Disclaimer: If I owned LOTR, I would be a genius. But I am not a genius, therefore I do not own LOTR :D
The song in the text is a translated and edited for my purposes version of «Иди через лес» by Сплин, and I don't own it either.
Warnings: Canon character death, a rather lame attempt of suicide
Note: Aw well, this if my first piece of fanfiction published on this exact account, so please don't be too strict :D Plus, I'm not a native speaker, so please forgive and/or point out my mistakes.
Constructive criticism is waaay better that flaming! :)
Almost everything, that seems weird to you, is AU, hell yes xD This also includes the Helm's Deep Battle as the final battle in the War of the Ring.
Last thing I have to say before the story starts:
Elves surely don't die that easily, do they?
-:- -:- -:-
We were told that we're alone in this world;
And we look up into the skies, but the sky doesn't hear us,
The sky doesn't heed us
As the last foul creatures' pained cries died down in the dangerous forest, the defenders of the Keep finally breathed the cold morning air with relief and mirth: the decisive battle was won, the end of the War was just a matter of time now. The Riders turned their gazes to the Keep and frowned, for it was a sad sight of destruction and pain brought by Uruk-Hai. Even if the Shadow will soon disappear and the King has returned, there were still a lot of ravages to rebuild and a lot of tears to dry.
-:- -:- -:-
Legolas dismounted gracefully from his steed as he reached the wall and used his right arm to support himself when the world swayed in front of his eyes. He had a nasty cut which was starting on his left shoulder, where the wound was the deepest, and nearly reaching the middle of the forearm. The elf received it a few hours ago and all he could do in the middle of the battle was to tear a strip of cloth from his cloak and wrap it around the arm, stopping the bleeding.
I would still have to find someone to see to it, Legolas thought. But not now. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. Legolas smiled to himself as he recognized his own stubbornness.
Maybe it will not even need a healer in several days, and several days can I wait. Anyway, he definitely wasn't going to waste time on some unimportant cut. At least, not when he had something much more urgent to do.
The elf entered the fortress through the giant breach in the wall and frowned as the memories of the night flashed through him. If only he could stop that creature with a torch! How many innocent lives could have not been lost in vain! Legolas sighed as he mourned the dead silently. He climbed up the breach (much less easily as he would if he had both arms), neglecting the simple way of just walking up the stairs, and looked around, taking in the view of the land lying in front of his eyes.
The soil was soaked red and black with blood, bodies of both defenders and attackers were lying in awkward – dead – poses, and some survivors have already started dragging and carrying the fallen in piles, preparing them to be burnt. There was no time and power to bury each fallen man like it would be done if there were not so many dead and so much yet to do, concerning the Enemy. So both men and foul children of the Shadow were being put in separate piles, which will be set on fire next evening.
Legolas noticed from his position on the wall that his fallen congeners were carried to one of the buildings that remained whole in the fortress instead of being put in yet another pile: obviously, men felt uneasy about unfamiliar fair creatures, and were unsure of what to do with the Elven bodies. 'Tis a good thing, Legolas nodded to himself. They are to be carried back to their homes, to Imladris and Lothlorien, to be buried in the land they belong to. The blond remembered the main reason why he had come back to the fortress and looked around, keen eyes searching for a flash of bright red – the colour of the cloak the Marchwarden of Lorien wore.
- Legolas!
Legolas turned around, smiling as he saw his Dwarven friend. Gimli's head was crowned with a wide bloodied bandage, but he looked as satisfied as a herd of Oliphaunts after stomping out a couple of armies.
- Well met, my friend! – Legolas clasped Gimli's shoulder with his good arm. – What, has someone stepped on your head?
Gimli was ready to retort for he hated when members of other races joked about his height, but the sparkle in his friend's eyes told him the elf meant nothing offensive.
- You still have to wait for that dream of yours to come true, princeling, - he grumbled good-naturedly. – And besides, you don't look entirely well either.
- 'Tis nothing, - Legolas waved at him.
- As usually, - the dwarf rolled his eyes and chuckled.
- By the way, have you seen Aragorn or Haldir? – Legolas asked after a short pause. – For I would like to speak to them.
- The human is in the House of Healing, and you don't want to disturb him while he works, you know how furious he gets when distracted from healing, - Legolas nodded his agreement, - and the elf is… Actually, I don't know where he is. Last time I saw him was when those two pointy-eared pigheads were dragging me back to the Keep: he was fighting orcs on the wall. I have not seen him ever since, - Gimli furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. – Speaking of orcs, what's your final count, lad?
Legolas smiled mischievously and turned to the battlefield, pointing out the first pile of the foul creatures he saw.
- See that one? Those are mine, - with these words he walked off, hiding his grin, with Gimli staring at the pile of at least ten dozens of orcs and thinking if that could be true in any way.
-:- -:- -:-
Legolas frowned as he walked around the fortress for the millionth time this hour. The Marchwarden was nowhere to be seen, and this was starting to get annoying. The elf's arm throbbed painfully and waves of dizziness kept flowing over him, and more and more often he had to stop and lean against a wall to regain footing. Still Legolas was determined to prove his lover was safe and sound. It was not like he thought he weren't, just to make sure. That was when he noticed a familiar form half-covered by a dead orc.
-:- -:- -:-
Aragorn wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and carried on. He has already cleaned the bad wound on one of the Riders' stomach and now he was stitching the cut. The Dunadan felt incredibly exhausted after a long night and several hours of healing afterwards, and still he was working, for these people needed his help.
Aragorn put the final stitch and sat back, sighing with relief. This man will live. He felt like his eyes were about to close, but he forced them open and focused on the calm face of a drugged sleeping horseman. That was when the door opened and someone entered the tiny room.
- Good morning, Master Dwarf, - Aragorn smiled smugly, proud that he recognized the footsteps.
- Good morning indeed, Aragorn, - Gimli answered, not amused by Strider's skills. – How are you doing?
- This is the fifteenth man I have put back together. 'Tis tiring, you know, - the man sighed wearily and turned around, taking in the view of the dwarf. – Do you feel well? Have you seen Legolas?
- Aye, I do. And aye, I have seen him indeed, no more than an hour ago. He was searching for you but I advised him not to ask for trouble, so he went after Haldir instead.
- Haldir? – Gimli didn't like the way Aragorn paled. - …Oh no.
- What? What is wrong? – Gimli asked in a worried voice, but Aragorn has already rushed out of the room and vanished from the sight.
The dwarf gaped helplessly and took off after the human a few seconds later. Whatever is going on, I don't like it,he huffed under his breath.
-:- -:- -:-
Legolas walked up slowly, his widened eyes never leaving the much too familiar face of the fallen elf. All thoughts vanished from his head, for the sight was enough to bear.
Absentmindedly, Legolas knelt down near Haldir and pushed the black body of an orc away. His arm howled in protest, but he paid no attention. The marchwarden's eyes were closed, and it was obvious he wasn't sleeping. A small pool of blood has formed under him, and Legolas felt dizziness tugging at him again. This cannot be happening, his mind screamed, this cannot be happening, you cannot have…
The blond slowly pulled his most dear creature's body to his lap and cradled him, pushing stray hair out of the tired face. With his left hand, Legolas caressed the other elf's pale – far too pale – cold cheek and pressed their foreheads together, his eyes sliding shut with pain pulsating through him. This cannot be happening…
-:- -:- -:-
The man rushed through streets of the fortress filled with busy people and ran up the stairs to the wall. He was heading to the place he saw Haldir last, for it was him who saw him die, it was him who lowered the elf to the ground and closed his eyes, it was him who knew exactly where he was lying.
He was running so fast he couldn't feel his legs, but he feared what he would find too much to care about his tired muscles. The dwarf was surprisingly fast, for he felt the urgency of the situation and didn't want to be late for whatever they were going to face.
Suddenly, Aragorn halted and held out an arm to catch the unexpecting dwarf. Gimli slammed into the man and came to abrupt stop, peering out from behind the Dunadan questioningly and his heart became wrung with the sight of his friend sitting on the ground among the dead, pressing the body against his chest, his back hunched up. Gimli froze in his place while Aragorn walked up to the elf and touched his right shoulder.
- Legolas.
The elf made no indication that he noticed anything, or that he was even there, and for a second Aragorn feared the worst, but then Legolas slowly lifted his head and looked up at the human. Aragorn was shocked by the way his friend's usually bright blue orbs became almost pitch black with grief and despair. He didn't cry, his cheeks and unblinking eyes were dry, but the way he looked made Aragorn's heart sink. He knelt down near the elf and put an arm around his good shoulder.
- Mellon nin.
Ever so slowly, Legolas turned his gaze back to the elf in his arms he was bound up with so many years ago. Aragorn realized he had to do something immediately, for the time was running short.
- Mellon nin, you are hurt. Come with me, I should see to your wound, - healer's eyes didn't fail to notice the trail of blood seeping through the improvised bandage.
The only reaction he received from Legolas was a short, but fierce shudder. Automatically, Aragorn placed a hand on the elf's forehead and realized he was running a fever.
- Gimli…
The dwarf understood what the Dunadan wanted him to do and carefully lifted Haldir's body off Legolas' knees so he could get up. The elf stood up, his clothes red with Haldir's blood, and swayed, but the man supported him, arm still firm around his shoulder, and so they began their slow and painful walk towards the House of Healing, while Gimli collected the body and went off to the house where other dead elves were lying.
-:- -:- -:-
Legolas opened his eyes and as they accustomed to the darkness, he took in the tiny room he was in. He realized he was in one of the rooms of the House of Healing. He might have lost his consciousness for several hours, he guessed. His head and arm throbbed violently, making the vision blurred and unsteady, but he didn't care. Slowly and carefully, he sat up, leaning back against the head of his bed, and let out a heavy sigh, then lifted his hands and grasped hair on his temples.
So it was true.
So it was true, that Haldir was dead.
Legolas swallowed thickly as the thought settled down in his head.
Of course, they both were warriors, and they both knew that one of them might not return from another battle, and they vowed to each other long ago to go on living no matter what. But never has Legolas seriously thought their vow would have to be tested. And he wasn't sure he would not break down.
The elf looked around and saw Aragorn sitting on a chair, sleeping in an awkward pose. Legolas was not amused, he could predict the man wouldn't leave his side despite his exhaustion.
Legolas placed his hand in front of his eyes and realized his natural Elven glow was barely visible. He knew what it meant: he was fading. Despaired as he was, he welcomed the thought of perishing in several days. The War was over, the Shadow has vanished, and now Arda will draw in a great lungsful of air unspoilt by evil, but it didn't matter, nothing did matter, not when his lover was going to be buried and hidden from him until he dies as well and perishes away to the Halls of Mandos.
Until I die.
I miss him.
The blond noticed his bloodied clothing and weapons lying on another chair near his bed. Absent-mindedly, he leaned over to the chair and searched under his tunic, his fingers easily finding handle of one of the twin knives. Releasing the breath the elf didn't know he was holding, he pulled the hand back, the blade glittered in the moonlight.
Then why should I wait.
Legolas held the knife in front of his chest and sighed. As he drew the shaky breath, his bare skin touched the cold white blade. The elf could guess a drop of blood appeared – his knives were indeed sharp.
Something disturbed Aragorn. He stirred uneasily, opening his eyes, and straightened himself. At first, he couldn't see a thing, but then he caught a shine of light reflected by something thin, long-
-a knife.
Immediately, the human knew, what was going on. In less than a second, he jumped up and rushed to the bed, reaching out for the weapon. Thankfully, the elf didn't struggle, he relaxed his own fingers when Aragorn's demanded the knife, and sank back, his head hanging low. Without thinking, the man walked over to the chair with Legolas' belongings and moved the weapons to his place, out of the blond's reach, then knelt down near the bed, brushing stray hair away from the elf's sweating face.
- Legolas, - Aragorn called.
The blond lifted glazed eyes at him, his orbs black against white skin, breath coming out in short, pained gasps.
- You do not have to do that.
- Why?
At first, the man thought he misheard: he didn't really expect the elf to answer. The fact that Legolas actually reacted surprised the man so much that he didn't manage to think of what to say.
- It is not known about a single Eldar who committed suicide, - Legolas continued after a minute, his voice barely audible. - I believe I can be the first. I have neither power nor will to go on. I… can't… - he swallowed thickly, head hanging even lower, shoulders trembling.
Aragorn hated seeing his reliable and strong friend in condition like that. It was… It was unusual, it was wrong even, unnatural. Still he didn't know what he should do to save him from fading, how to help him. So he obeyed the first propulsion and climbed up to the bed from his knelt position, putting arms around Legolas' form, aware of his injured shoulder. They sat like that for a minute, neither making any movements, the only sound heard was the elf's soft breathing against fabric of the man's shirt. Finally, the Dunadan pulled away and held the blond's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. He chose his words carefully, like if he was talking to a child.
- I do know that Haldir would be hurt if he knew you despaired so much because of him. He would be hurt if he knew he was the cause, - he fell silent, then continued, sighing. – Please, just listen to me. We are leaving to Lothlorien tomorrow midday. You should see Lady Galadriel. If there is someone who could help you in any way, it is the Lady. Just don't give up now. You are tired and sick, you cannot think straight. You cannot give up your life just yet. Alright?
The elf nodded tiredly, his eyes not betraying any emotions. How he wished Aragorn would just leave him alone and let him be!..
- Promise, - the man demanded.
Legolas blinked. He could predict the insistent human would say something like that.
- I… promise, - he whispered.
- You promise me what? – the man prodded.
The elf furrowed his eyebrows in pain and raised right hand to touch his aching temple. Aragorn waited. Then he heard the cracked voice.
- Promise I will not… give up until I meet Lady of Light.
- Good, - the human felt relieved. Despaired as he was, the elf wouldn't break his promise, he was too stubborn for that. His condition still worried the Dunadan though, so he took his waterskin, filled with sleeping tea he gave to his patients today, and lifted it to Legolas' lips.
- Drink. It will help. I will come in the morning and prepare you for the ride, for it will be a long and tiring journey.
The elf obeyed and soon his eyes slid shut as he drifted off to uneasy sleep. Aragorn didn't like the sight of an Eldar sleeping with closed eyes, but at least Legolas was having some rest. Aragorn sighed as he collected Legolas' weapons and walked out, closing the door carefully behind him after stealing one last glance at the exhausted form.
-:- -:- -:-
After the night had gone, Aragorn was roused from his sleep by a beam of morning sunlight streaming down at him from the window. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes before standing up from his not-so-kingly camp bed and walking over to the window. He rested his elbows upon the windowsill and looked outside. What surprised him most was the clear, bright blue sky, a sight he doubted he'd witness ever again since the Shadow descended. His heart was filled with joy as he reminded himself that the skies will never be covered with those clouds again.
Several hours later, Aragorn has already talked to Theoden: thankfully, the King of Rohan agreed to let the man take everything he would need for the long journey to Elven realms; in fact, Aragorn couldn't even imagine Theoden refusing him, so great was the King's respect for the Dunadan. So, Aragorn has asked Halbarad to collect as many carts and horses as possible and to help the acting in charge elf, Menelmahtar, with preparing everything for the ride, and now he was standing on the wall, watching the sorrowful process.
Two hundred elves were sent to help out the defenders of Helm's Deep: a hundred from Rivendell and a hundred from Lothlorien, under command of the Marchwarden of Lorien himself. The thought of the fair creature churned the human up as he sighed heavily.
Now, only fifty elves were going to return to Imladris alive, and less than forty – to Lorien. They will need to get there soon, so each elf will be given a steed. The dead and those who cannot ride by themselves due to injuries will be put in carts. Aragorn couldn't help thanking the Valar silently that Eru's first children's bodies never decayed, for it would create even more trouble for the already sad procession.
Of course, the human warriors have lost far more congeners that dreadful night, but for the Immortals each death was something unnatural, something unheard of, and this was what pained the King most: seeing the wondering, distressed confusion on fair creatures' faces as they placed cold bodies of their friends on old yet strong carts, covering them with clothes to show as much respect to the fallen as possible in present conditions.
Thankfully, Menelmahtar didn't question Aragorn's right to join the Elven procession, for he understood and shared the human's concern for the Mirkwood prince. It was obvious that the Wood-Elf was going to ride to Lothlorien to attend the funeral, and his condition was far from perfect, in both physical and emotional aspects. Besides, the King was a frequent guest in both Elven Realms, so all elves, who had come to Helm's Deep, knew and respected the Ranger, therefore no one wanted to object to him joining the march.
-:- -:- -:-
In fact, Legolas did seem to feel better than the day before. He was not so deathly pale, but his eyes were still dull and glazed with anguish. When Aragorn entered his room, he has almost dressed himself, though it was quite a challenge, considering the fact his left arm was immobile and was causing him great throbbing pain. Aragorn regarded him silently as the elf was sitting on his bed with the last item of his clothing still not put on, aside from cloak, – his upper tunic, its sleeve and front decorated with dark dried blood. Unblinkingly, he gazed down on the piece of fabric he was holding, deep in his thoughts, seemingly unaware of someone's presence.
- Mellon nin, we should be going, - Aragorn made an effort and broke the spell, its waves flowing almost visibly around the silent form. – You cannot wear that, I brought you a change, - he said, holding out a spare tunic he asked one of Lorien soldiers for. – Let me help you, and we'll start moving. It's almost midday.
Legolas nodded and took the piece of clothing from the man's hands. He gazed up at the human when he made a movement to help him get dressed, and Strider froze in his place. You could have guessed he would refuse your help, he thought bitterly.
- I will wait for you outside, - he murmured and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.
The elf joined Aragorn several minutes later. Somehow he managed to complete the task of dressing himself with only one hand moving, and he refused both having an armsling and travelling in one of the carts prepared for those who could not ride by themselves because of the received injuries. Knowing the elf's stubbornness, Aragorn didn't say anything, for he understood Legolas wouldn't listen to his words anyway.
Despite his great will to join his friends, Gimli could not go with them, for his people were about to arrive in Helm's Deep in several days, and he had to take hold of the process of rebuilding the ravages caused by the War. Besides, both Aragorn and Gimli understood that a dwarf would most likely not be welcomed in Elven Realms. Take care of him, lad, the dwarf's concerned voice echoed in Aragorn's head.
Easier said than done, Aragorn thought as he watched his friend riding Arod in front of him. The white horse felt the efforts his master was making to stay on his back, so he chose his path wisely, careful not to cause any further discomfort for the elf.
Some time later, the procession divided into two, for it was easier for the Imladris elves to choose the Old South Road, so that they would not have to pass the Misty Mountains on their way to the Realm. Menelmahtar was from Lothlorien, so he stayed with the smaller group after appointing a tall, serious Noldo, Astaldel, the temporary leader for the others. The members of two groups bid their farewells and continued their mournful separate paths.
After several days of riding, in the early morning, the group finally entered the Forest. Trees whispered their regret and sympathy to upset elves, and the procession was soon met by a group of frontier guards, led by – ironically – Rumil and Orophin. Brothers gracefully slid down from the trees they were hiding among and nodded their acknowledgement to Menelmahtar, Aragorn and Legolas. They spoke no words, for no words were needed: trees have already passed the grievous message to residents of Lorien, and they mourned their brother. Menelmahtar and Aragorn dismounted, placed hands over their hearts and bowed in traditional greeting, while Legolas stayed on Arod and stared off in nowhere, lost to the present world in his thoughts. Brothers returned the greeting, stealing sympathetic glances at the prince, for he has become part of their family long ago and shared the same grief they felt about Haldir. The elf and the human remounted as the brothers waved their hands, inviting the group to continue past them, for they could not leave their post until later this evening.
Aragorn glanced at his friend who was riding near him. Legolas has kept silence all these days and has barely eaten. Aragorn hasn't seen him sleeping ever since they left Helm's Deep. It looked like the elf ate only to keep his promise he gave to Aragorn, he ate so he wouldn't perish until they meet Galadriel.
Soon after passing the ford, the procession entered Caras Galadhon. Inhabitants of the settlement gathered on both sides of their path, silently regarding the newcomers with knowing, empathetic gazes. In front of the main tree, the group dismounted and Menelmahtar walked up the stairs around the giant mellorn to announce their arrival to the Lord and the Lady.
A few minutes later, he came back down, and many elves from the crowd volunteered to help with the bodies, for the newcomers, even while they were Eldar, were exhausted from their wounds and long ride. Aragorn led his horse to the stables before offering his help as a healer. Even if the journey has taken its toll on the human, he was determined to ease the task for the others as much as possible. Knowing the man and his skills, Elven healers accepted his offer gratefully.
The next few hours were spent on dreadful process of helping the injured elves and preparing the fallen, for the funeral was announced for the next day. Legolas vanished as soon as Aragorn changed his bandages, refusing to drink any sedative herbs, and Aragorn shook his head tiredly, deciding not to disturb his friend and leave him alone for the time being.
-:- -:- -:-
Legolas climbed up the first tree he reached, though it indeed was a challenge for the injured elf, and continued his way out of the settlement's territory, using branches to move himself forward. Least of all did he want to spend time with anybody now, for the place which has become his second home decades ago brought up new memories, which were already enough to bear.
Hours later, Legolas stopped his moving. He sat down on a thick branch, leaning back against the trunk, and took a deep breath. A tiny clearing lied in front of his eyes, and he knew immediately where he was. He was close to the Eastern border, Anduin's flow was already audible. This was the place where they first met, more than fifty years ago. Legolas volunteered to ride to Lorien and deliver his father's message about Nazguls of Dol Guldur, for the number and frequency of attacks on Thranduil's palace have increased greatly, and the Wood-Elves knew not how long they would still be able to keep the evil at bay for.
Lorien elves were aware of the situation too though, therefore they were guarding their borders with extra vigilance. So, soon after Legolas went deeper into the Forest after crossing Anduin and going up Celebrant, with at least two dozens of orcs pursuing him (the road the elf chose was too close to Dol Guldur, and it was obvious he would be noticed. What surprised the prince is that Lorien elves actually let the foul creatures go this far in the Forest), a rain of arrows whistled past him, each one finding its way to orcs' unprotected flesh. As soon as all foul creatures were slain, Legolas dismounted from his steed, letting the horse trot away a bit, and held his hands palms up to show he meant no harm for the Forest and its inhabitants.
Immediately, a group of elves appeared from the forest, each one holding up a long bow with a notched arrow aimed straight at Legolas. Knowing the custom, he waited patiently as they surrounded him. Finally, one of Lorien elves lowered his bow and stepped in the circle, studying Legolas carefully with his attentive eyes.
- Well met, - he spoke firmly in Elvish, placing a hand over his heart. – My name is Haldir, I am the Marchwarden of Lothlorien. Name yourself and say, what business brought you to this place.
- Well met, - Legolas answered, mimicking the gesture. – I am Legolas Thranduilion, and I have come to deliver the message of great importance to Lord Celeborn from the King of Great Greenwood. Now known as Mirkwood, he added in his mind sadly.
Haldir locked their gazes for several long seconds, deciding if a stranger could be trusted. Finally, his face relaxed a bit and he nodded, a hint of smile touching his lips.
Just then, Legolas' horse, Nimros, accidentally stepped on a dead orc, and the remaining reflexes of the dead body made it shudder in seizures. Nimros neighed abruptly, rising to her hind legs, panic coming in waves from the scared horse. One of the elves of the patrol started and his hand released the arrow which was still nocked on the string. Legolas gasped as he felt the arrow piercing his body. Thankfully, the start upset the sight and instead of hitting the elf's heart as it was intended, the arrow lodged itself right below his left collarbone. The elf fell to his knees and the last thing he remembered before giving in to the sweet unconsciousness were someone's hands holding his shoulders firmly so that he wouldn't fall forward and push the arrow inside even more, and a rushed yet confident voice giving commands and orders.
Legolas sighed and opened his eyes, realizing he had fallen asleep on the tree. He stretched his limbs and changed his position on the branch, lying down on his stomach and putting right hand under his chin, letting the other dangle freely, and thought over the memories that flashed through his head a minute ago. The next thing he remembered after fainting on that very clearing was lying on a bed in the House of Healing in Caras Galadhon. Slowly and painfully, he sat up and leaned back. His left shoulder was aching violently – just like now, he thought bitterly – and vision was blurred, but it only took him a moment to recognize the elf that entered the ward a minute later.
- I am glad to see you awake, - the marchwarden said, bowing slightly. – My greatest apologies for causing this discomfort, I hope you will not prejudge our Realm for that unfortunate incident.
Legolas cleared his throat before speaking, for he guessed his voice would be hoarse.
- 'Tis… 'tis fine. I will be alright, please do not-, - he coughed violently, his shoulders shuddering from the attack. Readily, the elf poured some water in a glass and lifted it to Legolas' lips.
- Thank you, - he managed after swallowing the liquid and smiled.
Haldir smiled back warmly. Little did they know that it was the beginning of their decades-long relationship.
Legolas frowned sadly and turned over, lying on his back and staring up in the slowly darkening sky through golden leaves and branches.
He also remembered the day they were bound up, two years after the fateful accident near Anduin. It was the beginning of summer, and the ceremony was held on a quite big clearing, decorated with beautiful flowers and lights. Galadriel stood under a white arch, holding her hands out invitingly. They walked through a wide corridor formed by celebrating, joyous elves, smiling and replying to congratulations and wishes from their friends: Legolas led by Thranduil and Haldir led by Orophin. The two walked up the stairs to the arch and descended to their knees as their father and brother officially presented Legolas Thranduilion of Great Greenwood and Haldir Mithaelinion of Lothlorien "…to be bound". Lady of Light placed warm hands on their bowed heads and said the formal speech with a smile, asking the Valar to bless this bond and watch over it. Legolas remembered the way their bodies glowed that day – the way only newly bound Eldar glow. The world was collapsing, the Shadow gaining more and more power, but that day was filled with joy and life.
Legolas sat up, holding his head. Five decades of happiness were struck out by one vile orc. And now there were only emptiness and grief left for him.
The elf knew not how much time he had spent away from others, but it was already dark, and he guessed the evening has ended and it was time to return. He got up and steadied himself before jumping to another branch, heading back to the settlement.
-:- -:- -:-
Slowly, ever so slowly, Haldir regained consciousness. He furrowed his eyebrows as his mind refused to tell the elf what was going on. He couldn't remember anything. Painfully, memories started returning. He remembered marching to the Helm's Deep with archers from two Realms, meeting Legolas and Aragorn inside the fortress, positioning his warriors, he remembered fighting first with bow, then with sword, he remembered himself parrying blows of several orcs on the wall, then there were Aragorn's cries… Something about retreating to the Keep… And then there was pain right between his shoulder-bla-
Haldir shot up and gasped, opening his eyes. He was killed! That foul Uruk killed him!
The elf looked around eagerly, taking in the view. Everything was different shades of gray. Shadows strolled around him, each deep in their thoughts. Shadows of those who are dead, Haldir guessed. Alarmed, he looked at his hands. They were pale, almost translucent, spreading the same shadow-like glow. He looked down; he was wearing a simple white robe and trousers instead of bloodied warrior outfit. The weapons were gone, as was the pain. He reached out a hand to touch between shoulder-blades, but his fingers found only skin.
So this is how it works.
Suddenly, he remembered Legolas. Oh Eru! What will happen to him now? Haldir knew they vowed to each other for this very case, but in fact he knew not if an oath would be enough, if his lover would go on living, for he himself knew not if he would live if something happened to Legolas.
No, he cannot die because of me, he thought. That is not what is predestined. Of course, Eldar can go back to Arda, for they have no ability to leave the World completely, but there could be millenias before he is allowed to return, and the prince definitely would not survive that long. Haldir knew what grief does to Eldar, their mother perished a week after their father died in the Battle of Dagorlad, leaving three elflings to their own. Thankfully, Lady Galadriel took care of them and tried to give Haldir, Orophin and Rumil as much as a mother could give, though she knew she would never replace the real mother and she never tried to.
How long has he been here for? Maybe it's too late now! The elf jumped up to his feet and rushed through the Halls. Finally, he saw a young woman in a silver dress. Her long black hair almost reached the floor. Haldir recognized Nienna, for she was destined to comfort those who are dead. She was talking to one of the inhabitants quietly, stroking their head, seemingly consoling them. Haldir strode over to her and knelt down in front of the creature as she nodded good bye to the shadow she was talking to and turned to Haldir.
- My Lady, - he whispered, bowing his head.
- Well met, Haldir Mithaelinion, - the soft voice answered. – You have finally awoken. - Tilion has crossed the dome of the sky for eight times already and is starting his ninth now.
Eight nights! He was already dead for eight nights!
- …No! – he lifted shocked eyes at her.
- Do not despair, Mithaelinion, - Nienna asked, smiling sadly, - for this is what awaits everyone on their path. I will mourn your life with you. Short as it was, your time has come to let it go and wait in my brother's Halls until Manwё allows you to leave.
- My Lady Nienna, - Haldir gasped, - I cannot wait! I should return, I cannot stay here, or he will die-
- Who? – she inquired.
- Legolas! He will fade from grief, if he has not already. I cannot let him perish. You should let me go!
- He has not… - the Vala murmured thoughtfully, staring off in nowhere. – I would have known if he entered the Halls, - she sighed and gazed at the Eldar sympathetically. – Your time has come, Haldir, and it is not for me to decide the time you can go back.
- But his time has not! – he almost cried. – His time has not come yet! Lady Galadriel told me he still has a lot to do on Arda, of great importance, things, concerning the Shadow and the new King, and- - he panted, despair ringing clearly in his voice. – Please, - he breathed, - he did nothing to earn perishing. For him, let me go, - he gazed up at the Vala, his eyes filled with hope and fear.
Nienna seemed to be consumed by conflicting thoughts. Haldir watched as her face expressed different emotions, changing within seconds. Finally, she placed a hand on his head and locked their gazes, sighing.
- Haldir Mithaelinion, it is not within my power to pass such judgements, - she murmured slowly, and Haldir's heart sank before she spoke again. – But I will ask my brother if we could take counsel, and if it works out and Manwё allows… - Namo's sister paused. – Let's not think of it just yet. First, I will try to talk to the Master of the Halls.
With these words, the Vala of Grief slowly faded away in front of the hesitant elf's eyes.
-:- -:- -:-
Aragorn woke up early in the morning and sat up, stretching out his limbs and tilting head to sides, listening to his neck crunching. He remembered the previous day, the march, the healing, and finally the rest on a guest talan. Then he thought of what awaited him today, and it saddened him as he remembered what the day would be devoted to.
The funeral.
When Aragorn closed the door of his tiny dwelling behind him some time later, he breathed in the cold sunny air and watched specks of dust floating through beams of light descending on trees from among their leaves.
Such a wonderful day to be saddened by such a grievous thing, he thought.
Below the human, down on the ground, elves have already started gathering, preparing the procession to the big clearing to the north of the Forest, where fallen elves were always buried. Aragorn searched with his eyes for Legolas, but didn't manage to find him. Worried, he climbed down the tree his talan was built on and started walking around, asking the inhabitants of Lorien if they had seen the Mirkwood prince, but no one could tell him where he was. Half an hour later the human sat down tiredly, leaning his back against a trunk of a tree. Now where could he be? The man knew he had little chance to find the Wood-Elf if the latter didn't want to be found.
That was when he opened his eyes and saw the said elf standing in front of him.
- Legolas! Where have you been, mellon nin? I couldn't find you anywhere, - Aragorn smiled, jumping up and clasping the elf's good shoulder. Legolas frowned.
- On our talan.
The man stopped in his movements and released the elf, nodding. How clever of him. Of course, he didn't guess that someone would be exactly where he would spend the night. At his place. So, Legolas was where any other would expect him to be: in the shelter he and Haldir had built decades ago and shared ever since when they were in Lorien.
Our talan, Legolas' voice echoed in his head. The way he subconsciously emphasized the first word.
- How is your arm? – healer's instincts kicked in.
- 'Tis nothing, - the familiar way Legolas waved him off for a moment almost deceived him into believing that he was the same old Legolas, but then he looked away tiredly and let his arm dangle freely, his eyes dull and emotionless.
Aragorn wanted to say something, but his intention was interrupted as elves around them started singing quietly, more and more joining the dreadful chorus, and moved in the direction of north, many of them carrying white wooden coffins. The funeral began.
-:- -:- -:-
Aragorn glanced over at his friend, who was walking beside him, eyes half-lid. He was singing along with other elves, and the human easily recognized the words of an ancient song, a prayer of some sort, the one they sang when paying their last tribute to someone of their kin. Legolas' voice was soft and quiet, and the man knew it was hard for the elf to sing that song when it was meant for the one he loved. Yet he could do little to console his despairing friend, so he decided at least not to cause any discomfort.
As they reached the clearing with sixty-five newly dug graves, the crowd spread out on the periphery of the place, the song slowly coming to its end. Finally, everyone fell silent as they watched Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel walking up an eminence to say the word for the fallen.
As the Lord spoke, Aragorn stole a glance at the Wood-Elf. He was standing aloof, seemingly indifferent about whatever was going on around him, lock of stray hair trailing over his forehead. Suddenly, the prince started and raised his eyes as he locked gazes with someone in front of them. Aragorn followed the direction of his gaze and saw Galadriel smiling sadly at the young elf. The human sighed with relief; at least, Lady of Light was trying to do something.
-:- -:- -:-
Thranduilion, an ingratiating voice entered his mind. Legolas recognized the voice immediately and lifted his head to meet the Lady's eyes. My Lady, he thought, for he knew Galadriel need not to hear him speaking to know what he wanted to say.
It is I, she replied, and the elf felt a wave of warmth radiating from the wise Noldo. He recognized the familiar feeling which always appeared when Lady of Light was scanning his mind. Over years, he learnt not to struggle, for it was for the best.
Do not despair, young Sinda, he could hear concern in her voice.
How can I not despair, my Lady? He is in Mandos now, and in Mandos can I not reach him, he frowned, eyes narrowing with pain.
Aye, he is there, she answered. But I feel his tale is not finished yet.
What do you mean?
The story of you both is not finished yet, I can feel it. Do not despair, she repeated.
Thank you, my Lady, he thought, but Galadriel has already exited his mind. She sent him one last smile and turned his attention back to the Lord's speech.
His tale is not finished yet, he thought over Galadriel's words. That made sense, since he was an Eldar and could not leave the world completely. But the story of us? he asked himself. I am afraid you are mistaken, my wise Lady. No one is to come back so soon. I will not live to see him return. No one has lived to see the ones they loved return. Legolas' head fell to his chest in distress, his fists balled up so that the knuckles became white.
Fare thee well, Haldir,he thought as the Lord finished his speech and the coffins began to descend into their graves.
-:- -:- -:-
In the evening, after the burying and the long ritual meal, filled with speeches and mourns, all elves finally gathered in the Palace for songs and music, for it was a tradition. Legolas wished he could disappear from this place. Many elves have come up to him to express their sympathy and regret for his loss, because he was of royalty and therefore received much more attention than the others. He stayed polite, but no one saw him smiling or talking when not directly asked that evening.
As darkness fell, elves lighted hundreds of tiny lamps and candles, and the evening went on. Aragorn watched his friend sitting on a sofa with the same aloof expression. He wondered, what the Lady could possibly say to make things even worse, if possible. He glanced at her every now and then, but her facial expression betrayed nothing when she noticed she was being watched by the man.
-:- -:- -:-
As yet another song was finished, Legolas felt Galadriel's presence in his mind yet again.
Will you sing? she inquired.
Least of all did he want to attract even more attention and, moreover, sing in front of everyone, but he could not turn the Noldo away. Aye, my Lady, he sighed tiredly and stood up.
Everyone fell silent as he walked up to the previous minstrel. The young elf understood there was a request from the Lady, and he gave his lute to the prince and rose to his feet, inviting the Sinda to take his place. Legolas nodded his thanks and sat down and checked if the lute was tuned up.
Aragorn held his breath, feeling that something meaningful was about to happen to them. He watched his friend striking several chords thoughtfully to adjust to the instrument, and then he started playing a slow and melancholic tune, running his fingers over strings. For a minute he stayed silent, his eyes shut and eyebrows slightly furrowed, and when Aragorn has already thought there would be no words, he started singing.
Go through the forest, - he sang,
Go through trees, through beams of light,
To the rainbow over your heart.
Looks of sadness and empathy appeared on fair creatures' faces as they listened to one of their kin mourning his lover.
I will follow you,
I will be searching for you till the very,
Till the very death…
The elf paused for a moment before opening his eyes and continuing.
We were told that we're alone in this world,
We would believe them, but you said you will be there,
You will be there for me
I would want you to sing further,
But the lakes in your eyes get frozen so fast…
Legolas sighed shakily and shut his eyes closed, almost whispering.
…I'm scared.
It looked like he wanted to stop, but he made an effort and went on.
There are only waves, only wind above us,
Only wind and earth,
I found out from books everything I wanted to know,
I cannot pass with words everything I wanted to say.
For there are no words.
Aragorn seized arms of his chair, feeling the grief that flowed to the audience with the last line as Legolas' voice quavered.
I would want you to sing further,
And I will be searching for you till the very,
Till the very death.
How many roads guide from home to home –
Only the skies know.
How many stones lied around us –
And we are encircled again
I might be blind at heart, but through lilac-coloured smoke
I see this world as it is
The elf took a deep breath before whispering the last line.
Sometimes I can see you there.
No one moved as the young prince finished his song and let his head fall on his chest after running his fingers over strings one last time. Like a spell, the song seized people in the hall, and they neither wanted, nor could move anymore, and the only sound heard was the crackling of candles. Breaking the spell, Legolas rose to his feet, placed the instrument on the chair and strode out of the Palace. Aragorn made a movement to follow him, but Galadriel's voice echoed in his mind. Let him be, young human, she said. He needs to be alone for now.The Dunadan nodded worriedly and sat back down as the evening continued.
-:- -:- -:-
Legolas fell down on the bed as soon as he reached the talan, slamming the door of his shelter behind him and kicking off his boots. His arm protested violently against pressure, but he paid no heed, curling up in a ball on his right side under the covers. He stared off in the darkness with unblinking eyes. When he almost ran out of the Palace, the only place he hoped to find solace at was their talan, and that was where he rushed. He pressed hands against his face and curled up even more. He didn't cry, no, he hasn't shed a single tear ever since he knew Haldir was dead, but that didn't mean he felt alright. Maybe it would be better for him if he could let his emotions out with tears, but no. No, he wasn't alright in any way possible. Legolas sighed as he pressed his back against the wall of their tiny dwelling and drifted off to heavy dreamless sleep.
-:- -:- -:-
Haldir raised his gaze to the ceiling but failed to see it, the vaults hidden in grayish mist. He knew not how long he was sitting there for, he wasn't even sure there was such thing as "time" in Namo's halls. Suddenly, he rather guessed than heard the movement behind him and turned around. Two figures materialized from thin air and the elf narrowed his eyes, gazing at them. The first creature was Nienna, her facial expression unreadable, and the other one was a tall person clothed in black, with black hair barely reaching his shoulders, grey eyes sharp and secured firmly on Haldir's face. The Eldar guessed it was the Master of the Halls, the Vala called Namo himself. Haldir fell on his knees and bowed his head, showing respect for the two Vala.
- Haldir Mithaelinion, - the man's low voice echoed in the Halls. – We have read your fate, and it has already come true. We cannot let you go without a reasonable excuse, - the way Namo emphasized the word "reasonable" made Haldir fear the worst.
- But… - Nienna's melodic voice filled the pause and the elf looked up at her. – Legolas Thranduilion's destiny has no words of an early death. And the path he has stepped on after your decease leads to nothing but it. He is fading, and if we want to spare him, we should let you go, – she smiled and looked at his brother. – That is a reasonable excuse, Namo.
The man looked highly displeased with the perspective of violating the rules set by Eru, but Manwё said that in this case, letting the Eldar go would cause more benefit than harm, and Namo obeyed.
- You are given a great gift, Eldar. You must treasure it, - he said in severe tone of voice.
Haldir bowed his head again.
- Thank you, my Lord, - he exclaimed, not fully believing this was happening to him. He was coming back! Haldir looked up at smiling Nienna.
- Thank you, my Lady, - he breathed.
She nodded approvingly and that was the last thing he saw before the Halls started spinning and suddenly vanished in blinding light.
-:- -:- -:-
Just then, on the graveyard, Haldir's body in its white coffin upholstered with red silk shone brightly before scattering to millions of tiny sparks, which faded away a few seconds later.
-:- -:- -:-
Galadriel raised her head from the book she was reading in their bedroom, gazing at the window. Light curtains moved slightly from the touch of wind.
- What is it? – Celeborn looked up at her from papers on his desk.
Lady of Light returned the look, a small smile spreading across her face.
- He has returned, - she whispered, her eyes shining with mirth.
-:- -:- -:-
When the blinding light slowly disappeared, Haldir opened his eyes and sat up, looking around. He recognized the place near the bathing pond, a place not far from talan where he and Legolas – lived? used to live?
The elf stood up and looked over himself. He was wearing the same white clothing he wore in Mandos; neither his own clothing nor his wound have returned, and he was especially grateful for the latter.
He breathed the chilly night air and smiled. He will still have to explain that somehow to the Lord and the Lady. Galadriel might know already though. Maybe tomorrow he will go to them, but not now; now he had much more important things to do.
Haldir sighed heavily as he climbed up the mellorn and stood in front of the door leading to their dwelling, unsure what he would see behind it. Ever so slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped inside soundlessly, closing it behind him. He looked up to see the familiar form covered by blankets. He froze in his place, listening until his hearing registered the sound of soft breathing. He is alive, Haldir thought and his heart ached with sorrow and love. Careful not to disturb the sleeping elf, Haldir neared the bed and slid under the covers next to Legolas. The young Sinda stirred and moved closer instinctively, breathing in the other's scent. Cautiously, Haldir wrapped one arm around the elf and pulled him closer, resting his chin upon his forehead. Legolas nestled his head in the crook between Haldir's neck and left shoulder, for it was the place where he felt most secured, breathing warmly against his collarbone. Haldir felt one slender arm slide around his waist, and considering the unsure way it moved, he guessed it was injured. The material of bandage, somewhat rougher than the tunic's fabric, confirmed his guess. The elf swallowed thickly as he pulled the other even closer, realizing how much he missed him. Haldir felt Legolas stirring again and relaxed his grip, scared that he might have woken him up. He felt the elf taking a deep breath and exhaling tiredly before he heard the prince's cracked voice.
- Haldir? – the elf murmured against the fabric of the Lorien child's robe.
- It is I, - he whispered.
- I must be dreaming, - Legolas stated sadly after a short pause. The way he spoke convinced Haldir that he was indeed not far from sleeping.
- Yes. Sleep, - he coaxed the other elf tenderly, lips pressed against his hairline.
Silence fell upon them, and Haldir has already thought that the Sinda has drifted off, when the latter stirred again and spoke up bitterly.
- I miss you, - he murmured sleepily and gave another long breath before finally relaxing in Haldir's embrace and giving in to sleep.
- I miss you too, - he smiled against the other's head before placing a kiss there and drifting off to sleep as well. Tomorrow will be a long day,he thought with contentment.
To the rainbow over your heart
Nimdael Mithaelin
-:- -:- -:-
So, that was it. If you have anything to say, you know what to do :)