Cosmic dancer: Yay, you reviewed! Good to see we're not getting sloppy in our later chapters. Satire? Merry and Pippin are fun.
Boromir's curse: I'm hurt, you didn't review.
Pelican Stop Market, Chapter 4: Legolas Dies
Disclaimer:I don't own the rights to Lord of the Rings, but I do have the rings for Lord of the Rights.
Legolas saw a mysterious and ominous light. Looking around, Legolas could see nothing else interesting, so he did what came naturally. As he approached, the light grew larger and more ominous. He was soon starting to think he had chosen wrongly.
"He's stopped breathing!" cried Aragorn. "Someone must give him the Kiss of Life." There was a rush of volunteers, including several fan-girl readers.
While the struggle of competing first-aiders continued, Legolas' soul rose from his body as a ball of white light.
"Nnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo pause for breath oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo," cried Gimli, as the soul of the elf prince soared over the tree-line and disappeared over the western horizon.
"I have never seen that happen before," commented Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarseregedhelthalion.
"Call it artistic licence," replied Boromir, before collapsing into manly tears and taking another bite of athelas.
The reaction shots (with melancholy Celtic-style background music) registered the shock and grief of the Fellowship. Some were wailing and tearing at their long, red, dwarvish beards (mentioning no names). Others wept and said it should have been them (and who are we to argue). Others just stared at the corpse, which was just as beautiful as it had ever been in life.
Aragorn was angry at himself. "This is all my fault. I should have foreseen his fate in the future and prevented it. Due to my terrible error, I have lost a friend; but more, I have lost a soul brother. I will now go through a stage of grief and self-loathing, which will be tedious and boring, and we will all be very tired of it long before it is finished."
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarseregedhelthalion calmly muttered the elven burial rites as he idly puzzled over who now stood to inherit the Mirkwood throne.
Tears were rolling down Gaurbrith's cheeks. "Alas, poor Legolas, I knew him well … or at least, as well as you can know someone you've met once at a banquet wandered through the wilderness for a day or so with. He seemed like a good guy, though." Gaurbrith paused, realising he'd punctured the atmosphere. Even the background music had stopped. "Oh, I will mourn him until the end of my days!" he amended emotionally.
Pippin was distraught and, as usual, somewhat confused as well. "No! Legolas cannot be gone. We need to get him back somehow."
Frodo shook his head sadly, and placed a comforting hand on Pippin's shoulder. "I am afraid it's too late, Pippin. He has passed into the West, into Valinor and the Halls of Mandos."
"No! We must bring him back." Pippin picked up his rucksack. "Which way is the West?"
Nobody saw fit to dignify his question with an answer.
"While we're very, very loosely on the subject of the West," said Sam, "why are you here and not there, Mister Frodo?"
Frodo looked awkward. "Oh, er, never you mind, Sam. Just you carry on being a bumbling gardener and leave the thinking to me."
"If you say so, Master Frodo," and nothing more was said on the matter…
The sound of orc horns came up from the lower reaches of the Valley, indicating that it was time to move on.
"We need to move on," said Aragorn. He turned to the elven corpse. "Farewell, Legolas. The songs in Mirkwood will be sad when I bring King Thranduil news of your passing. It grieves my heart that I will never again see you walk among your beloved trees."
Boromir turned to Aragorn. "Perhaps we should take the time to bury him."
"He didn't mean that much to me," said Strider, and strode off.
Legolas found himself in the Halls of Waiting. He was waiting. He sat on a plastic chair, between an elderly elf and a young mother with a fidgety child. He was reading a six-decade-old copy of Mae Govannen. The Halls of Waiting was a long corridor with plastic seats lining each wall. The décor was bland and the tinny muzak coming from no identifiable source was just loud enough to assault their sensitive elvish ears.
"Calling no. 4896," echoed a voice from down the hallway, in tones that may once have been mellifluous, but were now anything but. An elf stood up and walked down the hallway.
The elderly elf started to complain. "I've been waiting here for millennia, and he only got here a couple of centuries ago. Why can't they keep us in the right order?"
The mother sighed, trying to hold the keep the wriggling child in her lap. An elf opposite them leaned forward conspiratorially. "I hear they bump great heroes and people from legends up the list."
The elf next to him nodded in agreement. "You know that if Galadriel ever gets here, she'll wander straight through."
The men sighed in longing. "Galadriel…"
They heard the faint sound of the door opening, and an incandescent brightness flooded down the corridor. For a moment, they were at peace, and then the door closed and they remembered their boredom.
"Nareth, are we nearly there yet?" whined the child.
"Soon. I'll tell you when it's our turn, so sit down and shut up."
"That is a little harsh, isn't it?" asked Legolas. "After all, he is just a child."
"He is 400 years old, and should know better," snapped the mother.
Legolas stood up, slightly embarrassed. "Is there a restroom anywhere nearby?"
"You do that and you'll lose your seat," said the old man. Legolas promptly sat down again.
After sitting in silence for an extended period, they heard the announcement: "Calling nos. 24,867 and 24,868."
The mother stood with dignity, and smugly walked past the irritated old man down the hallway with her child. The old elf growled. "I can't stand this any longer! How much longer are we going to be made to wait here?"
Legolas shrugged. "Hey, we're not getting any older," and he settled down to read about the latest fashions in Gondolin.
The party's mood was dejected as they trudged through the undergrowth of the mountain pass. "What are we going to do?" grumbled Gimli. "We're only one day out from Rivendell and our party is already down to nine."
At the mention of the number nine, Boromir winced. It was, after all, his unlucky number. For comfort, he swallowed a few more leaves of Athelas, and sighed.
Pippin looked confused. "Have we lost someone?"
Aragorn looked at him in shock. "Yes. Our faithful and noble companion Legolas is deeeaaaad!"
"Nooo! Why did you have to remind me? I was trying to repress the memory, and I had nearly convinced myself that that bush over there was him."
Merry squinted into the undergrowth. "Actually, I do see what you mean. It is quite a bishie bush." He smirked at this for a moment, and then fell back into despair.
"No matter how much our hearts weep, we have a quest to fulfil. We must carry on, and complete this quest. It is what Legolas would have wanted," Aragorn said, choking back a sob.
Lord Kanolhachkirraukoturgilarseregedhelthalion sniffed contemptuously. "If I die, I wish for all Middle Earth to stop and spend years in uninterrupted mourning."
Everyone chose to ignore this.
As they trudged on, Sam said "Oh, Master Frodo, I so wish Gandalf was still here. I do miss him."
"As do I, Sam," replied Frodo. "As do I."
Gandalf tripped over and fell, sprawling onto the ground. "Damn it, who left this beautiful elf corpse lying around!? Damn careless, if you ask me," he said irritably. He looked at the corpse. "Oh! Oh dear…"
As Legolas sat, perusing an article entitled 'So You're Thinking About Buying a Horse', two Maiar marched up to him. "Are you Legolas?" intoned one of them.
"Yes, that's me."
"Legolas Greenleaf?"
"Yes?"
"I think you had better come with us."
Legolas worried as he was lead away between the two Maiar, both of whom were unreasonably large. As he walked past, he heard the old elf mutter something about heroes jumping the queue, but he ignored it.
Legolas walked and worried. Then he continued walking, and worried some more. Time passed, and Legolas grew tired of worrying, so he fretted instead. As he returned to worrying, he observed that the corridor was in no danger of ending. The door seemed just as distant as it ever had. Legolas knew the trick to this; he went to a flashback.
-Flashback-
WHOOSH-THUNK!
"Well done, ion nín, Legolas. You have mastered the skills involved in the firing of a bow."
"Thank you, ada. I hope in time to be able to actually hit the target."
Thranduil nodded sagely. "Then you will be the best archer in Mirkwood. You must not overstretch yourself, though."
"I shall be guided by you, ada."
He put a fatherly hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Now, let us go and see if that servant you hit is still alive."
"You mean your nephew?"
"Truly."
-End flashback-
"These are the doors to the chamber of the Vala, Mandos."
Legolas smirked. Works every time. He went to knock on the door, but it opened before he could touch it. Shrugging, he entered.
He found himself in an office. A couple of filing cabinets were up against one wall, and a large desk with a rickety stool in front of it and a plush leather chair behind it occupied the centre of the room. The chair swivelled stylishly around to face him. He saw what appeared to be a handsome elf sitting in the chair, his fingertips pressed together. In fact, he was the most attractive elf Legolas had ever seen, which irritated him, for Legolas had always considered himself to be the most attractive elf he had ever seen.
The elf was about to speak, when a voice boomed across the room: "FËANOR! Get out of my damn office!"
Fëanor grudgingly stood up.
Legolas looked on in amazement as the leather chair transformed into Mandos, a Master of Spirits.
"How long have you been there?" asked Fëanor irritably.
"Long enough. NOW GET OUT! I've told you before to stay in the Waiting Halls."
"How long do I have to wait?"
"Until you've learnt your lesson."
Fëanor sulked out and slammed the door behind him. "Now, Legolas, please take a seat."
Legolas sat down on the stool. "What seems to be the problem, O Mightiest of the Mighty, Lord Vala?"
"Don't overdo it, kid. The fact of the matter is that you're not supposed to be here."
"It wasn't my idea. Blame the horde of orcs that attacked us."
"Actually, I'd look past that to the writers. We've tried to warn them, but they still seem to think killing you is 'fun'."
"So I should still be alive?"
"As my good friend Oromë would say, 'right's right, old chap'. So, I'm going to be sending you back."
"Wow. You don't do that very often."
"I'm not supposed to do it, but I like you and, hey, what's the point of being an all-powerful Divine Being if you can't bend the rules once in a while? Just look at Glorfindel."
"Thank you, O Vala."
"Drop by some time. I have a feeling we'll meet again."
Legolas bowed out of the room and closed the door.
"And again, and again, and again…"
One unnecessary flashback later, Legolas was passing the deceased elves with whom he had been sitting in the Halls of Waiting. Legolas greeted them enthusiastically. "My noble companions! The wondrous Valar have allowed me a second chance at life. In other words, I'm outta here. Perhaps I shall see you all again one day."
"We'll be Waiting."
Shadowfax sped along the dawn-lit valley, carrying Gandalf and Legolas on his back. Legolas was explaining the series of unfortunate events that had lead to his death, and the series of improbable events that had followed it.
Gandalf shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have left Aragorn as leader. Whenever he is in charge, somebody always seems to end up dead."
"Well, there was that time -" Legolas started.
"Don't be naïve, Legolas. I didn't really leave him in charge that time. I only told him that to stop him crying. By the Valar, I can't stand toddlers!"
"None of the hobbits died on the way from Bree to Imladris," Legolas persisted, trying to protect his 'soul-brother'.
"Only because Glorfindel/Arwen was there to bail him out."
"Glorfindel/Arwen?"
"It depends which version you go by."
Soon, they saw the light of the campfire around which the company were gathered. To Legolas' surprise, Gandalf commanded Shadowfax to slow down to a walk. "Are we not going to rejoin our Fellowship?"
"Of course we are," replied Gandalf scornfully, "but we must wait for the opportune moment. We wouldn't want an anticlimax."
After dismissing Shadowfax to that place where plot devices reside, Legolas and Gandalf crept over to the bushes and found a comfortable spot which was perfectly hidden, and yet offered an excellent view of the entire party. Then, they waited, and waited, and waited.
As the morning drew on, nobody in the party seemed to want to speak, being content to wallow in grief, occasionally sighing or sobbing (or, in Boromir's case, chewing Athelas leaves). They waited some more.
With the sun approaching its' highest point, Legolas felt that this stand-off might have gone on for too long. "Mithrandir, what exactly are we waiting for?"
"Shh! You'll see," he said enigmatically. Even though this explained nothing, Legolas resettled into the waiting. Given the events of the chapter, Legolas considered that this would be good practice for what was to come.
Finally, Pippin broke the silence. "I wish Gandalf was here."
"That's my cue!" muttered the White Wizard. Legolas nodded with understanding, and together they strode heroically into the clearing.
End of Chapter 4
this is actually a refer, can anyone guess where from.
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