Chapter Fourteen: A reunion

Somehow Legolas had managed to escape from that plane and had fallen into another world. The gate was marked by fire, normally Legolas would have heeded Mandos' words of advice and missed them, however death looked imminent at the hands of the giant.

One so terrible that he would never ever speak of it. It had made Legolas see another side of him, one that he never wanted to remember. That world had pitted him against those that he loved dearly. In his mind, Legolas was shown as killing Eldarion hundreds of times, over and over and again the memory was replayed.

It had nearly driven him mad. Legolas had wandered that bleak world for nigh on one month. Battling with inner demons that plagued him constantly.

He was weak with fatigue and lack of food. His frame was skinny and his feet were bleeding from the rough stones. Legolas had lost his shoes in the race to escape from the madman. It was a price at that time he was willing to make, but now he was regretting it sorely.

His eyes rolled around in his head nervously, scanning the horizon at all times for the demons that were masked as his friends and family.

Finally Legolas had made it out of that world via a green gate. A bright emerald like the grass in Rohan shone out of the metal surrounding the door.

Stumbling like a drunkard towards his next drink, Legolas ran through it laughing madly. He fell on wet grass and there he lay until someone finally found him.

~

The prince had fallen into a pasture belonging to a hard working and blunt Ithilien woman who went by the name of Esema though none called her that except her old husband. She was known by most as "ma'am".

She was a widow who had worked her fingers nearly to the bone so that she could keep her and her son afloat. For this she was respected and admired, also slightly feared in her village situated in the small coastal country of Ithilien.

The woman had a pasture of cows that she milked. The milk was sold every six days at a farming market in a larger town.

Her son was a stark contrast to her, more like his father in his attributes. Quiet, loving and dependable, Merlin (his father had a penchant for birds of prey. He had carried this obsession with him to the grave when an eagle while trying to wrestle its egg off the man, stabbed him) had a longing to see the outer world.

Merlin had a natural talent for healing. While the other boys of his age were boisterous and loud, flirting with the girls constantly and training with swords, Merlin spent all his time in his studies.

He borrowed books of lore and of the biology of plants from the local healer. Merlin's skills were called for by women in childbirth and by any other people taken by various ailments.

He had a soothing way with people and for that he was well liked by the older generations in the small village. It also made him disliked by the younger.

"Mother!" Merlin cried as he dragged a semiconscious Legolas through the wooden doorway.

Esema put down the dough in her floury fingers hurriedly and helped her son as they laid the elf down upon her large bed.

The warm homespun family duvet sewn by decades of their family was wrapped around the stranger and Merlin started to remove the armour to assess the wounds when a sleepy groan alerted them to Legolas waking up.

"Mani?" [what?] Legolas asked in elvish his voice husky with sleep.

"Don't worry," Merlin said calmly with a soft smile and a gentle voice. "You're safe now."

Esema tutted as she inspected the feet torn to shreds. The entire sole was covered in dried blood. "What's this un been doing?" she asked.

Merlin nodded and smoothed back the dark golden hair to reveal a jagged cut. Darting out of the room, he filled a bowl with rainwater that was collected in a trough underneath the gutter. Merlin wetted his fingers and started to bathe the head.

Esema did the same thing with the feet until the pain made Legolas gasp in agony. Her rough mother's hands were swift but not the most gentle. "Shush!" she told him and Legolas' pleas immediately quietened to whimpers.

The young boy had musician's hands. Long and nimble, they parted Legolas' hair and soon they had placed a compress on the wound. Merlin noticed that already the blood was beginning to clot.

"He's an elf isn't he?" Merlin wondered out loud.

"Of course he is! No one -not even the Roherim- have such blonde hair," Esema said. "And such blue eyes."

Legolas' blue eyes in question were scanning the room urgently; a slightly panicked look was on his face. "W-where am?" he whispered.

"You're in Ithilien, lad," she replied and fluffed the pillows behind his head before pushing him down slightly. "Now rest. You need your strength to heal."

Legolas' feet were bound in bandages and Esema was worried to see a slight stain of blood on them. The red liquid was soaking the material. She hoped it would stop soon. "Merlin, come on, the cows need milking." Esema got up her spine cracking.

In her early fifties, a lifetime of toil on even the lush ground of Ithilien had left Esema was back problems. She wouldn't let anyone near her though, not even Merlin.

She walked out of the room and into the field.

Merlin remained perched lightly on the edge of the bed staring at Legolas.

He leant over the elf his silky hair the colour of mud brushing Legolas' pale skin. Merlin had an angular face with high cheekbones, alabaster skin unusual among the people who spent all their time outside and bright eyes the colour of grass.

"What's your name?" Merlin asked shyly, slightly disconcerted by the prince's piercing gaze.

"Legolas," he replied honestly. There was an air about the young man in front of him that was completely trusting and friendly.

"Merlin."

"What were you doing in our field?" Merlin asked.

"Its a story that I am not willing to confide you with. It is not an insult, but I have seen things that would have made a grown man recoil," Legolas said his eyes wide with a haunting fear.

For some reason, the boy felt a shiver travel up his spine and cause the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "You ought to sleep," he advised standing up.

Legolas nodded, unwilling to admit that after his experiences, he found himself scared of the dark.

Merlin looked out of the window. The sun was setting and casting a pinkish golden glow over the land. Esema was herding the cows into the barn for milking. "If you need anything just call!" Merlin cried after him as he ran outside to join his mother.

The elf curled himself into a little ball underneath the covers relishing in the warmth and comfort he found there, then he kept his eyes open and refused sleep until finally it found him and Legolas drifted off into the relaxing glades of elven sleep.

~

Legolas rested in Esema's house for a further year and gradually he grew strength to start helping them to work.

For some reason Merlin found that he was reluctant to return to his family and friends. A frantic look washed over Legolas' face whenever the youngster mentioned going back home.

Legolas had told Merlin about his past and his friends, even about his love for Eldarion. The prince found some enjoyment from teasing Merlin mercilessly with all the details. The man's cheeks blushed red and he put his hands over his mouth in shock. But usually after talking about Eldarion, Legolas became withdrawn and silent.

It usually took some help from Esema to perk him up. If you called insulting his laziness help. The woman was like a tonic to Legolas. Esema always seemed so full of energy, always there ready with a quick comment or jab in general.

Merlin was so unlike her. So placid, easy to embarrass and quietly determined. He had plans of leaving the farm and travelling to Minas Tirith to see whether his skills could be used in the Healing Houses.

The village seemed to be fascinated by having an elf in it and it took all Legolas' persuasive talents to stop them from instantly running to the next town and bragging about him.

Legolas could hardly walk down the street and to the market without being stopped. Esema learnt to never send Legolas to bakery for a ten-minute journey turned into a several hour one. The prince could just not refuse those who wanted to converse with him.

You would think that after a while the villagers would get bored of him. They never did. Legolas remained somewhat of an enigma. He never answered the questions about where he came from and why.

Legolas had told Merlin about his experiences to some extent though some areas were slightly patchy. The young boy was struck breathless when he heard that he had the fabled Dragonslayer living under his roof!

He had also told him with some trepidation about being killed and about standing at the Halls of Mandos. Merlin had initially not believed Legolas but as he grew to know the elf more, he knew that he was not lying.

The prince found favour with Esema as well. He had a soothing manner that calmed the cows during milking and he was a reliable worker.

One day that calmness in Ithilien was disturbed a sound. Of all things; a horn.

Legolas threw the book he was reading to the floor at the sound of a distant hunting horn. It was calling the hunters back, saying that the meat had been killed. Everything in Legolas' system revolted against the idea of hunting. He had known men had a great fondness with the blood sports. They ignored the pleas of the elves with smirks and knowing nodding of the head.

The elves have a great affinity with nature and the young elfling had almost felt the pain of a mighty young stag of the same age when he had once watched the men from Laketown on such an expedition.

This horn was different. The clear ringing of it through the landscape signalled a quality of it that only the horn makers of Gondor could rival.

And what Gondorians would be hunting in Ithilien but.... the King himself accompanied by the Steward.

Something deep inside Legolas drove his long limbs to run out of the farm building, Merlin swiftly behind him, curious at what made his flighty friend get up and run.

The man watched as Legolas climbed up onto a fence with agility that would make a dancer jealous. He stood there, perfectly balanced and with one long hand, shaded his eyes from the sun. He watched as a party of riders made their way out of the wood.

The proud horses trotted through the small stream, their heads held up high triumphantly. The hounds barked and scampered around the horses' hooves deliberately trying to get in the way. Everyone seemed to be full of the hunting spirit.

Sat on a white stallion that tossed his mane self-satisfied, was King Elessar. He still mourned privately for his friend, but the nightmares that only Arwen knew of, had gone. His wounds caused at Legolas' passing were healed.

Next to him, more solemn than all the others was Eldarion, being groomed into the role of King. He had a small beard on his chin and held himself differently. Eldarion accepted his role as heir to the throne now. Legolas' absence was a constant ache. He knew that he would never love again, but hoped he was a good enough actor to make everyone believe that he adored his Queen. In his heart, Eldarion still loved Legolas greatly.

The prince was looking forward to seeing the latest addition to the Royal Court: a baby. Undomiel had gotten with child and was even more radiant and joyous than anyone remembered. Eldarion would have a small brother or sister!

He sniffed slightly as the smell of deer meat wafted past him. It smelt horrible and raw at this moment, but he was always partial to a bit of venison.

Eldarion noticed that he had fallen behind slightly from his position next to his father and Faramir. The Steward was also looking forward to the birth of his second son. Maybe the two would be friends, Eldarion mused and urged his horse on.

For some reason that Eldarion didn't know, his horse took this as a signal to gallop and she ran past the small group and started thundering through the meadow. Ahead Eldarion could see a fence. He should have turned right a while back but his horse continued on.

Let her run, he decided. She deserves it.

The man frowned when he saw a willowy figure on the fence. She was wearing a white shirt that billowed out around a slender frame and she had....

"By the Valar," Eldarion whispered hoarsely. It was no woman.

As he drew near, he recognized that figure. Deceptively lithe and lissome. The same golden blonde hair... no it couldn't be! It couldn't be!

He rubbed his hands over his eyes quickly and blinked several times, but the image in front of him remained the same.

That same supple body that he had held in his arms one frozen night in Rohan. The same rosebud lips that parted slightly revealing pearly teeth when he slept. The same pointed ears that made him quiver uncontrollably when touched. The same deep blue eyes that hid so much emotion.

And oh god... the same untangled, unsnarled, unblemished shining hair!

It was.... it had to be... Legolas!

~

Eldarion dropped to the ground, not watching as his mare galloped back across the meadow, hooves pounding the soft ground.

His eyes were fixed on Legolas who still stood on the fence. "No.... it can't be!" Eldarion cried.

Legolas smiled slowly and jumping down without making the grass bend at all beneath his weight, ran towards Eldarion his arms outstretched.

When he reached the man he stood there, waiting to be hugged back.

But Eldarion backed away, his eyes wide and unbelieving. "No," he said his breath coming in ragged breaths. "You can't be real- I'm seeing ghosts!"

All his previous rational thoughts were thrown out the window as Legolas ran at his lover. Eldarion was the only thing keeping him sane... without him, Legolas might as well die.

Meanwhile Eldarion had his dreams and wildest hopes accomplished but somehow it seemed wrong. Legolas was dead. How could he be here? Some evil magic or trick was being played upon him and he didn't want it to happen. So Eldarion did what seemed reasonable. He ran.

The man ran back to his horse and shouted at her to gallop. When he rejoined the group he told them nothing about Legolas. Elessar looked suspicous, however he said no more.

The elf watched through rapidly blurring eyes as the horse bearing his love rode away. Legolas had seen too many backs turned on him. He couldn't handle it and broke down into tears.

He dropped to the ground, his knees cushioned by the soft grass.

Merlin stepped forward uncertainly and placed one hand on Legolas' shoulder. He was surprised immensely when Legolas pulled it towards him and then when Merlin knelt down, wrapped his long arms around the young man and hugged him tight.

A shocked look was on his face as Merlin gently rubbed Legolas' back as you do with a child that needs comforting. All traces of the formidable warrior that Merlin knew of, disappeared when Legolas wept like an infant who has lost his favourite toy.

Merlin kissed the top of Legolas' head and sat there until finally the prince had stopped crying. Then he took one trembling hand and led him back inside.

~