CHAPTER 40 - Lingering
"No."
"Yes." Tadion held the other's gaze. His face was stone. "You do not get a say in this. Not now."
Legolas sighed, looking wearily to his brother. "I would not have you join me if Manwë himself bore down upon us and commanded that I do."
Tadion waved his words away with a shrug. "That would be quite a sight indeed. I do wonder what the Elder King is occupied with these days," Tadion followed wryly. And then, "I am coming, if only because a broken elf - no, please do not - " Tadion cut in as his brother opened his mouth "-on a quest to Mordor is already a death sentence in itself."
"You were always against this. You said it is folly."
Another shrug. "You were not as you are now."
Legolas stared at the map without truly seeing it. "I can order you to stay."
Tadion scoffed and smiled, shaking his head. "Truly, brother, you can. But that will do little to prevent me from following. And most of my tracking abilities I had learned from you."
Legolas covered his face with his palm. "Tadion, enough. As my second you very well know there needs to be one here adept in overseeing the comings and goings of the isle-"
"And you very well know that if the need arises, Orophin is as capable in leading a defense as any of us. And do you trust so little in master Gimli and Arwen?"
They eyed each other, neither willing to relent. Legolas looked away in the end, straightening to full height. "No, brother. And that is final."
More arguments were exchanged, each more driven than the last, and it came as little surprise to him. They had benefited from the same tutor once upon a time. Legolas felt the deep, visceral worry behind his brother's insistence. But this he could not do. He would never throw anyone, let alone his only surviving kin, in the midst of unseen peril such as this for a quest based on intuition alone. Lessons had been learned. This despite death looming as an unsure means of escape for their kind, a way for their essence to transcend into Mandos, where all fëar could dwell unhoused, unbroken, and find long overdue healing.
But there was no certainty to that happening either, not any longer.
He felt impossibly weary atop it all, and so in the end had quietened, announcing his leave with a brief frayed look and a nod. Tadion let him, but not before taking his word that they would speak again later.
His feet were of lead as the elf forced a light stride to his chamber, his mind fogged and full. Images and words roiled like unrelenting storms at sea. They cut and stung. His gait lacked the surety of earlier. He had left her there, despite feeling the anguish tearing through her poorly veiled denial. Still, she had urged him away, raising a wall between them. Ire and concern coiled inside like snakes, heavy and real.
He scowled, and a part of him seethed in dark relish; the part briefly forgetting she was so very young and unused to it all, to feeling and connection and all that changed her, him, and what was between them.
But she could have listened. She could have believed him. He had not even told her she was forever. He had not dared. It would have been in poor taste, and she was clearly in so much distress and so eager to flee from him that Legolas could do nothing other than let her. At the time, a smile was the sole mask he could conjure to his loss.
When reaching his abode the elf closed the door behind him, standing motionless in the middle of the chamber. Fresh memories yet swirled about him. After a while he sought and fell gracelessly down to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. His forehead rested on them. His shoulders fell forward and closing his eyes the elf stared listlessly within, where she had been. Where she still was.
He lifted his head from oblivion and looked to his hands. There was no thought, no coherence to it all. Only silence. Her absence swelled and dwindled in tides. She lingered on his pallet. She lingered on him. Legolas shook his head slowly. His thrashing mind bore tall waves, and he drowned in them.
There was one question that burned amid all others. How had she found the crypt?
What are you hiding so desperately? Why did you not trust enough? In him, in them.
Why, why, why.
When Legolas tracked her to the very place, he found her struggling and gasping as one possessed. It was in her hands and it burnt. Shadows could not touch it without injury befalling them. For one split moment before rushing to her aid the elf had been shamed to feel a sliver of suspicion. But all the more jarring and shocking was the certainty that he would still protect and aid her no matter what she hid, and no matter what she did. And then she ran, taking the shadow with her. He had felt it, gnawing on her.
She hid it and chose to flee.
How could you, how could you?
He lowered his eyes. The void grew and swallowed him.
Their hair caught in the breeze. She tripped on a hidden rock in the sand, and fell against him.
She was mouthing words in his language, her golden eyes narrowed, the tip of her tongue grazing her lip in childish frustration. Her accent was frightful. The sea shivered on her skin.
When the elf opened his eyes, there was a knock at the door.
"Enter."
Arwen did so, clad in her grey working shift. Her hair was pulled from her face in a heavy dark braid. She went to him, and knelt before his pallet with her knees drawn up, mimicking his own position. Her expression was unreadable, but searching. A healer's habit.
Legolas placed his forehead on his knees again. "You spoke to Tadion."
"I did," she said, a hidden tremble to her voice which he did not miss. "I wanted to see how you fared."
Legolas smiled at the indulgence, for she knew most definitely how he fared. But she was not making this about her. Arwen never did.
"You let her go," the words were bared of any accusation but struck the same.
He could not make her stay, either. He lifted his head, eyes pressed tightly shut. He opened them to look upon her slight and saddened features. "One's will is their own."
Arwen reached for him, her slender fingers soft and caring. Her nails were green from work with mortar and pestle and her skin scented with herbs. Her thumb wiped away each shimmering line streaking his face.
He smiled gratefully. "I will live, just as Tadion has. Just as you have. Loss becomes a part of us."
Arwen retrieved her hands, circling her knees with a sigh. "And you believe this is comparable? She yet breathes, and is free."
"And would not have me."
Arwen smiled, the whisper of a grey dawn. "Her mind would not."
Legolas leaned back to rest upon the pallet. "I found her in the crypt, Arwen. She had wanted to see more of the mountains. But I found her there."
The elf maid was silent, watching him until he deemed to speak again. "I do not know how she found it for she would not say. She had taken the gem in hand, though I know not why. It all began there. I felt the disruption. I felt the barrier lessen. And," he covered his tired face with his hand, "she was hiding its source from me. I fear she left for reasons I will never know. But once she was gone, all fell back in place."
Arwen was thoughtful. "I felt it so. Do you... think she...-"
"No," the elf cut into her words, so vehemently he felt immediate remorse. "No," he repeated softly. "There was no ill will about her. I felt none. But that which she was hiding, that may be a different matter."
"Does Tadion know?" Arwen asked.
He shook his head.
The elf maid nodded. "It is better this way."
It was his turn to nod in agreement. They stood in silence for a long time.
"You will not seek for her, then?" Arwen hedged in the end. "If only to see what-"
Legolas shook his head. "She wants to be on her own. I will respect her decision."
"Legolas..."
"Arwen, please," the elf spoke raggedly, covering his face with his hands.
"My friend," she offered a sad smile, reminiscent of brighter days. "This is not my tale-"
"You are right it is not," he snapped, feeling the miser immediately. He sighed. "Forgive me."
Arwen bowed her head in silent understanding. "-but I wish you would reconsider."
Legolas looked away. "I am heading out again, soon."
At that, her composure seemed to crumble. "Your brother spoke of it as well." This, however, she could not attempt to sway, and so kept her peace.
It was then Legolas noticed what his friend had produced and held in her hands. Its green sheen reminded him of better days, and a wave of joy mingled with grief nearly had him overflowing.
"This is unwise. I nearly lost it last time."
Arwen took one of his hands, opened it, and placed the jewel in his palm. She closed his fingers around it with both hands and kept them there. "And yet, it seems to bring you good fortune, does it not?" She recalled how Legolas had told her of his escape from the Uruk captivity, and its role in it. Her smile was genuine and glad. "You returned to us hale. Do so again."
The elf shook his head lightly, staring at the elessar he again held in his hand. The vision of confused amber eyes floated on the fringes of his mind, and he nearly fell again.
He felt a palm, gentle on the crown of his head, and then he was falling into a light embrace.
"Find me later?" Arwen murmured after what seemed like an eternity, releasing him.
A slight bow of his head was her only reply. The elf maid rose and was gone, leaving her friend to his solitude.
Legolas stayed where he was, allowing the jewel to dangle from his hand. He stared back into the aching void.
Are you well? Are you safe? He could let her be. He could allow this severance, and weather the waning, if she could. But he had to know. He willed all his thought and care and longing to pierce through the ether, over dark waters of fears and endless lands of failing dreams. To her.
No response. He gained his feet, looking about the chamber, gathering belongings. Some would accompany him on his journey. Amid it all the elf tried again, and again.
As he roamed through his wares an object caught his eye. Without thought, the elf reached for the slight pouch. He gaped at the golden sheen trickling into his palm. With a sigh, he considered returning Tadion's gift. But then, he thought, it may aid little, and would only rekindle his brother's own grief.
At a loss and with the waves of her, wailing and relentless against the shores of his mind, the elf reached for the jewel. After a moment of hesitation, he looped the rings around the same chain and fastened it around his neck. It came tucked safely under his shirt. He pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the cold metal warming from his skin.
Legolas recalled her irresolute and childish attempt to keep the jewel from him, once upon a time. He had been faster, and she had lost.
The torrent within welled. He rushed it away, seeking her instead.
Are you well? Are you safe?