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Beta Reader: Dragonfly
With quotations from both the movie and book versions of LOTR.
Chapter 10: Sacrifices
By the time Legolas and Gimli were roused by the other members of the Fellowship, Aragorn and Haldir had come to an understanding. Word had not come back from Caras Galadhon, but the March Warden on his own authority would permit the Fellowship to go forward. Haldir insisted, however, that Gimli be blindfolded so that the Dwarf might not descry any of the secret paths of Lothlórien. Finding himself singled out in this fashion, Gimli was of no mind to permit an Elf to bind his eyes.
"I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner," he protested. "And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions."
This was a long speech for Gimli, and a passionate one, and Legolas found himself sympathizing with the Dwarf. Haldir, too, had to privately admit that there was justice in Gimli's words. Still, the March Warden refused to give way, for he would not take any step that might jeopardize his people, no matter however slight the danger might appear. He had been charged with the defense of the border. If fulfilling that charge meant that he must risk committing an injustice against a Dwarf, so be it.
Matters were thus at an impasse until Aragorn hit upon a solution: let all the Companions go forth hooded with strips of Lórien green. Upon hearing this suggestion, Legolas at once abandoned all sympathy for the Dwarf and objected violently to the notion that he, one of the Eldar, ought to be blindfolded. "I am an Elf and a kinsman here!" he exclaimed angrily.
The other members of the Fellowship had been chiding Gimli for his stubbornness; now it was Legolas' turn to be rebuked for being unwilling to compromise for the sake of the Fellowship. Grumbling, sounding rather more like a Dwarf than an Elf, Legolas was at last forced to yield, and the Lórien Elves set about blindfolding each and every member of the Fellowship. Haldir offered an apology as he drew the cloth over Legolas' face. "I am sorry, mellon-nîn. I hope you can forgive me."
"Do not be troubled," Legolas replied instantly, for he had at once grown contrite at hearing the distress in the March Warden's voice. "Let us pretend that we are elflings again and playing once more at Blind Man's Bluff."
"Thank you, Legolas," Haldir said gratefully.
Overhearing them, Gimli harrumphed. "That is all very well for Legolas, but what about me?"
"Did you never play Blind Man's Bluff, Gimli?" Legolas asked.
"Well, yes, I did," Gimli conceded, "although in my neck of the woods it was called Blind Troll's Bluff."
"Then you may consider yourself to be part of this game, my friend."
Mollified, Gimli allowed an Elf to lead him forward. As he walked, unable to see anything, in his mind's eye visions did arise of his days of playing Blind Troll's Bluff and other such games. Under his blindfold, the Dwarf began to smile. Sensing Gimli's change of mood, Legolas began to smile as well. When at last word arrived that the blindfolds might be removed, Elf and Dwarf grinned at each other when the cloths were pulled from their faces.
Legolas' cheeriness did not last long, however. As he walked, he cast his eyes upon places that he had visited in the company of Gandalf, and melancholy began its slow creep into his heart.
"That tree there," he murmured to himself, "we made camp under it when last I accompanied him here from Rivendell. And that hollow log by the stump, I hid his pipe within it until he threatened to turn me from a prince into a frog, as in the tales of Men."
Legolas smiled a little at that memory, but there more wistfulness than humor in his expression.
As he walked on, he remembered words that Gandalf had spoken in Moria. The Elf had momentarily wished to abandon the Quest so that he might track Gollum and avenge the deaths of the Mirkwood Elves who had been guarding the wretched creature. "Do not fail me!" Gandalf had begged Legolas. He told the Elf that he had need of him. "The Fellowship," Gandalf had said, "may face darker paths even that this one, and you must not be distracted from your purpose." Now, as Legolas marched toward Caras Galadhon in company with the other survivors of Moria, he reflected upon the truth of Gandalf's words.
"You were right, my friend," he said to himself sadly, "that we would face a darker path—but you did not tell me it would be so well illuminated. I think henceforth I shall always fear the Flame more than the Shadow. The Shadow is naught but darkness visible—and I do not fear the dark! But the Flame—the Flame, it devours. One may emerge from the Shadow, but not, I think, from the Flame."
Legolas felt the sting of salt in his eyes. 'I cannot cry', he reminded himself mournfully.
As the Elf strove to suppress his emotions, he felt an unaccustomed chill, and he shivered. Sensing his distress, the trees lifted up their branches and allowed free passage to the light and warmth of the sun. Gratefully, Legolas felt some of the tenseness leaching out of his muscles, and his heart ached a little less. It seemed as if the sun were able to penetrate the very core of his being.
"That fiery star is an orb of far greater power than any other," the Elf mused to himself. "Gandalf spoke of a lidless eye ringed with fire, but if the sun were placed beside that vaunted eye, it would prove to be insignificant, its pride dwarfed by the magnificence of the king of the heavenly lights."
As Legolas walked on, he continued to think on this matter.
"It is true," he said to himself, "that the Flame can devour, but it can also purify, and with it may be forged objects of strength and beauty—some dangerous and evil, like the Ring, but the greater part fair and of great virtue. Indeed, any tool that is to be serviceable must first be tempered by being returned repeatedly to the fire. A sword that was not passed through the Flame would be of little worth. No warrior would trust it."
Legolas heard a little whimper and looked down. Like Legolas, Pippin was doing his best to suppress his tears, but with much less success than the Elf.
"You fought well in Balin's tomb," the Elf said to the young Perian.
Pippin shook his head.
"Even if I did, there would have been no battle in the first place if it hadn't been for my foolishness."
The young Halfling could restrain himself no longer.
"It's my fault!" he cried. "It's my fault! If I hadn't been such an oaf, Gandalf never would have fallen. Our presence in Moria would have gone undiscovered but for my foolishness."
"No, you are wrong," Legolas said calmly. "Our presence was known from the moment we entered at the western gate. I realize now that we would never have been allowed to depart unassailed."
"You are just saying that to cheer me up," said Pippin morosely.
"I am saying that to cheer you up, yes, but I am also speaking the truth. We were being trailed. I knew it from the outset, and Gandalf knew it as well. You may be sure that he was not altogether surprised at the attack. I know Aragorn was not. He feared that Gandalf would fall if we entered Moria."
"And yet Gandalf went on nonetheless," marveled Pippin.
"It was his duty," Legolas said simply.
"His duty," whispered Pippin. He squared his shoulders and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Legolas looked at the small but courageous figure.
'No', Legolas thought to himself. 'No, it is not at all true that nothing can emerge from the Flame'.
He took Pippin's hand and the two walked on, each comforted by the other.
Once the Fellowship and its escorts arrived in Caras Galadhon, they made straight for its center, the great mallorn tree in which dwelt the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Light. When they reached its base, the Companions began the long climb toward a platform which rested high above.
Legolas and Aragorn knew what to expect when they reached that talan, but the others did not, and even Boromir could not hide his amazement and wonder as a shimmering haze drew near them. Within were cloaked the graceful forms of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, and at last the silvery mist parted a little so that the Companions might gaze upon their host and hostess.
Celeborn spoke first.
"Eight there are here, yet nine there were set out from Rivendell," he intoned. "Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."
Galadriel looked upon the faces of Legolas and Aragorn, and her eyes pierced deep into both their hearts and their minds. Gravely she spoke.
"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into Shadow."
Legolas felt the grief pour back into his heart, and when he spoke it was with a bitterness seldom heard in the voice of an Elf.
"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame—a Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."
Gimli stood by Legolas' side, and as the Elf spoke, he felt the Dwarf's misery at the mention of Moria. The Mirkwood Prince instantly regretted his words, and gratefully he welcomed Galadriel's rebuke of his intemperate speech.
"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," the Lady said softly but firmly. "We do not yet know his full purpose."
In spite of the Lady's words, Gimli remained glum and downcast, and Galadriel addressed him directly.
"Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli son of Glóin," she encouraged the Dwarf. "For the world has grown full of peril, and in all lands love is now mingled with grief."
In his sorrow and shame, Gimli had been afraid to lift his eyes and look upon the Lady. Now, in wonder, he raised his head and found her smiling gently upon him. At once he understood that the words he had heard of the Great Sorceress of the Golden Wood had been true. Anyone who looked upon her would fall under her spell. For surely he, Gimli, stoutest of the Naugrim, was now captivated by the Lady before him. But this was a captivity he had no desire to escape, nor ever would.
Galadriel now cast her eyes upon the faces of the remaining members of the Fellowship. Legolas thought that her gaze lingered for a moment upon the visage of Boromir, who flushed, his eyes slanting sideways, as if he were loath to meet the Lady's gaze. Legolas wondered at his unease, but said nothing. As Galadriel finished her scrutiny of the Company, Celeborn addressed them once again.
"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, all is lost."
These words must weigh heavily upon Aragorn, Legolas knew, and the Elf felt, rather than saw, the furrowing of the Ranger's visage. Galadriel, however, did not leave the Fellowship bereft of hope.
"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife," she declaimed. "Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all." Here she glanced yet again upon the face of Boromir. "Yet hope remains," she continued, "while the Company is true." With those words she gazed upon Sam, who met her eyes without flinching.
The audience was now at an end, and Galadriel dismissed them. "Do not let your hearts be troubled," she urged them in parting. "Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you shall rest in peace."
'Peace? thought Legolas. 'In safety, yes, but in peace?'
Legolas joined the others as they were led toward the glade in which they would take their rest. All about them music arose, the melodies both sad and beautiful. The Hobbits and the Dwarf, as well as the Man of the South, felt as if they were walking in a dream. Even Aragorn and Legolas moved as if they were in a daze. Wordlessly, the Companions set about making beds out of the furs and coverlets that had been provided for them by their hosts. Legolas finished first, and he picked up one of the vessels that had been set out for their use and went to fetch water from a nearby spring. The Elf hoped that by keeping busy he could fend off his grief, but the music would not let him forget. As he returned with the water, his Companions overheard the Elf murmuring to himself. "A lament for Gandalf," the Sinda said so softly that he almost whispered.
"What do they say about him?" asked Merry.
"I have not the heart to tell you," the Elf answered, his voice still pitched low. "For me the grief is still too near."
"I bet they don't mention his fireworks," Sam said sadly. "There should be a verse about them." The Hobbit rose to his feet, his face determined, and to the surprise of all, he began to recite.
"The finest rockets ever seen/ they burst in stars of blue and green. / Or after thunder, silver showers / came falling like a rain of flowers."
"Oh," he muttered, hanging his head, "that doesn't do them justice by a long road."
Sighing, Sam threw himself upon his pallet. Gimli was already slumbering, and in spite of Sam's grief, the Hobbit, too, was quickly asleep, his exhaustion overpowered by sorrow. The other Hobbits soon followed Sam and Gimli's example. In a little while only the Men and the Elf remained awake. Boromir had drawn a little apart from the others, and Legolas saw Aragorn join him. The two spoke earnestly together. Unnoticed, Legolas took the opportunity to slip away and seek out a tree in which to take refuge. Once ensconced in its boughs, however, he was chagrined to discover that his old companion could not assuage his sorrow. For it was not only grief that Legolas now felt. Something perhaps worse assailed him: a deep sense of shame. Legolas could not stop himself from again and again reliving Gandalf's final moments on the bridge of Khazad-dûm and blaming himself for what had happened. "Was there nothing I could have done to save my friend?" he whispered miserably. Why, he asked himself, had he not run back toward the wizard. 'I have trained at arms since youth', he thought to himself, 'and yet I did nothing to help one of my fellows. I do not deserve to be called Prince of Mirkwood! I do not even deserve to be called a warrior!'
Legolas had not felt such grief and shame since the campaign for Dol Guldur, when the young Elf had served under the command of a captain named Taurmeldir. His company had escaped unscathed from several of the skirmishes fought before the Fortress of the Necromancer, but then one of the engagements had gone badly. Little by little, their enemies had been overwhelming them. Some Elves lay dead, hacked by scimitars or slashed by ravening teeth. Others were wounded but had remained on their feet. "Fall back," Taurmeldir had at last shouted. The warriors obeyed, pressed on three sides by Orcs and wargs. Taurmeldir waited until the last of the Elves had retreated past his position; then he fell in as the rear guard. Step by step he slowly gave ground, forcing his foes to pay dearly for every inch they took. Anomen looked back as he drew close to the relative safety of another company of Elves. "I think Taurmeldir is going to be cut off!" he had cried to another Elf. The two began to run toward their captain, but Taurmeldir, glancing over his shoulder to see if his warriors were nearing safety, saw them coming. "Retreat," he commanded urgently. "I order you to retreat." As he shouted, he parried a thrust from one of his foes, and then a tree blocked the young Elves from any further view of the battle.
After their foes were at last beaten back in a counterattack, Anomen and other anxious warriors headed back toward where their captain had last been seen. When they did not find him immediately, they spread out and began to methodically comb the forest.
It was Anomen who found him. He removed his cloak and tenderly placed it over his captain before he called to the others. They hastened over and bowed their heads in grief when they saw that Anomen had covered Taurmeldir's face. Only one hand lay outside the cloak. In it, he still clutched his sword, blackened with the blood of Orcs and Wargs.
The next morning, Anomen had been detailed to serve as a runner for the day, and one of his errands took him to the tent of his mentor, Glorfindel the balrog slayer. After the young Elf had delivered his message, Glorfindel gestured for him to sit on a camp chair.
"You are no doubt feeling great sorrow over the death of your captain."
Anomen nodded.
"Taurmeldir had the greatest of respect for you, Anomen."
"And I failed him!" Anomen burst out in grief and shame.
"Why do you say so?"
"Glorfindel, Thoron and I saw that Taurmeldir was in trouble. We started to go toward his aid, but Taurmeldir ordered us to continue our retreat. Glorfindel, if we had gone back to help Taurmeldir, he wouldn't have died."
Glorfindel replied calmly, "Had you and Thoron returned to his side, Taurmeldir would have died nonetheless. Worse, his death would have been all the more bitter for his friends because you would have rendered his sacrifice meaningless. Taurmeldir was not one to throw away his life without cause. He knew that the situation was such that only through death could he guarantee the safety of his warriors. But to that end, he saw that only his death was necessary. And so he forbade you from aiding him because he did not want you to die needlessly. You must respect his judgment in this matter, as he always respected yours."
"I thank you for your words, Glorfindel, but they do not lift my grief."
"They were not intended to lift your grief, Anomen. For why should you not grieve? No, it is the burden of shame that you should not feel compelled to carry. Your captain gave you an order. You obeyed it, and by doing so you secured for Taurmeldir one final victory over his foes."
"Thank you for your words, Glorfindel. I think—I think I can bear the grief now, but the shame would have been too heavy for me."
Legolas thought of Glorfindel's words now as he once more relived Gandalf's fall. Why had he obeyed Gandalf and not run to his aid? The answer was hard to accept yet simple to comprehend. By trying to help Gandalf, he would have betrayed Gandalf. The wizard could have held on longer—of that Legolas was certain, for he knew what strength was hidden within the body of the old man. True, the Istar could not have pulled himself unaided back onto the bridge, but he could have continued clinging to the edge far longer than he had. Instead, Gandalf had let go after commanding his companions to take flight because he knew any attempt to rescue him would prove fatal to the one who came to his aid. As soon as the balrog had toppled into the abyss, the Orcs, too fearful of the beast to approach whilst it still stood upon the bridge, had begun swarming into the cavernous chamber. Anyone running back toward Gandalf would have perished, his body pierced by countless arrows, and Gandalf would have died all the same. Then, with two Companions lost, the plight of the Fellowship would have been all the worse. Gandalf's final gesture, his last gift to the Fellowship, would have been squandered, just as Taurmeldir's final actions would have been for naught had a young Elf died in a fruitless effort to save the captain.
Taurmeldir had sacrificed himself. So, too, had Gandalf sacrificed himself, and many times over—by entering Moria in the first place, by confronting the balrog, by allowing himself to fall into the chasm instead of struggling to keep his grip.
The shame Legolas felt began to slip away. His grief, however, began to deepen. The Elf had loved and respected the wizard since that day in the forest in Rivendell when Gandalf had rescued the lost elfling. Legolas would not have thought it possible for that love and respect to have been stronger than it had been during Gandalf's life. Now, however, as he contemplated the goodness and unselfishness of Gandalf's final deed, he cherished the Istar all the more. Yes, his shame had diminished, but his grief had grown all the greater.