The Anti-Elf Anthem

The room was full of Mortals, drinking, mingling, laughing, gossiping and generally enjoying themselves. After a hard day's work or fighting and guarding their land and people against the Dark Forces that constantly threatened to slaughter them all without mercy. It was loud, stuffy and crowded, but all were happy and content with life.

It had been several months since the nine left Rivendell. The Fellowship had travelled many miles, over many terrains and through many countries, some that were more welcoming than others. They had lost and gained much – their Fellowship had split into three groups and one member of the group had already been killed. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas had managed to stay together, however, and they had eventually arrived at Minas Tirith for shelter so they could decide from there what step to take next.

Aragorn was a Mortal and was well respected by the other soldiers so he was welcomed in immediately by the Gondorians. Gimli was given a few odd looks at first, but once they realised he was a friendly dwarf and that he had a huge alcohol problem, he immediately got on well with the other men, despite the fact that they were at least three feet taller than him. Legolas, on the other hand, was not welcomed quite so well.

The candle flame flickered and wavered as the wind blew outside - it was a cloudless night and the sky was full of stars. It was dark out and everyone was indoors. Everyone, save one. Legolas stood outside like a young tree, still and silent, looking out across the dark landscape. Occasionally he looked up into the stars for comfort and some form of support, but he received none. Tears appeared in the depths of his eyelids but he let none of them show.

As he entered the grounds of Minas Tirith, he was accepted, just as Aragorn and Gimli were – he was treated as just another being. But an hour or so after he had met the Gondorians, his hair was accidentally brushed back and the tip of his ear was shown. A silence grasped the air and everyone gasped. Legolas did not realise how much hate had grown in their hearts against the Elves, nor did he fully understand why. They exclaimed several reasons – that the Elves had abandoned them in their hour of need, that they were self-centred and answered only to the cries of help of their own kindred or that they were simply evil creatures in general.

Since that moment, he had been abused – both physically and verbally – and treated like scum of the earth. Aragorn had done what he could to stand up for his friend but the mob against Legolas were just too strong and when Legolas realised that it was a choice of hating him or having them all kicked out of Minas Tirith and hated forever (which would severely damage Aragorn's future reign as King), Legolas simply left and let them say or do what they wished. Thankfully, they did not pursue him as he left the halls, they simply left him alone – so long as he was nowhere near them, they didn't care much.

He had never felt this way; he had never been treated or hurt like this before. The wounds of battle for him were easy to heal, but this pain would not cease – it was continuous, it was agony and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Smoke wafted out of a small window and hovered in front of Legolas' face. The Elf could not stand the smell of the Mortal's smoke and so wafted it away delicately with his long, slender hand.

Inside, the atmosphere was high and happy and the air was full of smoke and the smell of beer and old men. Gimli was sat at a table with a large tankard of beer or ale or mead or some form of alcoholic beverage – Gimli couldn't tell the difference, he just liked the alcohol. Aragorn stood not far away from Gimli, smoking, as he often did.

Eventually, Aragorn decided that a decision had to be made and that he desired to hold a council with his friends. He roused Gimli from his half-conscious state and beckoned Gandalf to follow him.

"Friends!" he cried to the men around him in a loud voice, "I go to take council with my close friends. I shall return shortly".

The men shouted loudly to show their respect for their leader and several drunken men claimed how much they loved him. However, just before Aragorn left the room, a gruff voice shouted to him in an evil, almost twisted manner:

"My Lord, shall you not want the Elf with you?"

Everything stopped. All singing, shouting, talking, whispering and drinking ceased as all fell silent. All eyes turned to Aragorn and the man who had just made his outrageous, yet very true statement. After a few seconds pause, people muttered the name of the race they loathed so much and many of them spat loudly and deliberately on the floor. Aragorn looked around awkwardly – he was a great friend of the Elves and wished to remain friends with both races.

"Come now, friends" he said, secretly pleaded, "let us befriend this Elf. He is a great friend of mine and a great warrior – much of Sauron's army has he slaughtered".

"He is with Sauron!" one of the men at the bar shouted, "he is one of them!!" Several agreed, equally shouting rude remarks and false abuse about the Elves.

Legolas, his keen ears hearing every word quite clearly through the open window, stood outside, absolutely still so his presence would not be noticed. He had never been so insulted in all his life – normally, he would strike this man to show his power and authority, but the grief of his pain overwhelmed him and a single tear fell down his face.

"No!" Aragorn exclaimed. "No, you have it all wrong!"

He was about to continue when he realised that several men had begun to advance slowly and menacingly towards him. Aragorn knew most of these men were drunk and starting a fight with them would be a seriously bad move.

"Are you 'one of them'?" one man said slowly and threateningly. Aragorn noticed the knife attached to this man's side and became suddenly alert.

"Are you a friend of the Elves?" he asked, bearing his gross teeth.

Aragorn did not know how to answer these people: if he answered truthfully, what would happen next would surely not be to his benefit. If he lied to save his skin, his friendship with Legolas could be destroyed forever and Legolas was too strong, too important and too loyal a friend to lose.

Aragorn inhaled deeply and opened his mouth to speak when before he could start his sentence, a melodic yet crushed and clearly hurt voice reached his ears from across the other side of the room.

"Do you require me, Aragorn?" Legolas asked emotionlessly, standing in the doorway, staring at Aragorn, again emotionlessly, though Aragorn could clearly see the Elf's inner suffering in those sapphire orbs.

"Ah, yes!" said Aragorn, glad that he was not alone in this awkward situation. He walked over towards Legolas, beckoning the Elf towards him.

"Come with me, my friend".

He very nearly said 'mellon nin' but quickly managed to stop himself, as that would only make the situation a lot, lot worse. Even Aragorn called the Elf 'my friend' seemed to upset some people and there were mutterings and growls as he said it. Aragorn walked towards the door and Legolas followed, ignoring yet acknowledging the many eyes glaring at him distastefully.

As he walked by them, some spat at his feet, some called him names such as 'Coward', 'Disgusting Elf', 'putrid' and other such names and he received such shoves and rude pushes to his shoulders and back.

Normally, he would never stand for his sort of behaviour, but if he struck out at them and stood up for himself, his reputation would sink even lower – if that was possible – and then they would hate him forever; there was nothing he could do.

It is not a terribly large room – about half the size of an average council hall – but the walk out of it seemed to last a lifestyle. As he walked swiftly and directly towards the door where Aragorn waited for him, they began to chant. Legolas had to admit in his mind that they had obviously put a lot of effort into devising and writing this song, but he had to heavily restrain himself from striking them sharply because of it. One man began it and it went something like this:

Of all the men of Gondor, I must say

That my least favourite race is the Elf

I'd rather have lunch with a fat ogre

Than to spend one moment with an Elf.

I'd rather take an orc to my local bar

Than to toast to an Elf's self.

They're tall and they are far too skinny

And of this you must be sure:

That Elves are the sickliest things around

And sadly there's no cure.

A friend of the man singing who was standing next to him joined in and soon, several men were chanting clearly and horribly at the poor Elf.

Stay away from the stupid elves

They looked like women and they smell like hell

So if you would take my sound advice

Keep a distance of at least ten feet!

Even as Legolas left the room, he could hear them chanting, repeating verses and singing loudly and boisterously so that they could wound the Elf as much as possible. As Legolas swiftly strode out of the door, Aragorn placed his arm round his friend's shoulders and pulled him gently to one side.

"Legolas, my friend" Aragorn said as gently and sympathetically as possible, "I am sorry, really I am so sorry for …"

"Don't" the Elf suddenly interrupted.

Aragorn was rather taken-aback by this sudden comment. Legolas sighed and bowed his head.

"Do not be" he said a little more friendlily.

"Legolas" Aragorn spoke softly in the Elf's mother tongue, "it hurts me more than you know to see you like this. You should not be put through this torment".

He paused momentarily: "Is there anything I can do? Anything you want or need?"

Aragorn expected the obvious to appear from Legolas' mouth, but Legolas said nothing, simply shaking his head. Aragorn was about to persuade Legolas to say what he desired – as he was sure there must be at least something he could do for his hurt friend – when a man, drunk beyond measure, appeared from round the door, tankard in hand, singing so loudly and awfully that it was almost a combination of shouting and screeching, and terribly offensively towards Legolas:

I hate Elves

I like hitting them with fishes and things

'Cause they got long ears and I don't like long ears

And they're blue, and some of them are pink

'Cause I hate elves!

At this point, he punched Legolas hard across the face. Aragorn immediately grabbed the man's wrists firmly and began to push him firmly back into the room. Once he'd gripped the man's hands and turned him around away from Legolas, he was surprised that Legolas hadn't tried to grab the man also.

He turned his head sharply towards Legolas and what he saw saddened him greatly. Aragorn expected Legolas to lunge out at the man and strike him back, as Elves protected their honour strongly and would not allow anyone to strike them and get away with it. In fact, Aragorn was surprised that he had reached the man before Legolas did. But Legolas simply stood there, his head hung, his cheek red from the punch and grief written clearly all over his face. It was not a depressing grief, but a grief that tugged at your heartstrings simply to look at.

Aragorn saw the sadness of his friend, then dealt with the drunk offender. He held the man's hands tightly behind his back and walked towards the door, forcing him forwards roughly. Thankfully for Aragorn, the man was so drunk, he probably didn't realise what was happening, so he allowed Aragorn to push him around quite happily. Aragorn pushed him through the door into the room and shut the door tightly. Gimli and Gandalf had already made their way to the Great Hall. Aragorn turned slowly towards his friend's face.

His friend had not moved. Aragorn walked over to his friend and placed one warm, firm hand on his friend's shoulder. He looked into his friend's face, not sure what to say. Legolas remained still for a moment, then slowly lifted up his head to look directly at his friend. Aragorn felt the air in his lungs leave him as he saw the elf's eyes lined with tears, ready to fall down his face; it was heart-breaking to see. Legolas, however, remained strong and refused to cry in front of Aragorn. So he looked into his friend's eyes and stated:

"We have a council to attend"

He swallowed and began to walk towards the Great Hall. But Aragorn could not leave his friend in this state. He called his friend's name, gently grabbed his friend's shoulder, pulling him back slightly and without saying a word, prayed that Legolas be relieved of this terrible torture.

"This is the work of Sauron and nothing more" said Aragorn, desperately trying to help his friend in any way he could.

"These are good men – you must believe that, Legolas! Their minds have been riddled and darkened with false liars. They are not evil …"

He sighed. It was no use.

"I'm sorry for what they said" he finished.

"Thank you" Legolas replied.

"I do not feel I can love them in the same way I love you, but I am grateful for your friendship".

Aragorn gave a brief nod of his head and he walked side by side with his friend to the council that would decide their fate and the fate of all Middle-Earth. Little did the racist and spiteful men of Gondor know that that Elf, with Aragorn and his friend, was going to save the world.

The end.