Chapter 12: Where Light Meets the Dark
Gandalf plowed through a clump of shrubs and out into a field. The umbrage had several meters on him, but its recent meal of orc-shadow seemed to have added bulk to its form, and it lumbered somewhat more heavily as it sought escape. Bree was around a small knoll up ahead, and if the creature reached the walls, it could disappear into any nook or cranny, not to mention Gandalf did not wish to confront it among a horde of people easily spooked into panic.
Raising his staff to the sky, the wizard shouted a short phrase that cracked the air like thunder, and a great sheet of blazing light burst up in front of the shade. It skidded to a stop, throwing up its arms and cowering away from the illumination that blocked its path like a physical wall. Gandalf closed the remaining distance and brandished the obsidian stone. Its power pinged in response to his will, reaching out to snag the adumbration.
The creature whirled and suddenly charged, a last desperate attempt to thwart the old wizard. Gandalf swung his staff around and clubbed the shade in the head. It stumbled to the side, lashing out to grab the crystal. Gandalf would not be taken by surprise twice, however, and twirled his staff to block. He felt the thud as wood collided with a shoulder, then a torso, all the while he fought to keep the Leo-atsaëa out of reach.
An amorphous hand shot out to grab his throat, and Gandalf gasped as cold fingers closed around his neck. The umbrage bore down on the wizard as though to envelop him in darkness as it had done to Legolas, but the staff between them held it at bay. Gandalf tried to ignore the firing synapses in his brain, and wrenched his other arm around to plunge the onyx gem into the shadow like a dagger. The creature jerked and released the wizard's throat, trying to fling itself away. But Gandalf activated the crystal and felt its power bury invisible talons into the eidolon. The creature squirmed in an effort to disengage, but its form wavered and began to fold in on itself. Gandalf clenched his teeth and braced himself as the shadow creature dissolved into a rippling stream of ink that was sucked up into the crystal.
With a gasp, the wizard staggered forward a step. His pulse was racing, sending blood rushing through his ears, and his chest heaved with ragged breaths after the exertion of such a spell. He glanced at the Leo-atsaëa glittering in his palm, a hurricane of many shadows writhing inside. The knowledge that they had succeeded in capturing the demon filled Gandalf with an exhausted measure of relief…until he remembered he'd left Aragorn fighting the Gundabad orc. Spinning back toward the woods, Gandalf forced himself into a haggard run, praying he would find both Aragorn and Legolas in one piece.
When he returned to the clearing, his shoulders nearly sagged at the sight of the slain orc. But he stiffened again just as quickly when he spotted Aragorn kneeling next to a prone Legolas, one hand over the elf's brow, the other clutching his hand across his chest. Even from the other end of the clearing, Gandalf could tell both of them were far away. The Ranger's lips moved almost imperceptibly as he called to the Mirkwood prince—there was little time.
Gandalf hobbled over and lowered himself to the ground next to them. Then he turned the obsidian stone around, closing his eyes and reaching into the crystal with his power. The fell aura pricked at his mind with cold malice, yet he pushed past the discomfort, tracing the striations lining the inside of the gem until he grasped the thread of the elf's shadow. Slowly and carefully, the wizard began to peel it away from the others, drawing it out through the pyramidal point. Black ribbons shimmered out of the tip like liquid silk. Gandalf squinted in concentration as he both held back the shadows of orc and trees, and reassembled Legolas's.
When the shadow that hovered before him in the air was complete, Gandalf shifted the crystal and directed it at the fallen prince. The blackness settled over him like a sheet, pooling down around the contours of his frame and filling it in with a faint silhouette of incandescence, which fizzled and then suffused into a solid outline.
Gandalf rocked back on his haunches, feeling drained. But he was not quite done. Setting the crystal and his staff aside, he laid his hand over the clasped ones of man and elf. "Come back now," he coaxed. "You are both still needed." He pushed some more of his power into the call, and felt Aragorn's spirit respond. Gradually, the man rose from the darkness, pulling Legolas's fëa with him.
Aragorn suddenly blinked and leaned back, looking at the wizard. "Gandalf?" he asked in a mere rasp. His gaze shifted to Legolas, and fear flooded his eyes. "Is he…?"
"Alive," Gandalf assured, and moved his hand to cup Legolas's face. After a brief moment of searching, he nodded, much relieved to find the wandering soul settling back into the body. "I have restored his shadow and he should recover."
"Should?" Aragorn winced and reached up to rub his neck, which was blossoming into a motley collage of red and purple.
Gandalf sighed. "I'm afraid that last attack by the shadow creature was quite a shock. In fact, I believe that is how it killed those men in Bree. Legolas is lucky to have survived."
Aragorn dropped his gaze. "I thought he was fading."
Gandalf did not doubt the prince had been, but didn't say so. He gave the Dúnedan a meaningful look. "He was fortunate to be in the hands of a king."
Aragorn looked away, jaw tight. Gandalf knew the man did not appreciate the wizard's constant pushing and pointed reminders that he was destined to unite the race of Men. The preparation was necessary, however, for the Shadow grew stronger everyday. Still, Gandalf could give the heir of Isildur a brief reprieve, considering what they had just been through.
"Should we return to Bree?" Aragorn finally asked hoarsely.
Gandalf frowned. Both elf and Ranger needed tending to, but a village of nosy men was probably not the best place, especially if they had to carry Legolas back unconscious. Already the elf's color was better at least. After some rest, he would return to his former self.
"We will stay here," Gandalf decided. "Legolas will recover faster beneath the trees. I will make a fire and prepare some tea, for I daresay you could use it."
Aragorn grimaced and rubbed his throat again. "I have some herbs in my pack that can be steeped."
"Good." Gandalf rose to his feet, but paused when he remembered the Leo-atsaëa. Best to take care of it sooner rather than later. He picked up his staff and moved several feet away before setting the crystal on the ground. Holding his staff in both hands, he lifted his arms and brought the wooden stump straight down on the obsidian stone. At the violent contact, a great crack rent the air along with a flash of light, followed by the tinkle of shattered glass. Black smoke belched from the glittering shards in a fetid plume before dissipating. Then the brilliant onyx sheen slowly dulled and clouded over, turning into a pile of pewter granules.
The wizard let out a relieved sigh; the Leo-atsaëa would never harm another being again, nor would Sauron ever wield it in his bid for Middle Earth. He looked up to find Aragorn watching him, relief visible on his face as well.
With a harrumph, Gandalf scuffed his shoe through the particles, grinding some into the ground and stirring smaller motes to be caught up in the air and carried away. Some of the dust sprinkled over the Gundabad orc's corpse, which Gandalf curled his lip at. That needed to be taken care of as well, for such was not good company to recuperate in.
Shambling over to the dead brute, Gandalf ran an appraising eye across the large mass. He tapped the bottom of his staff three times and traced a rune on the air, followed by a spritz of light and eruption of smoke, from which the body had disintegrated. Gandalf leaned on his staff; so much magic in so short a time, especially with the obsidian stone, was tiring.
He turned around and found Aragorn gaping at him. "What?" he said gruffly.
The Ranger shook himself out of his daze. "I don't believe I've ever seen you use such overt magic."
Gandalf huffed. "Yes, well, I deem it necessary. Now cease talking, for the sound of your voice is as painful to hear as I imagine it is to speak with."
Aragorn scrunched up his face in consternation, but didn't say anything more as he set about placing stones in a ring. Gandalf proceeded to gather kindling, and considered uttering another incantation when Aragorn's flint took more than three strikes of chert to start a flame. But his energies would soon be spent, and there were more needs that still required his attention.
Aragorn removed a large iron bowl from his pack to heat the water, and soaked the herbs in it. Gandalf then helped him clean a long slice down the side of his arm, almost parallel to another wound he bore. "From the flooded cavern," he'd explained before Gandalf had silenced him with a look. Once that was tended, the man shrugged out of his tunic to change the bandage on his shoulder, which Gandalf was pleased to note was healing well. As the Istar wrapped fresh linen around the wound, the Ranger kept flicking worried glances at Legolas.
"Give him time, Aragorn," Gandalf said gently, tucking the bandage closed. He turned to pour some of the boiling water into a cup, and Aragorn slipped his tunic back over his head with a small wince. He accepted the tea handed to him and blew on it before taking a sip.
With everything seen to, Gandalf let out a weary sigh and settled down against one of the trees to finally take some rest and await the revival of the Mirkwood prince.
Legolas felt a brush of cool, sweet air across his cheek. With returning sensation, he became aware of solid earth beneath him, cushioned by soft grass, and the ascending curve of an exposed root at his hip. Next came sound: the crinkling of leaves stirred by the breeze and a cicada chirping faintly from somewhere. Were the Halls of Mandos found in a forest? He tried to turn his head in the dark fog that enveloped him, and found his neck stiff, as though he still resided in a physical body. Strange, he thought. Why did death feel so…heavy?
Then another kiss of wind carried an earthy, clove-like aroma on a puff of smoke, and Legolas furrowed his brow. Surely there would not be pipe-weed in the afterlife. He slowly pried his eyes open and waited for the blurred shapes above him to coalesce into a canopy of trees. Peeking between their branches far above, he could see a few pinpricks of light standing out against a gloaming, twilight sky.
Another billow of smoke wafted over him, and Legolas lifted his head in confusion. He blinked at the sight of Gandalf sitting three feet away, back nestled into the crook of a large cypress. The wizard had a pipe in one hand and was chewing on the mouth piece. Dark eyes glinted mischievously.
"Welcome back, Greenleaf."
Legolas pushed himself up onto his elbows, surprised to find strength returned to his limbs, though he still felt somewhat dazed. "What happened?"
"The shadow creature was captured, your shadow restored, and the Leo-atsaëa destroyed."
He stared uncomprehendingly at the wizard for a moment, then whipped his head around for Aragorn. The Ranger lay a few feet away next to a small fire, curled up on his bedroll and breathing deeply in sleep. Legolas stiffened at the mottled bruises adorning his neck. "Is he…?"
Gandalf chuckled lightly. "That's what he asked about you when he first returned."
Legolas shot him a perplexed look. "Returned from where? And don't think you can divert me from my first question," he added with a scowl as he pushed himself up further to lean against the tree behind him. The oak's overjoyed voice suffused him with an extra measure of peace and strength, and he found himself subconsciously resting a hand against the bark.
"He's fine," Gandalf assured. "Salves applied and tea administered. The Gundabad orc is also dead. As for your second question, what do you remember?"
Legolas frowned. He would not allow the wizard to distract him, but Aragorn did seem to be well, so he thought back to what he could recall of the confrontation. Uglûk had released Aragorn…because the umbrage had gotten the obsidian stone away from Gandalf! But then the creature had turned and used the crystal against the orc…
"I remember the demon tried to steal your shadows, and I shot the stone from its hand. Then…" Legolas splayed the fingers of his other hand across his chest. The oak at his back crooned soothingly in response to the harrowing memory. "I remember darkness."
Gandalf nodded sagely. "The creature's attack nearly killed you. Were it not for Aragorn, you would most certainly have gone on to the Halls of Mandos."
Legolas canted his head, trying to decipher the wizard's vague explanation. Then, like a light cutting through fog with the razor edge of a sword, he recalled falling through empty ether, drifting further and further into a darkening chasm, until a familiar voice had called him back. He'd recognized it as surely as he knew his own soul, and that presence had reached out to take hold of him, had held fast with a promise to never let go. His gaze drifted to the slumbering Ranger, tenderness and gratitude swelling his heart. Aragorn had kept him from fading, and Legolas knew he could never repay him.
"You would have done the same for him," Gandalf's voice broke through, as though the wizard had guessed his mind. He puffed on his pipe for a moment before removing it, brow puckering thoughtfully. "The time is soon coming when he will need you to, in a different manner perhaps, but he'll need you to guide him through the darkness all the same."
Legolas shook his head. "I shall follow him, not the other way around."
"Faithfulness and devotion often serve as a compass for the one who inspires them."
Legolas leaned his head back against the oak. He had known for almost as many years as Aragorn what the man's destiny as Isildur's heir entailed, and had vowed to walk this path with him. But where Gandalf and Lord Elrond often pushed and needled, Legolas remained a steady friend, patient to let the Ranger find himself before he took up the mantle of King. What the Istar and elf lord had failed to recognize, even in all their wisdom, was that the young mortal who had chosen exile simply needed time. Legolas had no doubt the man would embrace his calling when the moment came, even if Aragorn was as yet not so sure. But would it be so because of Aragorn's indomitable valor, or Legolas's faith? Or perhaps both.
"I will be there," he said softly. He had almost despaired this time, almost given up, much to his shame. But Aragorn had refused to let him, and in the end, the prince had mustered the strength to fight—due in large part to his friend's unyielding determination. Thus Legolas knew Aragorn would rise to the occasion again when he needed to, when Middle Earth would need him to.
Gandalf studied him before nodding in satisfaction and going back to his pipe. Legolas wrinkled his nose, though no one tried to tell a wizard to put out his smoke. With a knowing twitch of his lips, Gandalf huffed several times and sent a wispy gray horse prancing through the air and over Aragorn. The Ranger shifted and then let out a small sneeze.
"Mithrandir," Legolas chided lightly. "You should let him sleep."
"I think he would rather see you are finally awake."
Aragorn mumbled something and lifted his head. As his gaze focused, his eyes widened and he bolted upright. "Legolas!"
"See?" Gandalf said smugly.
"Are you well?" Aragorn asked, shoving off his cloak and moving to crouch next to him.
Legolas nodded. "I am well."
Aragorn smiled in obvious relief. "Your strength has returned?"
"Yes, though I think it may be a while before I'm ready to run another errand for wizards." He cast a sidelong grin at Gandalf, who pulled his shoulders back with an indignant huff. Aragorn coughed into his fist to cover a snort.
"And do you feel tainted by darkness?" Gandalf asked, brows arched expectantly.
Legolas turned his gaze inward, finding the light of his fëa untarnished. "No. I feel whole again. Thank you, Gandalf. I should not have doubted you. And thank you, Aragorn, for calling me back. I owe you both my life."
"There are no such debts between friends," the Ranger said.
"Nor between us," Gandalf added. "I bear some responsibility for what happened to you, for which I am deeply sorry. No one should have gone through what you did. But you have survived, your spirit unsullied."
Legolas inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill his lungs with revitalizing vigor. Yes, he had survived. He turned to Aragorn then, brows knitting together at the unsightly bruises. "And your wounds?"
"A discomfort, but bearable." Aragorn reached behind him for two tin cups and a bowl that had been sitting next to the fire. After pouring a simmering tea into them, he passed one to Legolas and the other to Gandalf before digging out a third mug from his pack and filling it as well. "To victory and restored health."
Legolas and Gandalf raised their cups in a synchronized toast.
"And friendship," the wizard added, winking at the elf.
Legolas buried a shared smile in his cup as he sipped the herb-marinated tea. Then he tipped his head back to gaze up at the trees and the midnight blue canvas beyond. Warmth filled his soul with the dazzling vision, and he murmured, "The stars have returned."
Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder. "They never left, mellon nîn."
No, they had not. In fact, their splendor was all the more radiant for the night. Legolas did not know how dark the road ahead would become, or where it would ultimately lead, but he would follow Hope. For under the growing Shadow, it was that light which would shine the brightest of all.
A/N: Well, that's a wrap. I hope you all enjoyed this adventure as much as I did. ^_^ For those who are interested, I've plotted my next LoTR fic, another misadventure for our dear elf, ranger, and wizard. And this time I'm shoving Gandalf right into the first scene so he won't be late! Lol. Hope to see you there, mellyn nîn!
