorn, his hand guiding Aragorn's leg forwards, bending the knee at just the right angle. With nimble fingers he probed and gently stretched him, all the while kissing him senseless. Their noses touched for a brief moment, and then Legolas entered him in one long thrust.

Moaning, Aragorn felt himself being filled, and pure pleasure flooded his mind. He pressed his hips backwards, encouraging Legolas to move. And Legolas did, pounding in him in rhythmical thrusts. With each thrust Legolas hit the spot deep inside him, and Aragorn felt the world spin around him. He closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, red and orange dots chased each other, and when Legolas reached around and resumed his stroking, Aragorn felt as if he would slowly burn from inside. The heat crawled through his body and centered in his groin, making him moan hoarsely. He pushed back, again and again, and behind him Legolas lost his rhythm, his thrusts becoming quicker and stronger. Heat and color and pleasure, Legolas's quick warm breaths on his sweaty skin, sensation and bliss pooling in his shaft…It was too much.

With a choked moan Aragorn found his release.

And suddenly, the world around him vanished completely. Instead of the red and orange dots Aragorn had seen before, white flashed before his eyes. The white slowly turned into a light blue, then a grey. Shapes materialized out of the grey, tall and slender, and Aragorn saw that it were persons. There were other shapes, maybe a mountain or a house. Other colors entered the picture, but before Aragorn could make them out or recognize the persons, the picture faded until there was only black left.

"Estel? Can you hear me?" Legolas's slightly worried voice reached his ears and Aragorn blinked his eyes open. He was looking at the wooden ceiling above him, before Legolas's beautiful face entered his vision. "Welcome back, melethron (lover)." Legolas gave him a kiss, before he settled down beside him and drew him into his arms.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked, still a little bit confused. Beside him, Legolas laughed merrily. "You blackened out during your release. That happens." He gave him another kiss. Aragorn was stunned; this had never happened before. "It does?" Legolas nodded, "Happened to me as well when I was younger. It shows me how much you love me." Aragorn had no problem to hear the smile in Legolas's voice. But before he could reply, a huge yawn broke free, causing Legolas to give him another kiss. "Sleep, Estel, it is still early." And Aragorn did as he was bid. Snuggling deeper into Legolas's arms, he rested his head on the elf's shoulder and drifted off to sleep. His last thought was, though, that blackening out while being bedded surely did not include seeing strange pictures.

It was already midmorning when Aragorn finally left the bed. Stretching his arms, legs and back, he found that his joints and muscles ached, but not very painfully but merely uncomfortably. Washing and shrugging into clean clothing, Aragorn stepped out of the bedroom and into the bigger living room, where it was markedly warmer, due to the fire that burned in the hearth. The smell of porridge lay in the air, and Aragorn's empty stomach growled.

Turning to face him, Legolas smiled and got up from his perch on the low wooden bench. "Good morning again, Estel." He crouched down near the hearth and pulled an earthen bowl from beside it. Taking a spoon, he brought the bowl to the table and gestured for Aragorn to sit down. "I fear the porridge is not hot anymore, but it is, at least, still warm." His smile widened, "I had not thought you would sleep this long." While Aragorn sat down and took his first spoonful of warm porridge, Legolas poured him a cup of tea.

"Well," Aragorn mumbled, enjoying the first warm meal since he had left the camp at Tharbad, "I already was tired when I came home. I had not thought I would have to engage in sport tonight." But his smile was so genuinely happy and bright, that Legolas could only laugh merrily. Sitting down across from him, he resumed the polishing of his twin daggers.

"How late is it, anyway?" Aragorn asked, sipping at the tea. Light streamed through the single window of the room, but the window held no glass but merely thick paper. It was impossible to tell with accuracy how late it was.

Placing one of his daggers on the table and lifting the other one, Legolas answered, "Two hours to midday. The morning is almost gone, but worry not, no one is expecting to see you before noon." Aragorn was surprised at this news. Usually, when he returned from a patrol or trip, his cousin Halbarad would knock at his door first thing in the morning, demanding to hear about his trip and make sure that he was not injured or otherwise faring less than well. When Legolas saw Aragorn's dubious countenance, he elaborated, "You cousin, young Halbarad, was here this morning, asking about you. I told him that you were exhausted and needed your sleep."

"Oh." Aragorn said, moved by Legolas's thoughtfulness. Eating the last spoonful of porridge, he stood and brought his bowl over to the small kitchen area, where he cleaned the bowl and spoon with some water. A silence fell over them, and suddenly it became slightly uncomfortable. Turning, Aragorn leaned back against the small cupboard that stood at the wall and gazed at his friend and lover. Last night and this morning had been pure bliss. So long had he dreamed about seeing Legolas again, of being close to him, and now that his dream had come true, he wondered how he could ever have felt any reservations about their relationship.

True, things had changed between them, but their time together in Rivendell before winter had healed most of the wounds that had been inflicted. But the sharing of their bodies, the pure physical binding that had taken place the night before, that had been the final step to heal the scars they had both sustained. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as Aragorn realized this. He shook his head as he thought about it, about how easy it could have been. Had he only been strong enough to allow this step before he had returned to the rangers. His eyes became vacant as he thought about the pain it must have caused Legolas to return to Mirkwood without this last step being taken. How much hurt could have been prevented. Suddenly unsure of his status in Legolas's regard, Aragorn looked down at the ground.

"Estel?" Legolas's voice ripped him out of his musings. Looking up, he saw that the elf glanced at him with a frown. "Are you well, melethron?" The elf asked, for he had obviously seen something in Aragorn's eyes that worried him. Aragorn pushed away from the cupboard and slid onto the bench beside Legolas. He took Legolas's face in his hands and kissed him very, very gently. Legolas returned the kiss, sneaking his arms around Aragorn's slender waist. "Aye" Aragorn said, "I'm well now." Gazing into Aragorn's grey eyes, Legolas felt his heart mend in all aspects.

While the morning progressed, Legolas related how he had not been able to stay in Mirkwood, that the twins had accompanied him here ere they had ridden to the Grey Havens, and how he had waited for Aragorn to return to the village. Aragorn listened intently, relishing in Legolas's sweet voice, while he unpacked his packs, mended his clothing and sharpened his blades. There was always so much to do after a long stay away from civilization…

"Oh, and before I forget," Legolas said, leaning back against the wall in his back, "young Halbarad invited us to a hunt tomorrow. He said the larders are nearly empty."

"Halbarad is two years older than me." Aragorn replied, pouting just a bit. "If you call him 'young', then what am I?" Legolas looked at him fondly, "You are perfect, Estel. But see, all Edain are young in my eyes." Aragorn merely shook his head and rolled his eyes, used to these kind of remarks from his brothers. Instead, he thought about the hunt.

"A hunt sounds good." He finally replied, "It has been what- almost half a day? – since I was out in the cold. I cannot wait!" He grinned at Legolas and the elf snorted at his sarcasm. "Well, the hunt will keep you warm, Estel." He sallied back, his eyes shoving a loving glow, before they dulled somewhat, "And stocking up the larders is a good idea, I think. You need fattening up."

Aragorn growled but did not contradict Legolas's words. He had lost weight during the winter, not as much as during his time in Mirkwood, but enough to make his breeches hang baggy at his waist. But still, even the mere thought of going out into the cold again made him shiver involuntarily. He hoped the winter would not last much longer.

That afternoon, Aragorn spoke with his cousin Halbarad about the things that had happened in his absence, as well as the upcoming hunt. While Aragorn was the Chieftain of the Dunedain of the North, Halbarad's father Halgel ruled and guided the rangers most of the time. Halgel was the younger brother of Aragorn's late father Arathorn, and had led the rangers since his untimely death. While this responsibility theoretically now rested on Aragorn's shoulders, Halgel practically led the rangers until Aragorn had learned enough to make well considered, just decisions. But that did not mean that his opinion was worth nothing, for his uncle tried to ask his opinion on any and all things, slowly preparing him for the daunting task of being the true and only Chieftain of the Dunedain.

Over a cup of tea, Halbarad nudged his arm and gave him a glowing look, "Is he really a prince?" He asked excitedly, and Aragorn knew of whom he was speaking without having to ask. He nodded his head, "Aye, he is. His father is King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and Legolas is his only son. He is the crown prince and will – mayhap – one day rule the Kingdom."

"Amazing." Halbarad said, shaking his head. "I have never met a true Prince before." And in his voice swung so much adoration, that Aragorn could not even be angry with him. For, after all, was he not to be King?

To Aragorn's immense relief, no one commented on the sleeping arrangements or suggested that Legolas, now that Aragorn had returned, moved into a guest quarter. In these times of snow and ice, it was normal that family members or close friends slept in one and the same room, more often than not even in the same bed. And seeing that male-male relationships were uncommon among the Dunedain, no one suspected anything untoward. Not that either Aragorn nor Legolas would have been bothered by it, but why cause disaccord among the Dunedain when there was no need to?

Also, Aragorn distributed the letters he had brought from the rangers who were not as lucky as he and had to stay behind in the camp near Tharbad. They had written to their families, wives and children, wishing them well and promising to come home soon. The rangers would be relieved before summer, and therefore their promises to return soonest were taken by heart.

When Aragorn lay in bed that night, snuggled up to Legolas, with his head resting on the elf's shoulder, he could not keep the smile away from his face. Everything had turned out better than he could have wished for. He had returned to The Angle safe and sound, Legolas was here with him, and they had both overcome the chasm that had opened up between them, and were as close as they had been before. Everything was well.

So well, that Aragorn forgot the pictures he had seen during his coupling with Legolas. Had he known what they meant, he would have suffered from a sleepless night.

To be continued.