Chapter 21

Legolas was uneasy.

No, that wasn't true. He had been uneasy yesterday when they had begun the journey to Isengard to parlay with Saruman. Since he had woken this morning he had been more than uneasy. He was restless, edgy, even moody. When Gimli had mentioned over the morning meal that the elf was jumpier than a frog in a downpour, Legolas had nearly skewered him. Needless to say, the ride afterward had been less than pleasant, and the closer they got to Orthanc, the more anxious he felt. He couldn't imagine what had come over him.

Actually, that wasn't entirely true either. He knew what was wrong, though he was reluctant to admit that it had him so spooked.

Mel.

When they had parted company with Boromir, Mel was being dragged in nearly a straight line for Isengard, carted by one of those monstrosities Saruman had created. If Boromir had failed to catch them, Mel would have gone to the wizard for… Legolas dared not allow his thoughts to stray too far down that path. He did not want to even imagine what twisted purpose Saruman might have conjured for her. Even now the elf was mentally kicking himself for not going after her. And Gandalf's ominous riddles and meaningful glances of the last few days had done nothing to ease his mind. The wizard even had the audacity to suggest that Legolas remain behind in the encampment! It was ridiculous and Legolas had told him so, perhaps in stronger terms than were strictly necessary. But he had every reason to go, not least of which was the fact that he had started to feel physically ill with worry. If he didn't go and something had happened to her…

Gimli clapped him on the shoulder and Legolas jumped, Arod startling beneath him as well. The dwarf squeezed his arm good-naturedly.

"It'll be alright, lad," he said, "She had plenty on her side. I'm sure she's alright."

Legolas thought maybe Gimli wasn't just trying to convince him.

The party made their way slowly through the trees, trying to ignore the occasional menacing rumble and ominous creak. Gandalf was the only one of their group that didn't seem disturbed at all. He and Shadowfax moved dutifully through the gloomy forest, picking their way over the occasional tree root or boulder, but moving steadily onward. Suddenly, a burst of laughter echoed through the trees and everyone's head turned toward the sound. It was oddly familiar. And when the group finally moved out of the woods, Legolas saw why and it made his heart a little less heavy.

There sat Merry and Pippin on the crumbling walls of Isengard, pipes and mugs in hand, surrounded by broken boxes and barrels and the remains of what looked like enough food to feed a small army. They both looked absolutely giddy at the sight of the travelers, waving them over to the walls with enthusiastic grins. Merry hopped up (or tried to, and in fact wobbled a bit before he righted himself) and bowed low at the waist.

"Welcome, my lords!" he proclaimed, "to Isengard!"

Legolas managed a small smile, but Gimli huffed loudly and indignantly from behind him.

"You young rascals!" The dwarf exclaimed. Pippin winked and nodded like it was a compliment. "A merry chase you've led us on! And now we find you drinking and… and smoking!"

Legolas briefly wondered if he was going to have to keep Gimli from leaping from Arod and throttling the two young hobbits. But Pippin didn't seem in the least bit bothered.

"We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts," the young hobbit informed them frankly, "The salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork…"

Legolas could almost hear Gimli's mouth watering. His smile widened a touch.

"Hobbits…" Gandalf muttered, shaking his head fondly.

Merry took over his speech again, "We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard."

He pointed in a general direction behind him and for the first time, Legolas took a good look at what was now left of the fortress. The gates were thrown down and great puddles of water were everywhere, becoming progressively larger as they got closer to Orthanc, finally converging in a giant lake that surrounded the gray tower. There was quite a bit of flotsam and jetsam floating in the water, which itself seemed filthy. Legolas did not think that he would want to step foot in it except at dire need. But in amongst the wreckage was something wonderful, something he had never thought to see in all his days. Great tree-like beings waded through the murky waters, throwing down structures and cleaning up messes as need be. Ents… There were Ents here! And if there were Ents, that meant… Could she…?

"And where is Treebeard?" Gandalf asked, clearly growing weary of the hobbits' games, "Did he leave me no message, or has plate and bottle driven it from your mind?"

"And Melody?" Legolas added, dragging his eyes back to the hobbits and ignoring Gandalf's pointed look, "Surely where there are trees that walk and talk, she cannot be far away."

"Mel!" Pippin exclaimed and his tone made the elf's heart leap for joy, "She was here alright, her and Boromir. But I gotta tell you, she didn't look so great when we saw her last, a little banged up to tell you the truth of it."

This sent a pang of distress through Legolas' chest and he tried not to think of what might have happened… if the wizard had laid so much as a single claw on her…

"Where is she now?" Legolas asked, even more eager to see her for himself, to prove once and for all that she was safe, and to never let her out of his sight again.

"We don't know really," Merry said, "She was here when we came charging in about three or four days ago. But then they were gone, took off in the night, her and Boromir! Quickbeam said he took them to Edoras."

Legolas didn't know what to think. Hadn't she known they were coming? Why wouldn't she wait for them? Had something changed, something urgent that needed her attention? Did it have to do with Boromir? Somehow that seemed extremely likely. But even with this new worry roiling in the back of his mind, Legolas could not shake his overwhelmingly sense of relief. Mel had been here; she had been alive and at least fairly well as of a few days ago. He supposed that would have to suffice for now.

"Meriadoc!" Gandalf exclaimed, "My time and patience grow short! What of Treebeard?"

"He left a message, I was coming to it!" Merry insisted indignantly, "I was to say that, if the Lord of the Mark and Gandalf will ride to the northern wall they will find Treebeard there and he will welcome them!"

The little hobbit seemed pleased with himself for remembering the message. Gandalf shook his head, but there was a shadow of a smile on his lips.

"Then that is where we shall go. Come, Master Hobbits, you shall ride with us and make sure we find our way."

Merry and Pippin scrambled down from the wall and found rides with the others, and together the company made their way past the broken gates and across the treacherous swampland that was now Isengard. They didn't have to go far before one of the Ents noticed their arrival and sloshed over to greet them.

"Young Master Gandalf!" the Ent exclaimed, "I am glad you have come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there is a wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

"How we will manage it I cannot tell, Treebeard, my old friend," Gandalf replied, "But we will talk a little while at least and see what comes of it."

The Ent nodded and stepped aside as the company approached Orthanc, gathering around its base. They waited. A long silence followed, and in that time Legolas' previous anxiety threatened to turn itself into anger. This wizard had hurt Mel, and in doing so he had hurt him. He couldn't tolerate the horrible imaginings of what might have happened to her in the days when he was not there, protecting her as he should have been. And it was Saruman's fault.

"Show yourself, coward!" he shouted at last, his hand gripping his bow with white knuckles.

"Be careful!" Gandalf snapped, "Even in defeat Saruman is dangerous."

"Then let's just have his head and be done with it." Gimli suggested.

Legolas thought this sounded like an excellent idea.

"No," Gandalf replied, scanning the tower for signs of movement, "We need him alive. We need him to talk."

As if on cue, a silvery voice echoed over water and stone.

"The elf speaks as one who has been deeply wronged. May I ask what I have done to merit such personal ill will?"

Legolas glared toward the top of the tower. Saruman gazed down at them, his once white robes now a dirty gray, leaning on his staff like a helpless old man. Legolas' anger churned.

"You have harmed one who is dear to me," he answered sharply, "I want to know why."

The wizard's head cocked to the side as he considered his words. Then he laughed, a cackle that echoed off the surrounding mountains.

"So, it's you!" He said, his voice still bright with mirth, "You are Legolas!"

His name on Saruman's lips startled him and he fought to maintain his composure.

"I am Prince Legolas Thranduilion of the Mirkwood realm."

Saruman nodded, still grinning, a vicious light in his eyes.

"Calenhiril spoke of you often in her madness."

Legolas swallowed. Calenhiril? The word was unfamiliar to him. 'Green Lady'? That sounded like Mel perhaps. What madness did the wizard mean?

"What purpose did you have for her?" he asked, his fingers clenched so tightly about his bow that they ached, "What did you do to her?"

"Let her tell you herself," Saruman snapped, "Let her show herself and revel in her victory. She knew her power would be useless to me. She sought to destroy me from the beginning! Bring her forward that I may curse the day Yavanna dragged her into this world!"

Before anyone could blink, Legolas had strung an arrow and taken aim at the wizard. But Gandalf's voice cut through his blinding rage.

"No! Stay your hand Legolas Greenleaf!"

For a moment, his hand trembled on the string. Then slowly, he lowered his bow. Saruman grinned at the elf before shifting his focus to Gandalf.

"What do you want Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess: the key of Orthanc, or perhaps the key of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"

Gandalf tried to reason with Saruman, but Legolas couldn't stop thinking about Mel. Saruman had called her by a name he was unfamiliar with. What did that mean? What did he know? What madness did he speak of? Oh how he wished that Mel had waited for him! He had traded his previous worries for new ones, and now he could only hope that Boromir was keeping true to his word. That wherever she was, Mel was safe.

Boromir had been very quiet since coming down from the mountain and that made Mel worry. Something had happened up there, she was sure of it, she'd felt it in the air for a moment, a lingering power, a whisper of a presence, but it had been gone almost as quickly as it had come. She had almost convinced herself that she'd imagined it, but Boromir's continued silence only confirmed her suspicions. Something was wrong.

They were on the road to Calenhad (the next beacon outpost), the sun just past noon, and Boromir had still barely spoken a word to her, lost in his own thoughts, staring intently at an indistinct spot in the distance.

"Penny for your thoughts." Mel finally blurted out.

Boromir jumped and looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"What?"

"It's an expression," she explained, "It means I want to know what you're thinking about so much I'm willing to pay for it."

He shook his head and looked away again.

"My thoughts are not… pleasant, Melody."

"Well it's gotta be better than complete silence," she said, "Come on, it's gonna drive me crazy, just tell me."

He stared at her for a minute, considering, then finally he heaved a resigned sigh.

"I confess, there is something that has been plaguing my mind, but I have been hesitant to ask…"

"Go ahead," Mel said, waving a hand, "I'm an open book."

"It… concerns my death."

Mel swallowed. She should have expected that, really, but somehow it still took her by surprise. She kept her eyes firmly on the road and her back straight, trying to appear nonchalant, to detach herself from the emotion threatening to choke her voice.

"What about it?"

"I would like to know… how it… how it should have occurred."

God, she had been afraid of that.

"You were supposed to die, but you didn't. What else do you need to know?"

"Melody…"

His voice was so gentle that she couldn't help but glance his way.

"I only wish to know what you know," he said, "I wish to know if my death would have been honorable. I wish to know the quality of man I was when I died."

She swallowed and looked away again, blinking back the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes.

"You were the highest quality." She whispered, so softly she didn't think he even heard.

Then she sighed and rubbed her face, trying to rein herself back in.

"Alright," she said, "Alright, fine. I don't know what good it'll do, but I'll tell you."

She took a deep breath and tried to figure out where to start. Boromir waited patiently.

"You died at Amon Hen."

He nodded, so Mel kept going, hoping she could somehow stumble her way through this.

"Actually, everything that happened in those hills was pretty much the same. You tried…" She paused, wondering if she could say it, "You tried to… well, you know…"

"Take the Ring," He murmured, "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo."

She stared at him for a minute. It had seemed so easy for the words to leave his lips, but the hard, distant look on his face told her otherwise.

"Yeah," she said, "But he got away. He put on the Ring and kicked you and he got away."

Boromir lowered his head and sighed wearily.

"Then that is how it came to pass," He murmured bitterly, "The halfling caused my death."

"What? No!" Mel exclaimed, "No, that's… that's not it at all! Frodo didn't kill you, that's crazy!"

Boromir glanced back at her, confused.

"But… After what happened, I thought… Why would he not put an end to my treachery?"

"Because you're a good man, Boromir, that's why!" Mel snapped, so frustrated with him that she just about couldn't stand it, "I keep telling you and telling you, and you just keep…God, you're just so… Are you gonna let me tell this stupid story or what?"

Boromir stared at her for several seconds, clearly shocked speechless by her burst of outrage. Mel turned back to the road and tried to put her thoughts back together. It was easier if she didn't look at him.

"Okay, so like I was saying, Frodo ran off and went into the Emyn Muil with Sam, just like now. You, however, tripped on a tree root or something and it knocked some sense into you. You were immediately filled with remorse and you…" She paused, not sure if this next bit would hurt his pride, "Just so you know, I'm quoting here: 'For a while he was still as if his own curse had struck him down; then suddenly he wept.'"

She paused again, letting that sink in and at the same time, screwing up her courage for the really hard part. She risked a glance in Boromir's direction. He didn't seem affected too much by the notion of his crying. That was good, at least he wasn't gonna be sensitive about the whole thing. She decided to keep going.

"And then of course, you heard Merry and Pippin yelling." Boromir's face brightened and Mel couldn't help smiling a little, "You ran after them and were met by those hundreds of orcs. The three of you fought them so bravely. You blew your horn, and the others, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, they heard you and they tried to get to you, but they couldn't reach you. You fought and you fought. And then they shot you."

The words snuck up on Mel and she nearly choked on them. She swallowed and pushed herself through it, keeping her eyes on the road, because she knew if she looked at Boromir she would never get through this.

"They shot you once in the chest. But you got up and you kept fighting. They shot you again, but you got up again. They shot you a third time and you…"

She tried to blink away a tear that was burning in the corner of her eye, but it escaped and slipped down her face. She brushed it away irritably.

"You didn't get up that time. The orcs took Merry and Pippin. Aragorn found you and you told him what had happened. Then you…" It was harder to say this time, around the lump in her throat, "Then you died. They put you in a boat with all of your weapons and they set you afloat on the river Anduin. Somehow you made it over the falls of Rauros and down the river into Gondor. Faramir found your funeral boat and that's how they knew you were dead. Then you floated away to the sea. And that's it."

Mel rubbed her eyes, catching any tears that might have collected before they could fall. She sniffed and rubbed her nose before she finally dared to look up again. Boromir was staring at her.

"What?" she asked, trying to sound cheerfully exasperated and failing miserably.

"Has it always been this way for you?" he asked, "Have you always felt so strongly?"

Mel chuckled and rolled her eyes, "About your death? Yeah actually, I guess I have."

"Why?"

"Because you never got the chance to live!" She said irritably, "You make that one mistake and then you die. It's just so awful and unfair, after everything you've done and lived through and, why are you smiling?!"

Boromir laughed.

"Oh Melody," he said, "I am so lucky to have known you."

Mel gaped at him for a minute before she replied.

"Why?"

"Why?" he echoed, sounding both amused and surprised, "Can't you see? Were it not for you, I would have died, never knowing that my life had meant so much to so many. Never understanding that in the end, when I was returned to myself, I was allowed a chance to make things right and I took it."

His eyes got far away again, like he was somewhere else, thinking of something else, and his next words held a weight to them that Mel couldn't begin to fathom.

"I was redeemed, Melody," He said, "That means…"

He looked back at her and smiled.

"It means everything."

His contentment was contagious. Mel couldn't help but smile back.

"Well, I like the story I'm living right now, better than the one that I read for sure."

Boromir grinned.

"As do I."

They rode in silence for a little while longer. The sun was just touching the tops of the trees around them, when Mel received warning.

"The Wardens are near, Calenhiril. They have spotted you."

"Are we close to the beacon?" she asked Boromir.

He nodded absently, before the full impact of her words really hit him. He pulled his horse up short and Mel did the same. Boromir glanced around the trees, eyes alert.

"They've seen us, haven't they?" he asked.

Mel nodded.

"I told my friends to give me a little advance notice. They just spotted us."

At that moment a loud voice echoed out of the forest.

"Hail, strangers! What brings you along the Old South Road?"

The voice did not sound harsh or suspicious. In fact, he sounded almost… friendly. Mel and Boromir exchanged a glance. He was thinking the same thing she was. It was a little odd, considering what they had been through at Halfirien.

Boromir answered.

"We are travelers from Gondor seeking to return home by way of this road."

"And where do you reside in Gondor?"

"We hail from Minas Tirith."

There was a pause.

"I believe you hail from Minas Tirith, Lord Boromir of the White Tower," The disembodied voice replied, with a hint of mirth about him, "But I am told your companion does not."

This visibly startled them both.

"I'm from Rivendell," Mel answered, surprised at her own boldness in the lie, "How did you know that?"

A tall, green-clad figure finally emerged from the trees, throwing back his hood and grinning broadly as if he had just played a fantastic joke.

"It is my business to know such things, Lady Melody. A rider preceded you in the night from Halfirien and told us that the Lord Boromir had returned. I would not have believed him had I not seen it for myself."

He turned to Boromir and bowed deeply, his fist over his heart.

"Welcome to Calenhad, my lord."