Remnant
The sky was pale, the sunset turning the horizon a light peach to fade into the oncoming indigo of evening. The trees reached with their naked, grasping claws of branches at the sky, seemingly wanting to tear it from the very heavens and bring it to a downfall onto the cold land. The frigid, uncaring earth lay frozen beneath gray grass, broken and dead in the freezing wind that seemed to howl endlessly through the dark trees. Only towards the end of the sunset did the very sliver of the boundary of the sky turn a dark crimson, a blood red that faded soon after the sun had left.
It was not beautiful. If anything, the landscape was cruelly elegant, but nothing to gasp in wonder at; rather, to shiver in fear, gaze at with apprehension and then turn quickly away to continue down the path. The path that was no more.
No one walked these dark woods; no one came to this desolate place anymore, this land of perpetual winter. A black winter. There was never any snow to coat the land in a perfect whiteness, nothing to cover its deep ragged scars and ebony decay. Foreboding lay like a dense fog over the entire forest, but there was nothing to predict, nothing to have any forbidding premonitions about.
This dead, barren forest was a place of the past. No one lived in these once beautiful lands. In the dying light, if one looked hard enough, one could almost see gray ghosts flitting though the shadowed place. Through the howling wind one could seemingly hear the forgotten echoes of those who once dwelled there.
The trees moaned once again as the wind gusted. Dead leaves swirled with the harsh breath of wind and rustled in skittering movements across the forest floor, some catching on the clumps of long, gray, dead grass.
Legolas sat on the rise of the hill overlooking the deceased wood, pale, almost silver hair swept across his face in the constant draft. His gray cloak snapped in the wind and his hood had long been pushed back by the fierce power of it. His eyes were shadowed in the twilight and the dark stallion beneath him pawed the immovable frozen dirt.
As the last of the sun's rays left, he nudged his horse down the ridge and into the dark woods beyond. The scraggly branches ripped at his cloak and hair, wishing him from their forgotten haunt.
The elf was soon forced to dismount and lead his black palfrey on deeper into the wood. He almost liked it better this way, though he could not say that the forest gave him any amount of pleasure or even of fond memories, though some should have been. The last time he had been here had been overshadowed enough as it was. No, he just saw the empty shell of what had been. Leaves once golden in autumn but now black with decay strayed dryly across his path.
He crossed the stream of Nimrodel stopped by one tree and looked up into its bare branches. Nothing remained high in it's boughs, nothing but memories of a time centuries ago, centuries long passed. For a hundred and fifty years Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur had ruled in Gondor with his Elven queen. After the fall of Mordor, the land had peace, and the years were golden. But Aragorn, Numenor blood or not, was mortal. He had to die sometime.
And his Elven queen, she who had abandoned immortality for her lover, she was left in mourning. Legolas silently wished that he could have been given that choice, given the choice to live, and die with the best companion he had ever had. With a sigh the elf moved on.
Legolas was the last elf the remained. He laughed silently at that thought. He who was doomed to long for the sea stayed longest. All the ships had left the Gray Havens and had long ago headed for Valinor. Only he had remained. Throughout the time he stayed with Aragorn in Gondor, he had built a ship for himself. The skiff was sturdy, and he could handle it over the Sea when he finally did answer the tugging in his heart.
He had enjoyed those times. Every moment he spent with Aragorn he had enjoyed. He had been the king's most trusted advisor after Gandalf and Elrond. But he had also been more than that. He had been Aragorn's friend. They had spent much time together throughout the long years and had never been thrust apart.
The one thing Legolas regretted was that he had never known Arwen well at all. She was distant and high. He had never known her when she had not been in love with Aragorn. Legolas knew that there were two elves in Aragorn's life, one his lover and queen, the other his close friend and advisor. But the king of Gondor had kept the two separate. His life put them in two different categories and they were content to remain there.
Legolas remounted as he neared the River Celebrant and his horse splashed through water cold with winter. Lord Elrond's words floated back to him, when he had wondered allowed at the Elves' fate. When they were gone, who would remember them, who would mourn their loss, who would even acknowledge their once existence. This forest was proof enough of that.
Legolas stared in sadness at the tall, thick tree he saw from afar. The tree that now stood desolate against the molten black sky. Broken banisters and corrupted spiraling halls clung to the dark bark. Then at the top of the tree, Legolas' sharp Elven eyes spotted a glimmer of light. He moved towards the light. As he moved on he began to sing, as to not frighten this last inhabitant away.
His voice was clear and high but it echoed mourning, the passing of one into the world of the dead. This was a familiar tune, but the words the Elf had made up himself. He song softly though, his audience should hear him, the wind would carry the tune.
"I sang of leaves, of the leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years ,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lorien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lorien! Too long have I dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a sea?(1)
And so on and yet on I come, continuing on my way,
Through a once full forest gone now seeped in dark decay....."
This was the private ode to Lorien, to the forest that was once the home of Elvendom on Earth. Though the one he was singing to was not even truly of Lothlorien, nor was he.
When he reached the trunk of the massive tree he tethered his horse to a ruined statue of a young Elf-maiden. The statue had been clean once, and life like. But it was shattered in places, cracked in others and had succumbed to a dank moss and dark vines. He started up the staircase, jumping long stretches of empty air where the structure had fallen away.
When he finally reached the top, the fire that greeted him was not a cheerful one, nor even hopeful. The fire was only for warmth and only announced a half-life. A figure stood at the fireside, facing away from him. The wind was still fierce even as Legolas began to speak.
"My lady, I would inquire as to your well-being."
The figure turned to him and the sight that greeted the elf broke his heart in a thousand different ways. The once beautiful face still held its youth, but with a harrowed look to it. The pale skin was pinched and drawn, the once red lips a cold, dead color. Her eyes were haunted, yet lifeless and deep shadows were cast upon them. Dark smudges were under the eyes and her hair, while still long, was tangled and brushed frequently over her face in the wind.
"...Legolas..." She intoned, as if recalling the name took some amount of effort. "How are you, how is the world faring?"
"Well my lady, but it is you I would inquire of."
"Ah, Legolas, I no longer fare anyway...for I wait only for my wish of death to be fulfilled."
Legolas kept his voice the same, but slightly questioning. "Do you long for death so?"
She looked steadily at him. "My husband has departed, and I wish only to follow him. And though my heart yearns for death and my soul seems already dead...I do not fall. I cannot understand it. My heart has been shattered a thousand times over, why cannot I rest in peace now, have done with this empty life...But why are you here Legolas, why have you not headed for Valinor, or was you love for my husband so strong too..."
Legolas' voice was strangled. "Lady, I would you no sorrow, I never did. You were one to him, I the other. I never had any desire to hold your place. My own was fine..."
"Legolas, I know. I am not accusing you of that...I meant only the love that you truly did feel for him, that of a friend...though I cannot help but think you were more in a special way that cannot be described." She paused. "I envied you in a way..."
"My Lady!"
"Grant me my confessions...my memories of the person I was. My will has left me, much as my father told me it would. Do not mistake me...I would not recant my choice...but I do no longer wish to live. I am just fading. The rest of this world can no longer see me, and I find no point in enduring this pain much longer."
Legolas stared across her with sad eyes, wishing he could end for her this pain. She stepped forward, a sad smile on her face. She looked up at him and slid a cold hand onto his face. "Dear Legolas, if you could but ease the pain for me..."
"My lady, you know I would do whatever I could to give you small comfort."
"I know..." She slid up onto her toes and lightly met his lips with her own, caressing them. Then she stood back. "And there is one thing I would ask of you. I would not ask it lightly, you know that."
Legolas looked at her sorrow filling his eyes. "Would you truly have me do that? Would you have me desecrate your husband's memories like that?"
"Think about it...you said you would do what anything to ease my pain. That is what I ask of you. No one will see us, not here. Elbereth has turned away from this land, from this forest. There is no one to judge what will be done."
Legolas remained silent, troubled by her request. "Think about it." She crooned. "You do not have to leave for a while yet, you know this. Think about it. Now have a seat by the fire and answer me the questions I first asked of you."
The morning dawned as all mornings did in the fallen wood that was once called Lorien. It was gray and the filtered light was not warm, but cold and distant. Legolas woke first and kindled the fire. The night before still troubled him greatly. He got his things together and made ready to go. He traveled down the tree and prepared all of his provisions.
The bottom of the forest was coated in a cold, clammy mist and visibility was almost nonexistent. Despite the poor visibility, or maybe because of, the wood took on a more haunting, dangerous air. He had mounted up when slight movement on the edge of his peripheral vision. He turned and saw the widow standing near to him. He said nothing but looked at her, his eyebrows knotted in sorrow for her state.
"You are leaving..."
"That is what I had planned."
"You will not consent to my request?"
"No, My Lady. I cannot do that." He turned his head away at the look she gave him. "You will leave me in this pain! Legolas, I do not want to be alone anymore. I want to feel the warmth of love once more!"
"And you think that by my fulfilling your request, you would be sated, you would feel what you have lost, be happy!" His voice was harsh with barely contained sobs.
"Yes. You would be doing nothing wrong. If any sin was to happen it would be mine, for I am the only bound."
"No! What of your husband! How could I possibly do that to him, how would he ever be able to forgive me..." His voice had risen in passion and anger but he quieted till it was but a whisper. "No, My Lady...I cannot do this. It would be my sin just as yours, though mine more. I cannot do that, not that, to my best friend's wife."
She looked at him with sad eyes, though they shed no tears. "Would you at least stay with me for a while. Keep me company before you go, for you will be the last. No one else will see me again. At least grant me companionship for a few days."
Legolas inclined his head. "Although I think you do this only to convince me to succumb to your earlier request, my heart will not let me refuse you on this. I will stay. But let me go into these once grand trees, wonder at there memories for a time...you would be welcome to come with me of course."
She shook her head. "No, but I will meet you in my tower. Come back to me quickly, for I much desire your presence. Fare you well, 'till this evening." With that she turned and headed back up.
Legolas shook his head sadly and lightly tapped his heels against his horses flanks, prodding him to a slow walk. His heart was heavy at the thought of her request. His mind wandered and he no longer concentrated on the trees around him. He wanted to be away to think, but no peace would come, whether he answered her or no.
The mist had not left with the lengthening of the day, but almost seemed to deepen and branches that appeared out of nothingness forced the fair elf to duck low from time to time. No sounds were present and movement was at a minimal. In a place were no elf should feel at odds, Legolas felt distinctly alien. He was the one creating the disturbance, the only movement. He felt as if he should have never come, that he should have just left Lothlorien to its decay and eternal winter.
His only warning was a breath of air. The arrow struck a trunk with a hard thump and the silence then returned. Legolas had only a moment to lean back before the arrow had found its way to where his head had been. In the same movement he had reached to his back and had grabbed his bow and notched an arrow. For a time he did not move, but stared at it, the whites of his eyes showing his surprise, but his other senses were at work, his ears straining for some sound of his attacker.
But no sound met his ears and the mist only continued to swirl about him as if nothing had happened. His horse snorted in impatience, as if even he did not sense the danger that had just passed.
The first truly coherent thought that came to Legolas was that the Lady might somehow be in danger. He turned his horse quickly and started back. His mind wished to run, to have him kick his horse in to a full gallop, but he would not let himself. Instead he had his horse trot on while he looked warily about and held his bow slightly drawn, ready to be pulled full back and released.
It was only because he had not run at a full gallop that the next string of arrows did not hit him. He had stopped short of the first, ducked from the second and had rolled from his saddle by the time the third was released and flew overhead. He quickly somersaulted away as an arrow dug the ground where he had been and he managed to shoot off an arrow of his own into the mist.
His arrow quickly sped from sight, but no rewarding connection was heard. The stillness once again returned and Legolas could hear nothing but his own breathing and that of the horse.
It made no sense. Nothing should be here...at least not anything he could not hear. But the world was changing, had changed. The threat of Sauron had long passed, but that did not mean there was no evil left on Middle Earth. He walked alongside his horse now, so he had more mobility to dodge and hopefully chase his attacker. He was now not only wary of his predicament, but also was expecting an attack with every step.
He swore silently to himself that he would not be caught unprepared this time, he would not let this unseen one go without some trace. He could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins and for a terrifying moment he realized he was feeling a horrible combination of utter fear, excitement, nervousness and anticipation. The feelings did not help.
He became almost more distracted until the mist was once again parted by metal, this time the blade of a small dagger. Legolas threw his arm back, stuffing his arrow back into the quiver and unsheathing one of his long knives at the same time. Where as soft but sudden rustling and breathing from him had before broke the silence, now the dense air was split by the staccato ring of metal ricocheting off metal. The knife flew away and before it had touched ground Legolas had pulled his other knife out and leapt after the once hunter and now hunted.
His game made no sound, and he did not either, but this time he had made time enough to catch prints in the mist. He glanced down to find the imprint in the damp loam of the forest floor and ran on, his eyes picking up traces every so often.
He ducked and wove through the vines and roots of the wood, going full tilt when he could and once again bringing out his bow. It was in this manner, with mind so intent upon the flight of his prey, that Legolas only barely saw the movement off to his left. The flash of metal flashed in stray light and the elf dove and let loose the arrow from his keep.
As soon as he had let the arrow fly, he wished it back. He did not even need to turn to see what he had done, for in his heart he knew. With a sickening realization, he knew what he had been led into, and he knew he had followed it blindly. His eyes widened once more in horror though this time at what he had done.
It was only then did he turn back to the figure he had shot. The lady Arwen stood against a tree, an Elvish sword hanging loosely in one hand. The Elven arrow had been true and lay deep in her left breast. In the stillness of the wood she looked more haunting then ever. Her pale skin contrasted with her dark hair, and that with the mist. She was dressed in cloudy gray robes accented with black. The only color on her was a trickle of crimson running from the corner of her lip. She coughed once and more red came, coating her lips and she weakly lifted her head to look at the mortified elf before her.
Her lips moved in thanks, but no sound left her mouth and in that last effort she shuddered and slowly sagged, bringing the arrow to rip upward into her before snapping. The elf before her body slumped to the ground, arms hugging himself as he shook with tears. He rocked back and forth and crystal droplets fell fast, but he wept silently on.
At last, towards evening, he gathered the body and found his horse. With utmost care he placed the Elven queen upon his mount and led it back to her tower. Though the walk should have seemed tiring, the crushed Elf felt no fatigue as he walked up the curving staircase with the fair maiden in his arms.
The tower was dark and cold, the fire nothing but dim coals. He set the body on a bed that she had used and set about stoking the fire. He stayed all night, but did not sleep. He sang once more, in parting, the words of Galadriel.
Ai! Laurie lantar lassi surinen, Yeni unotime ve ramar aldaron!
Yeni ve linte yuldar avanier Mi oromardi lisse-miruvoreva Andune pella,
Vardo tellumar Nu luini yassen tintilar I eleni Omaryo airetari-lirinen.
Si man I yulma nin enquantuva?
An si Tintalle Varda Oiolosseo Ve fabyar maryat Elentari ortane,
Ar sindanoriello caita mornie; Ar sindanoriello caita mornie
I falmalinnar imbe met, ar hisia Untupa Calaciryp miri oiale.
Si vanwa na, Romello vanwa, Valimar!
Manarie! Nai hiruvalye Valimar. Nai elye hiruva. Namarei! (2)
In dimmest morning he rose and headed away from the once fair wood. There was nothing more he could do, nothing left for him to stay for.
Once more Legolas Greenleaf felt the tug of the Sea on his heart, and this time, he answered.
So Arwen Undomiel died and passed on from Middle-earth. She forsook her right to immortality and fulfilled the fate of all mortals. She had her last request unwillingly fulfilled by Legolas, for the thing she asked of him was to take her own life. Arwen continued down to the halls to be with he love. And Legolas Greenleaf of the Forest Realm turned to pass on from what was once Lothlorien and these shores of Middle Earth and moved on to Valinor, the Undying lands.
1.This is the song Galadriel sings before the last feast she and the fellowship share. I thought it was especially fitting to Legolas.
2.This song is at the end of the feast, and done completely in the ancient tongue of the elves beyond the sea. The translation is in the book near the end of 'Farewell to Lorien,' in The Fellowship of the Ring
A.N. I apologize to the fact that I have no mention of Gimli in
this. Many will recall (and some make the mistake of thinking it
canon) that Ginli sailed with Legolas to Valinor. While this is
mentioned in the appendices of The Lord of The Rings, it is also
mentioned that the sailing was only a rumor, and may r may not have
been true. In this ending, it was not true. Also, in the matter of
time, Aragorn reigned for a century or two and then died, and while I
know the Elves are all supposed to leave middle earth in the near
future, keep in mind that an Elf's conception of 'near' and a human's
are very different. If any one has any detail or information on any of
these things, if they could email me and tell me, I'd be very
grateful, as I strive to be at least somewhat consistent with canon.