Estrangement

"The words of a banished king

"I swear revenge"

Filled with anger, aflamed our hearts

Full of hate

Full of pride

How we screamed for revenge

Nightfall

Quietly it crept in and changed us all

Nightfall

Quietly it crept in and changed us all

Nightfall

Immortal land lies down in agony"

"Nightfall" from Blind Guardian

I.

Aragorn still felt dazed from the unexpected turn the discussion of the rivendell- with the wood-elves had taken. He didn't know what had surprised him more: the irreconcilable hate Legolas – his friend Legolas – had radiated, or Elronds fit of anger which had followed. When the remaining participants of the council, Saruman and some rivendell elves, finally got up and left the room, he decided to follow them, but a sign from Elrond held him back.

Saruman too, seemed to have noticed Elrond's gesture, for he hesitated, already under the door, but then he eventually left. Aragorn let himself fall back on his chair and waited for what Elrond had to tell him. Vainly, so it seemed, for the elven king chose to remain silent. Aragorn, tense with anticipation and impatience, gave him a questioning look, and everything he had wanted to say died on his lips.

Elrond sat there, and his face was buried in his hands, and his shoulders slumped. Pity suddenly constricted Aragorns throat, and he barely dared to breathe to not disturb his opposite. Elrond radiated this kind of distance, and loneliness, against which words were completely useless, even shallow, and suddenly Aragorn understood. Elrond had been king of the rivendell elves as long as he could remember (which was, actually, not that long, as an elf would reckon) and of course much longer. He knew he could not imagine what Elrond had seen during his life, many victories, conquests, bigger and smaller joys, but also many defeats, losses and pains. Elrond had reigned, all those years, calm, bright, level-headed, even kind, but for the first time Aragorn recognised with growing unease that the superior, wise elven king was just one side of an elf which often enough doubted his decisions, and which was more vulnerable than generally known. It was the burden of power which pressed down Elronds shoulders, and it was only due to his strength that usually no one noticed this burden. On Elrond weighted the responsibility for the life of many elves, and he knew it all to well. Behind every decision he made the ruin of the ones he cared for could be lurking...

Aragorn bit his lip, glad that it was not him from which decisions were expected, although he instinctively knew he once would be in the same position as Elrond, later. He sincerely hoped that the reason why Elrond showed his momentary weakness was because he searched for the right decision; and not because he already foresaw the downfall of his people. At last the silence had lasted too long for Aragorn's taste, and so he calmly asked: "Is there something I can do?" Elrond raised his head. There were dark shadows under his eyes, but his face had his usual keen expression. "How good do you know this Legolas? You called him by his name when you discovered him first..." The elven king had regained composure for he sat upright, and his face was back to his usual unreadable expression. He finally seemed to have made his decisions.

Aragorn hesitated. He had thought to know Legolas, even counted him as a friend, though not a really close one. Thranduil's youngest son had been more quiet than most elves, well, more quiet at least as his brothers, more reserved, more reticent... An image of the elven prince, asking revenge for the orc's victims from Elrond, flickered through his mind. No, this was not the Legolas he once knew. He bit his lip again while Elrond patiently waited for an answer. "Yes." He finally said. "He'd been among the elves which accompanied me on a "stride" through the woods for a few times. We got along well enough." He hesitated again, all too aware that he had not answered Elrond's question. With a frustrated sigh he admitted to himself he wasn't able to, and instead started to put his confusion into words. "Legolas was a fine elf." he finally said. "Friendly, reliable, and thoughtful. Not as quick tempered as his father. But he also seemed to dissociate himself from time to time, not allowing anyone the get really close. Some called his attitude arrogant, but it wasn't. He didn't need company all the time, that was it." Hell, didn't he give a general picture of the elves? He tried it otherwise. "But...he's not the elf I once have known, Elrond. He did survive the orc's attack, but I fear they got him all the same...somehow...He has changed so much!". God, he must sound ridiculous! But still, Elrond seemed grateful to him trying to put his thoughts into words. He smiled a strained smile. "Who hasn't." he agreed, then he took hold of Aragorns left arm. "Did he prove any leader's qualities?" he asked, a question which Aragorn would have preferred left unspoken. "I don't know." he answered, quite truthfully. "Yes, I think. The wood elves always said that he's getting after his father. But ... but this matter was of no importance in the mirkwood since Legolas had that much elder brothers! It is – was – highly improbable for him to take his father's crown, once. He did not show any hint of interest in power, neither, but seemed to be content being a hunter, roaming the woods..."

"I understand." Elrond said, but nothing more. "You plan to replace him?" Aragorn asked, suddenly alarmed. "Only if he forces me to." Elrond answered in a soft voice. "And he will, if he does not listen to reason and further insists on a swift revenge against the orcs before we have gathered our forces." "The wood elves won't be happy about this." Aragorn warned. "For Legolas is the last survivor of their king's family, and since Thranduil has been a king according to their hearts, they're more loyal than is actually reasonable. And being reigned by a rivendell elf... I doubt you find their approval!" "I know." Elrond said again. "But I won't allow the wood elves to loose their life uselessly, no matter how intent they are on killing themselves. It will be Greenleaf who'll choose, not me: Either he agrees to my wishes, to get our revenge to a later date; or he still allows hate to be his adviser and thus proves to be unworthy of leadership. As a true king he has to choose "surviving" before "pride"." Elrond almost smiled. A difficult choice indeed for a wood elf with his exact views of what was honourable and decent! "Dear god." Aragorn sighed. Deep in his heart he knew Elrond was right with what he had said about Legolas, but his instincts, well-tried a thousand times in his life as a ranger, clearly warned him about this. Elrond seemed to feel the same, for he added: "Go and try to talk some sense into him. Perhaps if his pain has wore off a little, he'll not be insisting in instant actions to be taken. I'll not even think about to replace him then. I understand his grief, probably better than he suspects me to do. My heart screams for revenge, too. But we cannot let our hearts decide, not here, not now. We have to use our heads, or we'll be lost." Again he smiled at Aragorn, genuinely this time. "You're young like him." he then continued, "Relatively spoken. Perhaps you're better suited than me to find the right words with him. Talk him out of his plans. The lives of many elves are at stake." "Damned." Aragorn thought. "Does Elrond know what he's asking for? If I fail, I'll probably be responsible for an fast escalating situation... But he nodded, ashamed of his selfish thoughts. It was time he did his share in this mess; and tried to save what was still saveable. He nodded again, more firmly this time. "I'll do my best." "I know." Elrond said for the third time; and started pacing his room again.

II.

Aragorn didn't have to go far to find Legolas Greenleaf. The young elf, accompanied by a sturdy, rather fierce looking elder elf wham's name Aragorn didn't remember, stood on Elrond's terrace and watched the falling dusk. Whether he was still angry or not, Aragorn couldn't say, for Legolas face was shadowed, and he didn't move, though he must have heard Aragorns approaching steps.

Aragorn now could have addressed Legolas instantly, but an odd insecurity to express his thoughts to the wood elf had overtaken him, the same he had felt earlier in the conversation with Elrond, and so he stood where he was. His head swirled with confused ideas how he best could proceed to explain Elronds –and his- intentions properly. So much could depend on this talk: The lives of many wood elves would be spared, and Legolas Greenleaf would never know that Elrond had wanted to deny him his leading role. He felt the cool night air refreshing him, and dimming the splitting headache that he had tried to ignore thus far. Again he took a quick look at Legolas and his companion. He narrowed his eyes. Did Legolas shoulders really twitch, or was he mistaken? And did not the wood elf warrior put a consoling hand on the prince's shoulder?

Aragorns anxiety grew. To catch Legolas in his current weakness would not help Elrond's wishes much... The scene developing in front of his eyes reminded him very much of the one between him and Elrond earlier. He almost smiled at this thought. Legolas Greenleaf and Elrond seemed to have more things in common than either of them would appreciate. The restrained, calm, friendly nature they usually showed. The iron will they possessed, only to be detected if you tried to do anything against their wanting. And both of them were responsible for the future of their people, even though that of Legolas didn't count many souls anymore.

"What's different between them is only Elrond's experience." he reflected. "Only a few centuries ago I'm sure Elrond would have left, too – in disorder and completely unplanned – to kill as many orcs as possible".

Some ideas slowly took concrete forms in his head, ideas how he could persuade Legolas to accord to Elrond's wishes. If he succeeded to soothe the grief, the hate and the desperation in Legolas heart, at least a little bit, if he explained him that also the rivendell elves shared the wood elves' pain, and – what was most important – if he could tell him that he was not alone with his responsibility, then his delicate mission might be successful. Perhaps he even managed to state clearly that it was only experience, not indifference, which caused Elrond's rejecting attitude.

It was a pity that he never got a chance to use his arguments on Legolas...

The elven prince and his companion had turned to face him and sized him up with almost hostile looks. Aragorn decided to ignore their stares and stepped nearer. Now he could see that indeed Legolas' eyes were reddish, and they held a feverish glint. Nonetheless, his jaws were set, and his expression was firm. "Just like Elrond." Aragorn thought. "The moment he has made his decision, no one will be able to talk him into changing his mind." "Aragorn!" Legolas exclaimed and took a grip on his arm. It was painful, but he beard it stoically. "Did Elrond send you?" "Yes." Aragorn admitted. Of course Legolas had read his intention easily. "Good." the elf continued, in a superior tone which started to irritate him. "Then go and tell him I'll give him four days to think this over. Then we'll leave Rivendell to eradicate the orc-breed pestering our wood. With or without him." With this words he left. Aragorn stood, speechless from anger, and frustration from being treated like a schoolboy, and he didn't know if he should be angry at Legolas and his all-to-arrogant attitude; or if he should take pity on him as an elf who obviously was out of his head from desperation.

III.

The signs were signalling storm when Gandalf and his companions reached Rivendell the next morning. He could see it by counting the numerous guards and archers which watched over the larger surroundings of Rivendell, or by considering the way how he, a normally highly welcome guest, was greeted. Elrond and a few other elves, which had always come to welcome him earlier, were conspicuous by their absence, instead he got attention from another, less desiderable direction; from the guards. Even before they had reached the main gates, they were received by grimly looking archers, and her leader addressed him in a tone which was not entirely friendly. "Who are these strange guests you bring with you, Gandalf the Grey?" he asked, obviously intent in doing his duty. Gandalf remained unperturbed. "Let us pass." he said. "For how long is it a custom now with elves to welcome their guests in such unfriendly ways? My companions are hobbits, from the shire, if you have already heard from this remote land, and no enemies of the elves." One of the soldiers opened his mouth, to give some harsh retort, doubtless, but his commander declined and ordered the main doors to be opened.

Gandalf indeed would have been surprised about the cool reception, if he hadn't been all too aware about the catastrophe which had befallen the mirkwood elves. Gandalf always had supported informers in all likely and unlikely places on middle-earth. The mirkwood had been one of them, too.

His heart ached for Thranduil's people, and his dark mood seemed to have rubbed of on his companions, for no one, not even Merry or Pippin, said a single word when they walked into Rivendell.

Gandalf looked around. Never had he seen a Rivendell more deserted, more lifeless. An oppressing silence hung over the elven valley like heavy storm clouds over obstinate mountain tops. While the guards discussed about where to put the new arrivals – no easy matter, since every free room was occupied by wounded wood elves, Gandalf reflected that he was glad about this frosty greeting. There was too much to be thought about, and not only the terrible fate of the wood elves. There were other, much more hideous matters at hand, matters connected with the four hobbits he had brought with him. And with a ring that one of them had possessed, and stored, completely ignorant of it's nature...

But he wasn't sure about this yet. He still had to do some investigations in Rivendell as well as elsewhere. Time was running out. How the time was running out, if his suspicions proved to be true... Only when Frodo tugged at his sleeve he awakened from his gloomy thoughts, and followed the elf which had patiently waited beside them to show them their rooms.

EEE

The storm came over Rivendell four days later. He had sent his forerunners, smaller quarrels between rivendell- and wood elves, the retreat of the recovered wood elves in a small forest somewhat remote from the most dense settlement of Rivendell, their following activities which suspiciously looked like the making of arrows and bows as well as some rivendell-elves talking openly from an offending lack of gratitude from their guests; which seemed to have forgotten that they had been saved by their hosts earlier. The relationship between the sylvan and Elrond's elves had cooled off visibly. "Found back to their old arrogance, the wood elves" some rivendell elves said, thus expressing their indignation in plain words. Other showed more comprehension, for the shock about the fall of the elves which now had found shelter with them, had been intense. One couldn't expect rational behaviour from someone halfway mad out of grief, could one?

IV.

      It was quiet in Rivendell, it's streets vacant and deserted, but it was an strangely tense quiet, like the one which can be noticed just before a storm begins, when the air is almost sparkling with electricity. Only the most insensitive, ignorant elves would have been untouched by this gloomy atmosphere, and Elrond was neither insensitive nor ignorant. So he wasn't really surprised when it finally came to an open confrontation between him and the wood elves' leader, Legolas. What was more surprising was how fast this wood elf managed to infuriate him, or even make him loose his temper. He was relieved that no one but him and Legolas were present in his private rooms to witness their dispute, for he would probably have been ashamed for showing his anger without even trying to mask it. With Legolas, he was not. He stood in front of Thranduil's son, a few inches taller, and threw him a glance which would have scared the wits out of any receiving rivendell elf, but Legolas, as a damned wood elf, seemed annoyingly unimpressed. He gave back an equal angry glare. Elrond took a deep breath to calm himself, and he actually did, if only for a fleeting moment. "I do not like to repeat myself, Legolas Greenleaf." he said, frostily. "But in this case it seems advisable to make an exception. So, if you don't mind listening to me: There will be NO act of revenge against the orcs. Not as long as I am here to avoid it. It's insane to even consider such a thing right now." Legolas bared his teeth in a feline grin. He too made a visible effort to pull himself together. "You mean, there will be no rivendell elf riding against the orcs." he corrected, silkily, but the threat in his voice was only barely concealed. "No power in this world, least of all the one a rivendell elf yields, will be able to keep us from seeking our revenge." There was deadly determination in his voice. It made Elrond shudder. Very well, if Greenleaf was not willing listening to reason, he had to take more desperate measures.

"You're not numerous anymore, and many of you carry wounds that are barely healed. It would be irresponsible to fight orcs- and who knows what else is hiding out there in the mirkwood – with elves in that shape! Are the lives of your archers not worth caring for?" Legolas winced at this, and instantly lost his temper again. "As I already mentioned." he said in this flat, arrogant tone which made Elrond's blood boiling. "Here in rivendell, my archers will die out of sadness. There, in the mirkwood, in a battle against the orcs. There at least their death would have some sense; and it would not be just a quiet, desperate, useless fading." Then, just like a afterthought, he added: "We do not care if we live or die." Worst of all was that Elrond had no doubt that this was in earnest. So it would come to the most desperate measure, and he would have to dispute Legolas the role as a leader of the wood elves. He was determined to do so, but still, when he actually had to pronounce his intentions, words seemed to have deserted him. He cleared his throat. "And where do you plan to take your horses from? Your weapons? Your war equipment is – to put it mildly – inadequate." He kept his tone carefully neutral. Legolas eyed him suspiciously. "You won't give us any horses or weapons." He sounded incredulous. "Of course not." Elrond shortly retorted. "You surely do not expect me to support you in your suicidal mission!" He almost smirked. It was obvious that mirkwood's king in fact had just expected that, for he seemed taken aback, but only for a second, then his face again showed this expression of nonchalant arrogance.

"It'll be as you wish. Then we'll leave with what we possess. Is it allowed to make wooden arrows, and bows, from rivendell-trees? Or will you deny us them, too?" Now his voice was dripping with sarcasm. Elrond gave him another angry glare. This was not the time, nor the place, for jokes! A few seconds passed by in a heavy silence. Then Legolas made a polite bow in Elrond's direction, the mockery still unmistakable. Elrond knew he used it to mask his anger, and disappointment, but it made him hopping mad all the same. Legolas turned to leave. "Legolas Greenleaf!" Elrond almost flinched himself when his wrath was finally released. The wood elf stiffened, but did not turn. "I'll replace you as the leader of your people You'll be relieved from your duties." This certainly was enough to get a reaction from Legolas. He turned, and another contemptuous look met his glare.

"Go and tell the wood elves then" he said. "I don't mind. But I doubt there'll be a single wood elf listening to you." Then he disappeared. This time Elrond wasn't satisfied with just hitting the table. This time a glass jug went to pieces. Elrond didn't feel better afterwards.

V.

      Gandalf the Grey had been standing already quite a while in front of the door to Elrond's library, waiting patiently. Initially he had come here to lend himself some documents from the elven king's private property, but when he had heard the loud voices behind exactly that door he decided to let his plans –at least temporary- drop. No one would be grateful if he interrupted this apparently heated discussion. For a few days and nights Gandalf had done nothing but reading, and when he finally sat himself, he noticed to his dismay that sleep instantly threatened to overwhelm him. From the talk – or, more precisely, from the violent row, judging from the amount of noise that could be heard – he didn't catch more than two, three words. Perhaps the quarrel was a private matter of Elrond, perhaps not, and in the latter case Elrond surely would inform him about it later. Suddenly Gandalf straightened himself bolt upright, and his tiredness had vanished, for the shattering of glass had awakened him. With surprisingly fast movements, denying his age, he had reached the door to Elrond's room. Had he underestimated Elrond's trouble? Was there a fight taking place?

He got his answer in the form of a young elf hastily leaving the elven king's library and almost bumping into him. Gandalf thought he vaguely remembered his opposite's face, in a younger form though, but he couldn't be sure, for the elf's fair features were distorted in anger. Only the legendary grace of the his race saved the wizard from a violent colliding. The elf gave him an angry look before he deliberatly moved around him, leaving more space than was entirely necessary; and vanished before Gandalf even had the chance to think of something to say.

"May I introduce you, Gandalf..." Elrond's voice said from behind him. The elfish lord was standing under the libraries' door. "Legolas Greenleaf, Thranduil's youngest son, king of mirkwood... at least up to now." His voice was filled with sarcasm. Gandalf arched an inquiring eyebrow. Elrond instantly became serious again. "You've come just in time, as usual." he said with a weary sigh. "Perhaps you will succeed to bring this stubborn troublemaker to his senses – and thus sparing us even more disaster." And he led Gandalf into his rooms.

VI.

On the morning of the fifth day since the orc's attack, Gandalf made his way to the small forest in which the wood elves now dwelt, at least the recovered ones, as he had promised Elrond to do. He knew that the elven king held much hope in him, or rather in his reputation; as Gandalf the wise, and Gandalf the elf-friend. Futile hopes, most likely. Of course Elrond was right in not wanting to waste forces which already were limited, especially if his misgivings about the little ring the hobbit, Frodo, possessed, were to become confirmed...

But then not only the life of the wood elves, but the existence of the whole elfish people, and all free people in middle-earth, would be threatened. Such things as the killing of the wood elves most likely would be just one smaller inconvenience among the disasters which lay in store for their lands... Gandalf slowed down his pace and shook his head, unwillingly, trying to banish his gloomy thoughts. "Time will bring an answer." he scolded himself. "There are more important tasks at hand than to worry about an uncertain future." And he surveyed the little forest which lay before him in the morning sun, peacefully and flourishing .

He couldn't discern any elf, which did not bother him, for he knew for sure that already quite a few of them were watching him. Indeed, he only got three steps further when three wood elves stepped out from the edge of the forest, where they had been hidden, their faces cool and unfriendly. Legolas Greenleaf was among them. "Gandalf Stormcrow." he said, a hint of respect in his voice. "What do you want from us?" "I wish to speak to you, Legolas, Thranduils son." Gandalf answered. "Alone." Legolas companions exchanged glances. Gandalf chose to overlook them. "Did Elrond send you?" A touch of hostility was now in Legolas question. "And if were so?" Gandalf calmly asked back. "Will you refuse listening to me, then?" On a sign from Legolas the wood elves behind their prince turned to leave, but Gandalf knew they would be watching him, and their king, intently, even though he could not see them anymore. Legolas had stepped a few steps away from the forest, presumably to demonstrate his willingness to give Gandalf some privacy. The old wizard watched him silently, so it was the elf who started talking again. "What now, wizard Gandalf? Have you come to tell me – like Elrond – that our screams for revenge are folly? That we should not revenge the fall of our people? The destruction of our homes? Or did he sent you to tell me that he has replaced me as the king of the wood elves? Then he is a king without a people."

"You do him wrong." Gandalf said. "He is beside himself with sorrow about the future. Your future. The elfish future. He has already seen the dying of too many elves; and he does not want to witness yours as well. He's not indifferent against your fate, just... just too powerless to help you. As powerless as YOU are against the orcs, right now. And he is not keen on taking your position." Gandalf smiled to himself, seeming lost in thoughts. "He's doing you wrong, too, in believing you'll not able to lead the wood elves."

After a short silence, Gandalf continued. "On a entreaty from Elrond, but also on my own will I now stay here, Legolas Greenleaf, and I ask you not to leave Rivendell yet. You wouldn't have a chance against the orcs. They're increasing in numbers." Hearing this, his opposite had stiffened. Gandalf waited patiently, and finally Legolas seemed to relax "You're known as a friend of the elfish people, Gandalf Stormcrow." he said. "And perhaps Elrond indeed is caring more than I give him credit for. But this doesn't change our decision to leave." He made a small denying gesture with his hand when Gandalf wanted to say something, and continued. "This is not my decision only, but the will of my people. I can not – and I will not – forbid them to seek their revenge. We have had our own council, and everyone was allowed to express his opinion concerning our future doings. Nobody even considered staying behind, when it goes against our arch-enemies." A proud, even tender smile came to his lips, soon replaced by an angry scowl. "Elrond can replace me, if he wishes so. It won't change anything." "I understand." Gandalf said, shortly. "But I have been thinking about what Elrond has said." Legolas continued. "And I'm ready to make some allowances to him. The elves which are still hurt, too old or too inexperienced, as well as our women, will stay behind. I had to order this explicitly. They did not like it at all, but finally accepted my decision." Gandalf looked incredulously, and again a proud smile was on Legolas lips. "They're fine archers, as fine as most of our hunters. Living in the mirkwood has teached us not to waste their skills. They're longing to kill some orcs, too.

Furthermore, we will not leave immediately, since we do not have enough bows and arrows ready. Until our weapons are finally forged, we'll have some days of good rest which will strengthen us. That's all I'm willing to offer Elrond –and you as well. But I'm expecting something from him in return." "You do?" Gandalf said. "Yes." Legolas said, his face unreadable. "Elrond shall remove his spies. We won't leave without telling him so." "Spies?" echoed Gandalf. The doubt in his voice seemed to rattle even Legolas. "Well.." he continued. "We're feeling observed, as if invisible eyes were spying on everything we do. We tried to locate them, without success, but still... We know they're there." Gandalf considered his statement. He knew how sharp the instincts of wood elves usually were, and thus didn't take their feelings lightly, but what Legolas suspected was beyond his imagination. Never would Elrond take such a desperate measure. He shook his head."Elrond doesn't send spies." he said. "Be assured of that, Legolas Greenleaf."

"Then it is your spy which is observing us." the elf dryly went on. "My spy?" Gandalf thought, clearly irritated now. "This is getting ridiculous!" He gave Legolas a questioning glance, detecting the hint of a smile on his lips. "Well, at least this strange little creature has arrived in Rivendell in your company!" Legolas smile grew, and at last Gandalf understood. "Sam!" he said with a short laugh. "One of my hobbit friends from the shire. Sam has not seen an elf before, and he is fascinated from your race. He has heard much about you and your songs, that's why he's tiptoeing around you. To catch a look at a true sylvan elf; or at least a few tunes of their singing." "If that's so, we will fail to notice him further, as long as he wishes to see us." Legolas said, his face serious. "But he won't hear any merry tunes from the wood elves – except war songs, that is." "It shall be this way." Gandalf said, his voice was heavy, his smile quickly lost. "It seems that nothing I say or do will make you change your intentions. I wish you luck, Legolas Greenleaf, you and your elves, even though you all will rush headlong into ruin."

With this words he turned and started walking back to Rivendell, as slowly as he had come. Again he couldn't avoid the rising of dark thoughts in him. Instinctively he wrapped his grey cloak tighter around him. It was still cold out here.

VII.

Both of them were right. Gandalf, because he vehemently rejected the mere thought Elrond would be sending spies, and Legolas and his wood elves, which felt observed. They were. From Saruman's spies.

To be continued...

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