Chapter twenty-one – Numbness
The 120th year of the Forth Age. Caladel and Naruvir are one hundred and twenty-two years old.
The city seemed so silent outside the walls of the house of the kings, even more so than the silence between all of them as they sat in Aragorn's study. Gimli, Glorfindel, Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel sat in front of the fireplace, Aragorn's children huddled together on one of the couches their faces solemn. Eldarion had an arm around both his sisters and they leaned against him for comfort.
Legolas lifted his foot onto the window seat where he sat, gazing out upon the slowly rising sun. He hugged his arms around his leg and leaned his cheek against his knee. Maliel, Elrohir, Elladan, and Isilmë were in with him now, with Arwen. She hadn't left her husband's side the last few days, since Aragorn had first felt his time coming. They had all hastily gathered in Minas Tirith, but seemed to have been waiting in trepidation and silence since that.
"Legolas."
He turned his lifeless gaze from the rising sun, which was painting the sky in red and purple, and met Glorfindel's gaze from where he was sitting in the armchair by the fire.
"Are you all right?"
Legolas gave him a weak smile. "Who is, really?" he whispered. He turned his attention to the now grown children that he was honorary uncle to, his sapphire eyes saddening at the grief in their expressions. "Eldarion, Ellairë, Lassiel," he called gently. They looked up at him. "The sun is rising…"
The three of them looked out of the window at his words, sad smiles tugging at the corners of their lips. For an instant, they looked so much like their father; he had that same slightly crooked smile… Lassiel rose to her feet and moved over to him, standing beside him and laying her head on his shoulder so she could watch the sunrise. Legolas wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her closer.
Lassiel was the only one left of Aragorn's children who still hadn't found her destined partner. Eldarion was already married and had young children of his own, and Ellaurë had recently gotten engaged with a young man from Rohan. They were all moving on with their lives, Eldarion more than ready to take the responsibility of the crown.
The door opening interrupted his thoughts, and both him and Lassiel turned from the window to look towards it. It was Maliel and Isilmë. Maliel's eyes were red and Isilmë had her arm around her shoulders. Nevertheless, she gave them a teary smile and stepped up to the couch so she could press kisses against Eldarion and Ellaurë's cheeks.
"Your mother is still with him," she said, her voice just slightly hoarse. "Elrohir and Elladan have gone off for themselves for a little while, saying goodbye to their little brother was hard."
Lassiel gave a choked sob so Legolas pulled her closer and pressed a kiss against her forehead. He felt completely detached from his own emotions, almost like he was floating somewhere above his body, watching as he comforted Lassiel.
"Ada…"
He looked over at Maliel, her eyes gazing thoughtfully and worriedly into his.
"Estel wants to see you and Gimli now," she told him, looking at Gimli as well. She smiled sadly, "The three hunters gathered one last time. …Go to him."
Gimli nodded solemnly to her words and got to his feet. "Come on, Laddie," he said gruffly. "It is time."
Legolas gazed at him numbly, his mind unwilling to register what they were telling him. It was only when Lassiel pulled away from him and looked at him with those large, argent eyes of hers that he could blink his gaze into focus. She placed her hands agains this cheeks, tears rolling down her own.
"Uncle," she told him softly. "It's time for you to go say goodbye to dad. He is waiting for you."
He swallowed thickly, but nodded in response, giving her a smile in a vain attempt to stop her from worrying. It didn't work that was clear, but she did give him as smile when he kissed her on the cheek as he got to his feet.
"Ready?" Gimli asked him as he walked over to him.
"As I'll ever be…"
They walked together to the door but had to take a step back as it opened once more. Legolas found himself suddenly thrown completely back to reality at the sight of his father standing in the doorway. Suddenly, he felt completely exposed under the gaze of the person who had known him all of his life and had to stop himself from taking another step back. His eyes widened but gradually, as he continued to look into those familiar, comforting eyes, he found himself relaxing.
"Ada…" he breathed out.
A sad smile appeared on Thranduil's lips. The pained look in his father's eyes as he studied him made him suddenly self-conscious about his appearance and he looked to the ground.
Fingers under his chin made him lift his gaze as his father stepped up to him and wrapped his arms around him. He closed his eyes and fell into the embrace, burying his face in his father's comforting scent.
"Aragorn wrote to me and asked me to come, said that you would need me," Thranduil said quietly to him. "I'm glad that I am here in time. …Are you on your way to go see him?"
"Yeah," Legolas sighed.
Thranduil nodded and drew back, pressing a kiss against his oldest son's forehead. "Then go," he told him. "I'll be here when you get back."
Legolas gave him a pained smile before stepping over to Gimli once more, moving completely away from his father's comforting form. Numbness and trepidation gripped him once more and he almost couldn't get himself to move any further. At that moment, however, a rugged hand gripped his briefly, pulling him towards the door. He gazed at Gimli and followed him out of the room and into the corridor.
It seemed too soon that they were in front of the door, which led into the room Aragorn rested in. Before Legolas could get him to wait a moment, Gimli had already raised his fist and given the door a few sharp raps. Arwen opened the door a moment later, her face set in grief. She gave them a watery smile and gestured for them to go inside.
The air was fresh and gentle with the scent of Athelas and lavender boiling in a pot over the fire in the fireplace. When Arwen closed the door behind them, a sense of finality washed over him and he found that he could not follow Gimli as the dwarf walked over to the bed in which Aragorn was lying.
The words they spoke washed over him like a fog, his attention caught by the sight of Aragorn. His long time friend was lying under the cream sheets of the bed, propped up by soft pillows. Aragorn was pallid, his silver eyes tired but peaceful as he spoke softly to Gimli occasionally glancing over at him. His friend's once black hair and beard had turned silver with streaks of white. Wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, lips, and eyebrows as he smiled to Gimli.
He was soon going to be gone…
"Legolas…?"
He blinked, drawn from his thoughts, and raised his eyes to Aragorn's. A little while seemed to have passed, Gimli now sitting quietly, stoutly trying to hold back his tears. He blinked once more, to try and get his mind to focus before he walked over to Aragorn and sat down on his bedside.
"Hey Valiant Warrior," Aragorn said softly, smiling crookedly at him. Legolas remembered the name as one Elladan and Elrohir had used to describe him when telling Aragorn stories of his achievements as a child.
"My King," Legolas responded numbly, his voice so soft that it was almost impossible to hear. Nevertheless, Aragorn's eyes softened and he reached out with an aged hand to squeeze his.
"My time has come, my friend," he whispered. "I will not make the mistakes my forefathers did… I will not fight for longer life; dwindle in a throne that I refuse to pass on to my son. I will not stay until my body and memory fails me and I become a burden to those around me. Eldarion is ready, it is time to leave this world to the next generation."
"Then leave him the throne," Legolas said quietly, a faint plea in his voice. "Let him take the throne, but stay and guide him, stay with your children for a while longer. They need you."
Aragorn smiled gently. "They have all grown up so beautifully. …I am old Legolas, I have already lived the lives of two men, and it has been a fulfilling one. I can feel it in my bones and in my heart that it is time for me to go. …And I think that it's about time you allow yourself some peace as well, my friend…"
"You don't have to worry about me, Aragorn," Legolas responded, averting his eyes from Aragorn's silver gaze, his eyes too piercing for him to handle. A hand on the cheek forced him to look back despite the fact that he felt Aragorn read the very depths of his soul.
"Your eyes are midnight blue, Legolas," Aragorn whispered, his voice sad. "…If that is not cause for concern then I do not know what is. I wish that my death would not cause you the pain that I know you are feeling. …I go to peace soon and it feels almost unfair that the same has not been granted to you. The doom of man may seem strange and unfair to you, but so does the long life of the elder to us mortals…"
Legolas' mouth felt dry at those words, the frightening pull of death tugging at his numb mind. He could barely imagine just being able to lie down and letting every bad feeling and sorrow fade into nothingness, to never have to listen to the voices inside his mind telling him that everything was his fault, to never have to feel completely numb and exhausted ever again.
It was dangerous to think about…
He clenched his hands into fists to stop their trembling.
"There comes a time when enough is enough, Legolas, for anyone," Aragorn continued faintly; his eyes sympathetic. "And I'm afraid that you reached that point some time ago… I know that you are staying on these shores for Naruvir and Caladel, but I also know that you've been staying for me… I will not tell you what to do, but there is no need to stay for me any longer… and Eldarion, Ellaurë, and Lassiel are smart kids… they'll be fine."
Legolas lowered his head, staring down at the clenched fists in his lap. With a deep breath he uncurled them, flexing them slightly to try and get them to relax. "I know…" he breathed. He closed his eyes for a moment, falling back into the numb ocean that was swallowing him up. Then he looked up at Aragorn once more, "but I would not have you worry about this now… Not on your last…" The words died on his lips.
Aragorn relaxed completely against the pillows behind his back, giving Legolas a slow nod. "You are right, my friend. I've said what I wanted to say, and I trust you to make the choice that is right for you… That is enough for me." He looked at Gimli as well, "After all… the three hunters are gathered once more, one final time."
"Who would've known that a smelly ranger, a prissy elf, and a god-like dwarf would traipse the world together as we have done," Gimli grinned with a barked laugh, puffing himself up slightly.
Legolas snorted, "God-like? More like bull-headed."
Aragorn laughed quietly, his silver eyes dancing with amusement. "Who would have thought," he agreed. "I certainly had my doubts throughout the first half of our journey… but look at you now, my brothers. …it gives me peace to know that the two of you are still together …the last of a once strong fellowship."
They stayed with Aragorn for a while, reminiscing about the past while trying to keep the tears at bay, for they knew that this was the last time they were going to be together the three of them. In the end, Arwen gently ushered them out when Aragorn began to look tired, and told them to get Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel.
Aragorn's study was just as quiet when they returned as when they had left it. Aragorn's children looked up at them, and no words were necessary for them to get to their feet and go towards the room their father was, holding each other's hands for comfort. Legolas watched them go blankly, his heart burning inside his chest. The next thing he knew he was being gently pulled over to the couch and sat down beside his father, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
They seemed to sit there forever. Eventually Elladan and Elrohir came back into the study, followed by Eldarion, Ellairé, and Lassiel. Eldarion had his father's crown and scepter in his hands, his eyes red rimmed but determined.
"Mum is with him now," Ellarë told them, her voice choked. Her and Lassiel squeezed themselves into an armchair together, tears gently rolling down their cheeks. Maliel went over to them while Elladan and Elrohir sat down on either side of Eldarion, offering their support should he need it.
And so they waited.
The sun slowly rose until it was high in the sky and still no word came. It was only when the dimness of the night began to appear that the door opened once more and a pale Arwen stepped inside, her face set in grief.
"He is gone," she said, her voice empty and her body encased by nothing more than a fading glow. Suddenly, she looked old and weary of the world. Tears rolled down her wan cheeks, but she seemed not to notice in her grief.
Eldarion snapped up from where he was sitting on one of the couches, beside her in a few brisk strides, and took her into his strong arms. He was taller than she was now, and she seemed so small in his arms. Ellairë and Lassiel cried for their father, but got to their feet and rushed to their mother as well, hugging both her and Eldarion as they shared their grief with their family.
As Legolas gazed around the room, he saw tears streaming down Gimli's weathered cheek and into his grey beard. Elladan had his arms around a crying Elrohir, and Isilmë sat by his side, offering him whatever comfort she could as he eased his twin. In the armchair beside the fireplace, Glorfindel sat staring into the flames, his blue eyes awash with grief.
Looking around him once more, dizziness assailed him. They were all crying, grieving… but he couldn't feel anything. The deep sea of numbness that had been plaguing him for so long seemed to have suddenly swallowed him whole, pulling him towards its deepest depths. It was all-consuming, numbing blankness that scared the life out of him. He couldn't stay there… he could be surrounded by it all, or he felt he might pass out…
Abruptly getting to his feet, he hurried to the other side of the room and out the doors onto the balcony, his departure noticed by everyone but those who had gathered around Arwen. Glorfindel slowly dragged himself to his feet, his face set in grief and exhaustion, but Thranduil gestured for him to stay before hurrying after his son.
He found him on the balcony, sat down with his back against the railing, a frighteningly blank expression on his face and his eyes, if possible, even more dark than they had been that whole day. Hurriedly, he moved over and sat beside him, placing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him against his side. It was only then that he noticed the trembles that ran up and down his entire body and the clenched fists gathered so close to his heart, pinned between his chest and his bent legs.
It was almost like he had tired to make himself smaller in an attempt to hide himself away.
"Talk to me, Legolas," Thranduil pleaded softly while he rubbed his hand up and down Legolas' cold arm, as if that was going to get his trembling to stop.
Legolas didn't answer him. Didn't even look his way.
O
The city of Minas Tirith entered a period of grief. The streets as quiet as the citadel, and every silver flag in the city changed to black. Cold wind swept over the white tree Gondor in the center of the courtyard and slowly carried down the white flowers over the city.
The days passed by in a blur, one moment swallowing the other until Legolas found himself following the funeral proceedings, stepping over white, yellow, orange, and blue flowers thrown onto the white cobblestone of Minas Tirith by the citizens gathered on either side of the path. Eldarion, Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel carried Aragorn upon their shoulders, lying on a bed of flowers. There was a crown upon his silver head and a sword grasped in his lifeless hands, the uniform of Gondor proudly upon his chest.
A woman began singing to their left, her voice carrying an ancient Gondorian verse in the gentle wind as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Other voices soon carried the song with her as they honored their King one last time.
It was all like watching a dream, walking with Gimli and his father beside him into the tombs of the Kings, watching Arwen dressed and veiled in black, kiss her husband on the forehead as he was lowered respectfully into a crypt of white stone, his likeness carved on the lid. Ellaurë and Lassiel were sobbing as they, too, said their final farewells to their father, placing white flowers of Athelas into his hair.
It was all wrong… Aragorn was not meant to be trapped in stone… He was meant to scattered in the plains he roamed, under the trees he had laughed, in the light of the rising sun he had cherished.
He found himself moving towards the tomb with Gimli, his dwarven friend crying beside him as he placed Aragorn's pipe beside him with a gathering of pipeweed, laughing through his tears that he should have a supply with him where he was going.
And then it was suddenly his turn.
For a moment, he just stared at his friend, as if he could not comprehend what he was seeing, but the he reached out with a shaking hand and placed it against his cold and weathered cheek, opening his mouth to speak for what seemed like the first time in days.
"Hiro le hîdh ab 'wanath, mellon nín…" he whispered softly, his voice slightly hoarse. [May you find peace after death, my friend...]
Then he stepped aside and watched as people he knew or didn't know walked up to Aragorn's tomb and said their goodbyes until at last there was none let, but Eldarion. The son of Aragorn stepped up to his father's grave, leaning over the casket and pressed a kiss against his forehead. He said something so softly that it was impossible to hear before taking a step back and going down to his knees in front of the grave.
"I will make you proud, father," he said so those around could hear him. "I promise to take care of the city you have left me and the people that reside in her. I promise to carry on your legacy and become the best King that I can, and hopefully someday I will live up to the birthright you have bestowed upon me and later my son."
He was silent for a moment but then whispered the words that Elrond had once spoken to his foster son, "…Ónen i-Estel Edain. …Ú-chebin estel anim." At that moment, he looked up with shining eyes, determination in their silvery depths and he looked so much like his father that it was painful. [I give hope to men. I keep none for myself.]
Arwen stepped forward from where she had been standing beside her husband's grave, grief and pride battling over control in pale features. In her hands she held the crown of the King of Gondor and the sword Narsil, with which Aragorn had once battled to bring about the peace that ruled the world now.
Eldarion lowered his head once more and his mother placed the crown upon his dark hair. Once the weight had settled, he stood once more, tall and proud, and took the sword from her hands as he kissed her upon the cheek.
Then he turned to his people, and they burst into applause at their new King.
O
Later that day found all of them, except for Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel, sitting around in Aragorn's old study. Glorfindel was passing tumblers of brandy around, no doubt in an attempt to warm the chill and soothe the sorrow that had gathered in all of their chests. Legolas was back in the window seat, gazing at the stars, and Arwen sat on the couch, her face closed off and her glow almost completely gone.
"I will go to Lothlorien." Her deadened voice cut through the silence that had gathered over them.
Immediately, all eyes snapped to her.
"What?" Elladan exhaled, his face set in apprehension and dawning understanding.
She turned her vacant eyes to her eldest brother. "I chose my fate many years ago, Dan. I chose a mortal life…" She let the words sink in for a moment and when no one spoke, she continued, "I will go to my grandparent's people and stay with them until my time comes."
"But what of Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel?" Elrohir asked, his voice hoarse and upset. "They need you, especially now."
"My children are old enough to take care of themselves, Eldarion ready to make sure that Lassiel finds someone worthy of her," Arwen answered him. "I will not stay here so they can watch me fade away in front of them."
"Then don't fade…" Legolas surprised even himself when he suddenly found himself speaking. Everyone turned to him with shock in their eyes, as though they had forgotten he was even there or that he could speak. For a moment, their looks made his throat tighten up once more, but as he looked into Arwen's eyes, filled with such familiar grief that it sent a dagger through his heart, he knew he had to speak. He got up from the window seat and took a few steps towards her, stopping when he noticed her backing away.
"Don't leave them…" he told her. "Eldarion still needs your advice as he takes the throne, Ellairë needs her mother beside her at her wedding, and Lassiel needs your advice when the time comes for her to follow her heart… Decide to stay, for them... I will not lie to you, it will be hard, unbearable sometimes, but if you can watch you children become adults and watch your grandchildren grow up, isn't it worth it? …It isn't impossible, Arwen."
The pained look on Arwen face was almost like she had been struck, but it soon gave way to fiery anger. The sort of anger that only came when fueled with grief. "It is impossible!" She snapped, her voice choked with pain and fury. "I cannot stay here if Estel is not with me! I feel like I've been cleaved in half! You don't understand, Legolas! He's never coming back! He's gone forever!"
"I do understand," he whispered, his voice weak. "Faneth isn't coming back either, but I'm still here…"
"Well then you must not have loved her as much as I loved him!" Arwen cried out, tears rolling down her cheeks as she clenched her eyes shut.
The second those words rung through the quiet room, Legolas felt a sharp bolt of pain go through his chest, his breath catching in his throat. Coupled with the strain of the last few days and the already existing grief inside his heart, he watched his vision go black around the edges, suddenly dizzy. Before he could stop it, his knees buckled underneath him until he collapsed to his knees on the floor with a stunned look on his face.
Someone choked out his name and then Arwen was kneeling before him, tears glittering in her eyes as she reached out and cupped his cheeks, holding up his head. They seemed to have forgotten everyone else in the room as they looked into each other's eyes, both holding the same kind of grief. They were both pallid and tears rolled down their cheeks.
"You see why I can't stay?" Arwen choked, gently smoothing her thumbs over the tears that rolled down Legolas' cheeks. "I can already feel myself changing, growing colder and angrier… I won't stay where my children can watch me become someone who I am not… I cannot stay when I do not have the strength to fight this grief. …I am not as strong as you."
"You are strong Arwen," he told her softly. "Stronger than you know…"
She gave him a watery smile. "Not strong enough for this…" she whispered. "I made my choice when I married Estel, Legolas… If you were given the choice… if you had been allowed to decide, would you then have stayed after Faneth died?"
He was struck mute, his throat closing up as he remembered the initial year after Faneth died, how he had begged for Alfirin to let him go… to let him die. He folded slightly into himself, unable to answer her. He knew that there was nothing more he could say to her…
"It's all right, Legolas," Arwen whispered to him, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him into a hug. "It's not your responsibility to convince me to stay, it is my choice. I have lived a long life, a happy one, but it is my choice to leave now… To go when my children can still remember me as I am and not who I will become."
O
Legolas had fallen back into silence after that, more weary than ever. He seemed to be constantly sleeping, finding it hard to wake in the morning despite everyone periodically looking in on him. The day after she had made the decision, Arwen left for Lothlorien, her brothers making this last journey with her. Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel were even more heartbroken, but they had each other to lean on as well as their families and friends.
He could barely remember what day it was after Aragorn's death when he was woken by the sound of someone moving about his room. He opened his eyes to see his father calmly pulling clothes from his closet and repacking it in the saddlebag, leaving a pair out for him to wear. He was humming under his breath.
"Ada…?" he whispered, his eyes still drooping slightly.
Thranduil looked up and smiled sadly when he saw him awake. He folded the last shirt and then came over to sit down on his bedside. "Hey there," he greeted him with a soft voice. "It's midday. Glorfindel, Maliel, Isilmë and I have decided that it is time for us to ride back to Cirban Gilion."
"You're coming with us…?"
"Yes, I am." Thranduil replied, his eyes and voice carrying a suggestion that he knew more than what he was saying, but Legolas was too tired to care. "We're all packed and ready so you only need to get dressed and then come down to say goodbye to Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel. They are waiting for you in the courtyard."
His father left after that, taking the pack with him, and he was left with no other choice than to pull on his clothes and get ready. As he stood up from the bed, he was forced to grab onto the bedpost as his vision darkened. He remained shaky on his feet even then, but still walked through the citadel until he reached the courtyard.
Maliel, Isilmë, Glorfindel, and his father were readying their horses while Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel stood talking to Gimli. As he walked over to them, he watched as all of them hugged Gimli, tears rolling down their cheeks. They let go and dried their cheeks as they noticed him coming towards them.
"Are you ready for our departure, Laddie?" Gimli asked gruffly, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes.
"Are you coming with us?" Legolas asked him with a soft and tired voice, tilting his head in question.
Immediately, Gimli's brown eyes shone with worry. "Yes," he answered. "I told you that yesterday, don't you remember?"
No, he didn't remember, and his lack of response told Gimli as much.
Gimli had to clear his throat before he was able to speak again. "Well I am… We'll ride together like we once did, Laddie." He pat Legolas arm before leaving them to their goodbyes, moving over to where they were readying the horses.
Legolas watched him go, but then turned his gaze to Aragorn and Arwen's three children. They were all looking at him with the same look in their eyes as his father had had, …as Gimli had had. The sadness in their eyes was raw.
Nevertheless, Lassiel stepped up to him and kissed his cheek before wrapping her arms around him. "Goodbye Uncle," she whispered to him. "I hope that you will find happiness once more. Just promise me to always remember that we love you very much." She drew slightly back to give him a teary smile.
Ellairë gave a choked sob and he suddenly found her in his arms as well. "Promise that you'll write to us, Uncle," she told him. "And that you will follow your heart, wherever it may lead you."
Legolas chuckled faintly. "You sound as though we'll never see each other again…" he whispered to them.
At that moment, Eldarion stepped up to them so Lassiel and Ellairë moved back to allow him room, effectively distracting him from his question. "Take care of yourself, Uncle," Eldarion told him, clasping his forearm and drawing him into a short hug. Aragorn's crown stood proudly upon his head. "And promise that you won't worry about us, we'll be all right." He drew back and gave him that crooked smile that looked so much like his father's. "We have each other."
O
They reached Cirban Gilion at nightfall the next day. It had begun to drizzle, a slight fog settling over the grass around them. Isilmë offered to take care of their horses so they were free to walk homewards. As Legolas walked in the rain, his eyes seemed to open and close in weariness. He felt, once more, that he was being swallowed by an ocean of numbness, the crashing waves roaring in his ears. Claustrophobia filled him more and more as they neared his house and still no one had turned off from the path.
He couldn't deal with everyone… He couldn't do it any longer…
When he reached his door, he stepped inside and smacked it closed behind him, leaning against it with closed eyes. Almost immediately, someone knocked gently against it. "Legolas?" his father's voice asked in a whisper.
"…Just let me be alone…" he said, his voice hollow and faint.
A few seconds passed. "…All right, I'm trusting you, Legolas," his father said gently. The next moment, he could hear them moving away from the door.
Promptly, he slid down the door to sit in the grass, a dazed expression on his face. He didn't know how long he sat there, it could have been seconds or hours, but he did know that he was stiff when he finally forced his body up once more, leaning against the door as his vision blurred and pain sparked through his forehead.
He staggered through the house, everything seemed so vague and distant. He was so far away… so numb… The roaring in his ears was almost deafening and he clasped his hands over his ears as he sank back against the side of the bathtub, rocking slightly back and forth.
His heart was so cold, so numb; unable to feel, unable to think. Almost like he couldn't control his body anymore, the world spinning around him.
The next thing he knew, a sharp pain exploded over his wrist and he was so abruptly pulled back into his body that he gasped in shock, feeling flooding back into his heart and time seeming to fall into place once more. He snapped his eyes up and was immediately met with the sight of a long jagged cut running diagonally across his wrist, thick blood oozing from. In his other hand he held a bloody knife that he had no idea how he had gotten.
Shock, fear, grief, pain, shame, and every other emotion flooded his chest so quickly that he threw the knife from him with a sharp cry of anguish, not even looking up when he heard something shattering in response. Deep sobs, which had been locked inside him since Aragorn had died, were ripped fiercely from his chest, the force of them so strong that it made his body shake.
He curled in on himself, trembling and sobbing with fright and grief as he slowly felt blood soaking through the sleeve of his undershirt and tunic. The dizzying feeling that he had battled for so long closed in on him as his breathing rattled with panic.
He didn't know what to do…
He curled even further in on himself, slowly becoming lightheaded and sluggish with loss of blood.
Reduced to his oldest instincts, he immediately called for the one person who had always been there for him, even when he was a child. Giving a shaky but shrill whistle to the wind.
O
"Do you believe that we can convince him this time," Alfirin asked, his still voice carrying a heavy accent. He was walking through the drizzle in the forest with Glorfindel, Gimli, and Thranduil.
"You should have seen him, Alfirin," Glorfindel sighed in response. "Even Lassiel could see that he was at the end of his rope. He's barely spoken in days, he sits in a daze for hours at a time, drops off to sleep constantly. He has given no response to Aragorn's death…"
"I told him that I would be coming with him here, but he couldn't remember it the day after," Gimli said.
Alfirin's expression deepened with concern, and he glanced back in the direction of Legolas' house as if he could see his ward through the walls and trees.
"We told Eldarion, Ellairë, and Lassiel that this would likely be the last time they would see him. Elrohir and Maliel have also spoken and decided to follow him over the sea, the same with Elladan and Isilmë. Maliel is home, speaking to Naruvir and Caladel right now," Thranduil said, his eyes showing a strange mixture of sadness, relief, and resolution.
"I will go with him as well," Gimli said gruffly. "If it is my fate to share the friendship of an elf, then it must be my fate to sail over the seas with him, and to set eyes upon the Lady Galadriel once more."
"I will also go with him," Glorfindel said. "I cannot leave him now. Middle Earth has already shown me everything it has to offer, and both sons of Elrond will sail across the sea with him. …What of you, Alfirin?"
The wood elf sighed. "I have always been a flighty elf," he said softly. "Legolas knows this, as he knows me… My heart will forever lie with the trees of Middle Earth, and I don't care if I pass out of all thought or knowledge. I cannot go with him on this journey, but I trust all of you with his safety. It is about time I completely hand over his care."
Thranduil nodded in response, clasping Alfirin's shoulder. "I will stay for a little while yet, as well, until the last of my people have settled or moved on themselves. Afterwards, I will join you in the blessed realm."
"This all leads us back to the dilemma of how to convince him to come with us," Glorfindel said.
They were all silent for a moment, but then Gimli said softly, "There are only two people who can convince the lad to come."
"Caladel and Naruvir," Thranduil sighed.
Gimli nodded in response, he was about to say more when a shrill whistle suddenly swept through the air. He would have brushed it off as nothing if Alfirin had not gone rigid that exact moment, his head snapping in the direction of the sound with his yellow and green eyes dilated.
He would remember that whistle anywhere… it was the one him and Legolas had created when he had still been an elfling, one that he had taught him and told him that 'where he was in the world, as soon as he heard that whistle he would fly to his rescue'. This was exactly what Alfirin did now, ignoring the shouts over the others as he flew over the grass in the direction of Legolas' home.
So fixated was he on his goal that he didn't register the others finally drawing themselves out of their shock and following him.
The journey seemed to take forever but there couldn't have passed more than a minute before he was barreling through Legolas' front door, his eyes wildly searching for his ward. When he didn't see him immediately, he latched on to the great tree in the middle of the house and followed its frantic murmuring to the bathroom. What he saw inside broke his heart.
Legolas was curled in on himself against the bathtub, sobbing so harshly that he was almost hyperventilating. A shattered vase lay on the opposite side of the room, knocked down by a bloodstained knife. His eyes seemed to register a million things at once, almost like time was standing still, but then he rushed towards Legolas, drawing him into his arms.
When he was this close to him he could see the blood that had soaked through the sleeve of his tunic and the deep, diagonal cut underneath the tear in the fabric.
"…I'm sorry." Legolas sobbed, hiccupping; his breathing panicked and fearful. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Shh, Titta Lassë," Alfirin shushed him, rocking him gently despite the thundering beating of his heart. He could see exactly how pale Legolas had become and reached out to put pressure on the wound on his wrist. "Shush…" [Little Leaf]
At that moment, the door burst open again and Legolas' breathing immediately caught in his throat, only to pick up again even more panicked as he burrowed closer to Alfirin's safety.
Thranduil took one look at his son and then ran into the room, kneeling on Legolas' other side and enveloping him in his arms as well. "Shh, Greenleaf," he breathed gently to his son. Legolas' panicked breathing soothed slightly once more at the sound of his father's voice and the closeness of him and Alfirin.
Glorfindel and Gimli came in after Thranduil. Glorfindel eyeing the scene before sinking dizzily against the wall, tears welling up inside his eyes as he slid down it to sit in the grass. Gimli grit his teeth and hurried ripped a small towel out of the closet and handed it to Thranduil.
"Everything's going to be all right," Thranduil whispered soothingly, running his hand up and down Legolas' back. He took the towel from Gimli without even looking up from his son and gently replaced Alfirin's hand with it, pressing it down against the wound.
Legolas' sobs were becoming weaker whether from loss of blood or from the comfort his father and guardian provided they did not know. Nevertheless, he continued to shake like a leaf in their arms, mumbling under his breath that he was sorry.
"Nás ilya mára," Alfirin whispered gently. "Quildë, Titta Lassë. Sívë…" [It is all right. Hush, Little Leaf. Peace…]
Legolas' noisy sobs and convulsive gasps slowly died down until tears were only running silently down his cheeks as he took shuddering breaths and hiccupped. His eyes were closed and he sagged pale against Alfirin, giving his father room to maneuver his injured arm away from where he had tucked it against his chest. Thranduil removed the blood-soaked towel for a moment to study the deep wound before pressing it down again, his expression grim.
"Gimli, run and get Pengon," Thranduil told the dwarf quietly, so as to not panic Legolas. Gimli immediately nodded and moved slowly out of the room, as soon as the door closed behind him they could hear him setting off in a run.
"…I'm sorry…" Legolas whispered faintly. His lips bloodless and his cheeks lined with tears.
"Shh… It's going to be all right…" Thranduil hushed him, and after deliberating with himself for a second, he pulled Legolas gently into his arms and stood up. Alfirin moved with him and divided his attention between comforting Legolas and keeping pressure on the wound. He lifted Legolas' head so it lay comfortably against his father's shoulder.
"…Don't fall asleep just yet, Titta Lassë," Alfirin whispered to him, brushing his fingers through Legolas' silvery-white hair as Thranduil slowly carried him to the living room couch. When he reached it, he sat down with Legolas in his arms, propping him up against his chest.
"…I didn't mean to…" Legolas breathed, his voice growing fainter and fainter.
"I know you didn't," Thranduil soothed him, although no such conviction could be seen in Thranduil's eyes, only sadness. "It's all right, Legolas… You're going to be all right… Just relax, Pengon's going to come have a look at you… so you just focus on staying awake…"
Legolas was silent for a moment, his breath still painfully shuddering. Tears leaked from his eyes and he choked out a weak sob. "Dead… dead… dead… dead…" he choked under his breath. Before they could think to comfort him, he sagged boneless against his father, his breathing suddenly going quiet and deep, and his head lolling against his father's shoulder.
O
His body felt beyond heavy when he slowly neared consciousness once more, a sharp pain in his wrist drawing him out of sleep and the dark abyss. He cracked his eyes open and blinked sluggishly as the dim light flittering in from the windows.
"Granddad?"
A voice to his right made him turn his head, his mouth dry and his eyelids heavy. Caladel and Naruvir sat down on the floor beside the coach he was lying in. They looked tired and worried…
Without truly realizing it, his eyes had fallen shut once more and a gently nudge from his grandson reminded him to open them once more. What had happened…?
He didn't realize he had spoken out loud until Caladel answered, "You lost consciousness. Pengon came and took care of your wound and you've been sleeping ever since."
"…How long…?" Legolas mumbled, trying to moisten his dry lips.
Suddenly, the cold rim of a glass was held against his lips and he greedily drank the chilled water, allowing it to soothe his parched throat.
"You've been out for a few days," Naruvir answered softly once he had taken the glass away and placed it back of the table. "You had us worried for a long while…" He reached out to brush his fingers gently through Legolas' hair.
Legolas glanced down and saw that the wrist that sent sparks of pain up his arm was covered in layers of gauze and bandages, lying atop the blankets that covered him. He barely remembered what had happened, it all seemed like it was in a haze of panic.
"Granddad…" Caladel's voice made him look up once more. His eldest grandson was looking at him with pain and soberness in his normally twinkling, silver eyes. "You are going to sail to Valinor with us." He told him in a voice that brooked no nonsense.
Surprise at that statement caused the last edges of sleep were vanished from his mind and he stared at Caladel.
Naruvir snorted at his brother's approach. "We've decided to sail to Valinor," he explained to his grandfather. "And Glorfindel, Gimli, Nana, Ada, Elladan, Isilmë, Pengon, Gruinor, and Roben have decided to come with us. So, naturally, you are coming as well."
"Whether you like it or not," Caladel added.
"Great Granddad and Kirion and going to join us just as soon as soon as the last people of Mirkwood are taken care of, move those that will to Cirban Gilion and make sure that the city is well taken care of as well," Naruvir told him.
"Alfirin is the only one who we cannot rip away from his trees, but he's a crazy wood elf and it suits him just fine to finally be left in peace," Caladel said, hoping to soften the blow with humor.
"…But Eldarion, Ellairë, Lassiel…" Legolas whispered, his chest warm and tight at the same time. His heart thumped strongly inside his chest with relief he would not yet admit to.
"Have already said their goodbyes," Naruvir told him solemnly. "When they were in Minas Tirith, Great Granddad, Gimli, Nana, Ada, Elladan, and Isilmë sat them down and told them what was going to happen. They want you to leave as well, Granddad, they want you to have peace. Did they not say as much to you when they said goodbye?"
The relief inside his chest was slowly building up as his grandson's continued to speak and he could no longer stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. A sob escaped him and he slapped his hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to still them in front of his grandsons.
He wanted to leave… He wanted to leave so bad…
Naruvir and Caladel immediately wrapped their arms around him. "So you will come with us?" Caladel asked softly. "We still won't take no for an answer."
Legolas choked out a mixture of a sob and a laugh as he clung to his grandchildren. He nodded against their shoulders and gave in to the tears that had built up for so many years.
He had wanted to leave for so long…