"The old that is strong does not wither."
Bilbo Baggins
See chapter 1 for disclaimer.
Authors' note: Hey everyone! We hope all of you are well. Sorry for the wait, we really wanted to set things correctly before the action starts. The next chapter is, well... Endless, so enjoy this chapter where things are finally (starting to be) explained.
He was angry. Angry at himself for not doing more, angry at Legolas for not visiting or responding to his letters. But it did not last. Anger was soon washed away by regret, gloominess and nostalgia. Nostalgia of things that never happened and never would. How strange was it that human beings could miss what they never had?
Legolas stared at his friend's aged face. The feelings swelled inside him as water accumulated in his eyes. Nothing could be compared to the pain slowly building in his chest. He would have taken any torture over this, he would have taken any torture over seeing how old and mournful Aragorn seemed as his eyes laid on him.
Then it hit him. He had been gone for even longer than he thought. Despite all they had promised each other, he had managed to forget, managed to let years pass, not caring about his brother slowly dimming away.
"I am so sorry, Estel" He simply spoke, his voice wavering. There was nothing to be said, nothing that could bring the lost years back. The calm mask he usually put over his features was forgotten. Tears were slowly building in his dejected eyes. He could barely hold the stare of his old friend without breaking down and crumbling in despair. The elf had simply lived too much and this was the last string that held him being cut, mutilated by the knife of remorse.
The human's clenched fists seemed to loosen, his anger unexpectedly washing away. Although, something else grew within him as he stared at his long missed friend, something he had not ever felt in the elf's company before.
Aragorn laid his face in his palms, taking deep breaths, trying to understand, trying to muster the feelings invading his thoughts.
A long silence followed as both tried their best to hold back their tears. When he spoke, it was simply to know that Legolas would hear him once more.
" Thirty years," Aragorn whispered, his voice tight with emotions and unable to reach a louder tone,
"Three children, three decades of dreaming you were here. Wishing for you presence every step of the way." His slowly building voice broke before ceasing to wound Legolas' soul with every word.
How could he let such a thing happen?
Aragorn exhaled slowly to calm himself, in vain.
"You're angry", simply stated Legolas with guilt in his voice, his expression of remorse and concern betraying his stoicalness. It had been centuries since his emotions had been portrayed so truthfully.
Aragorn took some seconds before answering, still laboring to put order in himself.
"I thought I was, Legolas." He spoke the name with deep longing, to the point where Legolas began to question his. "But I cannot be. I cannot be angry, Legolas. Just... disappointed."
Disappointed.
Aragorn was disappointed.
If there was anything that Legolas ever feared to cause his friend, it was disappointment. All his life, the elf had given all he could to meet expectations, show people he could be trusted. But to have his best friend disappointed was telling him that all the work of his life had meant nothing, for at this moment, he had failed. He had failed Aragorn when he was in need of his presence, he had missed the moments of the settlement of his true life, the ones they would wonder about as they lay in the grass, resting from their ceaseless search for packs of orcs to hunt. When, in younger days, they leaned against a tree and watched the different shapes that the cloud would form against the light blue sky as they spoke of their possible life in times of peace.
"You should get married," tried Aragorn before continuing mischievously, "I am certain that every elf maiden in Mirkwood desires you."
Legolas softly laughed before arguing.
"Why not have children, being at it?"
"Being at it?" Aragorn questioned, "You mean to tell me that this has never been part of your plan?"
"I suppose not..." The elf answered softly, a semi smile decorating his delicate lips, "Although, it must be part of yours."
Aragorn turned away, a blossoming, deep smile on his face.
"Perhaps", he answered quitely.
A silence of deep content followed as they laid on the grass, their faces turned to the clear sky, decorated by a few clouds.
If they could have remained in this moment forever, they would without doubt have done it.
"I am certain that you will be an excellent father, Aragorn." Legolas simply spoke with sincerity.
The addressed man could not help to wonder if he would live to be one.
All those dreams, those ideas, leaned on the uncertainty of war, a monster that clawed at the life of too many before they could reach their desires. All warriors hoped to escape this fate and yet, few were granted their wish, for war was merciless. All those stories of future and eventuality would end in blood, violence and broken hearts.
Although, the pair preferred to look forward with optimism, even if sometimes they doubted in silence. They would imagine themselves as fathers, kings, people living a safe life.
"You will come, right?" Aragorn asked.
"What?", interrogated Legolas, not understanding the meaning of his companion's question.
"If I am to have children, you will come? I am afraid I will need as much help as I can gather."
"Well Aragorn," Legolas replied while recalling his childhood, "I do not think that I will be of much help."
"What are you saying?", Aragorn spoke with consternation, "You would be an excellent father. You are dynamic, curious, funny..."
"... And without experience." Legolas finished.
"All new fathers lack of experience, mellon nin."
Legolas decided not to answer. Aragorn was right. Although, new fathers had had their father before them as a model and Legolas had not. Yes, his father was present, but not as a parent. The only thing that the prince had learned from Thranduil was fighting, which was perhaps the only thing that linked them.
"Besides, I would want you with me even if you lacked of any talent in raising children."
"Aragorn..."
"No, do not question what I speak with your 'oh so praised elven wisdom'," the human declared half laughingly, "Legolas, if we are to see this war come to an end, I wish you to be with me when I cherish the perks of life, true life."
But now it was too late. Aragorn's three children had grown and Legolas barely even knew one of them. His tears threatened to escape his blue orbs as he silently thought of what he should say to the man in front of him... His best friend that he had not seen in thirty years. Of course, he could blame it on the time that building a city required or on the fact that the only thing that had inhabited his mind lately was the great sea.
The sea.
Simply leaving would put an end to all his troubles, for the undying lands offered nothing but comfort and in his case, redemption. After all, the only thing that was retaining him on these shores was now also fading under the strength of the waves.
Aragorn was disappointed and the elf wanted nothing but to go back in the old days and keep these events from ever unfolding.
Only, time was never bendable. Any immortal sharing a bond with a mortal could confirm it and Legolas had made the mistake of letting the time pass.
When Legolas exited his trance-like state, he did not know how much time had passed. He could see Aragorn bent over his knees, still looking at him, not seeming to realize that the elf had completely drifted out of reality. The blond elf could not help but notice the small pearl-like tears shimmering in Aragorn's beard.
Legolas thought he would drown in the oppressing silence when Aragorn finally spoke, his voice like a hand pulling him out of the icy water.
"What happened Legolas?" The man asked, voicing his thoughts. "I sent you letters, so many that I did not even bother to count... Did you not read them?"
Legolas stared at him, his wretched expression turning to surprise. He had not received any letter... Although, he was not going to mention it. After all, he could have simply visited.
"Legolas?" The human couldn't help to be concerned by the tears slowly growing, filling the elf's infinitely sad eyes... He had never seen the prince like this before. In fact, Legolas had barely shown any emotion during his whole time accompanying the king of Gondor. He had been strong and unaffected by hurt, like a pillar to Aragorn for years, never wavering and always supporting him during harder times. The elf had hinted desperation only once, before the battle of Helm's Deep and even then, it had been founded and he had apologized for the act not a long time after. Aragorn knew and understood that for Legolas to be showing emotions meant that what he was living was beyond understanding, a representation of how the elves' sentiments were so much deeper that thus of the mortals. And yet, his mind did not seem to register it as he simply asked Legolas why he would have left him without a word, why he would never have given him any news... At this time, he simply could not understand the grief and guilt ravaging through the elf's body, him who would not even dare to defend himself in front of his old friend.
The human then understood that pushing the issue further would only wound the both of them deeper. As he passed his scarred hand over his solemn face he declared:
"I do not believe this conversation can heal any of our troubles at the moment. I need time to think Legolas and you obviously do too... Perhaps we should speak later, when our minds are clearer."
Legolas did not answer, afraid that his voice would abandon him in mid-sentence and so he left, closing the door behind and not even knowing why he had been summoned to Gondor in the first place.
Aragorn felt as if an apparition had left, having a hard time realizing that Legolas had really been standing in front of him.
When Legolas managed to find a way to his room, his vision and judgement clouded by emotions, he opened the wooden door and closed it in a hurry.
For a moment he simply stood in the middle of the room, thinking, trying to put order in his thoughts. He could barely believe that he had just spoken to Aragorn after thirty years of silence. And yet, this conversation had but worsened everything.
Suddenly, the elf couldn't take it anymore. He was strong, had been forced to be for all his life. But this was too much. Before he could even register it, his feet were taking him to the garden of Minas Tirith, the one he asked for himself all those years ago.
He wandered the corridors until he somehow found a door and pushed it. He inhaled deeply before taking his first step outside and pacing towards his destination, relaying on his flawless memory to find directions. He slowly crossed the courtyard, contemplating the carvings delicately drawn in the pale stone. The arch came into view as a smell of life filled the elf with comfort, reminding him of where he used to find true rest.
He entered the garden, smelling the perfume of the numerous flowers around him. He kept walking, heading for the fountain in the middle of the area, but stopped dead in his tracks.
There, on the bench, sat a figure that would haunt his thoughts for the rest of his eternity.
"I do not understand meleth nin, we have been friends, to my eyes, for eternity. He promised me Arwen, he promised me he would stay by my side until Mandos claimed me... How could this happen?"
Arwen caressed her beloved's troubled brow as she carefully listened to him. She admitted to herself that she was as surprised as her husband. It was not in Legolas' habitude to break his promises or to leave his closest friend for such a long length of time. She then realized how much she was thinking like a mortal, having been living with one for the last years... Legolas had probably not even seen the time pass. He was an elf, a being blessed with a never ending life. But she knew that, despite that, the elf prince would never have left his best friend without giving him any news.
"Estel, how did Legolas seem to you?"
The addressed man looked at her, puzzled.
"I... I do not know... I could barely realize he was truly here Arwen."
His eyes filled with carefully hidden tears yet again and Arwen slowly kissed them away, brushing a slightly grey strand of hair away from his face.
"I understand," she whispered in her deep soothing voice, "but there must be something we do not know that drove Legolas into doing this... I can see how much this grieves you Estel, but we cannot bring back years that have passed. We can only assure that the next ones will be filled with what you desire."
Aragorn gratefully smiled at his wife, his eyes still full of a longing that even The Evenstar could not wash away.
"You are right, as usual..." He declared lovingly, "Still, I cannot help but regret the fact that he missed the birth of our children... We used to talk about this, in times of war and he always told me he would be by my side through all that I would have to live."
He sighed, passing his right hand over his troubled expression.
"Perhaps I am being selfish... As you say, there might be things we do not know."
The king seemed thoughtful for moment, as if he was preparing himself to share an important secret with Arwen. The human suddenly seemed slightly worried, as if he had just realized some bad events would take place.
"He was nearly crying..." He whispered as if the words could not be pronounced out loud.
"What?" Arwen expressed, barely believing the words her beloved had uttered.
"He came to me soon after he arrived, we tried to discuss and the tears came in his eyes..."
Arwen looked at him, speechless. Something was not right... Legolas never expressed his emotions that way. His father had raised him in this manner, emotion was weakness and weakness sooner or later lead to your death on a battlefield. Only once had Arwen been the chosen witness of Legolas' emotions and yet, it was unwanted from the prince's side but he could not help it, the death of his mother and the rejection of his father being too much for him too handle during a few moments. Even then, his eyes had filled up with crystal clear tears that had never fallen.
"Estel... Perhaps I should talk to him" The elf queen declared.
As she stood, a familiar sensation invaded Legolas' heart. A feeling of longing for something that was far away, and yet so close. So distant, and yet easily accessible, if he would do but that one step.
She paced about, contemplating the diverse plants that slowly grew under the setting sun as her light blue dress followed, caressed by the soft wind. Legolas could not help but to stare.
Then she began to sing.
She joined the melody of the world as her feet softly began to move around, her body moving as in a waltz. Her soft voice tightened it's grasp on Legolas' being as he craved to join her in her peaceful dance. He wished to follow the unpredictable movements that carried her along, to understand the sudden hops and the calm waves of her body.
But he simply stood and stared, frozen.
As she spun around, her deep grayish blue eyes met his.
Legolas could distinguish the battling waters inside her orbs, colliding with remarkable strength and might. Serene, yet somewhat bold, her stare bared the elf's soul as never before. She smiled softly, which spread Legolas' lips without him noticing. She came forward as, behind her, the sun's color turned to light orange.
The elf hoped he could help with the chaotic emotions that invaded him. She simply smiled as normal gesture, and yet it took an all other meaning that struck him so deeply that nothing mattered but this exact moment.
Nothing.
The sea, the guilt, the grief, all pain had left him as she filled him with an impression of renewal and pure content, bringing him back into a world he had seen but through a wall of suffering. As he intended to bow, she held out her hand, invited him to waltz in the sunset with the one he most desired. As she grew in proximity, Legolas recognized a unique, reviving odor of untouched life, of endless purity and renewal found on the shores of the unknown.
He slowly entwined his fingers in hers, unable to utter any word of greeting or to look away from her hypnotizing gaze.
She somehow seemed to understand.
They slowly shook hands as she addressed him for the first time with her calm, light voice.
"Hi, I am Valwen."
Her simple language contrasted with the elaborate sensations she caused.
Often, the common tongue could not truthfully explain the complexity of feelings.
Legolas regained some of his composure before struggling out his response.
"I am Legolas", he managed.
She giggled truthfully before answering.
"I know."
Legolas looked down and saw that her hand was still in his. He pulled back, slightly ashamed.
He could not get his mind over it.
For a moment, the sea had waltzed before his eyes and now, he could not detach himself from the feeling of emptiness that filled him once more. Could he live in this manner? Unable to keep his mind as straight as before, disturbed by his troubled heart craving for the unreachable? He could not break his word. He had sworn to Aragorn. He has sworn that he would stay by his side until the end.
But he had already failed.
Three decades he had already missed as he stayed in this world for one purpose: his best friend. Had he lost it on his way through existence? He hoped not. Aragorn relied on him, trusted him. How could he ever regain what he had lost? Perhaps he could not. Perhaps there was nothing to be done. Perhaps he simply had to leave...
No.
He could not leave, or even think of it. Never had he before. Why would he now? It seemed that the more his promise gained distance in time, the more it gained distance with himself. His soul seemed to drown in nostalgia for a land he had never seen, for a feeling he had never experienced.
But Valar did he wish to.
All other purposes would fade away, losing what importance they had in better days. He would see nothing but the blue waters, crying his name, murmuring in his ear the lullaby he had hoped for in his childhood. There, he felt, he would be home. He would be where he belongs, where his heart awaited to reach. He would find a peace he had never found before in his times, times of war. Yes the world was peaceful, but not his. His world was...
Was not.
He had no world anymore. Only water. Only the endless, ever moving surface that inspired true melancholy. Sometimes, far away, he would have glimpses of his older world, of his friends desperately waiting for his return.
"Legolas?"
An other soft and deep voice, carrying him away through the mists of the ocean, sinking him...
"Legolas, todo dan nan ve."
As he was awakened by the tongue of his people, a fog seemed to clear from his eyes as he realized he was sitting on the bench, the Evenstar kneeling in front of him, her soft hand caressing his cheek.
It took only one look at the prince for the queen to understand what was plaguing the elf, what had kept him away for so long. She had seen it before, haunting the eyes of her mother after she had been left to the torturous hands of the orcs, but it was never at this extent. The longing in her friend's eyes seemed to have grown its roots for months, if not years. It was not the peaceful longing that called the elves home anymore, but a curse looming over the wood elf constantly, like a reminder that he would never find peace again.
"What have you done to yourself, mellon nin?", Arwen softly murmured with a grieved expression on her face,"How long has it been?"
Legolas choked out the answer as if all the painful time he had spent was now within those two words.
"Thirty years."
Arwen's features contorted in alarm and distress before she regained control over her emotions.
"You need to tell him, Legolas. He must know."
Aragorn. He had to tell him.
But how could he even speak to him?
Their last conversation had struck him, leaving him without the strength to face his friend again, or at least for now. He had let his mask melt, his barely contained tears were the proof of it. And he was weary. Valar, was he exhausted.
But Arwen was right.
Her wisdom struck him again as he realized Aragorn had to know. The man could not suffer in ignorance. Legolas had done this to him, now the king deserved the truth. The elf simply had to go to him, to tell him. Arwen looked at him, a pained smile decorating her features.
"I know it is hard for you to tell him, mellon nin... You do not have to do so now. Come now, you need to rest."
She held out her hand and he gratefully took it, raising himself from the marble bench. His head seemed to spin as Arwen took his arm, supporting him. The blond elf smiled apologetically to the worried glance the she-elf sent him.
"Arwen, please, do not worry... I am well, truly. I simply need some rest."
She unbelievably stared at him, but ignored her worry nonetheless, knowing that Legolas would only be bothered by too much fretting from her. She let go of his arm and followed him through the corridors to his room. As they reached destination, Legolas gave his gratitude with sincerity before advising the elven queen to return to her occupations. She respected his decision and departed, though her heart was still not convinced.
Legolas sank into the light covers, enjoying the comfort for a few moments.
Or so he thought.
A soft knock woke him, before he realized that it was already dark. Surprised, he pushed himself up and cleared his throat.
"Yes?"
He saw Nildë's head peek into the dark room from a thin opening by the door...
...Of the closet.
Did he hide there for so long? Legolas could not help his confusion.
"Nildë? How did- Where... Why are you in my closet?"
Even in the darkness, Legolas could distinguish his friend's cheeks blushing.
"Well, hum... There happens to be a secret passage leading to your closet... Do you mind? My apologies, I should not use-"
"It is fine, Nildë", the lord reassured him, after getting over the fact that a certain secret passage lead to his closet, "Is there anything you came to tell me?"
"Well, I... I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Is there anything you require? Some tea, perhaps? I can make you some if you wish... I heard chamomile was the best one for sleeping, if that's what you want to do of course. "
"Nildë."
"Or perhaps you would like to get up and go take a walk, I'll accompany you if you wish, of course. But you must be tired... Have you eaten yet?"
"Nildë."
"No, of course you have not. You were sleeping... How silly of me! Would you like a glass of water? I'm pretty sure a nice cold glass of water would wake you further... If that's what you want of course."
"Nildë, I am truly touched by your worry but I will be fine, thank you."
Quickly but gently replied to the addressed elf, before Nildë could continue his shy rambling.
Nildë seemed to simply stand there for a moment before he realized he was asked to leave.
"Right..." He muttered to himself as he left.
Legolas sighed.
A secret passage leading to his closet.
For a split second, he thought of blocking it with all his might.
He gingerly got out of the covers, exposing himself to the cold air. Cold? Elves were not supposed to feel the changes of temperature. He rose himself, pushing the strange feeling aside. He walked to his closet, opening with caution before choosing a light blue tunic to change into. The lord looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if he should braid his hair but decided against it before noticing the slightly dark circles under his eyes. He looked away, tired of observing the empty shell he had become.
Empty shell.
Shell.
Those glittering jewels laying upon the sand, like stars that we contemplate from above. Stars you can reach out to grasp. Those treasures that laid calmly by the ocean...
The ocean.
A place where earth is sky, where eternity is surrounding you on all angles, where you can reach and grab the stars.
Why would he delay in this world he slowly was consumed in?
He had reached a point where he was simply desperate for liberation.
And yet, he could not possess it.
His oath bound him to the earth, and to break it was in no possible way a form of freedom. Never would he be free from his word, though he would not regret giving it in the first place. He would honor it until it was fulfilled.
Or until his last breath.
Elves did not usually include death in a promise, but the state in which Legolas had been in for some time now arose doubt in his usually certain mind. He had heard stories of his people, some incapable of bearing the heavy longing radiating through their being as it radiated in his.
No, he would bear it for Aragorn. Anything, he had promised himself to face for his dearest friend, and now was the time to prove his will.
But what if he faltered?
What if he could not bear it? He would be left with the responsibility of choosing between death and betrayal. He knew what Aragorn would prefer. He would plead him to depart. Legolas simply wished he did not have to hear his friend say it. How harder would it be for the elf to ignore is desire if his friend had the same. He needed him to help rebuild his will to stay, not to prove his craving to be rightful. Hopefully, the man would understand and keep the suggestion to himself.
If he was not to, Legolas doubted he could restrain himself.
How empty, pointless Middle-Earth felt as Belegaer demanded his presence. The shell he had become was slowly getting dug out of the hard sand by the soft caresses of the old waves reaching shore, and his grip on the world was slowly weakening.
Or perhaps quickly.
In only thirty years, he had seemed to lose himself to the cries of gulls, and now his cries nearly joined theirs.
"Legolas!" The alarmed voice rang to his ears.
His eyes focused on Aragorn's terrorized expression, inches from his. He then realized he was sitting on the floor, having collapsed without his acknowledgement.
"For the Valar's sake, mellon nin, what has happened to you?"
Legolas emptily looked at him, as if he had barely acknowledged the man's presence. To the human's uncontainable surprise, the elf cast his eyes down in what was seemingly shame. Aragorn put his fingers under Legolas' chin raising the elf's head to meet his gaze.
"I am so sorry Estel..." The elf said, the tiredness longing and despair blinding his senses and finally catching up with him. The grip he had not even realized he had on his friend's tunic tightening as tears started to fill his eyes once more...
His father was right, emotion was weakness and sooner or later it would be his end.
All anger and disappointment forgotten, Aragorn moved Legolas so that the elf's head would be sitting on his. The king tried to soothe the elf, caressing his back with one hand and his hair with the other.
The man felt his friend's back raising with every short breath he took, and the human could not help but to tighten his hold.
Never was he angry at Legolas.
He had been angry at the situation, angry at the fact that they had missed thirty years together. He had never deemed it Legolas' fault. He was definitely not blaming his best friend for this grieving situation.
He just realized that Legolas was.
Of course the elf would take the blame in silence. Why did he not tell him it was not because of him?
He soothed Legolas and murmured in his ears.
"It is not your fault." He kept repeating, hoping it would reach the cuddled elf's heart.
As he sat at such a proximity with Legolas, he realized how his friend had brutally changed.
The warrior he had known was unbreakable, ready for any daring adventure. Never would he weaken, never would he despair. He would raise his bow and shoot down a Nazgûl, he would jump, kill an Oliphaunt and casually slide back to the ground.
Endowed with the tremendous vitality of Elvish bodies, so hard and resistant to hurt that he went only in light shoes over rock or through snow.
The friend he had known was caring, caring for all living things. He would do all in his power to make his friend smile. He would be simple, joyful, with a strong, tireless will. Any emotional unease never seemed to reach him, and his blue orbs stared about with curiosity and fascination.
Where was the Legolas he knew?
Leaning in his arms, in this ultimate moment of weakness.
The most tireless of the whole fellowship.
The human couldn't believe how they had reached this point. Both sprawled on the ground, one trying to stay strong while the other enfeebled. Arwen had told him about the sea longing, had told him how hard it at seemed to take it's toll on Legolas, but Aragorn had never expected it to be this intense. The sea longing was supposed to be a peaceful call that would invite you back to a homeland you had yet never visited. Although, for the lord of Ithilien, this stage was far gone.
"Legolas," the man began slowly and softly, "mellon nin, if this hurts you this much then please, do not take this suffering upon yourself and sail... I would never blame you for it, I can see how much it pains you."
Aragorn could feel on his shoulder the elf shaking his head, he understood that his friend was not able to talk for the moment but could not fathom why he would not grant himself the peace he deserved.
"Legolas, please, listen to me mellon nin, I cannot see you in such pain... You deserve none of this. If you worry about the fact that Ithilien needs it's Lord, then do not. I wi-"
"I cannot leave you."
He heard it, muffled by the weakened voice and the thickness of his tunic, but no word had lost it's strength and meaning.
Legolas Greenleaf could not depart to the undying lands because of a mortal.
An elf was bound to Middle-Earth because of him and it was not Arwen, but Legolas, the son of a king who had diminished mortals for centuries.
"Legolas, please-"
"No", Legolas cut him, "Aragorn I am to plead you. You have my word and it shall not be broken. After all these years we have lived apart... there are so many moments I wish to live with you." The elf acted strong, keeping his voice from breaking, "The longing can wait, Aragorn. I have a whole eternity for the sea and nothing but a handful of years with you. Let them not be wasted. I need you to want me here. Your will is mine, and I hope it will not be the desire for me to leave, for yet a greater longing would then settle in my heart. And I do not want you to grow old on your own. I wish to be by your side until the end, Aragorn, just as we have set out all those years ago. If you do not demand of me to be here, then nothing strong enough will keep me from sailing... I am sorry to ask this of you-"
This time, it was Aragorn who interrupted.
"Legolas. I understand. Perhaps I do not fully agree with all your choices, but know this: I will always second you in your decisions, mellon nin. And never will I doubt your judgement. Now we can do this together, Legolas. We will get you out of this. All this time that we have missed, we have it now." The human smiled softly, desired moments suddenly blossoming in his mind, "We will do picnics in the garden, story telling by a camp fire, we will cook bad food and make ourselves eat it until we gag..." a soft laugh escaped his lips, "We can still do those things, and we will. We will free your heart of this longing as much as we can. I want you with me Legolas and Valar I thought it was selfish of me to think like this...Do you understand?"
Tears, once again, swelled in the elf's deep blue eyes.
"I do, Estel. I do."
"I must admit, this one was slightly too easy... Alright, who am I now?"
Arthon declared in front of the whole team as he started to imitate a man vomiting.
"Hmm... Well that would be Cadworon." Iareth guessed before even realising how offensive Arthon's imitation had been.
"You think that laughing at people's weaknesses is funny?!" The concerned elf declared, his imposing body appearing even more menacing than usual.
Arthon was trying to contain his laughter as Cadworon's emotions grew fiercer.
"He does have a point Arthon," started Erwath, "it is no condition to laugh about."
"Oh calm down," Arthon laughingly said, " it's better than crying about it don't you think?"
A silence followed before the elf broke it with incredible enthusiasm.
"Fine! I'll make another one..."
The elf proceeded to line the chairs from the table that stood at the back of the room, in a way that there was a space between each of them. He then climbed upon one of them and started leaping from one to another with an exaggerated stoicalness. As he was about to land on a certain chair, Helegon moved it slightly to the side, chuckling in silence as Arthon crumbled to the ground.
"Well," started Iareth laughingly, "at first, I would have said Legolas but your landing would rather make me think that you were imitating yourself."
The team laughed as Arthon difficultly managed to his feet, rubbing his head.
Apparently, the lightness of the elves was of no help against the effects of falling.
"That was cruel, Helegon." The fallen elf said angrily.
Helegon lifted an eyebrow in triumph, enjoying the moment when he finally managed to surprise Arthon with his wickedness.
The morose elf then put the chairs back in place before breaking the common laughter with a louder tone.
"Alright! A last one!" He said walking in front of them, his back to the door.
He then contorted his features into a caricatured serious expression.
"Behold my stern eyebrows of doom!" He yelled with a deep, loud voice.
"Thranduil", Iareth simply murmured as if in alarm.
"Not bad Iareth!", screamed Arthon in enthusiasm before murmuring, "I did not know I was that good."
"No. I mean, it actually is Thranduil." Corrected Iareth.
"Well, of course! Who do you think I am imitating?"
"No, Arthon..."
The she-elf's gaze then shifted to stare behind Arthon, who turned around to identify what caused such a heavy silence in the room.
"Has your maturity ever developed since childhood, warrior?"
A tall figure stood by the door, slender, yet slightly menacing. The team knew the shape that slowly approached, the light, yet imposing steps that were headed towards them. The long robes, heeled boots, platinum hair...
The king of Eryn Lasgalen had come to Minas Tirith.
He broke the silence with a severe tone.
"Now, can any of you tell me where Legolas is?"
Elvish=
Mellon nin: My friend
Iareth: Blood female
Erwath: Lone betrayer
Arthon: Exalted male
Nildë: Friend
Cadworon: Shapely male
Helegon: Ice male
Tolo dan nan ve: Come back to us
