Chapter 1: So it begins

Author's note:

Well, okay. We have been building and perfecting this story for probably two years now. We would very much like you to know that this is our first written fan fiction and that English isn't our first language (No matter how hard we wish it was). So if you find anything that could be improved, please let us know and we will gladly see to it.

Since crying over The Return Of The King, wonders have been blossoming in our heads... What in the valar's name happened to the characters?! Did Legolas see Aragorn again? How was Aragorn's life as a king (apart from his family and departure in the books)? What the heck did Thranduil do after renaming Eryn Lasgalen?! Anyways, all of this to tell you that we (high functioning fan girls that we are) decided to create our own version of events. Don't worry; there will be action, love, tears, death and a freaking amazing bad guy (That you probably already know Muahahaha).

Important information: This fan fiction happens 30 years after the events of The Lord Of The Rings. According to the books, Aragorn now is married to Arwen and has three children: A son and two daughters. Legolas, for his part, became lord of Ithilien and brought grace back into the shadow lands. For those who didn't know, he has heard the call of the sea. Gimli became lord of the glittering caves, where once was Helm's Deep. Thranduil rebuilt Mirkwood (now renamed Eryn Lasgalen) with Celeborn and there he remained.

We would like to thank the many authors that inspired us into finally writing this Fan fiction; Legolass Q (who wrote For The Love Of The Lord Of The White Tree), e1nav57 (who wrote Tales Of Mirkwood: Legolas and Tauriel), HelloDenmark (who wrote Coldness, Aid From A Friend, War Of Light And Darkness and Haven), Nightwing (who wrote To See A World), etc.

Also, you will probably notice that not much happens in the first chapters. Do not despair, it only serves in setting the context and the characters right. The next update might take some time, but all the ones after will be faster since the story will already be written. We are posting this first chapter to see the response of the readers.

Disclaimer: All the wonderful universe of Middle Earth is not ours but that of the wonderful writer J.R.R Tolkien. Some of the characters and the events that will be talked about are the wonderful creation of genius Peter Jackson (Although, some characters are, or partly are, our creation). Oh and by the way, even if you probably already know this, no money is made from this story.

PS: We are not Gollum... Simply two writers (sisters, actually). And don't worry... We read the books and studied them thoroughly (You can be sure it won't end up with Legolas and Aragorn doing some horny stuff while watching Thranduil beat the crap out of Gimli with a candle holder).

A Pillar In Crumbling Fields

Chapter 1: So it begins.

"I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago and people who will see a world that I shall never know."

J.R.R Tolkien

"... Although I do believe that if we are to trade with the dwarves, my lord, changes should be made concerning the communication techniques."

At this moment, if Legolas could have rolled his eyes to the back of his skull, he would without doubt have done it. He had been listening to his counselors' chatter for what had seemed like a lifetime, which appeared endless considering the long life spawn that his kin was given.

"I do agree with you, counselor Raumion, the ravens are indeed confusing. Their tongue is unknown to the ears of those who welcome their message."

And there it was again, a reason not to trade with the dwarves. Since his visit to The Glittering Caves and his appointment as Lord of Ithilien, Legolas had taken the decision to break the wall of hatred between his kin and thus of Durin. In other words, he had decided to trade with the people of his dear friend Gimli. Although, no matter how hard he tried, his counselors would always find any detail, as worthless as it could be, to make the task worthy of the courage of Beleg himself. It seemed that beyond the friendship of Legolas and Gimli, the two races were still reluctant to communicate with each other.

"Indeed, and if we are to use messengers, I am afraid that the dwarves would but slow us down. If we were to call for aid, this city would fall before their arrival." Said Raumion with obvious disgust in his voice.

"But this shall not be necessary," argued another "these are hard fought and well earned times of peace. I do not believe war will be upon us anytime soon."

"Peace is but an illusion, not only the Dark Lord can wage war against our forces." Raumion answered.

Ai valar, Legolas had the feeling of listening to his father's words once more. Then he remembered: thus he had not done in decades. In fact, he had not heard the voices of those he loved in a really long time. His duty of rebuilding Ithilien and moving his people to the forest had taken all his mind and time. And these he was wasting these two yet again listening to counselors who did not comprehend their lord's will.

Since his acquaintance with the world of the mortal, he began to understand the notion of time, and the knowledge that his best friends' years were counted made their passing distressing at times. He never counted time before. He used to simply follow the continuity of the earth and flow with its current. But when he met Aragorn, when he encountered mortals, it became different. Although, even if he had this knowledge, he could not say how long it had been since he had last seen his best friend... Or Thranduil, his own father, for the matter. He did miss Aragorn dearly and was eager to see him again. In fact, he had been since the moment he had left the white city.

The wedding of king Elessar, on the eve of his departure, truly had been majestic and enjoyed by all. Legolas had watched his friend in one of his purest moments of happiness, which made him feel the same. Tears had swelled in his companion's eyes as they did in his, and when the pair came face to face, they held tightly for much time, but that was not what took their breath away. All their desperate labors had finally brought the days of peace so highly desired, a new age of love, friendship and hope. After ages and ages passed at war, at fighting constantly, at bleeding from the arm of the enemy and shedding tears for loved ones lost... The light had finally taken over the shadows and the Dark Lord was defeated, washed away from Middle Earth forever like footsteps on the beach fading under the cold waltz of the waves...

The waves.

Those that were restlessly calling for him, whispering in his ears. And when he would but listen for a mere moment, he could almost hear a dangerously melodic euphony taking hold over his conscience and slowly attempting to drown him away from the world he knew. But he could not surrender to the whispers of his people. He could not because he had sworn... He had given his word and never did or never will break it... He had sworn...

"Hir nin Beriadan?"

Beriadan. Defender of men. Legolas had chosen it as the name representing him in his lordship. Why? Probably because it was the king of men's favorite...

"Aragorn, mellon nin, please, this is serious." Legolas declared in exasperation.

"Right" the man answered in exagerated pride, "Because it will pass into history!"

"Aragorn this is serious..."

"I still believe 'Las' to be the kingliest name you could find..."

"Oh do you, Wingfoot?" Legolas answered, a smirk blossoming on his lips.

Aragorn froze at the use of his old nickname, his grin slowly erasing itself from his lips.

"My friend, that was truly a low hit."

"And I believe 'Las' was not?" The elf answered, his smirk widening. "Clearly you display no apparent talent in finding names..."

"Is this a dare, old friend?" The human answered threateningly.

"Well it depends on how you take it..."

Aragorn then stopped talking and stared in the air for a few minutes, seemingly in deep reflexion. After some time, his eyes softened and he looked at Legolas with true wonder.

"What about Beriadan?"

"Defender of men... Why?"

"Ai, and wise they call the elves." Sarcastically said Aragorn. "Legolas, you fought for those who were not your responsibility even when you could walk away and go back to the safety of your people. Did you not earn that name? You risked your life when you knew you could live in undisturbed peace beyond the shores of the sea. Besides, if you do not consider yourself as a defender of men, consider yourself as mine."

Legolas lowered his gaze to his feet, completely speechless. He had always admired Aragorn and receiving such words from him honored the elf more than he could ever express.

"Hir nin? "

Legolas' eyes snapped out of the void as he was addressed yet again. He had completely lost the trail of the conversation and found himself unable to answer anything worthy of being spoken in a council. He never usually would have let anything distract him in his duty. In fact, nothing ever had. He had been training since he was five years old and distractions never were something he had, or his father, allowed himself.

He turned his piercing blue eyes to the counselor who addressed him and quickly made up an answer that could make some sense in this situation.

"Am I wrong, dear friends, to state that this council has been only bitter remarks on the dwarves from your part?"

The counselors suddenly all seemed uneasy, looking anywhere but in their lord's astonishing eyes that seemed to pierce through their very soul. Legolas could see Arthon, one of his most trusted friends, at the other end of the wooden table trying to stiffen his laughter, which he was, as always, failing at. His friend then raised from his place and started pacing around the table, exaggerating his gesticulation as he spoke in a caricatured kingly voice:

"I do believe, my lord," Arthon answered with less credibility than a child as he bowed exaggeratingly, "that you were, are and always will be of great wisdom." After this declaration, his goofy smile changed into an expression of annoyance and subtle threat.

"And as well as we all should, we always listen to the words of the wisest and of course never question their WISE advise... Don't we counselors?" At those last words, he winked at Legolas with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Havo dad, Arthon." Legolas spoke, gesturing towards his friend's chair.

The elf obeyed, and once seated he began to throw suspicious looks at the troubled counselors, voluntarily putting pressure and guilt in their doubting hearts.

"Well," Said one hesitantly, "Perhaps we could suggest to..." He cleared his throat." King Gimli that our people take the role of messengers."

He then looked at his lord expectantly, on the border of fear. Legolas turned his head towards him and declared:

"It is a good idea indeed."

The concerned counselor let out a breath he did not know he was holding. "With the agreement of the dwarves, I will see this political arrangement instaured... Unless you do not all agree."

"Who, around this table, is agreeing to the fact that the elves of Ithilien will assure the role of messengers?" Asked Raumion.

All the elves around the table raised their hands under Arthon's threatening glare.

"Good," Declared Legolas," then I believe this council to be over... For the time being. You are dismissed."

All the counselors rose from their seats and bowed to their lord before exiting the room, except for two elves that walked directly to their Lord.

"Hir nin, are you alright?"

Even after all they had gone through together, Nildë couldn't bring himself to call his prince, and now Lord, Legolas. Despite all the wars they had won and lost together, all the tears shared on the battlefield and all the deaths they had supported themselves through, Nildë still did not see himself as equal to Legolas. And the blond haired elf still could not bring himself to understand why.

"Legolas, Nildë. You can simply call me Legolas, mellon nin..."

"Of course hir nin... Hem, apologies... Legolas."

"Nildë, there is no need for you to apologize..."

"Oh, hem right... Apologies."

Arthon, who had accompanied Nildë, was now laughing at the face of his friend, which made him even more uncomfortable.

"Ha, dear friend! You truly are a disaster." He declared laughingly.

"Apolog... Hem, as I was saying, Legolas, are you all right? Your mind seemed strangely wanderous during the council... Is something troubling you?"

Legolas stayed silent for a few moments, meditating his words. He knew that no matter his answer, he would worry Nildë. Still, he would try to lessen the effect his answer would have on his friend, slanting 'slightly' the truth.

"I am well, mellon nin. I suppose I just need a little rest..."

"A little?!" Arthon blurted, "it looks like the floor will welcome your pretty face in an eye blink! Not that it wouldn't be for good..."

Legolas would have laughed if it were not for the truth in his friend's statement. He instead picked up his papers from the table and started striding out of the room, his two friends following close behind.

"Legolas, I am genuinely serious about this... Are you sure you're all right?"

The prince just kept walking silently, not even turning his head.

"My silence is your cue..." Insisted Arthon.

"Maybe he just needs some time alone," began Nildë, as he stopped walking," he did just rebuild a city and started trading with the most peak headed beings I know... And I don't mean it as an insult to their kin, of course... I intend, elves also have their defaults like the fact that..."

"Nildë!" Arthon exclaimed, while interrupting his steps, "We get it. But you must be right", he then turned to Legolas with a mock solemn impression, "mellon nin you appear, well... Exhausted. But then of course, exhaustion can come in truly distinct forms, per example, physically or mentally. The question is, O Lord Beriadan, how exhausted are you?"

"Hem, Arthon," Started Nildë shyly, "I trust that your question can be interpreted in different ways..."

"Aewon," Arthon cut him, "I believe Legolas knows exactly what I speak of..." He then whipped his head around to gaze at his lord, only to realize he had left some time ago and that he had been speaking uniquely to Nildë.

"Sweet Llùvatar! Why does this always happen when we but try to speak of him, with him!" Arthon declared, exasperated.

"Maybe he doesn't like to be the center of attention..." annunciated Nildë.

"Or..." Started Arthon with an exaggerated suspicious look, "perhaps there is something he doesn't want us to know..."

"...Although I do believe that if we are to trade with the elves my king, changes should be made considering the communications... We find their answers to our questions hem, with no offense, of course... Vague."

Aragorn lowered his gaze to the round table carved in pale stone while releasing a silent sigh. Even though he was named Estel, traduced from quenya as "hope", the repetitive comments of his counselors managed to dim his will of initiating trades with other races. Although, never enough to extinguish it completely. Gathering all the patience he had left, the king turned towards the man who had last spoken and answered as calmly as he could manage:

"I am not sure I understand the matter about which you complain, Ingon. The elves are open minded and work at their utmost capacity to make these communications as clear as possible, even though the common tongue is far from being their personal speech."

Or so he thought, since Legolas had apparently not taken the time to give but a sign of life in the last three decades. In the first ten years, Aragorn did his best to deem it acceptable. He knew that his elvish friend had the huge task to rid the eastern lands of their darkness and there build a realm of his own, which was an arduous task. But as the years passed by, the man's acceptance faded and his heart was filled with anguish. Not a word to tell him that he was happy, or eager to see him again. After all they had been through, Aragorn thought Legolas would show more devotion in their unbreakable bond, as he had long ago, when Middle-Earth's destiny depended on two Hobbits crawling their way to Mount Doom with the tiny strength they had left. Of course, the king of Gondor had not simply sat on his throne and waited for news to come by themselves. He had written and written more letters than he would ever dare to count, but took a particular care for his duty as a king and re builder of a new age, probably as Legolas did. He had constructed his new life in Minas Tirith with Arwen, his beloved and his three children whom he loved most in this entire world. Still, when the stars would show their subtle brightness, he would often stand on the balcony of the white tower and stare at the free lands that laid beyond. He would recall the numerous times when he had wandered through those forests, those fields, and had cursed them wrongly for their complexity. Even though it sometimes set him on a dangerous path, he always had cherished a deep love for the wilderness, but never before had he felt it so strongly than when he stood at the highest peek of the architecture of his ancestors, contemplating what was his home for most of his life, and longing to return there for another adventure.

"Face it, Aragorn. We are lost and have been for the last ten hours."

Legolas shot a mocking glare at his friend, who was looking around in confusion.

"No, Legolas. I have travelled here before. We are not lost. I... Am simply thinking of the easiest way to choose, that is all."

At this, Legolas raised his eyebrows as his lips spread in an amused smirk.

"And I suppose the easiest way takes ten hours to cross and possesses five identical rocks?"

Aragorn turned away in annoyance as Legolas continued:

"And of course you have been here before and apparently know your way. When was the last time you came here, Aragorn?"

At this the man's feature contorted in deep thought as his mind was travelling through time, seeking for an answer.

"Well, hum..."

Chuckling Legolas cut his friend's attempt to recall the lost memory:

"In human language, I believe this means too long ago and beyond the reach of your fading memory. Am I wrong?"

"I do not have a fading memory," Aragorn retorted "I just, well... Have a lot to remember. And you should not judge me, elfling. You have been of no help during the last days."

Legolas feigned indignation:

"Excuse me? I have been of considerable moral support since the beginning of your short existence, ranger. But, of course, why do I call you thus? Rangers do not get lost."

"Neither do the elves." Aragorn answered, triumphant.

"Oh, really? And what if I told you that I knew the way from the beginning, but let you seek it by yourself? After all, I wished to see the course of Anar from here. I find it interesting to have nothing between her and I. No branches, no leaves... It feels quite bare, naked. Still..."

"Wait a minute," Aragorn cut him, anger rising in his voice "you knew the way all this time and said nothing? Why?! We have been wandering about, going in circles since dawn and you simply followed?!"

"So you were lost." Legolas declared in pride.

Aragorn would smile with slight nostalgia as he recalled the memory. The ever living child within him advised him to go, to explore the foreign territories once more, but his people needed him; they needed their king. And so on he went, trying to push his worries to the back of his mind and wasting his precious time on councils that were mostly composed of complaints concerning the other races and their flaws.

"My king?"

Aragorn was pulled out of his reverie, to his distress. He had not heard a word of the conversation since his own statement.

"Do you agree?" The counselor insisted.

Asking what needed to be judged would surely make the king look like a fool. In a final attempt to save his pride, he formulated a sentence that would make him at least credible:

"I do believe it would be wise to send a letter to the elves concerning this matter. And now, it would be preferable to declare this council over since, after all, it is midnight."

At this statement, the members of the gathering turned to the window in surprise.

"Well, thank you all for your presence," Aragorn continued, "You are dismissed."

All stood and left the room as the king observed. When he finally was alone, he sighed in deep exasperation. He then slowly rose from his seat and made his way down the corridor, to his sleeping quarters.

He opened two large doors of dark wood with the carvings of another age and entered his family's personal living room. On his right, there was a wall that graciously separated into close columns carved in the same fashion as thus of the entrance. This artistic separation stood to the back of a large leather couch that faced a massive fireplace that lit the room with a comforting luminosity. On the fireside sat a large shelf containing numerous books. The wooden structure reached from floor to ceiling, and on the facing wall laid Andúril, the blade of the king. Farther on the wall where the sword shown, a door led to the bathing room, which was aligned with the door of the bedroom that stood beside the bookshelves.

Aragorn then took a few steps forward and turn to the right, opening the door to his and Arwen's bedroom. The room was filled with darkness but for the candle lit by the bedside. There, lying on the bed, was a pure example of beauty itself, reading calmly. The lady Arwen, now queen of Gondor, Aragorn's greatest love of his life. She had forsaken the serenity and freedom of her people for the man she desired, and forgot her blessed immortality to be by his side till the end of his days. The king's love for the lady Undómiel went beyond the reach of words. The very sight of her always made him speechless. He had the immense privilege of sharing his life with her and creating new ones, three precisely. Together they had raised a family of their own within the walls of the white city. First came their son, Eldarion, who was now a flourishing adult and a devoted captain of the guards of the city. Afterwards, Lostariel, their first daughter, was born. She was a woman renowned for the proximity she shared with her people and her hearing heart, full of compassion and devotedness for her people. At last, Valwen, third child of the royal family, saw her first rising sun, which was still incomparable to the light in her parents eyes at her arrival. Valwen was a young woman of great wisdom, even though her time on earth was unbelievably short compared to those who showed such a conscience. Her sight reached beyond the course of time, and her eyes could bare the very soul of those who met her piercing stare.

"Meleth nin," began Arwen in her deep and soothing voice, "I believe it would be time for you to sleep..."

Aragorn could not contain his joy at hearing his beloved's voice after listening to thus of his counselors for an elongate lap of time.

"Indeed I believe it is. Just the sound of their voices was enough to tire me... I believe I will be deaf for the next days..."

"Estel..." Arwen answered with false reprimandation. "Perhaps everything tires you... Meleth nin, I can see it everyday. Many things are troubling your mind and I believe that it would be time for you to rest your thoughts and step away from your duty as king for at least a mere day..."

Aragorn listened to his wife's wise words as he laid down next to her, still dressed in his royal tunic.

"You miss the wilderness and the freedom Estel. As much as you try to hide it for the sake of your people, it's grasp on you will not lessen."

She then raised her hand to his face and slowly caressed his cheek before posing a smooth kiss on his upper lip.

"Ai," began Aragorn while stroking her pointed ears, "what would I be without you?"

Arwen smiled slightly before softly kissing her husband on the forehead.

"Le melin Estel, Losto vae."

"Losto vae, meleth nin"

She turned on her side to blow away the candle and then laid down next to her husband, putting her head on his chest as he circled his arm around her lithe form while kissing her temple. She would not sleep, her kin not needing it, but she would stay with Aragorn nonetheless, cherishing every breath he took.

Merely two peaceful hours had passed before someone came crashing through their quarters, seemingly in panicked hurry. Aragorn immediately woke, sliding his knife from under the pillow and positioning himself in front of Arwen.

"ADA! NANETH!" She yelled while bursting through the door, a look of horror decorating her usually soft features.

Aragorn instantly put his knife on the bedside table, not wanting to scare the young woman even more.

"Valwen?" He said, inviting her to sit next to him. "Hush, just breathe, calm yourself, everything is alright."

His daughter's breathing didn't lessen in the least and she shuddered as the images she had seen played again and again in her mind. Arwen then took her hands and softly raised her chin so she could meet her eyes.

"Hush sell nin, what have you seen?" She asked, in a smooth voice with an undertone of apprehension and fear.

Valwen then tried to take a deep and calming breath before opening her mouth and blurting out the words:

"The void... Empty."

For those who do not understand Valwen's statement (which probably is happening if you haven't read Tolkien's books), do not worry, everything will be explained.

Elvish=

Beriadan: Defender of men

Mellon nin: My friend

Legolas: Greenleaf

Hir nin: My lord

Havo dad: Sit down

Estel: Hope

Eldarion: Son of the eldar

Lostariel: Blooming

Valwen: Power maiden

Meleth nin: My love

Le melin: I love you

Losto vae: Sleep well

Sell nin: My daughter

Arthon: Exalted male

Nildë: Friend