Title: The Road to Paradise 1-3/ ?
Author: Dane
Email: blue_gray_sky@hotmail.com
Pairing: Aragorn/ Legolas
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Legolas left on the night of Aragorn’s 
wedding. He travels to a small forest on the eastern 
borders of Belfalas and does a ritual to forget to pain of 
being rejected by the new King of Gondor.
Archive: Dimension of Dhvana, Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, 
Library of Moria
Disclaimer: None of this is real. All the characters 
mentioned came from the brilliant mind of J.R.R. Tolkien, 
thus I cannot claim them as my own. 
Warning: AU, much angst, slash
Serial: Yes
Genre: Angst, Adventure
Authors Note: This happened after the wedding of Aragorn 
and Arwen. BTW, this is my first FPS story so be kind. 
Feedback is always good so please send me some if you like 
the story.

Part 1: All That You Could Leave Behind

	Outside his window, Legolas heard the mighty cheer of 
the crowd as they applauded and shouted their enthusiasm 
for the newly wedded royal couple of Gondor. A bitter smile 
graced his face as he continued with his task of removing 
all of his belongings into his traveling bag, not that he 
had much to begin with since he left Rivendell. He left all 
the clothes he got from the royal tailors in the armoire. A 
single tear went down his cheek as he closed the bag and 
set it aside with his weapons. He needed only one more 
thing before he left Minas Tirith.

	He crept the corridors silently, hoping not to bump 
into anyone as he reached for his destination. Everyone was 
outside in the streets or in the bouquet hall celebrating 
the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen, daughter of Elrond Half 
Elven. Legolas encountered no one as he opened the master 
bedroom. Sorrow pierced his heart the moment he saw just 
how romantic the setting was. Candles were lit and the 
scent of roses and athelas permeated through the chambers. 
Red silk and velvet covered the bed, the one which he and 
Aragorn laid upon only a few months before, and a bottle of 
their favorite Dorwinion vintage of wine. He felt himself 
falter but instantly hardened his resolve in order to 
search for the only item in the room at he wanted to take 
with him. He found it hanging on the wall.

	It was a drawing of the fellowship before they set 
out from Imladris. It was placed in the center among other 
sketches either made by the King himself or given to him by 
the elves. Legolas gingerly took it off the wall and gently 
touched the frame. 

      In the foreground were the Hobbits, all smiles and 
innocent of what was about to fall on them on the long 
journey. Frodo and Merry were holding down a playful Pippin 
while faithful Sam was grinning beside his master. Gimli, 
who was regulated to pose with the Halflings, stood stoic 
and gruff with his mighty axe. Behind them stood the rest 
of the fellowship, if only because of their height. On one 
end was Gandalf with his pointed hat and his staff of wild 
beech. His twinkling eyes were apparent even on charcoal 
drawn paper. Next was tragic Boromir with his serious and 
troubled face. If most of them knew what terrible fate was 
destined for him, they would have tried their best to help 
prevent it. Aragorn was next, garb in his ranger clothes 
and unkempt as the next Dunedain. What was not shown was 
that he was holding hands with Legolas when the drawing was 
done by Erestor. The Mirkwood Prince used most of his will 
to not overly grin as Elrond’s adviser sketched them all. 
It was a wondrous memory that would forever haunt him until 
he faded to Mandos’ Hall. 
      
      As quickly as he got into the room, he left and 
returned to his quarters. He tenderly placed the framed 
drawing into his traveling case and shut it tight. 
Systematically, he placed all of the sheathes on his body 
and returned all of the blades in them. That was followed 
by his pack of quivers and his Lorien bow, his gift for the 
Lady of the Wood. Making sure that all of his weapons were 
at their proper positions, he lifted his case off the bed 
and went out the room. With one last observing look at the 
empty room, he closed the door and went to the stables. 
      
      Sneaking out of the Minas Tirith was amazingly easy 
as the skeletal crew of guards were too distracted by the 
merriment and the spectacular fireworks that Gandalf 
provided as his wedding gift to the royal couple. Astride 
on his horse Arod, Legolas rode slowly from the tall gates 
to the renewed plains of the Pelennor Fields as to not 
arouse any suspicion of his departure. Once he felt he was 
far enough from the White Towers, he gave the brightly lit 
city one last despairing look and galloped away.
      
Part 2: The Ritual of Total Ablution

	It took a few days to reach the eastern end of the 
Bay of Belfalas and into a small forest that overlooked the 
sea. Just beyond the trees of the wood, a huge cliff fall 
suddenly descended into the smashing waves of the ocean. 
The forest itself was roughly the size of Trollshaw, a 
wooden area made famous by Bilbo’s encounter with some very 
stupid Trolls. Right in the middle was a stream of fresh 
water and the surrounding foliage and game provided the 
Wood Elf with enough food to last him for a while.

	He breathed in the salty air and his heart stirred 
for the West. It was a familiar sensation since he heard 
the gulls for the first time in Pelargir. His depression 
deepened for he knew more sorrow than any elf on Middle-
Earth.

	His thoughts went back to the time before he set off 
for Rivendell. A seer in the court of his father Thranduil 
gave the Prince a grim premonition. She said that once he 
placed one foot on the valley protected by the river 
Bruinen then he would suffer like no living Silvan ever 
did. He considered leaving the task of telling Elrond about 
Gollum’s escape to his brother but gave up that thought 
when the thought of the opportunity to leave Mirkwood was 
the obvious advantage to the errand.

	And suffer he did. Not only was he close to fading 
because of his love for the King of Men despite Aragorn’s 
rejection, but his heart yearned to sail to far off 
Valinor. Two obsessions warred in his fragile psyche. When 
his father heard of his indiscretions with Elessar, the 
foster son of Elrond, during the long journey to Gondor and 
Mordor, he sent a letter by a swift messenger telling him 
that he was banned from stepping foot on Mirkwood on pain 
of death. It hurt the Prince knowing that Thranduil’s old 
prejudices with Men and the Noldor Elves were more 
important than the well-being of his son and heir. 
Separated, denied, and rejected, these words suddenly 
defined his life, he thought sadly.

	He shook his head viciously, not wanting to plunge 
himself into his emotions again. 

	He was here in this part of Middle-Earth for a 
reason. It was here that he had access to some plants that 
he needed for the Ritual of Total Ablution of the Mind, 
Body and Spirit. Checking the height of the sun in the sky, 
he calculated that he had a few hours to gather the 
required items.

	Like the time he was looking over Minas Tirith, 
Legolas gave the sun one last look before getting on with 
his task.

*	*	*	*

	Legolas lit a large fire near the stream and tossed 
his traveling clothes into it. The first step of the 
cleansing was done. Next, he went to the water and dove 
himself into its icy embrace. The cold water was to wash 
the body of past lovers and of painful memories. He shot up 
and gazed up at the high moon, letting his body float as 
Arda’s beauty encompassed him. Being an Elf, the cold 
didn’t bother him, more of comforting him as the stream’s 
magical properties healed his scars and battle wounds. 
After an hour in the water, the Wood Elf stood and dried 
himself. 

	By now, the fire was huge because of the burning 
clothes and the amount of fuel he placed. Near the flames, 
he mixed the proper ingredients into a potion that the old 
seer from Mirkwood taught him to do before he left his 
former home. Legolas smiled grimly when he mixed in the 
Athelas with the Teardrop Flowers and Lavender, thinking of 
his old lover and his affinity for the plant. He wanted to 
laugh at the irony of it all. Once the potion was made, he 
stared at it for some time before summoning up his courage 
and swallowing the concoction.
	
	The effects were immediate. His skin began to sweat 
both from the heat of the fire and that of the fever caused 
by the potion.  Soon he would fall into a trance and allow 
his mind to seep slowly into the world of dreams. That 
would heal his mind of all of his depressions and impotent 
anger. Soon, his mind would be healed. Only one more thing 
was needed to be done before he fell into the trance. 

	Grabbing some Dreamsmoke Weed from his supplies and 
tossing it into the fire, the air was then filled with a 
sweet, heavy scent that dulled his senses. Reverie was near 
and he was prepared for the final step of the total 
ablution.

	Legolas then sat down in front of the fire and 
started to sing from the very depths of his soul. He sang 
of the first time he met Aragorn and how the intensity of 
the would-be King drew him immediately. He sang of the 
quest and how it helped define their relationship. He sang 
of the despair and resentment he felt when his love let him 
go when he was crowned as King so he could rule his kingdom 
and beget heirs. He sang of the pain that he felt when he 
witnessed Aragorn’s wedding. Then there was his father 
disowning him and outlawing him from his home. The West was 
denied from him because of his promise to Aragorn to stay 
until his death. He was bound to this hateful existence so 
he couldn’t fade like he wanted to. He had no one to 
comfort him and no one wanted him.

	‘Forget the pain! Forget the despair! Forget 
everything!’ he sang at the end of each stanza and his hazy 
mind began to believe his own voice.

Part 3: The Garden of Delight

	The song went on and on with Legolas singing more of 
his emotional agony and his spiritual pain as the hours 
went by. For a night and a day, the song echoed through the 
forest and the sea, reaching the people of Dol Amroth, the 
subjects of Prince Imrahil. Local superstition suggested 
that the song was coming from the spirits of their Elven 
ancestors, while the more paranoid individuals in the city 
thought of it as remnants of Suaron’s power and tried to 
scare them all. But most agree that the song were of a 
eulogy for something that was lost. It culminating on a 
sound so full of sadness that those who hear it wept and 
cried, making everyone forget their duties and unable to 
stop listening.

	When the continuous singing ceased, the Regent of Dol 
Amroth and Son of Prince Imrahil, Lord Elphir, sent a 
search party to seek out the source of that mysterious 
dirge. The party looked for weeks until they came upon the 
forest on the eastern end of the bay. They were amazing at 
the sudden outgrowth of flora within the small wood. 
Lilies, Lavenders, Fire Blooms, and other flowers and 
plants long thought extinct grew all over the forest. The 
colors of the flowers all around them made their eyes 
wander with undisguised admiration and astonishment. It was 
almost as if the earth renewed itself and allowed long 
forgotten seeds to grow. In the wind, a child-like laughter 
was heard by the soldiers. Trailing it took a while for 
they had a hard time locating the sounds of mirth. 

	Strangely enough, it was when they stopped trying 
they found somebody was when they found someone playing in 
the stream. He was a man, or at least they thought of him 
as a man, for he was shaped as a man, but his hair was as 
golden as the sun and his skin was as pure as ivory. What 
was even stranger was that he was naked and wasn’t bothered 
the least with the cold breeze coming from the sea. His 
back was turned, revealing a most luscious view of his 
posterior to the company of soldiers. Most in the company 
were embarrassed when their treacherous minds thought 
lustful images of the unknown person. 

	The captain shook his head to rid of his head of the 
mesmerizing spell that the beautiful man was presenting and 
dismounted his horse. He approached tentatively and called 
out the attention of the ‘man’. The lovely creature turned, 
showing his bright smile and his eyes of sky blue, and 
startled the company into awed silence. Moments passed 
before the captain got himself together and asked the ‘man’ 
whom he was. 

	The ‘man’ laughed and tossed his long blonde hair 
back, revealing his pointed eyes. 

	“It’s an Elf!” exclaimed one of the soldiers who was 
with the cavalry who joined the battle at the Pelennor 
Fields. He was one of the few from Belfalas to have seen 
the elves.

	“It’s more than an Elf,” said the captain, who was at 
the war also. “It’s Prince Legolas of Mirkwood! What are 
you doing here, your highness?”

	The Elf merely tilted his head to one side, as if not 
comprehending what the captain was saying, and giggled. He 
then went off his way, splashing the waters of the stream 
and singing a nursery rhyme that Elven children sung while 
playing. While he sang, his body seemed to glow as if the 
Valar touched his soul. 

	The search party was befuddled with confusion and 
amazement. How did one of the Nine Walkers ended up her in 
Belfalas? And why was Legolas Greenleaf acting like this?

	Not knowing what to do in this situation, the captain 
placed a few of his most trusted soldiers to guard the 
forest, the ones he knew that won’t molest the Elf, and 
brought the rest back to Dol Amroth to report to his liege. 
Two days passed and another company came, this time it came 
with Lord Elphir and his father, who came the day before 
from Gondor’s capital. 

	“Are you sure Captain that Prince Legolas was spotted 
in these very woods?” asked Imrahil, peering at the trees 
with much skepticism.

	“Yes, my liege. I recognized him as well as ten of 
the original search party. We were all at Minas Tirith 
during the Battle of Pelennor and we all saw him along with 
the King on the ships of the Corsairs. We also marched with 
them on the way to the Black Gates,” said the captain.

	The Prince of Dol Amroth raised an eyebrow with 
curious intent. It was a big mystery as to why the Mirkwood 
Elf left during the wedding celebrations of King Elessar. 
No one saw him leave nor did anyone remember about his 
presence until the next day when Gimli went to his room and 
found it empty, almost as if he never was there at all. The 
Prince himself was apart from all the pursuits done to find 
him, but was privy to the worried expressions of the 
remaining fellowship members at the meals before he left 
for Belfalas. 

	Imrahil and his son got off their horses and stepped 
into the forest with a small group of guards in their rear. 
Both of them were awe-struck at the loveliness of the wood 
that looked more now like a wild garden tended by Yavanna 
herself rather than a forest. Going to the stream, they saw 
Legolas bending down to drink some of the water, still 
naked as the day he was introduced to Arda. As he drank, he 
seemed to glow like he was a star sent to earth. 

	“Beautiful,” whispered Elphir as his father 
approached the Elf with some trepidation.

	“Legolas,” Imrahil said cautiously. The Silvan Elf 
looked up and his eyes shined with recognition.  “It’s me, 
Prince Imrahil. Do you know where you are?”

	Legolas smiled. “Of course, Imrahil. We were 
comrades-in-arms against Sauron. And as for where we are? 
We are at the most eastern part of your fiefdom of 
Belfalas. About fifteen leagues from here is your city of 
Dol Amroth, isn’t it?”

	Imrahil’s eyes widened and his mind went crazy with 
speculation. “Are you all right, my friend? You are far 
away from Minas Tirith and from your precious Mirkwood.”

	“Am I your friend?” Legolas asked, creasing his brow 
with consternation. “I don’t remember much actually. I know 
where I am but I don’t know why I’m here. The only thing 
that I know right now is that I’m very happy here. I have 
all what an Elf could want here. The trees, the water of 
this stream, the sun above and later the moon, and the 
sound of the sea beyond the trees. The wind feels nice on 
my skin and the earth provides me with everything that 
nourishes my body. The creatures here give me great 
conversation and no one harms me. I am content beyond 
measure.”

	“Don’t you want to stay with me at my castle as my 
humble guest? You would meet my family and get the best 
view of the sea,” offered Imrahil as if tempting a child 
with some sweets.

	The Elf only smiled benignly in response. “I don’t 
need to leave these woods, Imrahil. I don’t recall much 
except that I don’t want to leave this garden of mine. Why 
not stay here instead where the Valar can watch over us?”

	For an hour, Imrahil tried with as much diplomacy he 
could muster to lure Legolas out of the forest and into Dol 
Amroth only to fail and leave, shaking his head with 
defeat. The Prince of Dol Amroth and his company walked out 
of the garden dejected and weary. 

	“What are we going to do, father?” asked Elphir. “He 
won’t come out of that place. Will we just leave him 
alone?”

	Imrahil thought for a while and went to his horse to 
get some paper and a quill. He quickly wrote a letter and 
sealed it with some wax that he melted from a lantern 
candle. 

	“Talemon!” the Prince called. A man in riding attire 
approached. “Take this to Minas Tirith and present this to 
the King. Do not give this to anyone else. It is for the 
eyes of King Elessar and the rest of the fellowship, should 
you encounter anyone of them. Make haste!”

	The messenger bowed graciously and left for the long 
journey to the capital.

	“If he won’t listen to me then I’m sure Aragorn will 
have a better chance of convincing this wayward elf.”

	“What do you think happened to him, father?” 
questioned Elphir. “It’s as if he was a child again. He 
doesn’t seem to remember much of the war, only that we 
defeated the Dark Lord and that Gondor has a new King. He 
doesn’t remember his family nor his friends other than 
their names that for all he knows they are the person 
standing next to him in a crowd of people.”

	Pensively, Imrahil glanced back at the forest and 
frowned. “I don’t know, son. I am as confused as you are in 
these turn of events. I just hope that the King will have 
an answer to all this. Come, let us all ride back up the 
coast to Dol Amroth. If we hurry, we can catch dinner. 
We’ll worry about Legolas when the King answers the 
letter.” 

	Without another word on the matter, Imrahil, Elphir, 
and their guards, abandoned their quarry and galloped back 
to the city. Back in the stream, Legolas danced to the 
sounds of the birds and splashed about like a water spirit 
at play. 

TBC….



Title: The Road to Paradise 4-6/ ?
Author: Dane
Email: blue_gray_sky@hotmail.com or writerdane@yahoo.com 
Pairing: Aragorn/ Legolas
Rating: R
Summary: AU. Legolas left on the night of Aragorn’s wedding and does a 
ritual to forget the pain of being rejected by the new King of Gondor. 
Also, introducing some elves from the Grey Havens that are en route to 
Minas Tirith.
Archive: Dimension of Dhvana, Of Elves and Men, Melethryn, Library of 
Moria
Disclaimer: None of this is real. All the characters mentioned came from 
the brilliant mind of J.R.R. Tolkien, thus I cannot claim them as my own. 
Serial: Yes
Genre: Angst, Adventure
Authors Note: The elves in chapter 6 are of my own creation. For those in 
the list of Dimension of Dhvana, the elves are Cuner (Colin), Arandur 
(Stuart), Mirimon (Charles or Charlie), and Taurnosto (Ewan). You know 
who they are.


Part 4: Of Gardens and Hoagies

	After what felt like an Age, Gondor was at peace. There were no 
worries about attacks from whatever enemies that may present themselves 
for they are much diminished after the War of The Ring. The primary 
focus of the King was to rebuild and to establish himself among his 
people. With Faramir’s support, his position was firmly cemented. With 
the help of Gimli, the outer walls of the city have started being repaired 
and would be done hopefully by the beginning of winter. Elrond Half-
Elven and the Lady Galadriel sent along some elves to replant the forests 
near the capital and the gardens found within the walls, while they stayed 
as guests of the King. The central gardens were being tended specially by 
Samwise and, albeit reluctantly, Pippin. Gandalf and Aragorn gave them 
the task so the sapling of the White Tree could be planted and that they 
may spend some time away for the House of Healing to give Merry and 
Frodo some space. 

	“I know you worry about your master, Sam, but he needs his rest 
more than ever. You and Pippin merely need a few days bed rest to 
recuperate,” said Elessar to the hobbit gardener over luncheon. “His 
struggle weighed heavily on his soul and he bore the Ring much longer 
than you. Losing a finger didn’t help either. He will be spending the next 
few days sleeping and recovering.” The King then turned to Pippin. “That 
goes the same for Merry, so don’t go bothering him, Pippin. His encounter 
with the Witch-King left him exhausted. He doesn’t need your 
hyperactivity to aggravate him even further.”

	Both hobbits did their job begrudgingly, but Aragorn knew that the 
two needed other distractions than hovering possessively over their 
friends. At that moment, Sam was planting small bulbs of Elanor into the 
ground while Pippin pulled the weeds off a nearby patch.

	“What do you think really happened to Legolas, Sam?” asked the 
young Took as he stubbornly pulled at one persistent weed.

	Sam rolled his eyes. “Pippin, haven’t you learned anything from 
that episode with the palantir thing? You’d think that being a target of 
Sauron’s eye would have cured you of being too curious.”

	Pippin just smiled cheekily at him. “Well, I don’t think I’m going 
to get into trouble for asking your opinion, Sam. It’s just that I’m worried, 
that’s all. I’m sure Legolas can take care of himself but one can’t help but 
be so at his sudden disappearance.”

	Sighing, Sam abandoned his replanting for the moment. 
Sometimes, the hobbit’s perchance for gossip overrode their common 
sense. “Well, you got to admit that the Prince has been acting strange 
since the day of Aragorn’s coronation, mind you. He would always go out 
of his way to avoid going out with any of us, but Gimli. I’m sure that if we 
can get Gimli drunk enough at the next banquet, we can get him to spill 
out everything.”

	Obviously, Pippin loved the idea. “Do you think we could speed 
things up with some nectar from the Horn Blower?”

	An alarmed expression filled Sam’s face. “How do you know that? 
It’s a well-guarded secret among the elves. The only reason I know it is 
because Lord Elrond explained to me some of the uses of the plants in his 
herb garden.” He remembered that day when he was shown a pink trumpet 
flower that dripped copious amounts of dark orange nectar by the 
Rivendell Lord, as well as other useful plants of some dubious nature.

	Pippin smiled mischievously. “How do you think we Tooks get our 
reputation as being the one’s in the know? We get it from the source. 
Besides, tipping some Horn Blower Nectar into an unsuspecting victim’s 
cup is an old Took tradition. Why do you think so many hobbits are wary 
of me and my kin?”

	A loud guffawing was heard behind them and they saw the target 
of their mischief approach them while laughing with his Dwarven girth 
silly. “And thus the old saying goes, ‘Never trust an innocent face for they 
cause the most naughty.’ Don’t think you can put some truth draught into 
my ale, young master Took. We dwarves have a special immunity against 
the nectar.” Pippin snapped his fingers, feeling a bit disappointed that his 
idea was foiled even before it started. “As for what fair Legolas might 
have told me, you could have just asked me directly unless I was sworn to 
secrecy. Now, stop your gossiping for a time and join me for a mid-
afternoon meal. Putting new mortar and stone into a wall makes me 
hungry though it gives me great joy.”

	The three of them left the garden for the bustling of the castle’s 
kitchen. The cook saw them and gave them each a plate of his attempt at a 
hobbit novelty: the Hoagie Sandwich, along side a tankard each of ale. 

	“Now Gimli, tell us about Legolas,” demanded Pippin, “it will help 
us understand some insight to our Elven friend.”

	A forlorn and wistful expression came upon the dwarf’s face. “It’s 
not that easy to tell, young hobbits. Though I was not sworn to hold my 
tongue, it is a difficult prospect to divulge fully. In fact, the only reason as 
to why I know such information was that our friends were not quite 
discreet with their actions while we were in Rohan.”

	“Rohan?” thought Sam aloud. “That could only mean that 
something happened between Legolas and Aragorn, unless I’m mistaken. 
Out of our company, the three of you were there at the time, if you 
exclude Gandalf.”

	“Aye, the problem lies betwixt our King and our Prince.” 

	“Is it because they are lovers?” asked Pippin before biting into his 
sandwich.

	Thick eyebrows were raised by the dwarf. “You surprise me, 
young master Took. That is a secret that only myself and our two friends 
know about. Disclose your methods or I’ll be forced to believe that you 
use skullduggery and sorcery in your ways of possessing such 
knowledge.”

	The youngest hobbit shrugged his shoulder. “It’s nothing elaborate, 
friend Gimli, merely just good observation. I saw them kiss while we were 
in Lorien. I was looking for Frodo and Merry, and I inadvertently saw 
them in each other’s arms while bathing in the river. I never looked the 
other way so quickly in my life.”

	“Quite a turn, wasn’t it?” asked Sam.

	“Quite like that time I stumbled upon you and Frodo cleaning each 
others ‘carrots’ in Rivendell.” Sam blushed while Gimli gave a mighty 
chortle. “Now back to your claims, Gimli. We know the players but what 
is the cause.”

	“The cause is quite simple really but the matter is delicate,” 
admitted Gimli. “Aragorn was forced to choose between Legolas and 
Arwen on the day of his coronation. To out Mirkwood Prince’s despair, 
Aragorn chose Arwen even if it was to be expected. Legolas knew that our 
Ranger would go to Elrond’s daughter but the way he told it was callous 
and disrespectful. Aragorn is sorry for doing that Legolas and he lost a 
friend in the process. The confrontation left Legolas brokenhearted, but 
still the blasted elf soldiered on. He was normal, if a little depressed until 
the day of Aragorn’s wedding. If I’m not mistaken, a messenger from 
Mirkwood arrived earlier that day.”

	“Something in that letter must have triggered Legolas’ departure,” 
surmised Sam.

	Gimli nodded. “I thought as much. I was surprised when I found 
his room empty the next day. Only his clothes that the local tailors made 
for him were left behind. Any sign of him have been none until now.”

	Pippin sighed. “I hope he comes back soon. He does make a very 
good selection of mixed drinks. That concoction of his called ‘Sex on the 
Silverlode’ really does hit the spot when we attended that party in 
Lothlorien.” 

	Sam rolled his eyes once again and told Pippin to eat his sandwich 
before thumping him upside on the head.

Part 5: A Talk with a White Wizard

	“Do you think he will return, Gandalf?”

	The white wizard turned away from his musing of a painting of 
Aragorn’s likeness, holding high his sword Anduril. He was with the King 
in his den where royal matters were conducted. Gandalf noted the weary, 
tired slouch the King adopted days after Legolas’ disappearance. For the 
moment, he felt some sympathy towards him.

	“I do not know, Estel,” admitted the wizard. “You conceived this 
dilemma and now you suffer because of it. The Prince would have 
understood your decision. After all, Thranduil would have demanded the 
same of him. Then again, Legolas has always been a little too sensitive for 
an elf. It wouldn’t be surprising for his age. He would be as old as a 
twenty year old boy venturing into the world for the first time, if it wasn’t 
for his true age and that he’s well passed his majority.”

	Aragorn was shocked. Despite the harsh times, 20 years of age was 
still young in many parts of Middle-Earth, even in elvish years. Most 
people he knew at that age were still immature but struggling to grow up. 
If that was the case, then Aragorn rued his decision of rejecting Legolas so 
cruelly. 

	“If I only knew,” he said in remorse. Seeing that he couldn’t do 
anymore work, he abandoned the piles of paperwork on the desk and 
wandered over to the balcony. “I love him with all my heart, but I needed 
to focus on my people. I knew he wouldn’t leave so I thought of making 
him leave me. It broke my heart but I thought I was doing the right thing. 
Even Arwen thought of me as spiteful and heartless. Its only no wonder 
she left me for her own private quarters. She still loves me though,” he 
said with a sigh.

	Gandalf joined him outside and saw the magnificent view of blue 
sky that once was clouded with ash and smoke. Banners bearing the white 
tree flayed in the air and joyous music rang through the city as people 
worked to rebuild. Mingling with the music were the melodic voices of the 
visiting elves from Lothlorien and Rivendell. All those structures that have 
been untouched by the war were cleaned and repainted back to their 
pristine white color. Far off across the river and nearer to the city of 
Osgiliath, a large burning pyre was made to burn all the remains of the 
dead Orcs and men from Harad, sending a singular pillar of blackness into 
the sky. His thoughts became dark because of the association of the foul 
creatures. This went further as his foresight saw a storm brewing near the 
sea with tides reaching the heavens and lightning flashing with heaving 
rain.

	“Let’s hope for the best,” Gandalf encouraged though his mind 
thought otherwise. “Legolas is a forgiving soul. If anything, I think he 
went away to get some space away from you and the crowded city. He 
will return one way or another.” He sincerely hoped so, he thought 
confidently.

	“Yes, he will,” Aragorn reiterated to himself.

	A knock fell heavily on the massive oak doors and Faramir 
entered. He respectfully bowed and approached them. Aragorn tried to 
break the habit out of him while they were in private, but Faramir simply 
was still in too much awe to be familiar with him on any terms. Still, the 
young steward was learning, if a little slow to the King’s liking.

	“Sire, a messenger form Belfalas with a letter bearing Prince 
Imrahil’s seal is waiting outside. He said that he could only place the 
missive into your hands or to any member of the fellowship. It sounded 
important so I brought him up.”

	Aragorn and Gandalf looked at each other with some foreboding 
fear though their faces didn’t show it. The Steward led them back to the 
den and bade the messenger to have an audience with the King and the 
Wizard. 


Part 6: A Ship in a Stormy Sea

	Black clouds covered the sky as rain came down hard. Lightning 
and thunder crashed as vicious winds whipped at the tides, making them 
towering and frightening. The storm’s reach covered much of the horizon 
that the coastal towns headed for shelter as soon as the first signs of a 
squall were recognized by the sailors and fishermen. Within the grips of 
the rainstorm, a long white ship battled with the waves. The crew of ten 
elves tried with determination to control the thrashing sails from coming 
loose and to maintain their course.

	“My Lord Cuner,” shouted one of the deck hands fearfully as he 
wobbled in his approach to captain operating the helm. “If we don’t find 
shelter soon, the ship will be torn asunder.”

	Strong, piercing brown eyes faced his crew elf. “I know that, 
Mirimon,” the Elven captain said impatiently. He quickly surveyed the 
crew and thought redundantly that they were all drenched and limp. “Tell 
Taurnosto to keep the sails facing west. If we maintain that course, we will 
arrive in the fiefdom of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. I just hope to the 
high Valar that he won’t turn down our plea of mooring in our ship until 
the storm passes.”

	“Yes, my lord.” Mirimon turned and ran to the deck.

	The Elven captain gripped hard on the steering wheel so they 
wouldn’t go far from their intended destination. An hour passed before 
another elf with brunette hair ambled slowly towards the navigation deck 
and chuckled as he held on tight to the railing. The rain hadn’t subsided 
and continued to pound on the haul of the ship.

	“Be careful, Arandur. I don’t want to lose my healer and kinsman 
on this foolish journey,” admonished the captain.

	“Don’t worry, Cuner. We elves may be immortal but I value my 
life like any sane minded mortal. I’m just here to inform you that young 
Mirimon has found the land we have been looking for in this storm. He 
spotted a lighthouse two leagues away.”

	The captain breathed a sigh of relief. “The only thing we have to 
worry right now is the hospitality of the Prince.”

	“I don’t think we will have much problem with that, cousin. Prince 
Imrahil has elven blood in him though it is much diluted over the 
centuries. His bloodline is like that of Elessar of Gondor and Faramir, his 
steward. They will be hospitable to us, despite the fact that elves haven’t 
been seen in Belfalas in an Age.”

	“I doubt their history has ever recorded a meeting between them 
and the elves of Lindon, such as us. If it wasn’t for the summons of Elrond 
and Galadriel to send someone in Cirdan’s place at the council, we 
wouldn’t be in this mess.” With his sight, Cuner managed to finally see 
the faded pinprick of light in the far horizon. It would take another hour to 
arrive at Dol Amroth.”

	“This is council is important, cousin. If Lord Cirdan could make it, 
he would have made this journey, but another batch of elves is on their 
way to Valinor this moment and they need his authority to enter the 
Undying Lands. Lindon’s seneschal is busy with running the city and you, 
being one of Cirdan’s most trusted and youngest advisors, chose you as 
his representative. You may resent the responsibility sometimes, but admit 
it, you enjoy the challenge.”

	Cuner gave his cousin an annoyed look. “You know I hate 
handling anything remotely involving diplomacy. It makes my head ache 
every time I have to shovel the horse manure to smooth things over. Its 
times like these I wonder why our family is cursed to be councilors and 
advisors to the High Rulers of Elves in Middle-Earth.” Arandur simply 
patted his shoulders and laughed.

	The long minutes passed as they steadily neared the port of Dol 
Amroth. The rain still beat heavily on the ship, as do the waves. As they 
docked, all of the elves heard an echo of a long gone lament. Cuner gave 
Arandur a speculative expression but the healer merely closed his eyes to 
hold off his tears.

TBC….