Peace Of Heart
Before you critisize: I know Legolas technically went to Ithilien after the war was over, but... I wanted the scene with his father so so bad. So, don't judge! Thanks.
The night is still and quiet. Legolas gazes out at the forest, thinking. The trees block out most of the moonlight, tall, imperial, beautiful. He is calm in stature and in expression, but inside, Legolas' mind is in turmoil. Rivendell is far from Mirkwood, and he is loathe to leave the trees he grew up in, for longer than he ever has before. And if things go as he and his father expect, he will not be returning to Mirkwood for long after arriving in Rivendell. Gently, he fingers his bow.
Suddenly, there is a soft tap on Legolas' shoulder and he silently whirls around.
A little jolt runs through his stomach. Leaving would have been so much easier if it wasn't her standing there.
"Legolas," Cithiel says. She is lithe and beautiful, slender, pale-skinned, with raven hair rare amongst Elves and eyes as blue as the Great River. "I thought I might find you here." She knows it is his thinking place.
"You shouldn't have come," he says, hiding perfectly the pain that gnaws at him at leaving her. It is an Elven skill to keep a smooth face, one Legolas has mastered particularly well.
"Why not?" Cithiel replies softly. "Am I not allowed to bid you farewell before you set off? I would not want you to leave without some memory of me, Legolas."
He doesn't meet her eye. "You know I do not want to leave," he begins. "And since I must, I do not want to have to say goodbye to you. Goodbye is final. Goodbye is... forever. It will only make departure more difficult, painful."
"You are an Elf of Mirkwood, Legolas. You will come home. We always do," she reasons. "I would go with you."
"No!" he exclaims. "This world is changing, Cithiel. Quickly. I would not have you leave your home on my account. I shall not be gone long, likely. And when I return I... I would have you safe."
Cithiel lays her hand on his arm. He pulls away. Every moment he spends with her makes it feel as though the rope (Elven, of course) tying him to his home is becoming thicker, better tied. And he can't stand it. It hurts too much.
"Legolas, one last time..." she says, looking into his eyes. She remembers what they used to do when departing, even for a moment. Extend hands, touch fingertips, embrace and wish each other the Elven farewell. Sometimes look back for one last look in each other's eyes, wise blue pouring into soulful grey. She yearns for it, to hear the beautiful words, whispered, one last time, to have his fingers on hers.
He shakes his head and kisses her forehead. "I can't."
But as he leaves... he still looks back.
************
Legolas and Gimli are sitting under the glimmering stars. The night is black and sorrow is deep- both are still mourning Gandalf. Legolas' sharp eyes can still see the forest of Lothlorien behind them. His hand is on his bow, and his eyes and ears focused on the silent landscape, but his mind is elsewhere, in Mirkwood, on the balcony where he said his last goodbye to Cithiel.
After a long time, he says, softly, "Gimli, was there a Dwarf-maiden you were bidden to say farewell to?" Gimli looks taken aback. Stroking his beard, he says,
"Nay. Why do you ask, my dear friend?"
Legolas thinks for such a long time before answering that Gimli has almost forgotten the question.
"She was like the stars, Cithiel of Mirkwood," he begins, reverence in his voice. "Shining and beautiful. And wise as the eldest in the heavens. And though by Elven standards she was no remarkable beauty, to these eyes she was the fairest of maidens, more lovely even than the lady Galadriel herself." Gimli nods. "I was more loathe to leave her than to leave the lands of Mirkwood, of my birth. The lands where I have lived for more years than Aragorn has walked this earth, longer indeed than some of the trees in my homeland." Legolas pauses.
"So, why did you leave her?" Gimli asks the question innocently, and despite his liking for the Dwarf, Legolas' face goes stony and he regards his friend as a child, which he is compared to Legolas' great age.
Legolas says, icily, " I would rather have Middle Earth, and, indeed, her, safe with us parted than have them both in danger with our hearts united once more."
There is a long silence while Gimli ponders the words. He is used to the Elf being lighthearted, of mind and of voice. He has never heard such pain in his voice before. After a few minutes, he says gruffly, "Legolas Greenleaf... there is more to you than meets first glance."
**************
"Where is my son? I desire to speak with my son!" The sharp voice of Legolas' father cuts through the trees.
Legolas breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing him. "Father," he says, embracing him. "What is the news of Mirkwood? For I have been away long and fear that I have missed much! Come! Let us invite those we love to our halls and eat and drink in celebration! For the war is won at last," he finishes, a smile upon his face.
Thranduil lays his hand on his son's shoulder, gently, with an Elven-light touch. "Celebration is in order! But first, I must talk to you. Without the Dwarf, if you please?"
Legolas frowns. "I will vouch for the Dwarf, anything fit for my ears is fit for his ears also."
"It is about Cithiel," Thranduil continues. Legolas glances at his friend and thinks for a moment before saying,
"That changes nothing. Let him stay."
Thranduil leads Legolas and Gimli inside. The airy hall is dim and Legolas breathes in the scent of leaves, of wood and soil, scents he has missed, despite the Sea-longing newly aroused in his heart. After a few moments' pause, Thranduil says, "Cithiel left Mirkwood to find you, Legolas, only six weeks after you left. News came four months later that she had been slain by an Orc-arrow. I... am sorry."
It comes crashing down on him like an ocean wave. The force of the agonizing shock nearly knocks him over, but he feels a strong and sturdy arm holding his, keeping his knees from giving way. Keeping him from falling down, straight into despair.
And suddenly Legolas can look upon his home no longer. He can see her, places she has walked, eaten, spoken, lived, he thought with a stab of pain in his gut, and already it haunts him. His already pale face is snow-white, his grey eyes seem empty. He closes them, trying to escape, to block out the world that suddenly seems so oppressive, but he cannot block out the horrible feeling eating away at his insides, gnawing. His heart seems to have crumbled inside his chest. But, despite all Legolas' inner turmoil, he only loses control for a moment: to whisper, and then cry out a single word: "No."
It may be ten minutes, it may be ten years before he opens his eyes. When he does, Gimli still has hold of his arm, and his father still stands in front of him, head bowed.
"My son," he says, "I could, perhaps, find you another maiden, a fairer Elf..."
"No!" Legolas snaps. "Don't you understand? There is no other maiden. There never was."
*******************
The sound of the Sea is loud behind the pair, as Legolas and Gimli stand on the shore, nearly ready to depart. The day is cool, the sun shining, and the wind brisk. Neither of them speaks for a long while, and they just stand, staring back at Middle-Earth, the land they love, one last time. And though Legolas longs to depart, it also pains him to leave behind his family, and the memories he has of all Middle-Earth.
After a long time, Legolas says, "The lady Galadriel told me once to beware the Sea. But now, Gimli, my friend, I feel that the Sea is where I shall find peace of heart once more."
Gimli chuckles. "I've said it once and I'll say it again: there is more to you than meets first glance, Legolas Greenleaf."
The End
