Tomorrow the fate of the One Ring will be decided.
When not even Elrond is sure of a course of action is when I start to worry. It is a difficult decision and I have a feeling that my part in this is hardly over yet. So I have come to this secluded corner of the gardens to be alone and collect my thoughts.
He appears from around a corner and stops short when he sees me sitting here already. He is, like all of his kind, tall and slender and, in the fashion of the Elves of Mirkwood, clad in shades of green. His hair reminds me of ithildin, shining silver in the moonlight, and I can see even from here that his eyes are blue.
I have lived amongst humans for many years, and by now I realize just how delicate Elves seem in comparison to other races. This Elf especially so; many would look at his slim form and delicately constructed face and scarce believe that he is not a thing to be handled carefully for fear of breaking it. I see immediately that he is not like the porcelain that one could so easily compare him to; he sports the gauntlets of an Elven warrior and, judging by the wear that is upon them, is likely an accomplished archer. A flush spreads up his cheeks to his ears and he lowers his eyes sheepishly.
It occurs to me that he is quite simply the most beautiful being I have ever seen.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't know anybody was already here." His voice is soft and musical, like that of all Elves, but it does not hold so much experience as those of many. Likely he has not seen as many years as much of his kindred, though next to me he would seem ancient. He turns to go.
"Wait." He stops. "If you do not require solitude," I say, "surely there is enough room here for two." He stares at me for a second and I quickly add, "Or, if you do, I can go."
At this, his face splits into a wide grin, and I marvel at the fact that he can be even more striking than he was at first glance.
"I would not dream of making anyone give up such a lovely spot," he replies and steps forward, clasping one of my hands in greeting. "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."
"I am called Es—" I pause in mid-sentence, realizing that my custom of giving strangers my Elvish name until I feel that I can trust them is a bit silly when in Imladris, especially when the one I am meeting has just revealed himself to be a prince of the woodland realm. "I am Aragorn of the Dúnedain."
My brothers scolded me this morning for being so tired before the Council. Perhaps it was a bit foolish for me to have stayed out so late, especially after the long and difficult journey one must make to get from Mirkwood to Rivendell in these days, but never before have I so lost track of time when in another's company. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that never before have I met someone like Aragorn.
I do not claim to have the most experience with the race of Men - my dealings with them being mostly confined to the people of the Long Lake - but I do know enough of them to see that Aragorn possesses a beauty, inner and outer, that is rare in humans of this age. He has a nobility that is seldom seen even in the greatest of the Elf-lords, and it shows even after having just met him. I suppose that after realizing who he is, finding these qualities in him should not have been so surprising. He truly is a child of both Lord Elrond and Númenor.
Right now, however, exhaustion is the last thing on my mind and even Aragorn is not my foremost thought. That position goes to the small gold ring that has been placed before the Council. It is followed closely in importance by the way that the son of the Steward of Gondor is looking at it.
He is speaking of using the Ring in the fight against the forces of Mordor, but it is plain to see that this is not what would happen were we to give it to him. Lust for the Ring burns in the eyes of everyone present, even those of Lord Elrond, but in Boromir's eyes the flames glow brightest. I do not trust him, and when he insults Aragorn and ignores his wise words, I find as much to my own surprise as that of anybody who knows me that I cannot – will not – sit for this, and I stand up and say something before I can stop myself.
"This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" The way he looks at Aragorn, the disdain evident, makes me even angrier.
"And heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance."
People have always told me that I am too emotional and spontaneous for an Elf and that I need to learn to think before I speak.
"Havo dad, Legolas."
I'm beginning to think that maybe they are right. But how can I be expected to control outbursts when what provokes them is entirely unexpected, and something even I would not have presumed to draw such emotion out of me? I look to Aragorn, prepared to find him angry with me for revealing his identity to altogether the wrong person, but all I can read in his eyes is not anger, but rather bewilderment. It is surely over the same thing that has just occurred to me: why would I act so impulsively on his behalf after knowing him for just one night?
There is no sound to alert me to his presence, but rather just a growing instinctual knowledge that I am no longer alone. How I know that it is him, I cannot say, but it is confirmed when he comes and sits down beside me, letting his legs hang over the edge of the riverbank, feet dangling just above the water. I look up.
"I seem to have developed a habit of walking in on you when you are meditating," Legolas says, smiling at me slyly. "Although I will not try to claim that this time I was not looking for you, I do apologize for interrupting. However, you cannot expect me to walk all the way back up the hill and down again later simply because you are busy brooding."
"Of course not. What kind of friend would that make me?"
His face grows serious. "Probably about as good of one as I would be if I pretended not to notice the burden you've carried since Moria. Even since we've arrived in Lórien you've not been able to stop worrying. I can tell."
"Legolas..." I sigh. "You don't need to worry about this."
"If I don't, who will? You've been put into a very difficult position, Aragorn; don't deny it. Somebody needs to look out for you. You were never expected to have to lead us and it's not right to ask it of you now, but you're the only one capable of doing it. I would take on this burden if I could, but you know as well as I that you command more respect from everyone you meet than I command from even those who know me well."
"Mellon nîn, I don't—"
"It's true, Aragorn. No one else could do this even if they tried. You may not think so now, but you will not lead us astray. You will get what remains of the Fellowship through this." He reaches over and pulls my face gently towards him so that I am forced to meet his eyes. "You will overcome the shadow, and you will be the greatest king your bloodline has ever seen. No one doubts this but you."
The conviction he holds is so strong that it nearly convinces me. I know he is right about my having to do this; I just hope that he is also right about my being able to do this. The fact remains that I am not Gandalf: I do not have his wisdom or his experience. I wonder in this moment if he was always as collected as he looked; did he really constantly know just what he was doing? I also wonder if he had a plan for getting us into Mordor, because right now I certainly do not. And the biggest question always remains: even when we get there, if we ever do, will I be able to resist the Ring when it comes down to it? I have been able to remain strong thus far. Will I be able to keep going like I have?
As if reading my thoughts, Legolas speaks. "You are stronger than you know, Aragorn. And if your strength should run out, know that you will always have mine whenever you need it. I will see that you get through this, even if I have to physically carry you into the depths of Mordor. You are going to survive, even if it kills me." He smiles. "That's why I came on this quest."
I stare at him in disbelief. "Legolas, you don't need to pretend like helping me bear my burdens is your sole purpose in life just to encourage me; I'm duly moved as it is."
He laughs and the sound makes it seem like all the troubles weighing me down have suddenly been lifted because his happiness is my own. "I'm being serious; I've made it my purpose from the start of the journey to do my best to make sure the other members of the Company do not fall, literally and figuratively."
At this, even I have to chuckle, but Legolas's appearance once again grows solemn. "And out of all the Company, Aragorn, you mean the most to me." He says it quietly, and I feel his fingers brush against mine. But I look down and they are gone, and when I look up again he is standing.
"I...I have to go," he stammers. "I promised Sam I would teach him some Elvish verse today." And with that he is gone, set off the way he came, leaving me to wonder what just happened.
I stare into the waters of the river swirling at the bottom of the brink I'm standing on. I feel completely numb. The part of my brain that processes emotion seems to have shut down, and all that I hear is a constant stream of detached thought.
Over the edge he's gone drowned into the river your fault weren't there promised to be there dead didn't save him you promised FAILURE.
Suddenly I'm aware of a man's voice next to me, saying something.
"Leave the dead."
And abruptly everything comes crashing down and I fully realize what this means. The pain is greater than anything I have ever known. We're leaving Aragorn. He's dead. He's not coming back, and it's because I wasn't there for him. I told him in Lórien that I would be behind him always and I wasn't. I just... I never thought it would happen like this. A man who can take on cave trolls and armies of Uruk-hai, a man who, according to Pippin's stories, can defeat five Ringwraiths without breaking a sweat... a man like that should not be defeated in a skirmish with Wargs. And it was my assumption that he wouldn't be that cost him his life. I asked him to depend on me and I failed to be strong enough when he needed it.
And now we will leave his body to be washed away by the river. My failure is truly complete; I let him die and now cannot even give him proper burial rights. The only thing stopping me from diving in after him is the fact that I know that he would want me to help defend Helm's Deep. Perhaps I will be able to beg his forgiveness in death, for right now I feel as though even if I survive the imminent battle, I will surely die of grief before long.
I stumble through the gates of the Hornburg. I'm so dazed I don't even notice the one person I want to see most until I am nearly on top of him. I stop short and look up at him and find that I am unable to do anything but stare. He looks at me silently for a moment like he cannot decide what to say. Then simply, "Le ab-dollen."
I blink. Legolas studies my face and the state of my clothes and continues, "You look terrible."
I laugh, but Legolas does not. He simply looks at me with sad eyes and suddenly I realize what worries him. Gimli warned me that Legolas had been troubled by something deeper than the mere grief shared by the others, something that he could not place. He said that a light had seemed to go out within the Elf and while he tried his best to hide it, he had not been able to.
All of a sudden it's obvious what he is thinking. He must feel that he failed me. He promised to be there for me and now he believes that he was not. I stare, dumbfounded, at the self-hatred and fear of what I must now think of him reflected in his expression and demeanor, the way he refuses to meet my eyes. My heart constricts. How can I make him see how much he did do for me? We haven't the time or the privacy for me to be able to adequately convey that he saved my life. How can I tell him that he gave me the strength to survive the river and ride to Helm's Deep alone? I know, judging from the way every inch of my body still aches from countless cuts and bruises, that I would not have had the willpower to return to my companions if not for him. While I told myself that I needed to survive for the Rohirrim and the quest and because I had to save my people and keep my final oath to a dying friend, my heart was sustained by one mantra: you cannot leave Legolas.
But how am I supposed to tell him that? How am I supposed to explain it to him when I can't even explain it to myself? I now see that he means more to me than I ever realized, but it is my fate that I have rarely the time and energy to do anything for myself, even sort out my own thoughts.
So I lean closer to him and force him to meet my gaze. "You are more angry with yourself than I could ever be, mellon nîn."
"I'm sorry..." The words come out choked and I would swear that he is holding back tears.
"Don't be. You have kept your promise, even if you do not know it. And you're going to have to try much harder than that if you want to get me mad at you."
At this he smiles, albeit weakly, and reaches his hand up to brush a bit of hair out of my face. He looks like he is about to say something more, but instead he abruptly changes his mind and steps back.
"Lady …owyn will wish to speak with you," he says, gesturing to the other end of the hall. I look over and see that she is watching us. When I look back, Legolas is gone.
He nearly runs me down before he sees me here. I never knew I could be so relieved until the watchman rushed into the keep shouting that there was a single horseman headed towards us. Now Aragorn is standing barely a foot away from me and I don't know what to do or say.
Oh, I know what I would like to do, certainly. I would like to throw myself at his feet and beg him to forgive me for my shortcoming. I would like to hold him in my arms and convince him beyond doubt of what it took his "death" to make me realize. I would like to treat his injuries one by one, take on the forces of Isengard single-handedly, and then spend the rest of eternity continuing to make up for my failing him.
But how can I tell him what I came to see while he was gone? How can I tell him about the Lady …owyn coming to comfort me, asking my pardon for having envied what she thought was mine, and the sudden understanding that it lead me to? How can I tell him about glancing at my reflection and realizing that my inner light was diminishing because he wasn't there?
I can't, and so I hide my emotions as best I can and throw out some little quip like I usually do when with him. He laughs, but grows silent again when I do not. He lifts my chin and I am surprised to find no bitterness in the way he looks at me.
"You are more angry with yourself than I could ever be, mellon nîn."
I can feel a burning sensation behind my eyes that I had seldom known until the last day or so, but I refuse to cry. It is unbecoming in someone as old as I am, and I would begrudge anyone else the ability to provoke such a show of emotion. "I'm sorry." I can hear my voice crack.
"Don't be. You have kept your promise, even if you do not know it. And you're going to have to try much harder than that if you want to get me mad at you."
I smile, wondering how I could have kept my word but not really caring as long as he is not upset, and before I know what I'm doing I have reached up and pulled some hair back from his face. I make a move to caress his cheek and open my mouth to say something, but I stop myself just in time.
What are you thinking? You can't do this here, with all of these people, or now, before going to battle. Things like this should best be reserved for a private spot and a time when you can leave in a hurry after he rejects you.
I jerk away and take a step back. I glance over to the other end of the hall and see that our conversation has been noticed.
"Lady …owyn will wish to speak with you." Aragorn looks over at her and I take the opportunity to slip off silently.
Today the One Ring has been destroyed.
The forces or Mordor have been quelled; the last of them are now killed or retreated back beyond the Black Gate. I survey the battlefield. The ground is littered with the dead; there have been heavy losses on both sides. The air is tainted with blood and dust and the smell of death is enough to knock one who is unused to it to the ground. Some small voice of reason in the back of my head is shouting that Frodo and Sam have completed their task, the war is over, we have come out victorious, and I will soon take my place as king. The only thing that I can think of now, however, is finding Legolas. Everything else can wait; I just need to know that he is alive before attempting to comprehend the situation that my people and I have just been released from and the one that we are now in.
"Two hobbits making it into the depths of Mordor alone and saving us all. I must admit that if you had told me when we started out how it would end, I wouldn't have believed you."
I turn and Legolas is standing there, eyes glittering with happiness and relief. I look him over. His hair is a mess, braids coming out and a good deal of it soaked in blood that I pray is not his own. The armour on his left shoulder is nearly cleaved in two, and his tunic is caked in mud. He has a large gash on his right hip and several smaller ones on the side of his face that are already beginning to heal.
It occurs to me that he is quite simply the most beautiful being I have ever seen.
And in this moment I recognize undeniably that I love him. I no longer need time to think about it; I love him, and I have for many months now, and why I did not see it before is beyond me. Right now it is as clear as day and as essential and intrinsic as the sun. I don't know how I could have been so blind, but it doesn't really matter anymore, because I love him.
Legolas gives me a quizzical look and I realize that I am still standing here staring at him. I step forward and he, startled, makes a move to step back, but I stop him, placing one of my hands on each side of his head and my lips upon his. He jumps slightly, but quickly relaxes again and drops the white knives that were still in his hands. I feel his arms slide around me as his lips respond to mine.
After what seems an eternity, I pull away from him and stroke his cheek gently, and he laughs lightly as I whisper in his ear.
"You look terrible."
Site Info
We are the home of 1292 authors from among our 2552 members. There have been 2904 reviews written about our 3820 stories consisting of 10734 chapters and 29400445 words. A special welcome to our newest member, Rosamundeb.Categories
Skin Change
Donate
Help us keep one of the oldest running LotR archives available to all. Even the smallest donation helps!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
The Library, elsewhere
Other projects
Unchanged Vision by Darth Maligna
Story notes: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Corialis! Reviews can also be submitted to my FFN account, http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=6654
