A Mounting Grief
By Roguish Smile
Rating: PG
Summary: Legolas struggles to defeat the grief he is suffering at the loss of life throughout the fellowship of the ring and the complications the arrival of his father brings after the defeat of Sauron.
Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to JRR Tolien and have been taken from the books 'The Lord Of The Rings' and 'The Hobbit'. The author claims rights to the storyline and concept. No money is being made in the production of this fanfiction.
Warning: lots of angst, first time LOTR writer.
AN: Movie/book hybrid -verse, plus a tiniest bit AU. Trust me, it works. Elvish translations and explanations of the assumptions made at the end.
1) Of Mithrandir
Gimli watched as Legolas wandered aimlessly towards the far side of the plateau they had found themselves on after leaving the mines. The elf had roused Merry and Pippin, got them to their feet somehow and now they were wandering about almost as aimlessly, though in the wrong direction. If Aragorn was expecting Legolas to be able to help him lead them away to Lothlórien, he was mistaken.
"Legolas." Gimli called him back, catching hold of the two hobbits as he did so, leading them back towards the others. His moment of weakness and grief was done, his dignity returned to him. For this was how dwarves grieved: with passion and violence, but quick to return to the lives still living. They were, above all, practical creatures. He waited for the elf's response, growling under his breath as he refused to even look back.
"Leave him be, my friend." Aragorn's soft voice behind him almost made him jump. "He needs a moment to collect himself." There was a sadness in his voice and Gimli knew that this would be the only outward sign of grief the strong-willed ranger would give.
"He has lost no more than we, Aragorn. He should be allowed no more time to grieve."
"You know little of elven grief, Gimli. Elves cannot pass away through illness or disease. No old age taints them. When their soul grows weary of middle earth they travel over sea to the Valar and their eternal rest. Grief alone, save fatal injury (and even then, what may be fatal to man or dwarf may still be healed by an elf), can separate an elf from his earthly body. We must allow Legolas his time to grief else we lose two of this fellowship, not one." The dwarf looked shocked.
"You think the elf might die over the loss of the wizard!?"
"Legolas has known Gandalf longer than you or I have lived, Gimli. The grief of his passing must be strong in his heart. We must hurry towards Lórien. Perhaps beneath the elven trees he might find peace, if only for a moment before we continue on."
Even as they entered the cover of the trees, on the borders of the forest known as Lothlórien, the elf seemed calmed, less distraught. He had followed the others like a puppy, lost and fearful with sad wide eyes into the arms of the forest, and once there it seemed he regained a little of his composure. His hand was outstretched, brushing the silver bark of the trees. His eyes seemed distant. Gimli made a concerted effort to be more aware of their surroundings, knowing that the usual warnings had all come from the elf and he was in no state to be attentive.
The others too seemed to have gathered a little spirit on entering the forest. The sounds of water and nature around them were reassuring, soothing to the soul. He only hoped they would find the elves to be as amiable as their forest.
