Title: Ode, for Eärendil Star

Author: Botticelli Angel (www.livejournal.com/~angelbotticelli or www.deadjournal.com/~angelbotticelli )

Summary: A/L SLASH. Pure Fluff! Legolas and Aragorn make a decision, just happy fluffy-ness. Inspired by Keats, happy fic for Eärendil's birthday.

Rating: PG - not even a naughty word. Just smoochings.

Warnings: SLASH!!! I will not say it again, you have been warned. You no like, then you no read! Also, a sick bucket maybe needed, pending on how much mushy-ness you can take =D

A/N: **sings more than slightly off key**

Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday dear Eä-ren- diil. Happy Birthday to Youuuuuuuu!!!

**Clears throat**

This fic is dedicated to, and is for Eärendil, for her birthday. This is the present she requested, and so I have delivered. Happy Birthday Sweetie. Am most honoured that of all the people on ff.net it was me that you chose to ask for a fic. This is all for you =D Thankies for all the support you have given me through Heart of Battle and the wonderful reviews. Am most sorry that this was not posted before I went away to Poland - as it was written, but ff.net wouldn't let me sign in to post it Sunday night, and I even logged on an tried and 4.30 am Monday morning before I went. Am most annoyed at ff.net, but as they say, better late than never! =D Love you loads sweetie!!! Love and Huggles!

This fic was inspired by a poem I recently read by John Keats, an English poet of the early 19th century, whose most well known works must be his Ode's. Some of his earlier works are a bit dodgy, but his later Ode's are fantastic. This fic was inspired by 'Ode to Psyche', more specifically a section in the first stanza. So, as it inspired me, here is the section of the first stanza of Ode to Psyche, I encourage you all to at least read his Ode's!!!

Thank you to Eären, this is for you, and thank you to Keats for setting this fic in motion.

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Ode to Psyche

By John Keats

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...I wandered in the forest thoughtlessly,

And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,

Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side,

In deepest grass, beneath the whispering roof,

Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran,

A brooklet, scarce espied:

'Mid hushed, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,

Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,

They lay calm breathing on the bedded grass;

Their arms embraced, and their pinions too:

Their lips touched not, but had not bade adieu,

As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,

And ready still past kisses to outnumber

At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: ....

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Botticelli Angel