Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to the 'Lord Of The Rings' universe. The OC is belongs to me.
On The Farthest Shore
It had been many years since their first meeting, but her heart remained unchanged. It was not the nature of Elves, though they did learn to quickly adapt. Ealanol Miluirîs was no exception, as her journey to the Undying Lands had left her bereft of a family and home. It would be some time before she recovered it – though it had never been truly lost.
Though the years that had passed might have seemed like a blink to those of her undying nature, they seemed long in the absence of particular company.
That her son came to her was a blessing. She welcomed him easily, with wide arms, and most graciously accepted the companion at his side. Unlike Thranduil, she was not inclined to prejudice and had not minded the presence of a Dwarf in her home. Gimli was a humorous character, and he held a strong friendship with Legolas. Ealanol would not easily dismiss such fond company, for it was rare and precious.
Indeed, as the years wore on, she found she delighted in his presence just as much as Legolas. Even now, under the bright rays of afternoon sun, nothing could seem to dampen her spirits.
"I think you missed your mark, Elf." Gimli announced, glaring at the arrow in the bullseye.
Legolas turned, bow in hand, and smiled at his friend. The years had long since turned Gimli's coarse hair white, while Legolas remained unchanged. "You think?" he replied, jovial despite the teasing.
Gimli narrowed his eyes, before puffing out a ring of smoke from his pipe. "Aye," he asserted, "By the difference of a few hairs."
The trio lazed in the courtyard of Ealanol's house. Upon coming to the Undying Lands, she had been accommodated in a large, white house built with a craftsmanship that rivalled Rivendell and awed Gimli. It was extravagant enough to afford her the same leisure of living she had known in Middle Earth, but far more open that her home in Greenwood. Trees sprouted in all placed, plants wound their way around archways. It was very much integrated with nature, and it was with that connection that Ealanol flourished.
She sat on a chair nearby, Gimli on the steps beside her. When Legolas looked at her, he saw the same elegance and grace he had always seen within his mother. Her grey eyes surveyed unassumingly, taking in all without disregard. The pale glow of her hair had only grown fairer since his youth, and while Legolas took after Ealanol in spirit, the changes in her proved only just how much alike to his father he was in appearance.
"Legolas," Ealanol stood as she spoke, "Would you permit me to have a shot with your bow? Maybe then we can truly judge how on mark you were."
Legolas inclined his head but replied with contradicting words. "Try not to hurt yourself, emel."
At this, she stilled and sent him a dangerous glare. She wasn't the type to avoid forgiveness, but she had never resented a challenge when one met her.
The curl of her lips prompted Gimli to interject. "I doubt Lady Ealanol has anything to fear from the like of you," he chuckled, "Not even a competition."
Ealanol remained silent as she took the bow and arrow Legolas offered her. Her form was constructed quickly, the arrow nocked with a fluidity that came only from practise. Legolas watched carefully and closely as she let it fly.
It hit the target with a dull thud that awakened his senses. "You aim well." Legolas exclaimed, unable to fault her technique.
She inclined her head gratefully. "Did you think I have lived this long without knowing how to fight?"
"Never." He assured quickly.
Gimli laughed again, amazed that Legolas was so hasty to avoid reprimand. At the looks his good humour drew, he grunted, "What?"
Ealanol smiled in reply. "Nothing at all, Master Dwarf. Laughter will always be welcome in my house."
Her eyes then wandered sideways, towards the entrance to the courtyard. Legolas was not the type to miss such details, nor to dismiss it when it caused such concern. Every odd, solemn look he took with utmost seriousness. He was well aware of his mother's gift for reading into the future.
"Is something wrong?" he inquired.
Her fingers rose to her neck, where lay the jewelled necklace that scarcely left her sight – a parting gift from a most beloved one. "It is almost time." She murmured.
Legolas stepped to her side swiftly, taking her hand in a small offering of comfort. Understanding that he was worried, for not all her premonitions had been good, she smiled. "Today is a good day for company." She said reassuringly.
"It is a good thing, then." Gimli grumbled, before nodding towards the doorway.
Ealanol followed his gaze and was met with the sight of a young Elf. His hair was dark, his features fair, and the naivety of youth freshened his gaze.
He bowed low. "Lady Ealanol, I bring news from the haven."
"I am certain of it." She agreed, and not a moment later, began marching away.
Legolas and Gimli remained in place, watching her leave. Her white dress, layers of fine cloth and lace, dragged against the ground, and that she cared not in the least passed without remark. The messenger stood by the door, stunned at the apparent rudeness of Ealanol. She walked past him without another word, to the amazement of them all.
"Do not worry, she has always been a little strange." Gimli announced at last.
"My emel is not strange," Legolas corrected, his attention turning to the messenger, "She simply had no reason to wait. She knew what you were to say, even if we might not."
Taking the hint, the messenger continued, "A ship bearing a strange crest was spotted. The last ship to ever sail to the Undying Lands."
Legolas nodded gravely, finally comprehending the actions of his mother. "She has waited long for this day."
Legolas empathised with the sentiment. He had never been so patient, and he could never have imagined spending so long apart from one whose existence had been so vital to the other.
A ring of smoke curled through the air, and there was, among them, a sense of shared contentment.
"She simply cannot bear waiting any longer."
The pale light sunk lower, arching across the sky and towards the sea that sought to claim it. Ealanol had thought to wait alone, but the bustle of activity had yet to die.
The elves around her were in good humour, ready to receive the last of their kin from the lands of Middle Earth. They had made many preparations, and chattered on like excited songbirds about the many festivals they would have in welcome. The Elves of this town had always sought any and every excuse to throw parties.
It suited Thranduil's tastes remarkably well, and the thought left a smile on Ealanol's lips. She ached to see him again.
In the distance, white sails furled. The ship drew close, across calm water, and there was a burst of activity as the Elves made to accept its docking. Still, Ealanol watched on. The wind pulled on her hair, on the sleeves of her dress, but she weathered the chill.
She refused weakness, for the love in her heart prevailed over all else. It was for the thought of him, of the promise he pressed to her lips. Even now, she could vividly recall that last touch before she departed from the shores of Middle Earth.
A wooden gangway was quickly established, faster than she had imagined possible. As Ealanol held her breath, the world passed in dizzying speed. Her thoughts had been but a blur since her first vision of his arrival.
When at last they met again, it was on the shores of another land – to the realization that nothing had changed.
His eyes held the same intensity she recalled, his expression solemn until it came across her smile. Even for all his long years of life, Thranduil could conceive of no fairer sight than that of Ealanol.
He strode forward, the head of his party, and met Ealanol as the head of his own welcoming. In a moment, like two great waves wrapping around each other, they came together in fond greeting. For a second, fear of dreaming this moment prevented him from reaching out.
"You look well, Ealanol."
She could only laugh, had only to, before they were embracing. Thranduil held her as tightly as he could, seeking press his body to hers. Her fingers found a way around his neck, against the softness of his golden hair. She missed him – she knew it in the tremble of her skin as his breath moved across her neck.
Thranduil had never thought he could hold someone so tightly. The sheer intensity of it was enough to fill the void in his chest, to cool his hot heart.
"I couldn't bear to be away from you any longer," he murmured, moving to kiss her cheek, "Without you, I am never as good as you believe I am."
When next he looked, Thranduil perceived beyond her smile to the tears glittering on her cheeks. "I missed you." She whispered the words for him alone.
"Ealanol," He said her name with all the craving he had dwelt with in the years between them, "Melethen."
Her smile was undimmed. "I have come to believe," she declared, "That we have spent so much of our lives together rather than apart, that we have become something alike to necessary to each other. I could not live without air, without my heart, and nor could I ever truly live without you."
His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing along the softness of her cheeks. Ealanol rose to the tips of her toes so that she could more closely scrutinize him, searching for a change in his heart that did not exist. He loved her just as dearly as ever.
"If you are in a hurry to rest, I have a house here that will most willingly accommodate you. Though you may also feel a desire to stay in the city and attend the welcoming party – as I am sure there will be one." Ealanol announced.
"I will go where you go, do what you will." He replied surely.
"To go home would be to see our son again." Ealanol advised.
Thranduil drew back just a little, enough to tilt his head in consideration. "Legolas?"
"Legolas," Ealanol confirmed, "He came a few years before you, along with a companion who now also stays with us."
"I am glad that you have not been as alone as I worried about. Only I wonder, what sort of a companion?"
"Not the kind you are thinking, I'm sure." Ealanol laughed, predicting his reaction. "He is named Gimli, son of Gloin. I have never seen such friends as the like of those two – and elf and a dwarf."
Thranduil's countenance became suddenly and fiercely changed, a clear expression of his reprehension. The age-old prejudice shone bright then, as firm as he was in his manner of speaking. "A dwarf has no place in the Undying Lands."
"But the place for a friend is beside his own. The gods shall always welcome those of a pure heart, and he is certainly not the first of mortal nature to live on these shores. Some halflings there have been also." She cautioned, her hands moving to his shoulders as if to hold him back.
Thranduil gazed down at her, his eyes assessing her own expression as if to determine the worth of her words. She had never before given him advice half-heartedly, and never had she been proven wrong. Unable to reconcile with the truth, he returned his attention to matters more urgent.
"I have left the captain in charge of affairs," he announced, "So that I may leave without further burdens."
"As you should. The Undying Lands are no place for the troubles of Middle Earth – that is something you will learn very easily," Ealanol laughed, her words lilting, "Perhaps you should walk with me for a bit, away from eyes and ears. It does good to remember the feel of earth under your feet after such a long journey."
Thranduil did not have to answer for her to understand that he was willing. Already she turned, and already his hand was entwined with hers. For the sake of their surroundings, the crowd along the docks, Ealanol slid her fingers up to rest around his elbow.
Knowing, or at least sensing, the many years of grace that weighed these two, the crowd parted for them. Ealanol followed, offering smiles to those who met her eyes and greetings to those she knew as friends. Beside her, Thranduil's countenance was nothing short of kingly, though he would have to forget his pride very soon. Ealanol knew that the Elves of these lands gave respect only when it was earned.
"A more intimate reunion may just have to wait until later tonight." mused Ealanol, filling the growing silence with words in hopes of it sprouting conversation.
"Pray I do not lose patience sooner."
Once more, her laughter filled the air. They walked down a paved street, the great city spiralling up around them. Thranduil had to admire the craftsmanship, though it was a far cry from his underground kingdom. Here, it seemed that nature flourished in every way imaginable – and he could only be glad that Ealanol did the same.
Their walk led them down a secluded path and to a gurgling river. The salty smell of the sea permeated the entire city, even when hidden from sight and hearing. When Ealanol at last stopped walking, it was on top of a crafted bridge arching over the waterway. Evening sun made her skin glow, yet her dress and pale hair still retained all the silvery glow of night.
To Thranduil, she very much looked star-kissed.
"All this time has past since I last looked upon you, Ealanol," announced the golden-haired Elf, "And I can still recall how you look under moonlight, and how I have dreamt about seeing you again."
Her fingers reached for him, a butterfly-touch against his face. "This is no dream, meleth."
As if under some spell, his eyes drifted shut. Ealanol took a step closer, her grip strengthening until purpose had settled into their very bones. Silence echoed, and nothing in the world had the power to intrude upon such a moment in time. The wait had made it all the sweeter, all the more precious, as they fell into a slow, eventual kiss.
"I made you a promise," Thranduil murmured, lips against hers as words embedded in the past spilled forth, "In the way that the sun cannot help but shine, the stars glow, and the living breathe, I cannot help but love you."
"In the same way that I cannot help but love you." Ealanol added, her neck craned to him as a smile adorned her lips.
Just as there was no lie in his words, there was none in hers. It was a trust that could turn on them at any moment, but she had lived so long she forgave any and all the dangers of love. Through life, through death, through the passages of time, they would remain – and he needed only that smile to know it was worth it.
Feel free to review with questions, critiques, praise and even just to point out anything that might be incorrect/out of place - especially any of the minor elvish-english translations.
This oneshot is the second part (a sequel, kind of) to another oneshot written about the same pairing. If you're interested in reading more and understanding some of the history that leads to this oneshot, go check it out (published under the title 'Fingertips').
Thanks for reading!
Translations:
emel - mother
melethen - my love
meleth - [my] love