A/N: Oooookay, right, well, firstly, I wanna get some things off my chest before we proceed to this vignette. It involves all of you, my lovely reviewers, so please read.
Firstly, I'd like to apologise about the awry times posting takes. As you all know, our little team consists of three people from all over the world, and so its sometimes hard to get things done, especially with the streaks of bad luck that seem to hit all of us. I get my exam results in nine days and so I've been a nervous wreck. At first, I was a bit arrogant about my results, acting all cool, but now I've begun to question my brain and my behaviour in the examination room, and I've started to get nervy. Thus rendering me into a useless puddle of Andy just sitting on the bed watching Red Dwarf for comfort, my brain totally empty aside from recurring fear. And soon, I enrol in college yet again to take some more courses so that I might be able to get into uni. Who knows? But anyway – we are truly sorry for the waits, and are truly thankful to all who review our stories – you're darlings
Secondly, I've completed the next chapter of Memory – it's been sent off for betaing to Suzie, since Jamie's having a rough couple of months and is taking a break. I'll post it as soon as I can. The five resumes have been chosen – we'll let you know in the next chapter of Memory who's been picked.
Thirdly, very soon – maybe even instantly, depending on how quick I decide to be, I have some freshly beta'd chapters for my new Falling In Love Is Hard On The Knees: Extended Edition story ready and waiting. I just gotta find the time to trawl through them, and right now, time is something I have to fight tooth and nail for.
Fourthly, my new Final Fantasy story Tourniquet's next chapter is halfway completed – there'll be some action, seeing as fighting and angst seem to be my best genres :-D I was also considering do a series of funny little vignettes with Carrie in Final Fantasy – gawd, can you imagine that?!
Right, now about this little vignette. It's set after the battle of Helm's deep, is 3rd person, but hovers around Legolas.
Disclaimer: I don't own the LOTR empire, it belongs to JRR Tolkien, the genius. I do own Carrie, and Tommy, and her family. The song is Eyes On Me, performed by Faye Wong, written by Nobuo Uematsu for FFVIII, the god who writes all the music for Final Fantasy – I bow down to the lord. Anyone noticed my obsession for Final Fantasy yet? LOL
Well, hope you enjoy!!! Translations are at the bottom.
Luv Andariel
EYES ON ME
The sun was sinking. It was finally setting on a day that had been one of the longest in his life – which seemed ironic, considering all of his two-thousand odd years.
Yet, he could not tell whether the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, or beneath the clamour of bodies that lay as far as the eye could see. One battle was over – the battle fought with blades and malice.
But this was now the battle that he found the hardest. Seeing the innocent lives lost in a war to protect what was theirs. Having to see their families and loved ones weeping at the news that their dear love had fallen.
Death had never been something to sneer at. Even the death of the foulest beast meant another life gone from the planet, a loved one torn from at least one person who somewhere in the world fell to their knees as they shed a torrent of tears.
He made exceptions for Orcs and Uruks. He had seen them do much and knew they deserved death. What he prayed for was that the gentle Elves they had been mutated from where in the Halls of Mandos awaiting their judgement.
But he could only stare at the mass of bodies – mortals, Elves and dark demons alike. They lay together on the ground, seeming to be brothers fallen in combat, but in all actuality, they had simply fallen together, perhaps because their blades struck each other at the same time.
Legolas raised misted eyes to the sunset. It was a giant, red semi-circle that faded behind the silhouettes of those that had fought and died for it. It almost seemed like this sun, covered in the blood of the lost, was lamenting for its saviours. Yet Legolas' heart contracted in fear. Some irrational part of him felt that he would never see the sun again, and he unconsciously raised his hand, his fingers seeming to brush the edge of the sun as it descended from the sky.
The battle had been won. There were no whoops of victory, no elation. Everyone had lost someone in the war. And as Gandalf had said…it had really only just begun. There would be so much more slaughter ahead of them. This moment may be repeated several times more before an ultimate end would arise.
But any idea of later war seemed a mere trifle to what was happening now. Men, even the weariest of them, were moving bodies to the Keep, where they would no doubt allow their kin and lovers to say their last respects, before giving them the burials they deserved. And they did deserve them – they had given their lives so others could continue on.
Legolas took a deep breath, and wished he hadn't. The scent of scorched earth and flesh filled his nostrils. The air seemed thick as though the very blood spilt had somehow coagulated into the atmosphere. The breeze felt hot and searing, the air still and stifling. He felt as though it were safer not to breathe – the after-affects of the war still sought to steal the breath of those left.
Where he stood, on the same part of Helm's Deep where he had began his battle with his comrades beside him, he could see nothing but fallen enemies and brothers, laying in blood and ash and squashed together, on top of each other, limbs akimbo. Their expressions varied – anger, horror, sadness, victorious smirks even twisted some faces. Some were shockingly peaceful.
All somehow still seemed alive. But he had checked many of them now, and only two had been alive. So many were lost…so many tears would fall…
Legolas felt a hot line sear down his cheek, and raised his hand. His fingertips brushed moistness, and his heart clenched in pain. No tears he shed could bring these people back. His tears were pointless – they meant so little to the desolation around him. They meant little to him. What were they worth? Nothing.
He looked to what was left of the sun, ignoring the men who had begun to move the bodies from around him, kicking weapons and even – horribly – severed limbs out of the way, to get to the fallen. The Elven prince took a deep breath, again flinching at the scent of the dead, the thickness of the atmosphere that spoke more than the lack of pulses in the empty hosts ever could – a massacre had been here. So much pain had been present, so many cries of terror.
The clatter of armour brought Legolas's eyes back to the scene, and he saw two weary soldiers moving the body of another between them. Their faces were twisted into sorrowful grimaces, as they fought to keep desperate tears at bay. They seemed to understand that somehow, the battle against Sauron's forces had been nothing compared to the battle of emotions that followed afterwards. The heart felt as though it had been ripped from its protective casing and squeezed until all the rich, red blood fell on the floor, staining the world and emptying the man so that all he could do was shake and allow the clamouring yells and cries in his head to clutch him with fear and the realisation that this had been no game, no dream. And they were lucky – they would be able to go to the caves and embrace their wives and daughters. Their sons…had they lived? Legolas had seen too many small bodies encased in overlarge armour. He felt ashamed that he had in fact ran, but the desolation of their small bodies, the innocence lost, the lives wasted, it was too much for him. The children should never have fought. Seeing their pale faces and blank stares actually made Legolas hate the king of Edoras. Such a bitter emotion had swept through him that he had had to stand still, shaking and glowering under his furrowed brows, until he had composed himself enough to move on.
He watched the men move the soldier, and his eyes fell on the helmet.
Carrie. She had been wearing one like it. Where was she? Somewhere in the fray, he had lost sight of her, but he was somehow confident that if Tommy wasn't able to shadow her, Haldir had kept watch as well. Some things never changed…
He felt another wrench of sadness at his heart. He had wanted to ask Carrie to go to Mirkwood with him. He would tell his father he renounced the throne, and he and Carrie would leave – maybe travel the world. He hadn't been sure she'd agree…after all, she had a family back in her world, some of them still here. As much as they had hurt her, would she give up hope of returning to them, and stay with him? A part of him said yes, of course she would, they'd been born in love with each other from the very beginning. It had been a gift from Elbereth.
But another part wasn't certain. She was always so unpredictable; her mind always turned things over differently to his. Maybe she would still want to return to her family. Make a fresh start. Maybe she would even want him to go with her.
Could he do that? Possibly. But he had ties to this world – Estrella, his friends, the Fellowship. If the time came, could he give them up for Carrie? Would it even be possible to go with her? He had no idea.
He wanted to be with her always. He'd lost her the first time round, and a part of him thought that this was obviously the Valar giving him another chance – another opportunity to be with the one he loved. But he was confused…why send her to him as a mortal? What did this mean?
Legolas shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the helmet. First things first, he'd talk to her. Carrie was never one to have her mind made up for her, and would want to decide for herself. As quick and painful as her temper was (and it was), she could be mature and think things through thoroughly. Would she be the one to sacrifice, or would he? Would both of them have to give up something?
He could imagine that Gandalf could not send her home. Then, if that happened…would she feel obligated to stay with him? If so, then he would not want that. He wanted it to be that she loved him just as much as he loved her, and wanted to awake with him every morning, walk by his side in the day, be the last thing he saw at night…
Legolas flinched, his gaze once again sweeping over the scattered bodies, thrust and propped together like fallen dominoes, a mockery of death in itself. Elves had been taught that death should be peaceful – this was not peace. The only possible peace in it was that the men must have been glad to die, after being faced with putrid, stinking beasts from the bowels of hell itself. His eyes welled with guilty tears, and he bit his lip.
Here he was, thinking about his future. These men no longer had futures. They would never again press their lips against the softness of their loved one's cheek, never cradle their children, never again bear the tools of their trade. Instead, they had died to save others. Somehow, this made Legolas feel guilty to still be alive.
The Elf moved woodenly through the mass of bodies on the ground around him, being careful not to step on any. He was meant to be helping bring them back to the keep, but something had him frozen. Perhaps it was the idea of mortality – it was something he had known before, of course, but never in such a large dosage. He had honestly never stood in a battlefield and seen the horrors of the battle and the aftermath, never seen the sun disappear behind its lifeless children.
I live for her, Legolas told himself, as he stepped carefully around the bodies. All the time I was fighting, it was her face that propelled me onward. The thought of her touch, and the hope that one day she might wear my ring, and be heavy with my child. The image of our being a family…her smiling eyes, as she regards me over the top of our children's heads. I live for Carrie. Mela en' coiamin.
He crouched down beside a body, and reached out, turning the lolling head to face him. The helmet had fallen off at some point, revealing that the man in the sturdy armour was no man at all. It was a boy, no older than nine years old. His face was surprisingly peaceful and angelic, his dark brows marring the marble-pale skin like deep cuts. Dark lashes fanned his cheeks, his lips a pale pink. Blood and grime smeared his cheeks, tangled his long hair. His eyes, though closed, seemed to appraise Legolas. They seemed to ask the Elven prince how it was that he had died, whilst Legolas had lived. They seemed to want a reason. And Legolas knew he was indeed dead – he could sense it. But all the same, he checked for a pulse. Nothing. He retracted his hand quickly, as though bitten, and stared at the boy in shocked wonder. But the child did not move, did not breathe. A mother had lost her son. Perhaps even her husband as well. No doubt they would soon be weeping over the body of this child soon enough, their hearts breaking so that you could almost hear it, see the damage done to them.
Legolas felt his stomach drop, and reached a shaking hand out to brush the boy's cheek, his thumb creating a line in the grime. Unable to control himself, Legolas felt the tears cascading down his cheeks, his body shaking slightly. He gritted his teeth, clenching his eyes against the world. His hand, still placed gently on the boy's cheek, was touching soft skin, its coldness making the boy seem like an empty vessel.
"I am sorry," Legolas whispered. "If I could have given myself up so all others could live…I would have, I swear it…"
He sensed a slight movement behind him, but could not bring it in him to turn around. He simply crouched there; hand still on the boy's cheek, tears still making their way down his high cheekbones in scorching trails.
"I wonder if I could be that selfless."
Her voice was deeper than normal, slightly husky. It was her serious, saddened voice – the one he'd heard fairly often throughout his time with her and her previous self too. Her presence wasn't as strong as normal, and he realised that her vibrancy had been down-toned by the battle – she too had lost some of her innocence in this fight. She had in fact been steadily losing it before his eyes throughout the entire journey. The obvious innocence she had had he personally had taken. Now she was obviously old before her time. She had seen too much.
Legolas felt another wave of guilt hit him, and hung his head.
As though sensing what ailed his heart, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Legolas. You are only one person. One person can't move mountains." She paused, then said in an amused voice, "I'm not sure if several can either, but you get what I'm sayin', right?"
He shook his head wanly, comforted by the weight of her hand on his shoulder. It obviously meant something, because she didn't like being touched – she had given Penny holy hell during the journey when the woman had gripped her arm in alarm. And she'd been uncomfortable when he'd held her hand all those times. That she would willingly break her own rules touched him. "I could have protected you from all of this. Maybe…if you had stayed in the caves…"
"You really think you'd have been able to make me go there?" She drawled.
"Get real, Legolas. I wanted to come out here – needed to come out here. It's a tradition for me." Her robust, go-get-em voice softened. "I always protect the ones I love."
"You have been exposed to so much," Legolas said quietly. "It has done you so much more harm than good, I can tell. You have aged before my eyes…even mortals do not age at such a rate. You are hurt by what you have seen. I could have prevented that…"
This time, she got even closer. She must have knelt behind him, because he could feel her body pressed against his back, and the hand left his shoulder so that she could wrap both arms around his waist. Her head rested between his shoulder blades, and he let out a shaky sigh. Something wasn't right. Despite his sheer gratitude at her comforts, she…well, frankly, she was terrible at comforting people. And the touching rule had now not only been broken, but obliterated.
"I think…"she said gently. "…that the part of me you're trying to protect…is the part that died back when my mum had the knife to her wrist. In that moment, I had to grow up – I was no longer a little kid hoping to be thought of as mature. I had to take over the household. I had to keep my mum away from anything dangerous so that I could turn her over to someone who could watch her, and then take over the reins she had dropped." She snickered humourlessly. "Oh yes. I was quite the little lady by the time I was twelve."
Legolas flinched slightly. Mortal aging was always something that brought sympathy from Elves, and twelve to an Elf was still in the baby stages.
"Poor kid," she said quietly, and he could hear the tears marring her voice. "This was no place for him. He had a whole life ahead of him."
"Somewhere, his mother calls for him," Legolas said, raising his head and closing his eyes, as though his Elven ears could hear her distressed calls. But in truth, he couldn't define one cry from another in the din. Helm's Deep was a large mass of pure distress. He shook his head, and gently covered one of her cold hands with his own. She'd taken off her gloves, and he suspected that was why the silly girl's temperature had dropped. "Where is Tommy?"
A long pause followed, and for a moment, Legolas feared the worse, but then she said, "He went home."
Legolas audibly sighed in relief. Had something happened to Tommy…well, he truly thought she would go insane. Her brother had been her crutch for so long that to have it ripped away even though she was standing would have disastrous consequences.
"I…" she started, and took a breath. Tears were edged into her voice again. "I realised that…all I had to do was tell him I love him. It was the one thing I'd always feared to do. I've I'd done it before, I could have saved him from all of this…"
"He needed to know he was loved," Legolas said with a slight smile. "So, I suppose he was just as insecure as you."
"Yeah," she said her voice slightly wobbly. He felt her cheek shift against his back. "Have I told you I love you?"
Tears welled in his eyes, though this time, pure love was added into the conflict of emotions. "Aye, I believe you have."
"Oh. Can I tell you again?"
He laughed, some tears spilling over. "You can tell me always, mela. It is what I always want to hear from you."
Her cheek tightened against his back, hinting at a smile, and her fingers moved against his in a stroking motion. "I love you Legolas. I will always love you. You will always hear me say that…" Her voice was tight and tearful, and he could tell that great sadness lay within her heart. He still had the feeling that something wasn't quite right.
"And I love you," Legolas said, smiling despite the tears that spilled over his cheeks. "I will love you until death and beyond. You are my soulmate."
"And you are mine," she said, and he could tell that she was crying, despite how desperately she tried to control her voice. "I feel better knowing that the tiger eye protected you. Let's hope it'll keep it up, eh?"
Legolas once again became aware of the weight of the caged stone resting inside his tunic, against his chest. It had indeed been a lucky charm. He had escaped with only some cuts and bruises.
He blanched as she got up and moved away. He still could not turn around, partially out of fear of what he would see. She sounded so weary, so defeated. He didn't want to see his little hellcat beaten down. The idea that her flames could be extinguished instilled more fear into his heart than he had thought possible.
"See you later, love," she said a hint of a smile on her voice.
"C-c…" Legolas started, but the cold had set in against his back, and he knew she had left. He glanced down at the boy, before he rose to his feet. She was as cut up about the battle as he. She had comforted him, and he had done nothing for her. He cursed himself for being selfish, and with one last look at the boy on the ground, looking for all of Arda like an angel fallen from the heaven to land in hell, he turned on his heel and went in the direction he thought she had gone.
Men were crawling about the wreckage. Judging by the looks on their faces, each and every one of them were waiting with heavy hearts to find someone they knew dead and broken. All were filled with great fear, so strong it seemed like a separate entity that followed them around. Legolas was overwhelmed by the emotions he could sense from the men. He wished that he would never have to face another battle again…but he knew he would have to.
He saw Éomer, who had paused amidst his task to gaze around ruefully at the scattered corpses. The man blinked when he saw Legolas approach, for a moment seeming to not recognise him. Then he heaved a sigh. "How goes it, Master Elf?"
Legolas shook his head. "Painful, Éomer. The lives of mere children have been lost on these stones."
The man flinched, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I know…I wish there could have been another way. I just…"
"Do not fret," Legolas said softly, sensing the man's conflict. "Tell me, friend. Have you seen a woman pass through here? Dark hair, dark eyes, about so high…?"
Éomer raised an eyebrow. "The woman you arrived with?" Legolas nodded. "Nay, I have not seen her since we had you surrounded. Why would you expect to see her?" Legolas fought for words to explain, but the man soon figured it out for himself. "Dear Valar…you surely do not mean she entered the battle?"
Legolas lowered misted eyes. "I tried to get her to the caves. But…you can't force her to do anything. Stubborn as a mule and twice as temperamental."
Éomer nodded. He gave Legolas a weary look. "Perhaps you should seek to ask one of your team? I have not seen her but, to tell the truth, at the time being I am not certain I would have recognised her anyway…"
"I understand," Legolas said. "You have much to deal with." He bowed his head, placing his fisted hand over his heart. "Thank you, friend. I will go to find one of the Fellowship."
With that, Legolas left the poor Rohirrim to his gruesome task, and set off once again through the throng of bodies about the ground. The sun had sunk completely now, leaving behind a pink glow in the sky that was gradually fading to a dark, rich purple. If men still desired to retrieve bodies, they would soon be bringing out the torches to guide the way. Legolas hoped that some of them would rest – it had been a very long day.
He spotted Aragorn speaking with a Rohirrim, speaking empathetically to the weeping man before him. The Ranger rested a hand on the shoulder of the man, speaking reassuring words, before giving the man an encouraging pat and sending him back the Keep. It seemed the man had had enough emotional trauma for the day. Legolas could understand completely.
Aragorn, as though sensing him, turned, and paused. Legolas saw the cool blue eyes trained on him, dirty dark hair dangling over the worn face, stance tense. The eyes held a level of pain and resignation. They also held…apology. Aragorn was sorry.
Legolas stayed where he was, his heart picking up pace. He knew something wasn't right. And as Aragorn approached, his eyes getting clearer with every step, Legolas knew, with mounting fear that he would never forget this moment.
His friend – the Ranger he had known since the man had been a child – stopped directly in from of him, back straight, but shoulders sagging. The eyes had circles under them a frown line was between his eyebrows. He was much older in appearance than he truly was in years.
"Mellonamin," Aragorn said quietly.
"Elessar," Legolas nodded, barely registering that he was speaking, all of his attention focused on his friend. "Has…has she come this way at all? I cannot find her…"
Aragorn blinked, then, much to Legolas's horror…tears welled up, causing the blue eyes to glint in the torches that had now been brought out. The eyes seemed to ripple, the mouth drawn down in dissatisfaction. Elessar looked truly aged in that moment. "I…amin hiraetha, Legolas…" Aragorn's voice cracked slightly, and a tear ran down his weathered cheek.
No. It wasn't possible. Legolas could only stare at Aragorn, his mind working frantically to understand. It was just not possible. She had been there – had been with him. She had walked away. She had not been injured…
But Aragorn did not lie. He did not jest about such things. And he was saying…
"She's at the Keep," Aragorn said quietly. "I will take you to her…if you wish."
Legolas just stared at him in silence for a few moments, before he finally said distantly, "I wish it."
Aragorn nodded, wiping his eyes quickly with the sleeve of his tunic, before he wordlessly led Legolas back to the Keep. The Elf trailed behind, tears falling silently and unnoticed, as he entered the building that held his undoing.
Whenever sang my songs
On the stage, on my own
Whenever said my words
Wishing they would be heard
I saw you smiling at me
Was it real or just my fantasy?
You'd always be there in the corner
Of this tiny little bar
She looked just like the child. Her skin looked like the porcelain crockery his mother had treasured. It was as white as the freshest milk, but at the same time looked oh so sickly. Its continuous plane of white was marred only by the bruises on her face, acquired during the battle. Her lips were pale, with the dark marks of dried blood on them. Her hair was amazingly clean.
He had always been attracted to her hair. When she had been the Elven princess, it had been longer, but it was exactly the same colour, thickness and sheen. It was like dark-brown silk, thick as any blanket and twice as warm. Its darkness now only increased the pallid colour of her skin.
Her eyebrows arched over her eyes in a slight frown. The eyes were thankfully closed. He would not have been able to remain so composed had they been opened.
My last night here for you
Same old songs, just once more
My last night here with you?
Maybe yes, maybe no
I kind of liked it your way
How you shyly placed your eyes on me…
The wound was in her stomach. Aragorn had explained everything. How she had given her life to save her brother had faded in the Ranger's arms, with one last message for her Elven love…
'Amin mela lle. I won't ever forget you.'
She had known her fate. And according to Aragorn, she had accepted it with ease. She had been upset, but not as bad as most might have been. Aragorn had carried her back to the Keep. For this, Legolas had been more grateful than the man may have comprehended.
Oh, did you ever know?
That I had mine on you…
He stared down at the form of his Carrie. She looked almost asleep – she always frowned when she slept. He had always wondered if maybe she was remembering things, or if maybe she was so used to the expression by now that it came naturally. He couldn't help feeling that now, when she lay before him in a loose white gown – hiding the bandage which rest across her midriff – she finally had the peace she had long awaited. Perhaps it wasn't in the way expected, but she could finally stop hurting.
Darling, so there you are
With that look on your face
As if you're never hurt
As if you're never down
Shall I be the one for you?
Who pinches you softly but sure
If frown is shown then
I will know that you are no dreamer
What made him think was…why had she refused Aragorn when he had tried to help? Had she been so quick to give up? Did this mean she cared less for him than she had made out?
So many thoughts clouded Legolas's thoughts. All he could do was stare down at the body on the bed he stood by. She was laid out with her hands on her stomach, where the wound was. She had been his. They were supposed to have been together, have children, and love each other like they'd been destined to. He realised now that yes, he would have given up everything for her. He loved her more than life itself.
So let me come to you
Close as I want to be
Close enough for me
To feel your heart beating fast
And stay there as I whisper…
He bent forward, reaching out a hand. Oddly, he was more composed now than he had been with the boy. Perhaps he was emotionally drained. He felt as though all of the blood had seeped from his skin like a drying sea sponge. He felt like a vessel, a vessel that had once been filled with an aged wine. A wine that was now gone…leaving only dregs and an empty feeling too strong to bear.
His hand travelled over the cool, soft plain of her cheek, and up over her temple to tangle into her thick, beautiful hair. His Carrie. All the fire, all the life, and all the pain she had once been, was gone, leaving behind it the shell that it had inhabited so well. He would have given anything to hear even one of her particularly acidic comments roll off her tongue. But there was nothing. Even her hair, despite its splendour as it fanned out on the pillow beneath her head, felt dead.
How I loved your peaceful eyes on me
Did you ever know?
That I had mine on you…
He removed his hand, brushing his fingertips over her lips slightly.
"Why?" He asked her. But he wasn't sure exactly what he was asking. Why what? Why did she die? Why did she enter the battle? Why did she refuse help? Hell, maybe he wanted answers to all of them! He wished she would sit up, smile at him, so that he could wind his hands in her hair, kiss her softly, and ask her just why she did it all. He wanted her to explain everything to him – starting from her earliest memory. He wanted to know her like her life was a novel he could read – a tome he could keep with him forever. It was now, whilst he stared at her pale, dormant face that he realised he had known her dark secrets, but not much else. He had known hardly anything about her. His eyes misted, but no tears fell. As it was, it seemed he could feel the tears turning to dust in his ducts already.
Darling, so share with me
Your love if you have enough
Your tears if you're holding back
Or pain if that's what it is
How can I let you know?
I'm more than the dress and the voice
Just reach me out then
You will know that you're not dreaming
He wondered if he'd ever be able to cry again.
"Are you certain you would want to know the answer to that?"
Legolas turned his head, misted eyes looking at the visitor.
Haldir was no longer bedecked in his armour. Instead, he wore the silvery tunics of Lórien that he had worn when Galadriel's gift-giving had commenced. He looked every bit as regal as he should – the March Warden was a noble Elf, and deserved much respect. His presence was intimidating in itself, and many said that a single one of his scowls would have the enemy running for their life.
Yet now…despite his tall and uniquely broad frame, he looked like a lost child. He was not trying to be cocky or mocking, like normal. His eyes seemed…glazed. Pained. He seemed as though somewhere above him, someone was holding a wooden cross and was manipulating the March Warden via strings, making something lifeless seem animated. Haldir looked…worn.
Legolas knew why.
Haldir moved into the room almost reluctantly, and his eyes fell on the woman on the bed. His breath hitched audibly, and Legolas gulped. The March Warden had moved right up to bed, and had made to move to touch Carrie, but recoiled almost as soon as he had begun to reach out. The look on his face was one of torment, and Legolas could see the thin watery line that told him that tears were threatening to spill over the eyes of one of the most feared Elves in the world.
"I know nothing of her," Legolas whispered, biting his lip. "Any correct judgements I made were based on Dínramiel…Carrie told me little of herself. I never asked. I should have…" He paused, and Haldir's silence urged him on. "I knew from the moment I saw her, in the Trollshaws, who she was. She looked very similar, and though her speech was odd, there was no mistaking her manner. I was distraught – her reappearance could have been considered a gift from the Valar…but she was mortal. Why would they send her to me mortal? It made little sense."
He took a breath, taking one of Carrie's hands in his. "As time went on, I had some trouble defining the differences between Carrie and Dínramiel. They were horribly similar, and it confused me to the point where thought I might weep from frustration. I realised I loved her when she began to tell me small bits of information. Not much to establish a terribly clear picture of her life, but enough. I did not think she would love me back.
But she did. Or at least, she seemed to. Our last times together…it was love of purest kind. I never wanted to let her go, but I knew that at times I would have to. Hers is not a spirit you can stifle. To even think of holding her close to my breast permanently, lassoing her…it would have been a foolish thing to do. Some birds were not meant to be caged."
Legolas rubbed his thumb over her hand. "I could never love another person as I have loved this one, this soul. I survived Dínramiel's demise by promise of Gandalf. I realise now that all of this…this time, this occurrence, was what Gandalf meant. I met her soul once again. I have not regretted it." This time, tears did fall. They felt bitter and stinging against his cheeks, as though he cried acid and poison. He was too tired to try to stop them, or even increase their flow. He did nothing, and simply stood there, allowing his cheeks to sting from his salty tears. "I wanted to have a life with her. I wanted to renounce my father's hold, wanted to be an independent Elf, not some withheld warrior chained to a throne with a lopsided crown upon his brow. But now…those dreams are shattered. They are gone forever." He paused, not certain how his next declaration would go down. "She…she came to see me after the battle."
Haldir looked up, startled, his dark azure eyes narrowed in confusion.
"It…it must have been her…her…" He couldn't bring himself to say it. "She said goodbye. Well, she said… 'see you later'. It felt so real, but then…Aragorn said he saw her d-d…he was holding her. It couldn't have been her, but it was. She came to see me one last time. Now she's…gone. Gone from me forever."
Another hot, scorching tear streaked down his cheek, and he turned his head to regard the other Elf. The March Warden was watching him with a sympathetic and saddened expression. The deep sapphire eyes held millennia of knowledge and skill…but also millennia of hardship and pain. The Elf had experienced much more than Legolas had…he was much older than Legolas, too. That was why Dínramiel had loved him – she found comfort in the wise and the older of the Eldalie. She found comfort with people who understood her and did not judge her for her peculiar ways. Haldir was an older, wiser Elf – and he, behind his arrogance and cool demeanour, was a kind, noble and knowledgeable Elf.
"I do understand you, Legolas," Haldir said quietly. "I too loved her once. A long time ago, when we believed we were soulmates. We were not – but as close as we could get, I suppose. I was…too low in station for her family to accept. I can only guess that that was a good thing – it brought you and she together. But it still hurt." He sighed, as though this admittance was not something he wished to do. His gaze was once again on the woman on the bed, his brow furrowed. Carefully, as though he was afraid to anger the prince or even the woman lying there, he quickly fingered a lock of dark hair before withdrawing. "The fact that I did not fade told me we were not proper soulmates. But I was ill for some time, and I missed her like a flower misses the sun. She was not remarkable in appearance, and her attitude could have earned her a sharp swat across the backside. But her personality made her easy to love…" Haldir smiled slightly, then said, "She saved my life out there in battle. Moments before…well. If I had not just stood there like a simpleton I could have followed her…perhaps I could have saved her…"
Haldir clenched his jaw and looked away. Legolas realised that the Elf felt guilty – he felt that he had failed Carrie – failed Dínramiel. Haldir had always loved Dínramiel, and Legolas had always been embittered and less than pleasant to the Elf for that – he knew that he and Dínramiel had had a relationship before Legolas and she had been placed into the arranged marriage. He remembered how he and Dínramiel had visited Lórien before they had been wed, and the looks his wife-to-be had shared with the March Warden had been heartbreaking and infuriating. He'd always been worried that the Rivendell princess would run back to the March Warden even after they grew to love each other. Jealousy was a hideous thing.
"Haldir?"
The pained Elf looked to Legolas with watery eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.
"I will not survive this…you realise that, do you not?"
Haldir's eyes widened slightly, then settled in understanding, as his brow furrowed, and looked down. "I realise that, Legolas Thranduillion. You have lost her not once, but twice. The pain…I cannot begin to comprehend…"
"Let us hope you never have to," Legolas replied, painful tears falling silently over his cheeks. "I will finish my task. I pledged my allegiance to Frodo, and I will not go back on my word. But when it is done…I will allow myself to fade. I can feel the Halls beckoning to me now…"
Haldir gave off a slightly strangled noise. Though he and Legolas had never been the best of friends, the idea of the prince dying because he had lost someone who he had loved more than life itself, it was too much. This Elf standing before him may not live for much longer, depending on how much longer the war lasted. And Haldir was ashamed to feel the fleeting wish that the war would continue for some time shoot through him…maybe if it happened that way, Legolas would be able to curb the Halls…no. If an Elf's heart was truly broken, they could only prolong the fading. Not prevent it completely.
Standing before him was a dying Elf.
On impulse, he stepped forward and embraced Legolas tightly, and the smaller Elf embraced him just as fiercely in return. The moment seemed to have finality – emphasised strongly by Carrie's form, still on her back on the bed, hands resting on her abdomen, eyes closed, hair spread out on the pillow.
"Do not despair, Haldir," Legolas said softly into the other Elf's ear. "You will get all that you deserve, and much more. You are an honourable Elf. I apologise profusely for not realising it before. Jealousy blinded me."
"Blinded you?" Haldir gave a mirthless chuckle. "Prince, I was hideously jealous of you for so long! But…I thank you for your words. Know that I have never despised you, like you may think. You are a remarkable Elf…and I only wish I could have known you better."
"And I you," Legolas said, a tear falling from his eye and into Haldir's fair hair. It seemed that all the people worth knowing had always remained in shadow. Legolas only hoped that if he were reincarnated after the Halls of Mandos, he would have more sense next time…
TRANSLATIONS:
Mela en' coiamin: Love of my life
Mela: Love
Mellonamin: My friend
Amin hiraetha: I am sorry
Amin mela lle: I love you