Chapter 2 – A Nameless Fear
"Who are you?" Legolas finally found the courage to demand into the air.
There was no one that they could see, but they could sense its presence. The very air about them dripped with evil.
"You have wielded my sword," the being did not seem intent on answering any questions, "you shall serve me or die."
"Your-your sword?" Aragorn managed to stammer.
"You know what you have done," the menacing voice spoke ever so slowly.
"I will not serve you!" Aragorn shouted, enunciating each word clearly, "I will never ever submit!"
A strange sound, like a cackle. "You cannot defy me."
"Who are you?" Legolas asked again. This may have been Aragorn's own trouble, but now that he was here beside his friend, it would concern him.
"Me?" a rasping laugh shook the very ground they were on, "I am Evil. I am Darkness. My power is strong in Arda; there is none that can oppose me. My dominion spreads far and wide to the very ends of this land. Does the answer satisfy you?"
"You will have no hold on Aragorn. The Valar will not let you go guiltless!" Legolas' hope seemed secure.
"Oh?" the sneering voice grew unbearably loud, "where were they when I pulled down mountains and raised valleys? Where were they when I took the many souls? They cannot interfere in my affairs; they are powerless against me!"
"You shall not speak thus of them!" Legolas' rage was getting the better of him, and Aragorn was growing increasingly worried for his friend's safety.
There was another reverberating laugh, "Your hope is misplaced, elf, for there is none to help, save I alone!"
"NO-" Legolas shouted, but was interrupted before he could say any more.
"If you will follow me, I can give you all the riches of the world. We will rule it together and build an empire greater than any other. All shall fall at your feel, and you shall have no lack of goodly things," the offer was extended to Aragorn as well.
For a while, Aragorn and Legolas each saw himself in visions of grandeur and glory. King Elessar with Queen Arwen by his side, both leading immortal lives like all of their people. He was upon the throne of Gondor and Arnor, and all beings, men of Gondor, of Rohan, the East, the South, elves of the three realms; Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel, Thranduil and all the creatures of the world paying homage to Aragorn, ruler over all Arda…
Prince Legolas, now King over all Rhovanion and all the lands of Arda and even Aman, sitting in comfort in the Palace of Greenwood the Great, now made even more wonderful than ever; far exceeding the beauty of the sacred Caras Galadhon, far exceeding the warmth of the hidden Imladris. Animals came unhindered in, birds flew over the no longer darkened land, all manner of fierce beasts toning down, lying harmlessly beside the tame creatures, orcs and spiders and all foul creatures driven completely from the forests, Dol Guldur brought down, destroyed at last…
"Never!" Aragorn's now firm voice spoke for the both of them, "we will never follow you!"
"And what can you do? You have no strength; you are nothing!"
There was silence before the voice came again, "The human has used my sword; he shall pay the price, whether he will or nil."
"You shall not touch him," Legolas' silent determination showed how prepared he was to go to any extreme to keep Estel alive.
"Why should I not? Why should you stop me? You, who has suffered at the hands of humans? You, who has no relation to this one?"
"You should have told me, Legolas," Aragorn whispered miserably, "you should have told me everything about the sword in the very beginning."
Legolas' eyes showed a deep compassion, but did not even hesitate.
"What good would it have done?" he asked softly, "would you have listened, then?"
"Perhaps I would have. You should have told me, you should have told me!" Aragorn's bitterness came in the form of mounting ire.
The Presence seemed content to leave them to argue on. It would do no harm, after all, except to themselves, and then, it could…
"I have told you all you needed to know," Legolas struggled to keep his cool, "it is enough."
Aragorn could no longer control his emotions, and, not caring if he sounded childish or illogical, he carried on, "But it is not! You could have said morel you should have! You should have said everything! Now, what choice do we have?"
"You have only one choice," the voice reiterated, "join me, or face your doom."
Legolas shook his head defiantly, "Your promises are vain; your words are sweet as honey, but behind them lie a forked tongue and a sword!"
But Aragorn was already drawn to what it said. His head felt dizzy and he was tired. Every last bit of caution seemed to flee from him as the pain in his throbbing head grew wilder. He could only think of one thing: he wanted it all to end. He closed his eyes, embracing the darkness as the last tendrils clinging on to his hope and resolve gave way. And he understood.
His eyes flew suddenly open, "I will sub-"
"Aragorn!" Legolas, completely taut and tense now, interrupted before the man could finish, fearful of what the man would try to say, "you cannot go, you must not!"
"I am weaned enough. I know what I am doing! You have no right to control me!"
"Aragorn, I have never sought to control you-"
"Yes, you have, you and the others of your kind. You always have!" Aragorn turned away, the tears stinging his eyes as he said those cruel words. He did not want to do this, but he had no choice. Short though his time with the elf had been, he would not involve the Prince in any matter of his own making. There was no other way.
"I see that you have a clear mind, after all. You are indeed destined for greatness, unlike your deluded friend here. You shall serve me; you shall give me your soul."
"Yes," the man said, never faltering.
"Is there no other way?" Legolas tethered on the brink of despair, "is there no other way at all?"
Even if there were no other reason, Aragorn was Estel; he was the hope of men. He must not be given to the evil. And the many who had come to love him, as a son, as a brother, as a loyal friend. What would they think? Legolas would rather die than to see that happen, to see hope encroached in darkness.
Unbeknownst to them, the Presence could read their thoughts as easily as perusing an open book. Hope of men? What was that to mean? But nothing else could be revealed from their minds. They were far too deeply clouded, far too strongly… resilient for it to probe any further. This could prove difficult. Nonetheless, the presence seemed to smile to itself. If the elf wished to take the place of the mortal, he had no reason to object. In fact, he had been secretly hoping for it.
"A life for a life," the voice boomed, deciding to allow the concession, "there is no other way."
"Then, there shall be hope," Legolas whispered softly to himself.
However, Aragorn heard this, and sounded incensed, "What do you mean by that? Don't you understand? A life for a life! Would anyone serve It on my behalf? Would anyone die for me!"
"I would," came the quiet reply.
There was yet another silence as each contemplated on what had befallen them, on how things had developed to such a point. This all was too incredible, too surreal to be true. How could such a thing have happened? Were they merely trapped in a nightmare? They did not know. And now, Legolas would…
Softly, Aragorn spoke in a trembling voice, "I barely know you. Why do you do this?"
"Because I know you, and love you as my brother; your life is precious in my sight. That is all," Legolas' resolution shone clearly through the dark fog, dispelling any doubts the man had.
Aragorn seemed too shocked to react. There was no reason for this. How could Legolas do this? After how the human treated him, after how he even tried to kill him? How could Legolas even forgive him for what he had done, much less be willing to sacrifice himself for him. Aragorn felt as though the world swirled around him even as the questions had done. Suddenly, he seemed to be locked up within his own territory, oblivious to all else save his thoughts.
"I will take his place, and I choose death," Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood had decided, and he would neither flinch nor withdraw his words.
"Why will you not join me? You shall die, though you be immortal. Your body shall decay in Arda and your soul shall lie restless in the shadows, unable to even enter the Halls of Mandos. Body and soul shall never be rejoined, and you shall never find peace. Is this to your liking?"
"Then, so shall it be," his voice was nonchalant, flat… dead. He could only trust that the Valar would not permit such a deed.
Aragorn practically screamed, having suddenly found his voice, "You cannot do this! You shall not do this!"
He was gripped by a sudden fear for his friend, help captive by a sudden bout of panic. How could the elf do this! Wasn't he immortal? What logic was there in an immortal sacrificing his life for a mere mortal doomed to die! He shouted again and again in grief, in anger.
But his words were unheeded.
"I hereby accept your payment," the Darkness seemed to not want any further wastage of time. An elf; this was indeed a rare victim. Only a slow, agonising death could justify the annulment of an immortal life. Oh, he would enjoy that. And the human would live with the stigma; he would live, consumed in guilt all his life, and that was far better than what if had originally planned for. A death that cannot bring release, a life that only brings anguish. What could supersede these?
Legolas' heart was racing, wondering if he had indeed done the right thing. And Aragorn was not helping. With eyes brimming with tears, the human reminded him of all things fair and beautiful.
What would his father say to this? With his passing, the King would lose the only family he had left. Would he heed the call of the sea, or would he fade in his grief? What would become of Mirkwood? His home, which he would never see again! Those forests, those slender trees, waving their branches and leaves cheerfully even in the gloom of the approaching evil…
And the sea! Legolas would never see it. He would never see the great gulls he had heard so much of. He would never hear the voice of Ulmo from the greatest depths of the waters. He would never feel the light sand beneath his feet as he soaked in the sea-air. He would not witness the sky reflected in the sea, the bodies of waters separated by a mere filament. He would never see…
Then, how would Aragorn feel about this? The man had grown quickly on him in the two weeks that they had spent together. What would the man be like? How would he react to his passing? How would others react to him? Would he let himself drown in guilt and sorrow? Would he seek to end his own life after being tormented by the Darkness?
Legolas began to shiver uncontrollably. He could sense the man kneeling on what was the grass, wrapping his arms around him, but there was little warmth that he could draw. The cold was far too strong, far too piercing, far too deep down. Ringing maniacal laughter mingling with the man's cries were the only things he was aware of.
"Legolas, Legolas!" Aragorn went on and on, "goheno nin, gwador nîn. Forgive me, my brother!"
Legolas tried hard to enunciate his thoughts, to tell him that all would be well; he wanted to give the man some hope or at least cause him not to despair, but he could not. The cold was consuming him, the howls of gales mirroring the ice in him, the ice storm in him, ravaging, tearing him apart from within. He tried his hardest to put on a brave front – he must not give the man any cause for worry – but that uncontrolled grimace as he felt his heart cramp revealed his innermost feelings.
Aragorn felt as though he had lost his anchor and was merely drifting aimlessly. There was a bond between Legolas and him; a bond not previously discovered, a bond unveiled now in the most dire of circumstances, a bond that was now about to be broken. And this bond would draw them both to the same end, whatever it may be. They would be together, in life… and death.
"You cannot leave thus," Aragorn would have done all he could to draw his fading brother back, "you cannot leave before your time…"
Legolas thought his heart would break. He knew he could not last far longer, and would soon have to leave. The cold was chilling, freezing his veins, choking every sensation. He could barely breathe, and his gasps came out, not warm like anyone else's, but as wintry, broken gusts of wind. Even the simplest act of breathing was getting more difficult. His heart seemed to be throbbing against the icy shell, trying to pump to no avail. Bur he felt peaceful deep down. Despite his body bordering on the edge of panicking, his mind was clear. Things would work out well. If it be thus for him to depart, so let it be…
Please, Aragorn, he thought pleadingly, you must accept this…
Drip, drip…The rain still filtered down in that even, constant rhythm, unsympathetically, unfeelingly. Each drop was breaking, cracking, wasting itself as it burst on the ground, splashing lightly on the thin film of moisture already there.
And Aragorn watched the elf's glow diminish, watched him turn into an empty shell, a mere shroud, eyes closed, a frown etched permanently upon his brow. No amount of shaking and calling could cause him to return. His body was cold as ice, and he was already stiffing to be harder than stone. Aragorn pressed the elf's head gently towards him, but he showed not reaction. His sharp eyes would no longer see, his sensitive ears no longer hear. His lips would never quirk in that teasing smile when Aragorn tripped over yet another tree root.
"Legolas…" the lone voice cried in the mocking wind.
The elf could not go just like this! He could not go just for this… Aragorn thought he would shatter at that thought. It was him that forced Legolas to have to… go. Who should have been the one dying? Whose fault had it been! But now… Aragorn would give anything to have Legolas back again in the land of the living. Was the elf in a better place now? Aragorn did not think so.
He shook the body again, wondering if it would disintegrate under his touch. Why would Legolas not awake to give one final snide remark? Why would he not come telling him not to trample on every blade of grass like a troll? Why would he not just arise and race with him through the fields again? Why was their time together only so short, so momentary, so temporal? Why would he not return!
"Ai Valar!" Aragorn shouted into the air, "Will you not even save one, who has trusted in you, and vindicate against that which has mocked you?"
The wind howled even louder, twirling dried leaves, wrenching fresh ones into the air merrily. Another peal of thunder barraged down, and the rain fell as multitudes of tears, upon a swaddling of thick cloth. But it could not penetrate through; it could not wash away the fog that only closed in further and further, growing darker and darker.
"Legolas… why must you do this…" the tears were smeared across his face, and more parted unbidden from his eyes down through the dirt on his face.
The brine and rain blended as one, watering the ground like a shower upon arid land. Aragorn seemed to be releasing his soul. How he felt so many emotions course through him, storm through him as he looked at the elf. How he wanted to hold the elf close and never ever let him go. But how inexplicably, he had lost a part of him when the elf had left; the elf had taken it with him, and was never going to return with it. Inexplicably, he was now empty, hollow… dead.
He was choking badly now, finding it more difficult to breathe with each sob, but he let his body be, he let his body shiver in the heartless cold, he let his body shudder with inner demons seemingly threatening to take him over. He still knelt in the same uncomfortable position, far too caught up to see anything, to hear anything, to feel anything other than grief. He could have been here for infinite ages; he could have been here for mere seconds. It did not matter now. The elf was gone. His bosom friend, his brother was gone.
And the Darkness was jeering at him, as though drawing power from his sorrow.
The Darkness had taken Legolas. Aragorn felt a deep rage boil within him. It was almost hatred, pure indignation that consumed him, that drove him further on. He wanted to strike out at the Evil, destroy it completely. No, he could not let matters end thus. Not when it concerned his dearest companion. He wanted to lash out at it with every weapon he could muster; he wanted to condemn it to eternal damnation. But he was powerless.
And for this, he wept anew.
He watched the blond hair fly softly in the wind, but he did not see anything. He listened to the wolf-like blizzard curling around him, but he heard nothing… He only cradled the elf more closely, more tightly to him, not wanting to accept that anything to happen. This could not be, this should not be!
"Legolas, Legolas…" his voice was perhaps the only thing that did not fail him, "ad-tolo, gwador nîn. Come back, my brother!"
He did not care if the elf could hear him, he did not care if the evil was mocking him, savouring his anguish, he did not care what anyone who passed would think of him. Every word of caution of fading into an unguarded state flew from his mind. He was past caring now. In fact, he wished that the Darkness would take him too, that some orc would simply pass by and fell him, or the lightning would strike him down. It was meaningless to go on thus. Without his pillar of strength, he was nothing.
His body felt too weak and frozen to move, to respond to him. The dizziness was back with a vengeance, and he felt strangely light-headed, despite the pulsating hammers within his head. He began hallucinating, seeing apparitions before him, sceptres in the fog waving to him, hearing the haunting voices sing to him. In the last shreds of consciousness that he managed to cling onto, he heard a crystal-bright horn resounding in the great mountains.
Like Oromë and his might Valaróma once again in pursuit of evil, his numbed mind managed to process.
Then, a deep voice stilled the wind and declared, "No evil shall befall the firstborn!"
"Then, there shall be hope…"
Aragorn had already fallen, still clutching the elf protectively, hands clasped on his.
