A/N: Hey all. I am sooooo sorry for the delay. My life got kinda outta
control there for a while, both personally and academically. But, I
promised I would never abandon this story, so I hope there are still enough
of you loyal readers who will forgive me and keep reading!
The trees of Lothlorien were bare. What little leaves the branches retained fell softly to the ground, showering the companions in gold. Though winter, the forest's beauty still maintained its ethereal quality.
But Legolas was not thinking of the beauty of the forests. Nor was he thinking of the meeting that had just occurred with the Lady Galadriel. The events of the past night still haunted his thoughts. In his mind's eye he could still hear Gandalf's last words.
"Run, you fools."
And then he had fallen from the ledge, passing into darkness.
Legolas still did not believe it had really happened. Although he had only known the wizard for a relatively brief amount of time, he had grown quite fond of him. Aside from personal reasons, Legolas wondered how the Fellowship would fare without their knowledgeable leader. He had no doubt in Aragorn's leadership-the Ranger had not skipped a beat in assuming his new role- but also knew it would ultimately pale in comparison to the wizard's.
Of the remaining Fellowship members, the hobbits were taking the loss the hardest, especially Frodo. The young hobbit seemed to have been quite attached to Gandalf.
The companions had settled themselves on the ground beside a large hollow tree. The elf would have preferred sleeping somewhere in the trees themselves, but knew the hobbits, as well as Gimli, although he would never admit it, were scared of the heights.
Somewhere in the woods the elves of the Golden Wood were singing their laments for Gandalf. The words of the song made Legolas' heart hurt all over again for the loss of their friend and ally. Aragorn appeared to be going through the same emotional torment; the pain was written clearly across his face as he listened to the elvish words. Legolas was glad the hobbits could not understand the meaning of the song; they had finally stopped crying only shortly before entering Lothlorien, and he hoped they would not start again soon.
Without even realizing it, Legolas found his legs carrying him to the river Nimrodel. Not very surprisingly, Gimli had followed him, causing Legolas to smile inwardly. Though he made every external effort to show his disdain for the dwarf, in actuality he thought very highly of him. Sure, he was stubborn and arrogant, even for a dwarf, but he had proven himself well in battle; Legolas felt honored to call him a fellow companion.
The two stood next to each other in silence, simply looking out over the river, listening to the haunting melody, each lost in his own thought.
"I wonder," the dwarf's husky voice broke the silence. "I wonder if any more of us will fall before this all ends."
"I don't know." The thought of this suddenly brought the image of Elora in Legolas' mind. This was the place in which she had trained for so many years; if only she were here now, so that he could hold her again in his arms, kiss her til they were both breathless, apologize for ever leaving her.
Gimli grunted. "Ahh. I know that look."
"What look?"
"My question has scared you. You had not thought of your own mortality, but now the prospect of it frightens you. You have something important to return to."
Legolas gave him a tired glance. "Don't we all have important things to return home to?"
"Yes; but I am speaking of a special kind of important."
"Are you married Gimli?"
"A warrior does not discuss such things. And I will tell you why: because it weakens you. It instills fear in you. A warrior must not seek death, but he must also not be afraid to welcome it. Lock these feelings away, as I have, as Aragorn has."
"It is not that simple for me."
"The ways of a warrior are not supposed to be simple. And you, my friend, are a warrior, do not try to deny it."
The two figures resumed their silence for a while longer before slowly starting back towards camp. As Legolas turned from the river, though, he saw something in the woods.
Two young elf maids were walking nearby, their backs to him. One had long blonde hair, but this was not what had caught his attention. Instead, it was the color of her companion's hair.
Red.
He felt his heart leap into his throat. How could it be? Elora was supposed to be in Mirkwood; why could she possibly be doing in Lothlorien. It was not her; it couldn't be. Legolas turned to follow Gimli, deciding not to call out to the young maid.
But something changed his mind.
"Elora!"
The elf with red hair stopped short and slowly turned. It was her; it was! Elora's eyes grew wide in surprise.
"Legolas?!"
With that she was running, almost tripping over her skirts, launching herself into his embrace.
The trees of Lothlorien were bare. What little leaves the branches retained fell softly to the ground, showering the companions in gold. Though winter, the forest's beauty still maintained its ethereal quality.
But Legolas was not thinking of the beauty of the forests. Nor was he thinking of the meeting that had just occurred with the Lady Galadriel. The events of the past night still haunted his thoughts. In his mind's eye he could still hear Gandalf's last words.
"Run, you fools."
And then he had fallen from the ledge, passing into darkness.
Legolas still did not believe it had really happened. Although he had only known the wizard for a relatively brief amount of time, he had grown quite fond of him. Aside from personal reasons, Legolas wondered how the Fellowship would fare without their knowledgeable leader. He had no doubt in Aragorn's leadership-the Ranger had not skipped a beat in assuming his new role- but also knew it would ultimately pale in comparison to the wizard's.
Of the remaining Fellowship members, the hobbits were taking the loss the hardest, especially Frodo. The young hobbit seemed to have been quite attached to Gandalf.
The companions had settled themselves on the ground beside a large hollow tree. The elf would have preferred sleeping somewhere in the trees themselves, but knew the hobbits, as well as Gimli, although he would never admit it, were scared of the heights.
Somewhere in the woods the elves of the Golden Wood were singing their laments for Gandalf. The words of the song made Legolas' heart hurt all over again for the loss of their friend and ally. Aragorn appeared to be going through the same emotional torment; the pain was written clearly across his face as he listened to the elvish words. Legolas was glad the hobbits could not understand the meaning of the song; they had finally stopped crying only shortly before entering Lothlorien, and he hoped they would not start again soon.
Without even realizing it, Legolas found his legs carrying him to the river Nimrodel. Not very surprisingly, Gimli had followed him, causing Legolas to smile inwardly. Though he made every external effort to show his disdain for the dwarf, in actuality he thought very highly of him. Sure, he was stubborn and arrogant, even for a dwarf, but he had proven himself well in battle; Legolas felt honored to call him a fellow companion.
The two stood next to each other in silence, simply looking out over the river, listening to the haunting melody, each lost in his own thought.
"I wonder," the dwarf's husky voice broke the silence. "I wonder if any more of us will fall before this all ends."
"I don't know." The thought of this suddenly brought the image of Elora in Legolas' mind. This was the place in which she had trained for so many years; if only she were here now, so that he could hold her again in his arms, kiss her til they were both breathless, apologize for ever leaving her.
Gimli grunted. "Ahh. I know that look."
"What look?"
"My question has scared you. You had not thought of your own mortality, but now the prospect of it frightens you. You have something important to return to."
Legolas gave him a tired glance. "Don't we all have important things to return home to?"
"Yes; but I am speaking of a special kind of important."
"Are you married Gimli?"
"A warrior does not discuss such things. And I will tell you why: because it weakens you. It instills fear in you. A warrior must not seek death, but he must also not be afraid to welcome it. Lock these feelings away, as I have, as Aragorn has."
"It is not that simple for me."
"The ways of a warrior are not supposed to be simple. And you, my friend, are a warrior, do not try to deny it."
The two figures resumed their silence for a while longer before slowly starting back towards camp. As Legolas turned from the river, though, he saw something in the woods.
Two young elf maids were walking nearby, their backs to him. One had long blonde hair, but this was not what had caught his attention. Instead, it was the color of her companion's hair.
Red.
He felt his heart leap into his throat. How could it be? Elora was supposed to be in Mirkwood; why could she possibly be doing in Lothlorien. It was not her; it couldn't be. Legolas turned to follow Gimli, deciding not to call out to the young maid.
But something changed his mind.
"Elora!"
The elf with red hair stopped short and slowly turned. It was her; it was! Elora's eyes grew wide in surprise.
"Legolas?!"
With that she was running, almost tripping over her skirts, launching herself into his embrace.