Disclaimer: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.
Lady Galadriel paused, a faint smile touching her lips.
"She is not forgotten, Legolas, son of Thranduil. Her memory rests within you, and in Trinity."
He looked up, eyes shining with pain and tears. "What?"
She is not forgotten.
Legolas knelt there, unable to see. "In Trinity?"
"She is hidden, drowned by her own creation. You came here to ask me of Trinity, but I cannot tell you anything, for her mind is an endless mystery, even to me."
His vision set back in, but comprehension failed him. The Great Lady knelt beside him, touching his cheek gently.
"Something prevents me from entrance; all I can sense is pain. But there is faith, still, deep inside. If you reach her, then Evalgine will be close at hand. Or perhaps, you will find comfort within someone else."
Another smile graced her features.
"The Quest…" Legolas whispered.
"You trouble yourself with the thought that you will fail Frodo. That fear drives you, Master Greenleaf, and soon it will control you. But you must not let it."
Legolas looked at her with hope, "What, then, must I do?"
"Let it play out," she answered, standing, "And allow what occurs to simply occur. Do not be ashamed to think of Evalgine, or Trinity, they will do as they see fit and will not lead you to ruin."
He rose as well, slowly, looking at the Great lady before him with awe.
She named the stars, one by one, since she could see the night's sky through the ceiling of Haldir's talan. Raven hair spilled around her like a lake, emerald eyes dreamy. Passion remained hidden from her, as the Elf pressed his body against her, creating a friction that was probably pleasurable enough to him, but meant nothing to her. Quietly, she lay there, repeating the names in her head to avoid thinking or feeling. She didn't want to feel his body on hers, his breath on her neck and face.
To be devastatingly honest, she never really understood the concept of sex. Or at least, the way some people discussed sex. Destiny, for example, continually referred to it as a 'bond of both mental and physical aspects.' Scarlette thought of it as a game, where the sweetest trophy was won in being able to bed that cute bartender from the Club. Male or female, it didn't matter, so long as that pleasurable friction was there.
And then, there was the whole point of getting to that friction, to that 'bond.' Dates, movies, money, drinks, jokes, painful conversation, all mixed together for twenty minutes of ecstasy that neither would care about the next morning. Next, after the bedding, the love-making, there would be that awkward phase, where both man and woman (or woman and woman, in Scarlette's case; or even man and man in Scarlette's brother's case) would dress and avoid each other's gaze out of shame.
To hell with formality! Why did they not just do this, what she had done?
Because they have morals.
Be picked like some prize at a fair, and bedded the same night. No candy or fake conversation, just those precious twenty minutes. Of course, these minutes seemed to go by so slowly. All the while, Trinity laid there naming the stars and thought about a way to escape. That and Legolas. He just continually came into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to keep him out.
I have no morality. Morality is for the weak.
Morality is for the noble. And the intelligent.
You were the intelligent one, not I. I am the strong one. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less.
What was love?
The question hung in the air before her, just out of reach. Hours before, she would have said the way Legolas treated her, kindness and respect. Or perhaps it was the way Boromir laughed and watched her, wanting her. Or, possibly, this was love. This, right now, was love, with Haldir dangling over her, choking with the effort to make her do something. And she, smothered in utter silence. There was a strong chance that this was the love told in fairy tales.
Choking sounds and silence.
And she foolishly expected more.
The world conflicted with everything Legolas knew, or thought he knew. Lady Galadriel had told him to connect with Trinity, and find Evalgine within her, but that seemed near impossible. The girl barely talked, let alone gave him a hint as to what she thought in any situation. He looked to the stars, and then slowly lowered his head to watch the path in front of him. The same bridge that he had seen Haldir and Trinity on rested just ahead.
Standing on the outside of the railing, looking down into the trees, was Trinity. Briefly, Legolas wondered if any inhabitants or visitors of Caras Galadhon had ever committed suicide, he suspected not. It looked as though she would be the first. Again, that image of her bleeding entered his mind and with it came the need to protect her.
He stepped onto the bridge.
She appeared not to have heard him, and rested there still, her head bowed.
Four feet from her, a humorless chuckle rose into the air.
"I can hear you," Trinity whispered, then looked back at him with a grim smile.
He took a step towards her, but she leaned forward, daring him. Legolas was brought to a halt. Emerald eyes measured him; he felt something blocking the air from reaching his lungs.
He swallowed the obstruction in his throat, "Once, long ago, I loved a mortal girl…"
She exhaled, and looked back down. A curtain of hair obstructed his view of her face.
"She was young, and naïve, but kind and beautiful, and so intelligent…"
Another step was taken; again, she leaned forward. Her arms stretched to their limits, the fine muscles flexed to their full extent. Valar, she was stunning. He stopped again, determined.
"My father wished to ally our kingdom with her father's, but he did not fair well then, and sent me in his place. When I saw her, I mistook her for an angel, so pure and innocent. Over the course of my stay, we grew close, near inseparable."
Marry me.
As if I can refuse.
His eyes were clouded, "And she was so intelligent. In only four days, she learned my native tongue. Four days! I hadn't thought it possible, but she insisted; she wanted to learn…"
His voice caught and Legolas found himself unable to go on.
"What happened to her?"
A sad smile crossed his handsome features, "She died. In my arms. A stray arrow."
She nodded in understanding and began to lean back slowly.
"For many years," Legolas continued, "I was lost without her, my Evalgine. Every day bore new pain; I wanted to die."
Silence. Trinity looked at him sharply, so much emotion in her eyes that it was impossible to decipher.
"But there is hope, always, there is hope."
By now, he found himself close enough to pull her onto the bridge by force, but held out his hand instead. She stared at it, inspecting it as though she thought it to be a trick. Cautiously, Trinity put her hand in his and allowed him to help her over the railing, onto a solid surface. Avoiding his gaze, she whispered her thanks and started to walk away.
Something possessed her to turn back and tell him openly: "It wouldn't have killed me, anyway."
She was right, it would not have.
Nothing could.
The time for their departure came sooner than expected. The next morn, Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, Haldir, and a few other Elves saw them off.
"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," Lord Celeborn said while watching the other Elves adjust the cloaks given to the Fellowship, "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."
Lady Galadriel took them aside, bestowing her own gifts upon them.
"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim. Worthy of the skill of our woodland kin."
Legolas took the bow from her, running his hands over the object reverently, a smile on his face. Lady Galadriel smiled gently before moving on to Merry and Pippin.
"These are daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war."
The Hobbits unsheathed them; Pippin looked up at her with wide eyes.
"Do not fear, Peregrin Took," she said softly, "You will find your courage."
She turned to Sam, "And for you, Samwise Gamgee, Elven rope made of hithlain."
"Thank you, my Lady," he murmured, taking it into his hands. He glanced around, "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?"
Lady Galadriel smiled ruefully at him, but said nothing else, and walked on to Frodo.
"Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star. May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out."
She kissed the top of his head and moved on.
Now it was Trinity's time. The Great Lady looked in her the eyes and smiled, shaking her head from side to side. Instead of a gift, a dagger, or rope, or a bow, or even the light of a star, she drew Trinity into a hug. The others watched in amazement as Trinity returned the embrace.
"Had I known then, what I know now," she whispered in Trinity's ear, "I surely would have wept for you. Take great comfort in your escape, find your friends, and do not let your sorrows drown you."
In a moment of weakness, after the incident on the bridge, Trinity had told Lady Galadriel everything about her past and present.
She had wept for her.
Legolas packed the boats with provisions, preparing for the departure. He looked to see Haldir embrace Trinity one last time, before she joined them. The Elf glanced down at one of the sacks and untied it, pulling out what resembled a flat piece of bread.
"Lembas."
Merry and Pippin looked at him quizzically from their spot in the boat. Trinity joined them with a heavy sack in her right hand.
"Elvish waybread," he explained, "One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."
He turned to assist Aragorn and Merry scooted closer to Pippin.
"How many did you eat?"
"Four," Pippin said before grunting and letting loose a particularly loud fart.
Trinity dropped the sack in the boat, startling them.
"You know he can hear you," she stated with a smile.
They looked properly ashamed.
Trinity leaned against the front of the boat, dozing, her hood pulled over her pretty face. Gimli and Legolas watched her content with question, for never yet on this journey had they seen her so vulnerable than in this moment. Even on the bridge, she held the power in her hands, when in her fits, she could still fight in an instant. But here, now, she appeared almost happy.
"I have taken my worst wound at this parting," Gimli announced suddenly, "having looked my last upon that which is fairest."
Trinity's eyes fluttered open to see Legolas smiling down at the dwarf, who let out a long sigh.
"Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."
"What was her gift?" Legolas asked him.
Gimli's eyes stared straight ahead, at Trinity.
"I asked her for one hair from her golden head," he muttered, "She gave me three."
Both Trinity and the Elf smiled at this.
They drifted for a long while, Legolas pushing the water with one white oar. Soon it was Gimli who snored, Trinity wide awake and staring at the trees. Occasionally, she would feel the Elf's eyes travel to her, then look away. Not ashamed, or embarrassed, but contemplating.
"Am I to assume that you are well now?"
She looked at him quickly, "Well?"
He nodded, "You've been different since our departure. You smile now."
Now a small smile graced her features, "I talked with Lady Galadriel and told her everything, something I have not had the ability to do for many years."
The smile faded and she shook her head, "But I will never be well."
Legolas' head turned sharply to the side as he peered into the trees.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"Orcs. In the sunlight. Uruks."
They made camp up the river, on a bank. The Hobbits fell asleep quick enough, Gimli with them. Aragorn and Boromir were watching the river; Trinity sat away from them still, though the distance significantly less than before.
Legolas knelt beside her, "You should rest."
Stubbornly, she shook her head. "I can't sleep."
"And why is that?" He whispered in her ear, hot breath stinging the normally cold flesh.
"Because," she whispered back, "evil does not."
For a few moments, he watched her fall back into her old ways. Secrecy shrouded her once again and he sighed. What could trouble something so beautiful? Her eyes met his as though she knew what he was thinking and then, she rose, leaving him there alone as she joined the men.
"Minas Tirith is the safer road," Boromir was saying, "You know that. From there we can regroup, strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."
"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn replied.
Trinity shook her head, "Strength does not win wars."
Desperation filled Boromir to the brim: "You were quick enough to trust the Elves! Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that!"
Aragorn attempted to leave, but Boromir pulled him back by his cloak.
"You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are."
The ranger started to leave, but turned back suddenly.
"I will no lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city," he hissed.
Boromir watched him leave, then turned his pain-filled gaze to Trinity, who embraced him tightly.
"You are the one who is afraid," she whispered into the crook of his neck before releasing him with an almost violent shove.
They passed between two stone men, great in size and stature. Regal and proud were they, with hands held high. If they could move, Trinity suspected, they could crush the boats the Fellowship rode in like insects.
Gimli nudged her, "Be proud, girl, these are your kin."
"No," she mumbled, "They're not."
Only Legolas heard her.
They banked again. Boromir seemed shaken and, while the others set up camp, he kept to himself, depression and gloom surrounding him. All seemed lost to him; darkness drove itself deep into his bones, fueled by the desire to prove the worth of his people and the desire to bed Trinity. She could feel it in him, this darkness, and kept watch over him at all times. Any moment, any little thing, could possibly break him.
So when the man disappeared into the woods after Frodo, so did she.
It was she who found the Hobbit first in a small clearing, leaves scattered and a fallen head of a stature staring blankly ahead.
But it was Boromir who said the first words to him.
"None of us should wander alone," he said to Frodo, his voice falsely content while he gathered fire wood.
Trinity stepped into the clearing, "He isn't alone."
"Yes," Boromir murmured quietly, "But we all know that being with you is as if being alone. None should wander alone, or with you by their side."
Her jaw tightened, and Frodo looked to her with shocked eyes. He could not believe that she would allow him to say such things to her. In any other situation, she told herself, he would have been dead long before this.
He bent to pick up another fallen branch, glancing at Frodo momentarily, "You, least of all. So much depends on you."
Straightening, he looked to the Hobbit again.
"Frodo?"
No doubt he was disappointed in the lack of conversation.
"I know why you seek solitude," Boromir walked towards him, "You suffer. I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly?"
The Hobbit looked at him sharply; Trinity leaned against the stone head, telling herself that she would not become involved until absolutely necessary.
"There are other ways, Frodo."
Liar.
"Other paths that we might take."
"I know what you say," Frodo interrupted, "And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart."
Silently, Trinity applauded him.
"Warning?" Boromir laughed the laugh of a man caught in a lie, "Against what?"
He drew nearer, but Trinity drew her blades. A dark shadow passed over his face.
The expression he wore was one mixed with hate and lust, "Are you going to kill me, Trinity?"
Daring, he took another step.
"If I must," she replied, hold one arm out at full length. In the air, the tip rested just below his chin. She hoped the Hobbit would see her creation – the diversion.
Seeing the opportunity, Frodo tried to escape. But Boromir saw and went after him instead.
His back slouched, "We're all afraid, Frodo. Even her."
Stopping, he looked back at Trinity.
"Look at her," he whispered, eyes moving up and down her body, "A woman on a male's journey. Scared little girl with knives."
She was not scared, the blade she held in her hand did not quiver at all. Boromir dropped the wood deliberately and moved beside her. Instantly, she froze, not wanting to provoke him, even as his gloved hand moved a stray lock behind her ear. Something deep inside her still cared for him enough to not cut him down then and there. Turning her head by the chin to face him, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Flipping the knives so the blades faced the ground, she shoved at his chest, causing him to stumble back a few feet.
In astonishment, he gazed at her.
"We're all afraid," he repeated and turned back to Frodo, "But to let that fear dive us, to destroy what hope we have…don't you see this madness?"
"There is no other way," the Halfling stumbled away from him.
It was then that he broke.
"I ask only for the strength to defend my people," he grunted between clenched teeth.
He shook his head, breath uneven, "If you would but lend me the Ring."
"No."
Still, Frodo moved away.
"Why do you recoil? I am no thief." He whispered in an agitated tone.
Trinity's blade found the flesh of his throat, she held him back with the threat – the promise – of his blood spilled upon the ground.
"You are not yourself," she said coolly, calmly.
Boromir exhaled sharply, his hands clutched at the knife. "What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will beg for death before the end!"
Frodo turned away.
"You fool!" the man yelled at his back, "It is not yours, save by unhappy chance! It could have been mine. It should be mine! Give it to me!"
His elbow struck a mighty blow into her ribs, she grunted, but did not release him. Another blow made her strength falter, and he escaped. He delivered a hard punch to her stomach and shoved her down, chasing after Frodo, who had begun to run away. Easily, he caught the Hobbit and tackled him to the ground. Trinity put an arm across her abdomen tightly, holding the broken rib in place as she started toward them.
"Give it to me!" Boromir shouted, hands attack the Halfling, trying to steal the ring away.
"No!" Frodo cried, struggling against him.
And then, he vanished. Boromir looked down, puzzled before his body jolted suddenly upright, pushed by an invisible force. Trinity lowered her arm in amazement and watched the deteriorating mind of Boromir work its craft.
"I see your mind," he ranted into the air, "You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us. You'll go to your death, and the death of us all!"
The man scrambled to his feet, "Curse you! Curse you and all the Halflings!"
Trinity rushed to him, but the back of his head met the curve of her jaw, knocking her down. Angrily, she kicked at the back of his knee, taking him down with her. He hit the ground with noisy grunts and lay on his stomach gasping.
"Frodo?" his voice resembled that of a frightened child, tears behind it, "Frodo."
She pulled herself to her knees and crawled to him, holding his face in her hands as a mother would. Tears ran from his auburn eyes, washing the dirt from her flesh.
"What have I done?" he gasped, "Please, Frodo."
"Hush," she whispered, "Hush, he understands, Boromir. He knows it is not you who did this."
Trinity…
He embraced her tightly, sobbing into the crook of her neck. Allowing it, she smoothed back his hair with tenderness. The ability to comfort was becoming easier and easier to display. Kneeling in the dirt, holding a grown man, Trinity felt such pity overwhelm her. An emotion that was almost entirely foreign. Like love.
What about Legolas?
I do not love Legolas. I love him. I love Boromir. Legolas be damned.
It is only pity, Trinity; you don't know how to love.
Fuck off, Ebal.
Trinity leaned in and rested her chin on the top of his head.
"I love you," he said quietly.
A smile crossed her face, "And I love you."
Boromir looked up in surprise and saw that breathtaking smile. With shaking hands, he touched and explored her face before his lips crashed onto hers. For the first time in years, she shared a kiss with meaning. His mouth moved heavily against hers, desperate, needing, and loving. When her mouth began to move with his, he buried his fingers in her hair, forcing her closer. Her hands swam over his back.
Only the sound of clashing swords halted them.
"Uruks," he murmured against her lips.
Grabbing her wrist tightly, they ran to the sound.
Merry and Pippin stood in a clearing, staring wide-eyed at the onslaught of Uruks coming for them. With surprising speed, Trinity and Boromir attacked, hacking at the hideous creatures with anything they could get their hands on. The Hobbits took to their example, slashing at the beasts with their own daggers, slicing through rotten flesh. Boromir broke away, raising the Horn of Gondor to his lips, and blew with all his might. Several times he repeated this action, taking the occasional rest to cut down an Uruk or two, then returned. Trinity broke away from the group, still fighting, but holding back.
"Run," Boromir shouted suddenly, clutching her by the arm and shoving her away from the battle.
The Halflings obeyed without question, sprinting away from harm. Instead of swords, they used stones, their aim shockingly accurate despite the circumstances. Trinity refused to move, rooted to the spot at Boromir's side. She glanced over to see him swinging his sword mightily, cutting down two Uruks at once.
She never saw the bow being drawn, but she saw him fall.
An arrow whizzed by her head, hitting Boromir in the chest. His gasp was heard even to death ears as he stumbled back in pain. Momentarily, he dropped to his knees.
"Boromir!" she screaming, trying to push past the Uruks that surrounded her.
His knees straightened, refusing to give in as he fought even harder than before. Another arrow struck him, this time in the shoulder. Trinity bit back a scream, launching herself at an Uruk in her effort to reach him. Again, he dropped to his knees and stared at Merry and Pippin. She pushed the Uruk's corpse away from her, but another one came, slicing her arm as she turned to help Boromir. Brown eyes watched her bravery, the fear behind her stance. For the last time, he stood and fought.
The third arrow pierced his side.
A cry of sorrow escaped Trinity's lips as she finally made it to his side. Even as the blood ran down her right arm in a terrifying gush, she held his face in her hands. Merry and Pippin let out a scream, together, harmonious, as they rushed forth into battle. She held him close, sobbing into his hair, and heard the heavy thumping of Uruks rushing past. Among them, steady footsteps could be heard.
This time, she heard the bow being drawn.
But she did not move, rather, she prayed it would hit her.
Something ran into the Uruk, knocking it to the ground. Or someone. Aragorn battled with the gruesome thing while Trinity pulled her lover's heavy body to the safe shade of a tree. Her hand gripped one arrow, but Boromir's gloved one covered hers.
"It's too late," he gasped.
She shook her head stubbornly, tears sliding down her cheeks, "No! No! I can save you!"
Aragorn rushed to them.
"They took the little ones!" Boromir cried, choking.
The ranger surveyed his wounds with desperate eyes, "Hold still."
A bit of blood dripped from the corner of Boromir's mouth, Trinity leaned over and wiped it away gently.
"Frodo," he breathed, "Where is Frodo."
"I let Frodo go," Aragorn whispered.
"Then you did what I could not," one of his hands clutched at Aragorn's hair, the other remained holding Trinity's, "I tried to take the Ring from him."
The ranger shook his head, "The Ring is beyond our reach now."
Boromir's hand tightened around hers.
"Forgive me," he panted, "I did not see it. I have failed you all."
Again, Aragorn shook his head.
"No, Boromir, you fought bravely. You have kept your honor."
His hand traveled to free his friend of the arrow, but Boromir gasped heavily.
"Leave it! It is over. The world of Men will fall. And all will come to darkness and my city to ruin."
Trinity exchanged a painful glance with Aragorn. He knew then that whatever words he spoke must comfort the both of them.
"I do not know what's in my blood," he whispered to the dying man, "but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall nor our people fail."
Boromir's gaze traveled to her, "Our people."
A little smile crossed his face; he reached for his sword with a shaking hand. Carefully, Aragorn placed it in his grasp. With this done, he looked to Trinity again.
The sound of fluttering leaves announced Legolas' presence.
"Our people," he whispered, holding the blade above his heart and moved his gaze back to Aragorn, "I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My king."
The expression behind his eyes died, Trinity gripped Boromir's tunic desperately and shook him. What she hoped to gain from the gesture, she did not know. Perhaps she thought, hoped, that the sudden force would bring him back or give them a few more precious moments together. Whatever the case, nothing occurred.
"No," she murmured, "No. No!"
Her voice rose to a scream, "Get up! Please! Boromir, get up!"
Thick tears caused her words to shake, "Don't leave me!"
"Trinity," Aragorn's hand rested on her shoulder, "He's gone, there is nothing that can be done now."
She shook her head widely, leaning in to place desperate kisses on his cheeks and neck. Warm hands gripped her, pulling her off the corpse of her companion. An embrace held her, as words of comfort were spoken in her ears. Legolas was not sure how their relationship had progressed, but told himself not to care. He watched Aragorn grip the dead man's face in his hands.
"Be at peace," he mumbled clearly, "Son of Gondor."
Then, he kissed the man's forehead.
Legolas' arms tightened around the woman in his arms, Gimli finally met them, looking on the scene with saddened eyes. For a long time after the others left, and Boromir body was floating down the river in the second boat, Trinity and Legolas stayed like that. Until, at last, she pulled away and looked up at him with eyes made of grief and pain.
He wished vainly for her former ambivalence, as this hurt within her seemed too much to bear.
"We should go," her voice was tired, but even.
When they reached the shore, Legolas pushed the last boat into the river. Trinity sank onto the ground beside Gimli, who gave her a look of husky sympathy. Aragorn examined his sword with great interest a few feet away.
"Hurry!" Legolas called to the others behind him, "Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore."
Aragorn did not answer, Trinity and Legolas both looked at him with questioning eyes. His only answer was to look to the shore across the river.
Comprehension flickered in the Elf's eyes, "You mean not to follow them."
"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn said softly.
Legolas walked towards him slowly, as if in a dream. Trinity rose as well, joining them as the Dwarf's husky voice sounded.
"Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed."
Trinity remained farther from them, just out of arm's reach. Aragorn put his hands on Gimli and Legolas' shoulders.
"Not if we hold true to each other," he replied, "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left."
The ranger turned away, starting toward the woods.
"Leave all that can be spared behind," he called behind him, "We travel light."
He sheathed his sword, "Let us hunt some Uruk."
"Yes!" cried Gimli in excitement, sprinting after him.
Legolas exchanged a look with Trinity and reached out to stroke her arm in a comforting movement. She smiled tiredly before running after the Dwarf and ranger. Legolas followed them, taking up the rear.
