Firstly, Please remember this is my first ever Lord of the Rings story so be constructive and polite. Also I have never actually finished reading the second and third book, so some facts are more then likely completely wrong. Tell me so I can change them. This has the beginnings of one of my epics, sadly, and hopefully I finish this one ^_^ Tell me what you think, the song is 'One Last Breath' by Creed.
One Last Breath.
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Please come now I think I'm falling,
I'm holding onto all I think is safe.
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1 - Legolas Greenleaf
The breeze shifted lightly through the trees, brining with it the icy chill of winter. It danced through the leaves that had turned red and gold in the autumn from the emerald and ivy it had been in summer. It picked one stray leaf from the tree and dropped it onto the lone figure whom sat beneath it. He did not try to brush the leaf from his clothes that were a dusty light green. He had a bow strapped to his shoulder that he could draw with deadly accuracy, though there was no need for such a weapon here in this place.
No, here there was Peace. Such a frail word, a word man and elf, hobbit and dwarf would die to defend. And they had, many of them gave up their lives in the quest for peace. But was it worth the struggle? To part ways and return home as a hero, to be toasted and praised. To then hear second hand the rumours that flew around behind your back. It was ridiculous really. You do everything in your power to save Middle Earth from a force that would enslave the world, and for your troubles you become an outsider among your own people.
He guessed that was what hurt the most.
As an elf he looked deceptively young. His hair was blonde as sunshine and fell to his hips in fine strands. Sea green eyes flecked with gold glittered in the failing sunlight and against milky skin, high cheekbones slopped to meet full lips. The pointed elfish ears kept most of the hair out of his eyes as he stared at the world around him. Not that he was paying much attention to it, he sat, his legs crossed, his stance relaxed and his mind deep in thought.
Legolas Greenleaf did not believe that any would disturb him in his search for solitude. They would not dare. Though he was only over two thousand years old, and to the immortality of elves it was a young age, he had proved his skills as a warrior time and time again. His clothes showed age, as did his well-worn boots. He wore the gloves of gauntlets of an archer with intricate and beautiful designs etched into them. There seemed to be only one thing that had changed in his appearance since his youth. And that was the band of silver that caressed his forehead, marking him as a prince of his people. He had taken to wearing it after his time in the Fellowship, when he had returned to his home, and his people.
He had thought he would be happy to be home with those he had spent his young life with, but he was not. If anything he felt an outcast, someone who had no right to be among them, to call them friend or family. In the two years since the destruction of the ring he felt the steady tug of loneliness and isolation, something he had never felt before. And it hurt, it pained him above all else. Why should he have to feel like this? Why should he have to know pain that ate away a whole in his heart?
Did the others feel the same?
The thought brought with it a start of surprise. That was something he had yet to think of. There had been nine, nine who worked to return the ring to the mountain of its birth to destroy it.
The ring bearer, Frodo Baggins. He was young, an innocent boy who had somehow managed to resist the corruption of the ring that all feared and fell to. The Hobbit had a sweet temperament and had surprised them all with his willingness to destroy the ring.
Sam Gamgee was the very picture of a Hobbit, with an almost inherent love of the Shire and the desire never to leave. The surprise with Sam was that he left to follow Frodo to the ends of the world. Not for the destruction of the ring, or saving the races of Middle Earth, but for his total and undying loyalty to Frodo Baggins, his best friend.
Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, otherwise known as Merry and Pippin, made up the remainder of the Hobbit quartet. Fun, young and full of mischief, these two made their days always spring like. They were always eating, or trying to make Sam laugh. It had become a mission to them until the Fellowship fell and even then they still managed to get themselves in trouble. Yet, with all their fooling around, the two were fierce fighters and even stronger friends. Though it had never been said it was Legolas's firm belief that both would have given up their lives for the Fellowship with out a moments notice.
The Dwarf Gimli had also been a surprise to the elf. Man and Dwarves had been held in the same regard to elves, creatures that should be avoided as often as possible as their greed often got the better of them. With Gimli's loyalty to the Fellowship, the maddening stubbornness to see them succeed had brought light to their dreariest of days. In battel Legolas had learnt to trust his axe absolutely. And it had never failed them. After a while he had begun to welcome his roguish company and had enjoyed many of his Dwarf tales.
Boromir from the south had been a strong man, but like all, he had almost fallen to the ring in a moment of weakness. He had been brave and proud, but he had fallen. Legolas had grieved for this man however, for though he had fallen, he had the sense to see he had and had fought with the bravery of kings before him to protect Merry and Pippin. Such an act deserved his respect and Legolas was certain he gave all he could.
Gandalf the Grey, the White and in Legolas's eyes, the Wise, had been an education. He was unlike the wizard Legolas had expected him to be. It was obvious the aging wizard adored the Hobbits for one. He had believed the old man to be rather eccentric, but had never argued his abilities. But when he returned to them after death as Gandalf the White, Legolas was willing to follow him just about anywhere.
Aragorn, son of Arathorn was everything Legolas had remembered. He was still the young man who had saved his life all those years ago, brave and kind, loyal and trusting. Legolas would have been lying to himself if he said he hadn't missed the man he had become, and elves did not lie. The young Hobbits called him Strider for the better part of their journey together, and they took learning of him as heir to the throne of Gondor easier then Legolas thought they would. But by that point, Frodo confessed later, they had come to believe meeting royalty was just another part of having adventures. After all, he was also a Prince, Frodo had reminded him.
The Fellowship, nine who had set out to destroy the ring that would have destroyed all. And succeed they had, though it had meant the loss of one of them. They had parted two years before, the Hobbits returned to the Shire, Gimli to the Dwarven lands and his father, Gandalf to his wanderings, Aragorn to Gondor as King and he to Milkwood and Princely duties.
He realised as his wandering mind slowed to a stop that he missed them. All of them. He missed the time he had spent in their company and the starlit nights and says they had spent travelling. He missed their voices, their smiles and smells. He missed Frodo's shy smile, Sam's gentle laugh, Merry and Pippin's sadistic humour, Gandalf's delightful musings and Aragorn's unwavering loyalty.
Legolas came to the decision without any other thought. He would return and visit his friends of the Fellowship. And after he had finished, he would take the life of a mortal and live the remainder of his life as a Wanderer. His people would mourn his departure, but life went on and they would as well. Such a life was better then continually living behind a mask whilst his soul rotted inside.
The decision made he stood, brushing the leaves from his clothes. He needed nothing more then the bow on his back and the coins already on his possession. Legolas took one moment to slip the band of silver off his forehead and into a pouch at his hip before he began his journey.