Footsteps to Rivendell

A Sequel to Golden Leaves of Lórien

_______________________________________________________________________________

Chapter Seven: Transient Bliss

***************************

A/N: Finally! So sorry…didn't even finish in this chapter, which I meant to do in the first place. Oh well. I'll try to keep up with the end. Happy new year everybody! :)

***************************

He smiled back at her, and for the first time in a thousand years pure joy lit up his eyes. He took her into his arms and nestled his cheek against her hair, breathing in the scent of leaves. And then, much to his own surprise, he started to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then unbridled laughter, and finally he was laughing so desperately that he wasn't sure whether he was laughing or sobbing. The mirthful tears coursed rivers down his face, brushing away the remnants of dirt still clinging to his face. He began to wonder if maybe he was smothering her; his embrace was so tight and she was being completely silent. So, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he drew back and searched her face.

She wasn't suffocating. She just stood there, her eyes lambent, the faint luster of moonshine illuminating crooked streams down her cheeks. She was still smiling.

"What now?" she asked quietly.

Legolas looked down at her and a grin played across his face. Though it was soon overshadowed by an expression of solemnity, and there was no more laughter. "What luck," he cursed, "O, Elbereth. Happiness is too fleeting. It seems the stars have condemned me to be incessantly heartbroken."

"You are part of the Fellowship…to destroy the Ring," she said absent-mindedly. He nodded at the obvious and fought back the urge to sigh heavily.

"We sought sanctuary here, and rest. And we have found it. Now…time is short and the time we must depart is nigh. Why am I cursed always? So many years have I waited, and now that the moment has arrived it seems it must perish all too soon." Legolas lifted a hand to caress her cheek and tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear. His breath caught when she leaned into his hand, her lips brushing his hand ever so briefly.

"Time passes quickly, Legolas. Moments will perish, but when you return I will not yet have perished. It is not my time yet, and I have not heard the call of Valinor." Erlyannil tried to smile reassuringly. But he shook his head and cast his eyes down.

"Time does not pass quickly when your soul lies faraway and all your thoughts are bent on something out of reach. I learned that only too well."

"Legolas…if you could wait a thousand years, a hundred more would not matter. It is not time that worries me. It is…what lies in the black lands," she said. And for the first time he saw the desperation he thought only he felt mirrored in her face. Her eyes were starting to water again.

"No…do not think of it," he insisted at a whisper, and drew her to him.

Her voice was muffled against the cloth of his tunic. "Legolas…"

"What?" he asked softly, for the fear that lest he speak too loudly it would shatter this precious moment that seemed so frail it would float away like a wisp of smoke. Leaving Legolas standing there in that clearing, in Lothlórien, with no one in his arms, no one's lips to kiss, no one to murmur his name softly so that his heart beat like a tempest.

She drew away and he realized how cold it was to not be pressed against her. "I will be heartbroken when you leave," she whispered. "More so than the last time, for now I can no longer lie to myself about how much I need you."

Her eyes wavered and he drew her to him, thinking she would weep, but instead she abruptly kissed him. Legolas was taken aback for a moment, but the he surrendered to his own passion. Before, he had caressed her with only the lightest of touches, lusting for more but held in check by his honor for her and so that she would not feel threatened. Now, he entangled his fingers in her hair and allowed his passion to pour forth. He felt her mouth part, their tongues warring with each other. He suppressed a moan; never had he kissed someone with so much passion, and yet so much effort into holding himself back. His heart felt as though it would rupture. He dared not let himself do anything without first her consent. When she pulled away he wanted to cry out in protest. But instead, she merely lifted her hands and began to undo the clasps of his tunic. Legolas recoiled a little to stop her.

"I love you," he whispered, "and I want you, and there is no reason for't, save insanity. There is no reason why I put myself through such misery for so many years, save for the reason that I love you, and there is no reason behind that, either." One pale sleeve slid off her shoulder and he kissed her skin there reverently. He could see her breath forming momentary clouds in the twilight air. It felt warm on his neck.

"There is never reason behind love," she said, her lips against his ear, "but the knowledge that love creates chaos amidst order and sadness where there was none. Still, for all the world, I would not rather have never fallen in love with you, even if I did not have to learn such grief."

Legolas smiled, and, with his face hovering over hers, their lips barely brushing, a faint breeze stirred the air and the dead leaves swirled, caught up in a tiny maelstrom.

*******************************************************

"You could always travel lightly on snow, my friend, but you never had the ability to walk below overhanging branches without having to bend down every step to avoid hitting your head! A pity that you are not a dwarf."

Legolas grimaced at his companion, the stout Gimli, who was carrying his ax slung over one shoulder, helmet in the other hand. He noticed the dwarf looking about the forest in deference and awe. A great contrast to the first time Gimli had set foot in Lothlórien. But then again, so much had changed in just three months.

He admitted to himself that he had been bending low and ducking every few steps under the low-growing branches of the mellryn trees. It seemed that the forest had grown dense and suddenly much darker, although it was May and by nature the woods should have been golden with a carpet of elanor blossoms. That was explainable, however, for they had seen the signs of havoc on the outskirts of the forest. The trees there had been ravaged and Legolas' mind had been heavy with anticipation. He could only remind himself that the people of Lothlórien were not easily conquered, and the power in the forest impervious to evil. And yet, his spirits were above the treetops. He was returning to the golden wood, and perhaps she would still be there.

"True, Gimli, but then you could never do this," he replied whimsically, jumping lithely and leaping onto a branch above him. He remained perched there, grinning down at the scowling dwarf.

"No, but I may do this!" Gimli's gruff counter was accompanied by a swift chop at the tree's base. It shook the tree slightly but Legolas did not drop off the branch.

"You may, if you wish. It is not I that will punish you, but the tree, for that was a harsh blow." Legolas said absent-mindedly.

"It was—just a scratch!" Gimli stuttered in apology, looking at the tree with reverence. Legolas leapt to a branch of a neighboring tree and then dropped to the ground. "Come, Gimli, Caras Galadhon awaits."

____________________________________________________________________

They had journeyed for an hour, and the city came into view. The heavy, grey trunks and roots of the trees intertwined amidst translucent staircases that wound around and around endlessly. Yet there was no song nor light any longer. Legolas had felt the melancholy ambience upon setting foot in the woods. He sighed.

"Galadriel has passed into the West," he whispered to himself. Legolas saw his own disappointment mirrored in Gimli's face. The dwarf, too, had sought to set eyes upon the fair Lady once more.

But something more weighed on Legolas' mind. Had Erlyannil, too, gone to the West? An Elf was approaching, clad in silver garb. Blue eyes were ringed by weariness.

"Kinsman." The Elf raised his hand in greeting. Then his eyes turned to Gimli, and recognition passed through his face. "Gimli, son of Gloin, friend of Elves. And you…Legolas, prince of Eryn Lasgalen."

It was then that Legolas recognized him. One of the Elf archers who had escorted the Fellowship through Lórien to Caras Galadhon when they had first ventured there. But something rang unfamiliar in his ears. "Eryn Lasgalen? Why do you call it so?"

"Do you not know? Indeed, you must have not yet returned to your father's wood," Legolas noticed that the Elf's voice was tinged with remorse. "For Celeborn and Thranduil have named it so. Wood of Greenleaves."

Legolas understood then. The golden wood had been besieged by the forces of Sauron; he had felt the disturbance in the air, the ancient trees' lament as they were soiled, their branches burned.

"Three times they came, and three times they were driven back. Celeborn led a host over the Anduin to be rid of the pestilence. But many left, to sail to Valinor or to Eryn Lasgalen. So few of us remain," the Elf explained. Legolas noticed his eyes casting over the city with sorrow.

"And Galadriel…" Gimli began hesitantly. Legolas looked down at his companion with pity.

"She has passed into the west," the Elf said what they already knew. One more question weighed heavily on Legolas' mind.

He stepped forward. "Kinsman, tell me, where is Erlyannil Galadh, the maiden whom the Lady harbored?" He was afraid to hear the answer.

"Erlyannil? Perhaps she resides in your woods. I cannot recall when she left, nor where she intended to go." The Elf looked at Legolas and his eyes burned with recognition. "Yes…you would be searching for her, son of Thranduil. For I remember, long ago, when there was a breach between our people and yours. Now, indeed, it is no longer so, but I am afraid that our time is over. There is nothing more to see in Caras Galadhon." And it was true, for all Legolas could feel in this city was solemnity and grief.

Legolas lowered his gaze, feeling suddenly chagrined. "Come Gimli, I have seen the glittering caves and you have seen Fangorn. But now I must draw you to the forest of my people. Thank you, kinsman. Namarië." He put a fist to his heart and lifted his hand in farewell. The Elf did likewise and turned back to the city.

"Who was she?" Gimli suddenly asked. Legolas shook himself out of a stupor.

"…A maiden, taken in by Galadriel long ago to grow up amongst her mother's people. Her father…belonged to my realm. I met her long ago…" his eyes threatened to fill with tears and his throat burned. A bittersweet smile touched his lips. "And again during our brief jaunt to Lórien, what seemed like so long ago." She said the Undying Lands did not yet call for her. The others have gone…but perhaps she remains, he prayed silently.

Gimli nodded in understanding and suddenly grinned. "I thought you would never speak of it, my friend, or that you had never fallen in love."

Legolas turned to him. "And you, Gimli?"

"I fell in love once, yes, but when I came back from a long journey to marry her she had grown a beard, and I could not tell the difference between her and her brothers. I could not take the chance, for fear of marrying the wrong one." Gimli grinned and Legolas' face briefly lit up with a mirthful smile.

Then Legolas and Gimli took one last look at the shimmering remains of what had been the silver city, and turned back to go they way they had come.

*****

Disclaimer: I don't have enough time or imagination to think up a world with its own history and languages of all the people. I leave that to Prof. Tolkien. And the rights to Lord of the Rings belong to…New Line Cinema, Houghton Mifflin, Saul Zaentz & Co., Tolkien Enterprises…whatever else I'm missing… I can't really claim my original character either, since the basis behind it all is just something I made up, whether or not it's accurate. I'm sure the Elves of Lothlórien got along very well with the Mirkwood Elves. Oh, well. :)