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Aear; Nan Aearon!
by Aranel Laerien
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Chapter IX
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House of the Kings. Silent Street. Legolas watched as Aragorn lay on the bed and gave Eldarion the crown of Gondor and the sceptre of Arnor. Aragorn turned slightly to face him.

"Grieve not, gwador nîn," Aragorn placed a weak hand on Legolas', "we shall meet again beyond the circles of this world."

Legolas nodded numbly. He did not know what to say.

Everything he had seen, heard and learnt in his many years, the many nights he had spent in thought of this day – he should have been ready, prepared for the onslaught of grief but… nothing felt as real yet as detached as this – as this, when it finally happened – he could feel nothing.

There was an arm on his shoulder. He turned.

"Let us leave, Legolas" Elladan's voice quavered slightly, "he desires a moment with Arwen."

Legolas nodded again and followed the others. He paused in the doorway, turned as if to say something. Aragorn nodded slightly, smiling peacefully. Legolas lowered his head and left.

Legolas went directly to his quarters. Later, Elrohir came over and quietly told him how regal Aragorn had looked in his death and how great a wonder his beauty was. They had then watched as Arwen led Eldarion to the city hall and announced King Elessar's passing, declaring a mourning for him and proclaiming Eldarion's succession to the throne.

She had been most composed, most dignified, not shedding a single tear, not a single tremble in her voice. Only those who knew her saw the light gone from her eyes. She and the twins had then followed Legolas into his room. And the four sat silently.

A sharp intake of breath turned all their attention to Arwen. She swallowed hard.

Elladan went over and embraced her.

"Muinthel nîn," he said and choked. My sister.

And she cried, a wrenching sound that resonated from her heart. Elladan pulled her close, running his fingers through her hair the way Elrond used to do. A tear escaped from Elrohir's eye and he brushed it harshly away, then moved beside the two, placing a comfortless hand on Arwen's back.

Legolas looked down at the carpet, then walked out silently.

"Arwen is leaving," Elladan told Legolas the next day, "Elrohir and myself will company her part of the way."

Legolas nodded.

"Are you well, mellon nîn?" Elladan asked.

Legolas nodded again.

Legolas wished there was rain. It would perhaps create the appropriate atmosphere that would incite him to weep. But the sun was defiantly glowing brightly and his eyes were dry.

He leaned against the balustrade. The balcony overlooked the city. From here, he could see how languidly the people tried to carry on with daily life. It seemed hopeless.

Aragorn was gone.

Gone. Forever.

But still he felt nothing.

"I thought I might find you here," a soft voice spoke from behind him.

"Arwen," he acknowledged her presence.

She nodded. "I came to bid you farewell."

Legolas nodded.

They stood by the edge, gazing across the City in silence. Then Legolas took a deep breath and asked, "If – If I build a ship, would you sail into the West?"

Arwen thought for a moment and shook her head. "It is too late now," she said, "I have made my choice, and I must abide by it."

"Will you not even try?"

Arwen met his anxious gaze. "These six-score years I have trod in indescribable bliss. Now that payment is required of me, should I not repay it?"

Legolas was silent.

"Revio nan Dûn, Legolas," Arwen said as she left, "And cuiel le di-'elaidh; si boe reviach."
Sail to the West, Legolas. Long you have lived under the trees; now you must sail.

Legolas slept uneasily, troubled by miserable dreams. He felt something familiarly warm on his arm.

"Aragorn?" he awoke and looked around.

There was no one around. He sighed and poured himself a glass of water, filling it an inch from the brim. Aragorn had always been particular about that – he was rarely able to carry a fuller glass without spilling any drink. Legolas emptied the water in a gulp, trying to put away those thoughts.

He crawled up and sat on the window ledge, leaning against the wall. The first time he did that, Aragorn had been so alarmed. He was young then, and had almost screamed at Legolas to come down.

"You will fall!" he had shouted.

"Estel, I'm an Elf," Legolas had tried to explain, "we don't fall easily."

"But Elves can fall too!" the boy had remonstrated.

"I'm an Elf and I'm telling you I won't fall." Legolas had wondered if the stubborn boy would ever see any sense.

Estel had burst into tears then. "But if you fall you'll leave me alone here!" he finally cried out his worst fears, "I don't want to be alone!"

Legolas had promptly come down then and taken the sobbing boy into his arms.

"You won't be alone," he had promised, "not when I'm here. You'll never be alone."

Legolas looked up. The stars were hidden behind the clouds.

"I don't want to be alone either," Legolas whispered into the night, his body shook slightly, but still he did not weep.

He knocked his head gently against the wall, feeling more broken than ever. He could vaguely see the moon.

"Anor na vôr, elin na thinned," he had repeated himself slowly so the recovering Human could follow, "Sun may darken, stars may fade."

"But –" the Human had cut in weakly, and laughed chokingly at Legolas' discomfort. "But I prefer it as 'i anor na vôr, in elin na thinned'."

"Estel," Legolas had put on a scholarly face, "it is meant to be poetic, and not as the grammar in your Common Tongue!"

Aragorn had tried to protest, given up, laughed and finally nodded in approval.

"It is good," he had conceded. "Rarely will the sun darken and the stars not shine."

The Human had left such times out, Legolas thought bitterly. There were times when even the stars refused to glow through the clouds.

"Anor na vôr, elin na thinnad," Legolas mused and completed the sentence distractedly, "dan gwend vín anuir aen." Sun may darken, stars may fade, but our friendship forever will be.

The words sounded hollow.

Legolas sighed and wrapped his face in his hands. He felt a cold emptiness rise from within him. Nothing ever meant anything anymore. He shook his head almost frantically. The lump gradually rose to his throat and he choked. He hurried back into the room for more water.

He drank quickly and looked at the glass he had used – the same one Aragorn had given to him after his coronation. It was part of a pair that someone had presented to Aragorn.

On the morning of the day Aragorn passed, Arwen had poured out his drink for him as usual, but his fingers were beginning to be feeble. And he had dropped the glass.

Legolas had walked passed their room when it happened. And the sharp breaking splash of glass had echoed within the chamber.

Legolas had felt a chill clench his heart then and quickly walked on before he was spotted.

He jerked as something cold seemed to touch his fingers, promptly letting go of the glass. He watched, gasping as the glass seem to fall dream-like and hit the ground, and splinter into thousands of sharp cutting pieces.

That same chill froze his blood. He tried to scoop the pieces up, ignoring how they cut at his hands, frantically, heedlessly, gathering them all, knowing how impossible it would be for them to be pieced together again, and he hastily discarded them in the trash-container, trying desperately to wipe his hands free of the small bits.

He realised he was panting and tried to calm his breathing.

Then he looked at his hands, covered in his blood. He clenched them together tightly, groaning aloud as the pain spread through him – the first sensation he had felt for a long time. It seemed to radiate through his body, releasing every muscle, straight into his heart. And now he sobbed uncontrollably.

"Aragorn," his voice shook badly, "A gwador nîn, lagor le thinniel!" O my brother, swift you have faded!