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Manan elye etevanne

Norie i melanelye?

What drove you to leave

That which you loved?

From Lament for Gandalf

He watched long after the silver and white had faded into shadow, unbelieving of the harm he had done, the failure he had made. Legolas could not move to pursue her for the ache had spread to envelop him fully. There were no words, he would not be welcome even if penitent, and surely he did not deserve such patience. Left with naught but emptiness, Legolas left the willow house and climbed back towards the city, the lights brightening to greet him and the songs swelling in welcome, the night and fell tidings falling behind him with every step. He had nearly reached the talan where his companions slumbered before stopping to reflect, for his thoughts had clouded upon Theraniel's flight from him.

Legolas of Mirkwood was an elf of many centuries, had laughed through the passing of season after season, had joined his friends on the battlefield and watched as they had been slaughtered. Death was no mystery to him, no stranger on his path, for many had fallen to his knife and bow, moreso falling at his side than at his feet. How was it then that he knew not the way to grieve?

Lothlorien glowed with comfort and familiar loves, arms open for the weary and worn. She remained untouched in the passing darkness, though her glory was soon to fade. Elves all about him offered song and silent understanding, company or solitude to find solace in. Yet Legolas held himself apart from the glittering haven, arms-length to every friend at his side.

Did she yet live like this? Removed from the beauty and comfort that should restore her? Fearful of any other love should darkness open up its maw to swallow them as they fell from life, each light winking out like dying stars in a field of ebon sky?

Legolas closed his eyes and watched as Gandalf clung to the edge of the toppling bridge, entreating them to escape. Could he have reached the wizard in time, had he run heedless of the orcs and their arrows? Dived headfirst and slid to the end of the bridge and snatched hands around Gandalf's wrists before his grip was lost? Surely he could have held on and dragged the wizard to safety, and they all would have escaped the mines together, breathing heavy sighs of relief and telling their tales of victory and narrow escape to the Galadhrim children. Sparing Theraniel and all of them from their grief.

"Fly, you fools!" And they had fled.

Legolas wept, long and harsh in the fading glow and solemn elfsong of Lothlorien, and did not stop until he had not the strength to weep longer.

"We are all much the same here," Gimli said from his side, how long he had been there the elf knew not. "Broken open and without respite from the memory of our loss. 'Tis a brutal burden we bear, the last that knew him. Every night I dream of Moria."

"Do you heed his words as we did when he fell?" Legolas said after finding his voice.

Gimli gave deep sigh. "Sometimes, I do. Most times I do not. And when I reach the end of the bridge, it is Balin I see holding on for his life. I am never fast enough or strong enough to save him, either."

"We could not have saved him," Legolas said. "The bridge would have given way and toppled us all into darkness."

"Sometimes I wish it had."

Legolas turned to Gimli now and saw him as he had not before. The dwarf considered the elf and added "But I know better than to wish such things. We are all that protect the ring-bearer now that Gandalf has left us. And there are many orc necks to be hewn by my axe before I let it fall. I feel but the hollowness that comes with mourning. And I will feel it a while longer."

They shared a silence together, mingled with elfsong and snoring hobbits from the flet below. At long last Legolas rose and smiled at his friend. "I thank you for sharing this burden with me, Gimli son of Gloin. You are not quite as stiff-necked a dwarf as I had once thought."

Gimli narrowed his eyes at Legolas but smiled despite himself. "I am too as stiff-necked a dwarf as you are as stiff-necked an elf."

"You may be right," he answered.

They parted there, Gimli returning to the flet with their companions and Legolas venturing back out into the city. He ached from weeping but felt a relief alongside the pain, one that heightened the loveliness around him. The air was tinged with a sweetness he had not noted, the elfsong more dulcet and the beauty of Lorien increased. Words of greeting and comfort offered by those he met fell softly on his heart and he shared his smile with many.

The willowhome of Theraniel was dark within, yet he caught the fall of moonlight onto pearl hair and gentle breath stopped short at his approach.

"None may understand you," he said at the threshold. "Yet I wish to do so. You are the White Moon of Rivendell, the Winter Witch of Gondor, lore-master and friend of Gandalf the Grey. Teach me that I may gain further understanding. Please," he added. "I mean you no harm. I have come to give you comfort."

He had not fully noticed her beauty before, or yet he had not reflected upon it, for when she came into the moonlight Legolas was astounded at her loveliness. Now he understood why the men of Gondor had confused her with the lady Galadriel, for she shone with a pale beauty that matched the gold of the White Lady of legend. Theraniel walked up to him, near stood upon his toes, and drew back the hair from her face and neck, exposing the gnarled skin of her ear to him. Both had been torn from her, leaving swollen knobs of flesh, lined with scars of ancient fester.

"We die," she said, her voice a dagger in the silence. "We die of a broken heart. But I did not die, though I wished it every night they came for me. I have not died, though I wish it every morn when I wake to the songs of Lothlorien. I cannot die, though I wish it still now that Mithrandir is gone. What heart have I then, if I cannot die?"

The woman watched for his reaction carefully, the sapphire of her eyes sharp as crystal. Yet Legolas was overcome by her beauty and that alone shone on his face. He reached to take her hand, release the white flow of hair and bring fingers to his lips. "One that is ill used to mending," he said. "But a heart nonetheless."

She made a small noise in her throat, fingers tightened at his lips. After a moment, Theraniel took him by the arm and lead him from her house and to a stair that circled down the great willow. He followed until they reached the floor of the forest and a garden of sleeping blossoms, blooming jasmine. Though little moonlight could filter through the fronds of the willow tree, the lights of city glittered softly overhead, giving Theraniel's garden a gentle glow. Safe in this secret place, Theraniel began in whispers that slowly found voice.

"I have spent the greatest and longest of my years in the company of men. Though I was invited often to return to Rivendell, I remained in Gondor, not for the sake of the kings who sought my council, nor for the sake of my art as lore-master, but because I was utterly smitten and overwhelmed by the world I discovered. Few of the others I arrived with truly came to respect or enjoy the world of Man, which is why they left and I remained. I cannot give accurate dimension to what it was that moved me thus, such things are beyond words for the telling. I can only say that it was beyond my abilities to leave such a world once I had found it.

"That which is different is difficult to love. Yet I loved. I truly loved the people of Gondor, the humans, for all of their qualities. Their lives are so short and yet so full. Not a day passed that I did not learn a life's lesson from them. I can only guess how I appeared to them, elf and scholar and woman all in one. The others of my kind warned against falling in love with them, for the lifetime of one man is but a passing season."

Theraniel grew silent a moment, and then the shadows fell from her face and opened the bright shine of her smile. "I did not heed any of their warnings, and every man, woman and child I met I fell headlong in love with. I near split myself in two to serve their city. There was a time when I held the place of counselor to the rulers of Gondor. That was when they named me the Winter Witch. Aiya, how I treasure that title.

"It was love that bound me there, and it was love that blinded me. I did not see the world changing about me, did not understand how fearful the sons of men were becoming of elves, of all that are alien to them, even their own kind from different lands. When Mithrandir came to me, chasing the heir of Elendil, I did not know the climate of Gondor. When I left Minas Tirith I did not know I would never return."

Here she paused again and Legolas felt her hand seek his out and close over his fingers, touched the warm pulse within his hand. "I loved Gandalf because he was alike to the sons of man and the ancient elves, not truly home in either world. But Gandalf made his own world, while I was a visitor in every place I went. Perhaps that is a true testament to his character, and to mine.

"I am not certain of how many years had passed since we departed from Minas Tirith. Enough that times had certainly changed, and the boy I had known was now the king of Gondor. I was refused entry into the city and informed my new place in the world of man now lay in Minas Ithil. I was escorted there with all formality as if it were some grand promotion and not banishment. But I was welcomed in Minas Ithil, though she was well in her waning years by then.

"Ithilien is a truly beautiful land. At least it was when I knew it. For you see, with the rising fears I was soon restricted to remain within the walls of the city, and then the tower itself. I wonder if they would have sequestered me further had not the city fallen under attack.

"They slaughtered them all and left me, some cruel jest of amusement. The long lives of our kind fascinated the maggot-men of Mordor and I was shut up in my tower again to wither and fade, while they poisoned my home and wrought the dark mirror of that city, Morgul." Her fingers tightened again around his and nails dug into his skin. "They are the ones who scarred me and made jest of my disfigurement. One of them wore my ears on a chain about his neck ."

"I do not press to know your torment," Legolas said. "You have told me enough."

"I have not," she said, striking tears from her face. "They did not throw me to the orcs for their amusement. It was men who tortured me! At first I could not hate them, I pitied them like some foolish old dotard who thinks the evil only misguided. It was only when . I had to learn to despise them," she said, struggling to find the words. "And I hated them all! I hated them in memory up in the tower where they locked me with nothing but the moon to keep me company. I hated every man I had ever met and I hated every man I had ever loved!

"They stole my memory," she said in a whisper. "And I let them take it from me."

"Theraniel-" Legolas began, unable to keep his silence any longer. "Your captors are gone and none can lay claim to your heart."

"But I have brought my torment with me," she said. "I am still a prisoner and have remained far longer than I should be. I am disfigured," she added bitterly. "And disgusting to the Galadhrim, as alien to them as the men of Gondor."

"You are no such thing," Legolas said before she could continue. "And there are none here who see you that way. My own reaction," he added. "Was one of surprise alone. And I am sorry that I caused you pain. I see naught in you but beauty."

"Do not taunt me," Theraniel said, pinched with pain. "I do not need falsehood to comfort me."

"I offer none," Legolas answered, touching her face lightly to smooth away the lines of grief. "You have shown me such beauty, Theraniel. Such that I had never seen before. Your heart is broken but still it sings with love for the men and women of Gondor, and love for Mithrandir. Your love shines brightly, and it is truly beautiful. I wish that you could see through my eyes, here and now," he sighed.

"I cannot see that far," she answered.

He bent and kissed her cheek, the gnarled flesh of her ear, the tears that spilled from her eyes. "I want to show you," he said.

"I have so many scars," she said, touching his face. "You could not love them all."

"I can try," he answered.

He touched lips and words of comfort against every scar that lined her back, arched around to her breast and crossed her heart, tasted her exclamation, cooled the heat of her against him. When she flinched, he soothed her, until she melted into moonlight and rose to meet his every touch. He tangled in her hair and she laughed, her face white and shining with a joy that bubbled over to embrace them both. And at her crest, all the scars and pain fell away to reveal Theraniel, the White Moon of Rivendell, whole and untouched, and Legolas was overwhelmed.

***

Crushed blossoms of jasmine laced the ivory hair that Legolas awoke to find curtained across his face, trailing down his jaw and intertwining with his own. His fingers lifted them away, smoothed and parted to reveal sleeping Theraniel at his side, her head pillowed upon his shoulder. Legolas noted sadly that the vision of her had passed in the night and the scars that crossed her skin remained still. Theraniel whispered in her sleep and Legolas did not know to whom she spoke in her dreams, pleading in half-formed sindharin slurring into groans of sleep. Bending his face to hers, he found the warm hollow beneath her throat and gently bid her smiling awake.

The moon shone anew from her and Legolas forgot any intention he had of departing, basking in the glow tarnished not by the scars he touched. While in the night she wreathed herself in ancient beauty, the glow of morning revealed a joyous youth and Legolas saw the glimmers of what loveliness the stewards of Gondor's had once called witchery. She tumbled and tangled and would not find peace with him until dawn broke fully upon them both. He could not smooth her rumpled hair for the leaves in it, though she fared no better in his golden plaits.

Eventually morning drew to their parting, though it was not Legolas who wished it so. He told her of Boromir, heir to the steward of Gondor, and of Aragorn whom Gandalf long pursued before either man was born. Much they would have to share with her and she with them, though her foot did not move from the doorway of her willowhouse.

"I cannot go," she said. "You have given me comfort much, Legolas. But old wounds sting and I fear to be overcome again by the memory. I would that I could be stronger for your sake, yet I cannot be bold on my own." She touched the side of her face and shrank from the lights and path to the city.

"Do not despair," Legolas said. "I thought not of your discomfort and saw only what we shared in common, for that is large in my thoughts." He touched her hands and held her eyes in his. "I will return ere we leave Lothlorien, for I dreamed of the road ahead and I feel our time of parting has come, though I am of two hearts on it."

"Let it not be so," she said. "For ever have I been the one who waits behind. It grieves me not as it had in old. But I will not say that I am contented, merely accepting. Return when you may, Legolas. I am not yet ready to bid you farewell."

"That we may never be ready for parting," he answered, sharing a kiss before the press of other cares drew his steps away.

Caras Galadhon shone with all the luster of the sun and moon both, tarnish and mar fading to reveal that which had always been. Legolas saw with wider eyes, softer gaze, than he had upon reaching Lorien, and fell in love over and over again. He was pained immediately upon seeing his companions, though they were glad to see him, for the journey wore heavily upon them. Frodo was nearly bent double with the fear of the Ring, of worse than death.

Legolas had been correct in his imaginings. Frodo had peered within Galadriel's mirror the night before and while the visions he beheld were not fully shared, they were to make ready to depart Lothlorien that next dawn. Much of the morning was spent in the details of arrangement, for the journey before them had grown no less dangerous during their winter's rest. That night they would spend together and decide upon the path they would take, for a great crossroads loomed ahead though none was impatient to reach it.

The elf wondered if this was how Galadriel saw within the hearts of those she met, for he looked upon his companions and saw them anew. The hobbits were muted from their once-laughing quality, Frodo and Sam most of all while yet they were connected as not before. Aragorn and Boromir appeared as brothers yet while Aragorn wore his fear upon his back, Boromir cloaked his in thunderous bravery. Gimli, again showing Legolas the grace and character he had not seen before, attempted to stir up the younger hobbits with thoughts of food and had them spilling out their once-packed pots and pans to make a last noonday meal, fitting of their final day in Calas Galadhon.

They all ate the meal, having all taken a part in the cooking to distract them from their own anxious waiting. Legolas sought out Gimli as the last morsels were cleaned away, inviting his new friend to accompany him as they made their last journey into the city. Gimli, excited to reach the children to say his farewell, fretted over which stories to leave with them.

"For there are none here we leave behind to see to a fit education in dwarven heritage. Imagine the loss if the children were left bereft of the greatest stories of Middle-Earth! I sometimes wonder at the wisdom of elves to leave these sorts of things out of their teachings."

"Perhaps you could impress upon the teachers such," Legolas said laughing.

"I may!" Gimli answered. "And maybe spare some future dwarf of an elf's stiff neck!"

"Would that we should all be spared," Legolas said, and helped Gimli reach the flet where the children took lessons. There was no need for introduction, for the children had heard them coming and were already on their feet and eager for the dwarf's company. Their teachers again sighed and welcomed the pair of visitors again, the elflings giving voice to their own welcome at which tears stood in Gimli's eyes.

Legolas saw her immediately, for none of the Galadhrim boasted the same pearl hair of lady Theraniel. She remained off to one side, not hidden but apart, watching the children at their studies. Legolas did not mask the surprise on his face and crossed quickly to her.

"I am not dead," she said when he reached her side. "And when I noticed such, I wondered why I was still hiding. I grew weary of waiting," she said with a bewitching grin. "And found that I had strength enough for myself to go this far. Though it is at times uncomfortable," she added, crossing her arms to hold herself.

"I am glad," Legolas said, taking her arms in his own, laughing into her hair. "I am so very glad."

"You will spend the night with your companions?" she asked, trying to make plain her voice while meeting his gaze..

"We will leave at dawn's first light, yes," he answered. "Though I would visit you before the night fell."

"So brief a time that leaves us, Legolas."

"Then let us make the most of what time we have."

"A-hem!" coughed the dwarf.

Legolas turned suddenly to see Gimli there at his side, the children waiting beyond, corralled by their elders to wait. Legolas gave a grin and tripped some over his words. "I am sorry, I had forgotten you."

"That much was obvious," Gimli said.

Legolas made their introductions, Gimli bowing and taking Theraniel's hand. The dwarf had softened to the Galadhrim elfmaidens since his warrior's heart was melted before the Lady of the Wood, though such tenderness was shared for the elfchildren as well. Legolas hoped to be touched by such gentleness as that which the dwarf introduced to him.

"I would remain and share my final day with you and Legolas, my lady," Gimli said, drawing Legolas's attention. "But I have promised the children and their teachers to educate them as best I can in the history of dwarves, though it is only the stories of greatest note that I'll be able to tell. It will be fitting enough a telling that you should be able to learn of it from them ere I have gone. My lady, I bid you accompany Legolas, for he leaves much behind him here. Go on, then."

Legolas thought for an instant the dwarf winked at him, was more certain of the less-than gentle nudge Gimli gave him in Theraniel's direction. Gimli gave a bow and turned back to the children, throwing wide his arms and voice to greet them anew, leaving the pair behind.

"You have made an interesting friend of that dwarf, Legolas," Theraniel said at his shocked silence.

"Of that I have no doubt," he replied, and taking her hand led her down the path to her willowhouse.

***

Their parting lingered long into the haze of dusk, for such things should never be rushed and it was long before either were willing to attempt farewells. They could not make promise to each other, for the dark shadows loomed over the path before Legolas and his fellowship. Fearful of this being a final parting, Theraniel made a gift of her ring to Legolas and bade him wear it for her.

"It was made especial for me by the earlier kings of Gondor," she said, touching the glittering opal in silver as she set it on his finger. "The ones who first called me the Winter Witch. I wore it for all my years in Minas Tirith and only parted with it once before, when I gave it to Gandalf. I will tell you what I told him then, when he left me at Minas Ithil.

"This is not a gift for final givings. I but lend you this to take with you on your journey, so that you may return it to me. Should your path lead you into a darkness which denies return, know that you do not travel alone, for a part of me goes with you into whatever place you find." Theraniel paused with fresh tears, as they had shared much before. "Mithrandir gave it back to me here in Lorien. It is my hope you will do the same."

The opal glimmered, much as the lights of Lorien filtered through the fronds of her willowhouse, much as the pearl of her hair against the setting sun, much as the moon against a jet sky of diamond stars. Looking upon it, Legolas felt that the peace he had sought for them both was not quite so far off anymore.

"I share your hope," Legolas replied, and when they finally found the strength to part, he bore her ring with him into the night, and neither were truly alone.