Part Three: The Hobbit's Council
Legolas changed in the five years since I last saw him. I don't mean to say that he grew weaker, like I have, but I mean, his face became ceased, the slightest faintest outlines of weary bags highlighting his eyes. His eyes - there was the greatest change of all. The waves of the fire that was once in those violet blue depths have all but utterly left, leaving behind emptiness and a numbness that tore away at my mind. He has begun to despair.
For an Elf to lose faith and love for the land is the same as a hobbit losing his will to plant and make the world green. He and I have the same illness and the same pain.
"Frodo, do you know of Ledilor? He is my kin. No -" Legolas shook his head slightly and peered up from the cup of wine he was drinking from. "He is my brother. He spoke of everyone leaving three nights ago."
"Its true. Everyone left."
I edged myself off of the seat that I previously sat on, and walked slowly to the blazing fire. The halls of Thranduil are like no other Elven land I have ever visited before. Built of stone, lavished with the jewels of the earth, but all in the fashion of trees, and birds, and creatures. And the songs they sing are filled with sadness, of pain and forgotten memories. But the song themselves are so lighthearted, so happy, accompanied by harps and flutes, as if they're singing of sunlight and of firm good earth.
"But then they all returned the next day. And the next, and the next."
Legolas paled, and his fingers hurried to clasp themselves against the brooch of the cloak he wore. The brooch that the Lady of the Wood gave him so long ago. I myself am wearing the same and the now empty chain that once held the Ring. Its been twenty years since the Great War. Twenty years - years that seem so long, the days and weeks filling themselves with normal affairs, and gentle worries. Everything, at the surface, was like the thinnest layer of ice upon the pond. But if we were to speak of events that have past, and are yet to come, the ice breaks and we are submerged into the dark, cloudy world of inner conflict.
"Why did you leave, Legolas? For two fortnights, the halls of your father was lit with blue and green flame, filled with singers and dances and guests, all donned in the browns and greens of your family. For two fortnights, we waited. They waited - your kin, your subjects, your people."
I grasped the stone hearth with my fingers, letting the silence of Legolas sink into my bones. At that moment, I saw no elf, let along a Prince. I despised him for running away, leaving behind the dashed hopes and worries of his family. He once spoke of becoming a king, and receiving a bride after the likeness of his own mother. Legolas hardly ever spoke of his mother. How his eyes flared with happiness, with promise. That was fifteen years ago - now Legolas is a different being, an elf that I can no longer remember as one of my Companions. Fifteen years, in the eyes of an Elf is but the span of a time that a Hobbit views as the planting season. And to change so quickly -
"They waited for their king."
"I am no king Frodo."
I turned from the hearth and glared at Legolas, the hatred and pain now turning full circle and exploding within my heart. Such weakness and fragility. I have no words to describe why I grew in such anger. But lately, my emotions have been taking a hold of me, in ways that haunt me long after the strange stirrings left my body.
"How far will you run?"
"As far as I can. This is not my kingdom. It never was."
I saw in him, myself.
"Are you forever to run? There is no war. There is no threat. You need not run, Legolas."
"My threat comes from in here."
He laid his hand against his heart, the same hand that let the string of the bow fly and pledge his bow -and life- to me in Rivendell many autumns ago. The storm outside was still raging on, and the room was oft lit with lighting. The sounds of thunder overrode and marred the sounds of the echoing songs. There were always Elves singing in Thranduil's halls or so I have heard from Gimli, Merry and Pippin who are the most familiar with Legolas' home. They will take some comfort in knowing that has not changed.
"Ask me and I will go. I see it in your eyes, Legolas. Gimli speaks of a great change in your character, and many, including Sam, believe that I too mirror your change. A great uneasiness has settled into me, a great troubling that has not left me even when I lay asleep."
In his eyes, a great sweep of recognizance overtook the stormy blue, as I described to him bit by bit the plague that has begun its attack on me. Sleepless nights, dreams that makes no sense, a constant tiring of the body, the desire for an everlasting peace, even if it means death, the agony of no longer loving this land - everything I said, he nodded to, slowly at first as if he himself did not want to admit to such ailments.
"You need not run, Legolas. I do not think running away will solve it. However, journeying and discovering are by far, more valiant things and might in the end, soothe such troubles. In fact, I was going to undertake such a journey myself."
"Where will you go, Frodo, to find such things? To heal yourself?"
"Don't ask because I don't know if such a place is still here among all this change and toil. What say you Legolas?"
====
We left early that morning, before the sun even broke out. Of course, I offered to gather together the supplies and round up the horses. I wanted to give Legolas a few moments to think things over. It's by far harder for him to leave then I. Merry and Pippin will cause some sort of talk in the Shire, but in the end, Sam will quiet them and keep Bag-end warm and waiting for my return.
If I choose to return that is.
I think in his heart, Legolas knows that this journey is my journey to say good-bye to this world. At first, I thought I would have taken a different Companion with me, maybe Gandalf or Sam if they could be spared, but when Gimli spoke of Legolas, I had not the heart to choose another.
The earth was still fresh, being watered by the good cold rain, and the scent of new grass already climbing over the fallen trees was enough of a parting gift from the Elven-king's halls. If I could describe to the feeling I had when Legolas and I set out on the Old Road, with the melody of an unseen singer echoing some place far away behind us, and the rising sun in front of us, I would describe it and write forever if I could.
But I can't. All I can offer for a description are the lines of the song that dance its way right to my heart.
"There is a new day, awakening, and I sing to it
I sing to the sun, and to the infinite dreams before me."
Legolas changed in the five years since I last saw him. I don't mean to say that he grew weaker, like I have, but I mean, his face became ceased, the slightest faintest outlines of weary bags highlighting his eyes. His eyes - there was the greatest change of all. The waves of the fire that was once in those violet blue depths have all but utterly left, leaving behind emptiness and a numbness that tore away at my mind. He has begun to despair.
For an Elf to lose faith and love for the land is the same as a hobbit losing his will to plant and make the world green. He and I have the same illness and the same pain.
"Frodo, do you know of Ledilor? He is my kin. No -" Legolas shook his head slightly and peered up from the cup of wine he was drinking from. "He is my brother. He spoke of everyone leaving three nights ago."
"Its true. Everyone left."
I edged myself off of the seat that I previously sat on, and walked slowly to the blazing fire. The halls of Thranduil are like no other Elven land I have ever visited before. Built of stone, lavished with the jewels of the earth, but all in the fashion of trees, and birds, and creatures. And the songs they sing are filled with sadness, of pain and forgotten memories. But the song themselves are so lighthearted, so happy, accompanied by harps and flutes, as if they're singing of sunlight and of firm good earth.
"But then they all returned the next day. And the next, and the next."
Legolas paled, and his fingers hurried to clasp themselves against the brooch of the cloak he wore. The brooch that the Lady of the Wood gave him so long ago. I myself am wearing the same and the now empty chain that once held the Ring. Its been twenty years since the Great War. Twenty years - years that seem so long, the days and weeks filling themselves with normal affairs, and gentle worries. Everything, at the surface, was like the thinnest layer of ice upon the pond. But if we were to speak of events that have past, and are yet to come, the ice breaks and we are submerged into the dark, cloudy world of inner conflict.
"Why did you leave, Legolas? For two fortnights, the halls of your father was lit with blue and green flame, filled with singers and dances and guests, all donned in the browns and greens of your family. For two fortnights, we waited. They waited - your kin, your subjects, your people."
I grasped the stone hearth with my fingers, letting the silence of Legolas sink into my bones. At that moment, I saw no elf, let along a Prince. I despised him for running away, leaving behind the dashed hopes and worries of his family. He once spoke of becoming a king, and receiving a bride after the likeness of his own mother. Legolas hardly ever spoke of his mother. How his eyes flared with happiness, with promise. That was fifteen years ago - now Legolas is a different being, an elf that I can no longer remember as one of my Companions. Fifteen years, in the eyes of an Elf is but the span of a time that a Hobbit views as the planting season. And to change so quickly -
"They waited for their king."
"I am no king Frodo."
I turned from the hearth and glared at Legolas, the hatred and pain now turning full circle and exploding within my heart. Such weakness and fragility. I have no words to describe why I grew in such anger. But lately, my emotions have been taking a hold of me, in ways that haunt me long after the strange stirrings left my body.
"How far will you run?"
"As far as I can. This is not my kingdom. It never was."
I saw in him, myself.
"Are you forever to run? There is no war. There is no threat. You need not run, Legolas."
"My threat comes from in here."
He laid his hand against his heart, the same hand that let the string of the bow fly and pledge his bow -and life- to me in Rivendell many autumns ago. The storm outside was still raging on, and the room was oft lit with lighting. The sounds of thunder overrode and marred the sounds of the echoing songs. There were always Elves singing in Thranduil's halls or so I have heard from Gimli, Merry and Pippin who are the most familiar with Legolas' home. They will take some comfort in knowing that has not changed.
"Ask me and I will go. I see it in your eyes, Legolas. Gimli speaks of a great change in your character, and many, including Sam, believe that I too mirror your change. A great uneasiness has settled into me, a great troubling that has not left me even when I lay asleep."
In his eyes, a great sweep of recognizance overtook the stormy blue, as I described to him bit by bit the plague that has begun its attack on me. Sleepless nights, dreams that makes no sense, a constant tiring of the body, the desire for an everlasting peace, even if it means death, the agony of no longer loving this land - everything I said, he nodded to, slowly at first as if he himself did not want to admit to such ailments.
"You need not run, Legolas. I do not think running away will solve it. However, journeying and discovering are by far, more valiant things and might in the end, soothe such troubles. In fact, I was going to undertake such a journey myself."
"Where will you go, Frodo, to find such things? To heal yourself?"
"Don't ask because I don't know if such a place is still here among all this change and toil. What say you Legolas?"
====
We left early that morning, before the sun even broke out. Of course, I offered to gather together the supplies and round up the horses. I wanted to give Legolas a few moments to think things over. It's by far harder for him to leave then I. Merry and Pippin will cause some sort of talk in the Shire, but in the end, Sam will quiet them and keep Bag-end warm and waiting for my return.
If I choose to return that is.
I think in his heart, Legolas knows that this journey is my journey to say good-bye to this world. At first, I thought I would have taken a different Companion with me, maybe Gandalf or Sam if they could be spared, but when Gimli spoke of Legolas, I had not the heart to choose another.
The earth was still fresh, being watered by the good cold rain, and the scent of new grass already climbing over the fallen trees was enough of a parting gift from the Elven-king's halls. If I could describe to the feeling I had when Legolas and I set out on the Old Road, with the melody of an unseen singer echoing some place far away behind us, and the rising sun in front of us, I would describe it and write forever if I could.
But I can't. All I can offer for a description are the lines of the song that dance its way right to my heart.
"There is a new day, awakening, and I sing to it
I sing to the sun, and to the infinite dreams before me."