~*~
Desperation By Caeyle
Rating: G Disclaimer: All of these characters and places belong to Tolkien. I don't own anyone.
Side Note: I have no idea why I wrote this, it was just a random idea. Anyway, Legolas's point of view. Revised 6/10/02: A few things added, a few things corrected.
~*~
I was born in the midst of the second age, times of happiness and peace. Then, suddenly, dark days were upon us; Sauron had come to great power. My mother became ill and died suddenly, faded away like a wilted blossom of elanor. My father grew forbidding and grim, sometimes embracing me as his youngest son, a memory of his wife, sometimes pushing me away as if hoping to forget her. I was the only one of four brothers to have her golden hair.
Then the darkness finally left, Sauron and Mordor defeated. Even my father lightened up, a shadow of his old self appearing at times. It was good days come again, filled with music and laughter. It was a relief not to have to be alert at all times, bow or knife at the ready.
Over time, though, a feeling of uneasiness and dread filled the lands. The dark shadows fell over our fair lands again, this time, seemingly, to stay. We would patrol around our lands, ever ready for an attack. Gandalf had come to us with a prisoner, a small, deceitful looking creature called Smeagol. My blood ran cold just looking at him, yet I felt a pity for him, for a reason I knew not. It was then I first set my eyes on Aragorn son of Arathorn. He was young, yet had an air of nobility about him, and was wise beyond his years. Men rarely came to the domain of the Lord of Mirkwood.
Years passed, and we lived in constant fear of the enemy. Smeagol escaped unexpectedly, and I was sent to carry the tidings to the house of Elrond Halfelven. Even in Rivendell the fear was great, even more so, since Rivendell was a major elven-city. Aragorn looked older, too old, too careworn. It seemed he had lived those years since I had last seen him at least thrice. Elrond chose me to accompany the ringbearer on his quest. I was willing, I would do all that I could to aid the enemy of my enemy. Yet I had my doubts.
Gimli son of Gloin I liked not, almost unconsciously, having been prejudiced against dwarves all my life. We hated each other, and would have come to grief if Boromir had not intervened more than once. I laugh now at our arguments, our hostility when all should have been used against the dark lord.
We traveled on, toward Mordor, where the shadows were the darkest. Heavy was my heart when Gandalf fell in Moria, both for he, who had protected and led us, but also for Aragorn. Aragorn, who shouldered the burden of leadership in an attempt to keep the quest from failure. How hard he tried! The Fellowship was shattered completely, despite Aragorn's effort. Boromir had fallen, a worthy man and noble companion, killed by many orc arrows. Meriadoc and Peregrin were taken by orcs, away to where, we knew not. Frodo and Sam departed to Mordor alone, alone and desperate. I could well understand their thoughts.
I was torn between following and aiding the ringbearer or following the orcs to rescue our other companions and avenge Boromir. Frodo- he was far more than he had seemed, an unlikely place to find bravery. His deeds were far greater than mine. I could not abandon Aragorn, however, or Gimli, and we followed the orcs on foot. When we met the Riders of Rohan, and heard their tidings, I feared the worse. What have those accursed slaves of Sauron done to my young friends?
On arriving at Minas Tirith, we learned that our two hobbit-friends were safe and well. It was an even greater surprise to see Gandalf. Mitherandir no more, he was now white. But my joy faded quickly, war was coming upon us.
It seemed that those days went by in a daze, I walked on this world, yet my soul was in another. I served Aragorn, obeying orders subconsciously, joking with Gimli, yet I still was not there. Several times Gimli had saved my life from orcs that should have never gotten near me. My father and my brothers would have been shamed if they had seen me. I simply was not there. When I had snapped back to Middle-Earth, waken up, war was over, the ringbearer had succeeded, good had prevailed over evil.
Aragorn took the throne of Gondor, he was crowned and wed. The ringbearers, Frodo, Bilbo, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond sailed over the sea to the Grey Havens. I partly wished to go also, but something held me back, begged me to stay. Maybe it was reminisces of my old life.
I went back home, but it was not the same, it was about as familiar as Mordor. After wandering, it felt strange to stay in one place and do nothing. I was restless and uncomfortable, so I took up wandering once again, my friend Gimli at my side. I felt an unknown desire, burning brighter as the years went on. I tried first to understand it, but I could not grasp it, so I pushed it aside, hoping to forget. Was this how my father felt when my mother died? But he stayed, his duty to his people far greater than his love for one woman. And he had loved my mother more than anything else. I pushed my endurance and strength, going from place to place, never resting. Gimli said nothing, but trod steadfastly beside me.
Aragorn was old and weary, yet I never thought he would die, I forget he was a mortal. Immortality has its disadvantages. I had not seen it before, but to my horror Gimli was also growing old before my eyes, grey showing in his hair and beard. And I still remained young and fair! Would it be that my friends would die, one by one, of old age, and leave me here alone? Desperation drove me now, stronger than ever, to take action.
So here am I, with my beloved friend Gimli lying by my side. As I look upwards, I can see the stars appearing in the dark sky, twinkling brightly, and Ithil, full and more silvery than I had remembered. The waves rock me gently to my fate, one of an immortal who has wearied of life on Middle-Earth. I close my eyes, and can hear the waves hitting the sides of my ship with gentle splashing noises. Gimli would see Galadriel again, after all. Tomorrow, just a sleep away. I am at peace.
'When King Elessar gave up his life Legolas followed at last the desire of his heart and sailed over the Sea. We have heard tell that Legolas took Gimli Gloin's son with him because of their great friendship, greater than any that has been between Elf and Dwarf.' -The Return of the King
Desperation By Caeyle
Rating: G Disclaimer: All of these characters and places belong to Tolkien. I don't own anyone.
Side Note: I have no idea why I wrote this, it was just a random idea. Anyway, Legolas's point of view. Revised 6/10/02: A few things added, a few things corrected.
~*~
I was born in the midst of the second age, times of happiness and peace. Then, suddenly, dark days were upon us; Sauron had come to great power. My mother became ill and died suddenly, faded away like a wilted blossom of elanor. My father grew forbidding and grim, sometimes embracing me as his youngest son, a memory of his wife, sometimes pushing me away as if hoping to forget her. I was the only one of four brothers to have her golden hair.
Then the darkness finally left, Sauron and Mordor defeated. Even my father lightened up, a shadow of his old self appearing at times. It was good days come again, filled with music and laughter. It was a relief not to have to be alert at all times, bow or knife at the ready.
Over time, though, a feeling of uneasiness and dread filled the lands. The dark shadows fell over our fair lands again, this time, seemingly, to stay. We would patrol around our lands, ever ready for an attack. Gandalf had come to us with a prisoner, a small, deceitful looking creature called Smeagol. My blood ran cold just looking at him, yet I felt a pity for him, for a reason I knew not. It was then I first set my eyes on Aragorn son of Arathorn. He was young, yet had an air of nobility about him, and was wise beyond his years. Men rarely came to the domain of the Lord of Mirkwood.
Years passed, and we lived in constant fear of the enemy. Smeagol escaped unexpectedly, and I was sent to carry the tidings to the house of Elrond Halfelven. Even in Rivendell the fear was great, even more so, since Rivendell was a major elven-city. Aragorn looked older, too old, too careworn. It seemed he had lived those years since I had last seen him at least thrice. Elrond chose me to accompany the ringbearer on his quest. I was willing, I would do all that I could to aid the enemy of my enemy. Yet I had my doubts.
Gimli son of Gloin I liked not, almost unconsciously, having been prejudiced against dwarves all my life. We hated each other, and would have come to grief if Boromir had not intervened more than once. I laugh now at our arguments, our hostility when all should have been used against the dark lord.
We traveled on, toward Mordor, where the shadows were the darkest. Heavy was my heart when Gandalf fell in Moria, both for he, who had protected and led us, but also for Aragorn. Aragorn, who shouldered the burden of leadership in an attempt to keep the quest from failure. How hard he tried! The Fellowship was shattered completely, despite Aragorn's effort. Boromir had fallen, a worthy man and noble companion, killed by many orc arrows. Meriadoc and Peregrin were taken by orcs, away to where, we knew not. Frodo and Sam departed to Mordor alone, alone and desperate. I could well understand their thoughts.
I was torn between following and aiding the ringbearer or following the orcs to rescue our other companions and avenge Boromir. Frodo- he was far more than he had seemed, an unlikely place to find bravery. His deeds were far greater than mine. I could not abandon Aragorn, however, or Gimli, and we followed the orcs on foot. When we met the Riders of Rohan, and heard their tidings, I feared the worse. What have those accursed slaves of Sauron done to my young friends?
On arriving at Minas Tirith, we learned that our two hobbit-friends were safe and well. It was an even greater surprise to see Gandalf. Mitherandir no more, he was now white. But my joy faded quickly, war was coming upon us.
It seemed that those days went by in a daze, I walked on this world, yet my soul was in another. I served Aragorn, obeying orders subconsciously, joking with Gimli, yet I still was not there. Several times Gimli had saved my life from orcs that should have never gotten near me. My father and my brothers would have been shamed if they had seen me. I simply was not there. When I had snapped back to Middle-Earth, waken up, war was over, the ringbearer had succeeded, good had prevailed over evil.
Aragorn took the throne of Gondor, he was crowned and wed. The ringbearers, Frodo, Bilbo, Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond sailed over the sea to the Grey Havens. I partly wished to go also, but something held me back, begged me to stay. Maybe it was reminisces of my old life.
I went back home, but it was not the same, it was about as familiar as Mordor. After wandering, it felt strange to stay in one place and do nothing. I was restless and uncomfortable, so I took up wandering once again, my friend Gimli at my side. I felt an unknown desire, burning brighter as the years went on. I tried first to understand it, but I could not grasp it, so I pushed it aside, hoping to forget. Was this how my father felt when my mother died? But he stayed, his duty to his people far greater than his love for one woman. And he had loved my mother more than anything else. I pushed my endurance and strength, going from place to place, never resting. Gimli said nothing, but trod steadfastly beside me.
Aragorn was old and weary, yet I never thought he would die, I forget he was a mortal. Immortality has its disadvantages. I had not seen it before, but to my horror Gimli was also growing old before my eyes, grey showing in his hair and beard. And I still remained young and fair! Would it be that my friends would die, one by one, of old age, and leave me here alone? Desperation drove me now, stronger than ever, to take action.
So here am I, with my beloved friend Gimli lying by my side. As I look upwards, I can see the stars appearing in the dark sky, twinkling brightly, and Ithil, full and more silvery than I had remembered. The waves rock me gently to my fate, one of an immortal who has wearied of life on Middle-Earth. I close my eyes, and can hear the waves hitting the sides of my ship with gentle splashing noises. Gimli would see Galadriel again, after all. Tomorrow, just a sleep away. I am at peace.
'When King Elessar gave up his life Legolas followed at last the desire of his heart and sailed over the Sea. We have heard tell that Legolas took Gimli Gloin's son with him because of their great friendship, greater than any that has been between Elf and Dwarf.' -The Return of the King