Chapter 2 - A Chance To Say Farewell
Elrond looked away and Aragorn followed the movement of his hands as his father set swiftly to work. Though it was likely hopeless, Elrond was not going to let a patient die without a fight, especially not this patient, one who was so dear to himself and his sons. And one who had been the joy and pride, beloved son, of she whom they had already lost.
Elrond shook his head as he peeled back Legolas's torn garments. How had he sustained this level of injury and survived even this long? In all his centuries of life, the Lord of Imladris had very rarely seen any being this badly injured who still breathed.
And of those, none did so for long, his mind added grimly.
Resolutely, Elrond pushed the thought aside. Readjusting Aragorn's hands on Legolas's thigh, he looked up as Elladan and Elrohir returned, running, bringing his supplies. Several other Elves also ran in, Glorfindel and Erestor among them, bringing water and soft cloths.
As he caught sight of Legolas's injuries, Glorfindel gasped, "Elbereth! What happened?"
Elrond shook his head, not looking up, "I do not know, but if I cannot staunch this bleeding, he will not live to tell us."
Aragorn said nothing, he simply kept his position, holding pressure on Legolas's thigh. Legolas… do not leave me …. please mellon nín, I need you……
He lost count of the desperate minutes during which he begged silently. His hands cramped from the effort of keeping them closed over the terrible wound and still Legolas's blood flowed over his hands. He clenched his teeth, bowing his head.
When he raised it again and looked into Legolas' face, the Elf's skin was pale and waxy. A faint blue tinged his lips and he seemed not to breathe. The blue eyes, faithful mirrors of the Elf's soul, were closed. Aragorn kept his own grey eyes fixed on that face, willing life and colour to return, praying that Legolas would not walk this day in the Halls of Mandos.
At length, he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He had not felt them remove his hands from the wound in Legolas's thigh, his hands and forearms numb from the effort of trying to hold the wound closed and halt the bleeding. The terrible injuries had been bandaged and the awful stream of bright blood seemed to have stopped. Aragorn raised fearful eyes to meet his father's grim gaze as Elrond nodded, confirming Aragorn's thought.
"We have stopped the bleeding. The poison was designed to prevent the wounds from closing, and it had been mixed with another to increase the bleeding as it worked its way deeper, he could not have gone much further. We have cleansed it for now."
"For now?"
Elrond stared down at Legolas, "I do not know how deep it has gone. If we have not found it all, and it reaches his heart…," he said quietly, "Or even if it does not, if any remains, it may yet start the bleeding again." He did not need to finish the sentence, did not need to say that if Legolas lost much more blood it would kill him as surely as it would if it had reached his heart.
"How long before we know?" Aragorn demanded.
.
"I am not sure. I will read him again when we get him upstairs. Elrond turned to Aragorn, holding his son's eyes as he gently explained, "You must understand Estel….We may yet lose him. You know as well as I, Elves can withstand much, but this…."Again, his voice trailed off.
Now that the wounds had been cleaned, Aragorn could properly see his friend's injuries. More gashes originally concealed by all the blood covered Legolas's body and here and there, Aragorn could see the white gleam of a rib. White also gleamed at the Elf's collar bone and at one wrist, and the other appeared to be broken. Legolas's left leg, in addition to the hideous wound, was also broken and the right shoulder was dislocated.
Aragorn watched Elrond as his father finished carefully binding and splinting the cleaned wounds, assisted by Elladan and Glorfindel, while Elrohir handed them salves and bandages. Of all the hideous injuries, it seemed that the dislocated shoulder, seeming one of the lesser hurts, caused the strongest reaction in the his father. Aragorn dared not ask at that moment what had caused Elrond to flinch as he examined it, skilled fingers feeling for internal damage around the joint. He saw him shake his head and saw tears come to the grey eyes, and he wondered at their cause.
***
They had finally been able to move Legolas to his room and Aragorn now sat alone by his friend. Night had fallen over Imladris and the silence was broken only by the snapping of the fire in the dim room, and the soft calls of night birds.
Several lamps glowed, and in their light, Aragorn's face betrayed his weariness and worry in the set of his mouth and in the dark shadows around his eyes. He sat on a stool by Legolas's bedside, watching his friend's face, willing him to live. Elrond still had been able to say with absolute certainty whether the bleeding would restart. Thus far, there had been no sign of that and Aragorn fervently hoped that would continue to be so.
He flexed his fingers, looking down at the wound across his palm. It was still painful and Aragorn frowned. The cut was not serious and it should have stopped bleeding by now, but as he looked at his hand, Aragorn could see that blood was beginning to soak through the hastily applied bandage and there was still a tingling in his hand which was beginning to spread up his arm.
He turned his head as the door opened quietly and Elrond came in. With a brief smile for his youngest, he sat on the edge of the bed and laid his hands either side of Legolas's pale face. He closed his eyes and Aragorn kept absolutely still as Elrond extended his healing senses, assessing Legolas's condition. After a few moments, the Elf sighed and opened eyes.
"There is no change," he said quietly.
Aragorn let out his breath, not sure what he had expected to hear. Since they had brought him up here, Legolas had not moved or stirred. His breathing was shallow and his pulse weak.
"You should rest Estel," Elrond said, turning to look at his son.
As Elrond had known he would, Aragorn shook his head wordlessly, stubbornly refusing to give in to his exhaustion.
Elrond nodded in understanding. Then he frowned suddenly, noting the blood on the bandage covering Aragorn's hand. Wordlessly he took the hand in both of his, and held it up, "How did you get this?"
Aragorn nodded distractedly towards the white-handled knife on the bedside table, "From Legolas's knife. Elrohir bound it up for me after we brought Legolas up here."
Elrond looked to where Aragorn had indicated. The weapon which lay there was truly beautiful. It was a long knife of Elvish make, with a hilt was of a pale, almost white wood, intricately inlaid in gold with complex flowing patterns. In the glow from the lamps, it shone with a pale light and the design etched into the metal shot back gleaming gold.
As he looked at the blade, Aragorn saw Elrond's eyes darken, and for a moment he looked as he had when he had seen Legolas's dislocated shoulder.
"Ada? What is it?"
The Elf looked at him and if anything, his expression was sadder then before. He shook his head. "I will not speak of it now, Estel, for it concerns the past and it concerns Legolas. We may speak of it later."
If he wakes.
Aragorn heard the words as though his father had spoken them aloud. He flinched and looked again at Legolas's still form.
"Ada, I …aahh!" he winced in pain.
Elrond had unwrapped the bandage and was probing the wound with gentle fingers. "I do not understand this," he murmured as he examined the still bleeding cut, "It should have…" He stopped and went still. When he spoke, his voice was low, intent.
"Estel, when did the knife cut you? Did you touch any of Legolas's wounds afterwards?"
Aragorn was nodding, "It happened when I reached to steady him. I felt a cut, he must have still been holding it and it caught me across the palm, and then I helped you staunch the wounds." The look on Elrond's face was unreadable and the young ranger asked uncertainly, "Why?"
His father held his eyes, staring at Aragorn intently, before saying quietly, "Your blood and that of Legolas has mingled."
Aragorn stared at his father not understanding the significance and Elrond continued, "I have never spoken of this with you because you and Elladan and Elrohir became brothers anyway and somehow this was never discussed, although I thought when you were younger they might request it," he paused, "It is a custom Elves and Men share, I believe Men call it, 'blood-brotherhood'. "
Comprehension dawned on Aragorn's face and his eyes widened, " I did not realise…"
Elrond smiled, "No, neither did Legolas I suspect, but I do not think he will be much distressed by it. It is something you would in all likelihood have come to by yourselves in time."
Aragorn stared at the wound on his hand, before looking up at the bandages which covered his friend's body. Without needing to ask, he knew that the wound, although painful, had not absorbed enough of the poison to be overly dangerous if it was tended soon. As he stared at the injury, he asked, "Ada, what does it mean?"
Elrond looked down at his own palms. The smooth skin was unmarked, but Aragorn could almost see the faint trace of scars the Elf still remembered.
"It means," he said in a voice so soft that Aragorn had to lean closer to catch the words, "that you and Legolas are bonded as brothers from now….forever."
"But what about when I….?" Aragorn stopped, seeing Elrond flinch slightly, and Aragorn knew his father was pained to be reminded of his Human son's mortality. He turned to the ranger, holding his eyes, "Your bond will last as long as Legolas lives. If he takes ship to Valinor, it will last until the end of all things."
Despite the darkness of the current situation, Aragorn was awed by the thought, comforted by the knowledge that the friendship between himself and Legolas, if the Elf lived, would endure even after he himself had succumbed to mortality, "It is a gift I had not hoped for," he murmured.
"I know, my son, yet it gladdens my heart to know it will be so."
As the Elf rose to gather his healing materials to tend to Aragorn's wound and neutralise the poison the ranger had inadvertently absorbed from Legolas, Aragorn whispered, his eyes on his friend's pale face, "And mine also."
When Elrond had finished drawing the small amount of poison from Aragorn's wound and tended the cut, he re-bandaged Legolas's injuries. With Aragorn sitting behind Legolas, supporting his shoulders, Elrond poured a healing draft down the Elf's throat. Legolas coughed, trying to twist his head away as he hovered briefly on the edge of consciousness. Aragorn held him steady and mercifully, Legolas lapsed back into unconsciousness as soon as Elrond had deemed that he had swallowed enough of the liquid.
"That should speed the healing process," Elrond said quietly as they laid Legolas down and Aragorn pulled the blankets up to his friend's shoulders, for, despite his unconsciousness, the Elf had begun to shiver. Aragorn looked in concern to Elrond but his father shook his dark head, "It is another aspect of the reaction to the poison," he murmured, eyes on Legolas's shaking body, "It will likely become much worse before he recovers," he warned.
Aragorn nodded and resumed his seat by Legolas's bed. He looked up as Elrond said, "I will at least have a more comfortable chair brought in for you." Father and son smiled at each other for a brief moment and then Elrond silently left the chamber as Aragorn turned back to his friend.
***
In the deep silence of the night, Aragorn watched and prayed, occasionally getting up to pace the room. Twice, Elrond came to check on Legolas and soon after moonrise, Elladan and Elrohir quietly looked round the door.
Aragorn was standing at the window, arms folded across his chest, eyes on the rising silver crescent and although the two Elves made no noise as they entered, he turned as they approached. He summoned a tired smile, but the strain showed. Elladan wordlessly pulled the young Human to him as he had when Aragorn had been a child, murmuring to him as he stroked his brother's tousled dark hair, the Elvish words low and comforting. For a brief moment, Aragorn let his despair take him and he leaned against the older twin's shoulder, feeling Elrohir's arm enclose him also, his brother's cheek coming to rest against his hair.
"Keep heart," the younger twin whispered to him, "Legolas is strong, he can survive this."
Aragorn nodded resolutely and Elrohir marvelled at how strong his young Human brother really was in the face of so much grief and pain. His own heart ached with loss and worry, but he and Elladan had at least known loss before, when their mother left for the Grey Havens, but Aragorn was so young, had been a baby when his parents had died. That he could be so strong now, when one they all thought of as a brother lay so close to death, gave Elrohir a glimpse of the young man's strength and will. Both of which the Elf somehow knew he would need in full measure.
A faint sound from the bed made them all turn. Legolas had moved restlessly and they all caught faint, hoarse words, "Adar…I am sorry…please…"
Aragorn's heart twisted at the appeal in the whispered words. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a glance and Elladan touched Aragorn's arm as the ranger made to move towards the bed.
"If you need us…"
Aragorn looked into his brothers' eyes and smiled a little, "I know," he said softly.
After the twins had left, Aragorn settled once more by the bed. Without warning, tiredness swept over him in a huge wave. He fought to stay awake in case Legolas needed him. But the strain of the day past had taken its toll. Exhausted, he laid his head on his bent arm and slowly slipped towards sleep….
***
He woke suddenly, tensing. For a moment he lay still, irritated that he must have fallen asleep and trying to fathom what had woken him. He lay with his head on his left arm; his right was outstretched, hand resting lightly on Legolas's bandaged forearm.
The room was almost dark, the fire and lamps burning very low. All was still and quiet, not even the night birds sang and Aragorn knew it must be that hour before dawn when all the world is wrapped in silence.
Then, in the quiet of the room, he realised that the only breathing he could hear was his own. He could no longer hear Legolas's shallow breaths and he could feel an odd sensation, the bandage under his hand was wet.
Head jerking up, he looked to Legolas and his cry rang loud in the room, echoing down the silent corridors of Imladris.
The bed was soaked in blood. Legolas's wounds had all reopened, saturating the blankets. In the moonlight, his fair face was deathly pale. But even as Aragorn's shocked mind registered the blood, he saw something else, confirming what his hearing had already told him.
Legolas's chest no longer rose and fell. Aragorn's mind reeled, No…Ilúvatar, please, oh please no…
Stumbling backwards, Aragorn held up a hand, as if trying to ward off a blow. He did not register the lightly running footsteps, did not see Elrond, robe hastily belted, run into the room, Elladan and Elrohir on his heels, Glorfindel and Erestor close behind. Others crowded in the doorway.
Forgotten in the chaos, Aragorn huddled in a corner by the fireplace. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he rocked back and forth, keening softly, Mellon nín……Darkness rushed up to meet him and Aragorn welcomed it
Then a soft touch brushed across the surface of his mind and he recognised a familiar presence. Behind his closed lids, silver-gold light glowed.
"Dúnedan," Legolas's musical voice held a gentle smile.
Within his mind, Aragorn reached out a trembling hand. "Legolas, please. Do not go mellon nín."
"I must," came the reply, filled with quiet regret. Now Aragorn could see his friend's face, clear of pain, smiling gently. Legolas reached out, fingers brushing the young ranger's face, "Be strong, Estel, your time will soon be at hand, and you must face your destiny, for it will be bound up with the fate of all Middle-Earth. Take courage, Elessar, you are ready…" Legolas's image began to fade and Aragorn clutched at the fingers at his jaw, but they slipped from his grasp, and he heard faint words, distant, fading, "Namárie, mellon nín…"
Leaning over the bed, Elrond knew he had lost the battle. Legolas's life was passing through his fingers like the waters of the Anduin and he was powerless to stop it. Once before had he been in this position and as he fought to hold on to the dying Elf's life-force, memory, cruel and unrelenting, seized him in its grip….
The battle was over, the evil had been defeated, but at what cost? So many mortal and immortal lives ended, and now Elrond could feel he was losing another.
The young warrior screamed, back arching, the ends of shattered bones splintering still further under Elrond's sensitive fingers. He gritted his teeth and held on, but his own weariness and sorrow dragged at him.
He tried again, "Thranduil! You must not do this, you must live!"
"No! He is gone! ….I will follow you to death and beyond."
The words echoed endlessly in Elrond's mind. He felt Thranduil's agony, understood that loss which, combined with the horrific injuries the young King had sustained in this final battle, were causing him to death-will himself. Elrond felt Thranduil's shoulder, dislocated and shattered by an orc blade, twist and tear further as he convulsed.
"Gil-galad! The words were a hopeless desperate plea to one already gone. A few minutes more, and it would be too late. Already Elrond could feel life fading, the immortal spirit weakening. The new King of Greenwood the Great was a match in strength for the Lord of Imladris and the crushing pain and despair which fuelled the former's struggle to depart also weighed down and hindered the latter in his struggle to prevent it.
With the last dregs of his strength, Elrond prepared to try one last time to save Thranduil's life. For there would only be one more chance, the Sindarin Elf's skin was already going cool to the touch, his breathing almost non-existent.
But as he prepared to make a last, desperate grab for the other's mind, he felt a new spirit join the struggle. Elrond felt the newcomer's mind as a shower of familiar silver and blue, shot through with glowing emerald. The presence arrowed straight down into the seething maelstrom of Thranduil's despair and grief and Elrond suddenly knew, with stunned realisation, who it was, though physically she was hundreds of miles away.
He watched, holding his own mind as an anchor as Lînivren spun a web of silver threads around her beloved's fading consciousness, calling to him.
"Thranduil, beloved, do not leave me."
It was the only thing which could have reached him. Her words and the web of love she had woven around Thranduil's mind, slowed the descent into death as he seemed to realise her presence and turned to face her.
Her voice, when she spoke again, was so loving it tugged at Elrond's heart, "Please, melleth nín….."
There was a long pause as Thranduil seemed to weigh the decision. Then, agonisingly slowly, he turned away from the blessed darkness for which he longed, to the one for whom he longed more. He took a faltering step toward her, then another. Lînivren held out mental "hands" to him and he stumbled into her arms.
She held him close as he rested against her, too exhausted and grief-stricken even to weep. Slowly, carefully, Lînivren eased her husband's mind up to where Elrond waited.
Elrond pulled abruptly free of the memory, returning to the present as he heard a familiar voice echoing through his mind, "And as we saved my beloved, now we will save the life of my son," That voice, unlooked for, impossible, made Elrond start so violently his bloodied hands jerked from Legolas's torso.
Within his mind, he shook his head, stunned and disbelieving, ……"Lînivren?"
But there had been few others in Elrond's many centuries of life as familiar or as dear to him as the beautiful silver- blue presence laced with emerald, and his heart knew the truth even as his mind declared it impossible.
"Aye…do not ask!" she warned swiftly as he made to speak. "As before, we have little time. Do as you did for me once before, mellon nín, anchor me, I will need your strength to bring my son back to us."
He did as she bid him, holding steady in the surface of Legolas's dying mind as Lînivren reached loving hands out into the darkness, calling to her child.
"Legolas, my son, come back to us. You are needed, will be needed, more than you know. Yours was not the fault. I love you my child."
For the space of a few moments, there was no response. Legolas had not been death-willing himself as Thranduil had tried to do after the loss of Gil-galad, he had simply succumbed to the severity of his injuries, the deadly poison coursing through him. How could even Lînivren reverse that?
Then Elrond ceased wondering. It was not possible that she was here at all. She had saved Thranduil through their bond and the strength of her love, but this time……The Valar must have some greater plan for this young warrior and for that reason had allowed Lînivren this chance to save her son.
In the fading darkness of Legolas's mind, Elrond felt him sense his mother's presence.
"Naneth?" Elrond's heart twisted at the tone in the injured Elf's voice.
" Legolas, I am here, come to me now."
"Naneth," Legolas repeated, disbelieving.
Elrond could feel that Legolas's strength was almost gone, but he turned towards the sound of his mother's voice until, in the landscape of his mind, he stood before her. Elrond watched them, one silver-blue and emerald, the other glowing silver-gold. They reached wondering, trembling hands towards each other. Legolas's fingers touched his mother's shining hair and with a cry he collapsed into her arms, "Naneth, naneth."
Lînivren held her child as he wept, rocking him, stroking his silken gold hair, singing softly to him. Elrond recognised an Elvish lullaby his wife, Celebrían, had sung to their own children and he suppressed the familiar stab of sorrow, continuing to watch them, holding himself ready to assist.
After long moments, Lînivren held Legolas a little away from her, looking intently into his face. Brushing stray blond hair from his bruised temple she smiled, " Legolas, oh my child. Yours was not the fault my son, your father will come to understand that, in time." She touched the corner of his mouth lightly, "Do not blame him Legolas, for his greatest fear has now come to pass, that he would lose one of us as he lost Gil-galad. He loved him so much Legolas. It is why he tried so hard to protect us, why he tried to ignore the growing shadow and the return of the evil. But he will need you my son, Middle-Earth will need you and there is another who will also need your love and your strength. He is your brother now, Legolas, and you have a duty of kinship…"
"Dúnadan…Estel…" Legolas murmured.
Lînivren was speaking again, softly, urgently. "Listen to me, Legolas, for I have little time. You must live my son, you must fight this, live, for all our sakes."
Elrond's breath caught in his throat at the love shining between the pair as Lînivren gently brushed tears from her son's fine-boned cheeks and kissed his hair, whispering, "Do not fear for me, I will be well. I love you, you must never forget that…..Namárie, my beloved child…"
Legolas stared at her, his head up, his own gaze steady now and clear. He raised a hand to touch her face as she did the same to him, lingering in a brief caress, "Namárie, I will not forget. I love you also naneth."
Lînivren rested her palm over her son's heart for a moment and then she took Legolas into her arms one last time, looking up to where Elrond waited silently. She held his eyes for several moments and Elrond understood what it was she asked of him. He nodded.
Then, with a final look at her son, Lînivren smiled and began to fade. Legolas did not try to call her back, watching quietly with loving eyes as her silver-blue light faded and was gone. Briefly, he bowed his head, and when he lifted it again and turned towards where Elrond waited, his eyes were clear, filled with a luminous light and a new determination to live.
Elrond held out a hand to the young warrior, silently whispering, "My love to you also, Lînivren. Fair winds, heart-sister."
And seeming from far away, he heard her answer, "And to you, brother of my soul……Take care of my son."
"I will, Lady."
Opening his eyes, hands still on Legolas's torso, Elrond drew a deep breath. Elrohir, closest to his father looked up at him in surprise, "Ada?"
"It is over my son," came the quiet words.
Elrohir bowed his head, "I know," he murmured, "Estel already knows, I think. I will find him."
He looked up as Elrond gently grasped his arm, "No, Elrohir, it is over. Legolas is returning to us, look…"
Startled, Elrohir looked to the Elf lying in the bloody mess of blankets and he saw the chest rise a little as his friend drew a deep breath. Elrohir's eyes widened in shock and he looked to his father, uncomprehending, Elrond smiled and repeated, "He will live, my son, he has returned to us."
As they watched, the bleeding gradually slowed and finally stopped and life slowly began to return to Legolas's pale face. Elrohir, stunned, felt his twin settle next to him and ask in a wondering tone, " How can this be, ada? "
Elrond was still smiling, "I will explain it to you later, my sons. For now, know that Lînivren loves her son as I do you and Estel." He watched as the meaning and import of his words dawned on them and they turned incredulous eyes to look at Legolas.
Then Elrond said briskly, " Now, Elladan, go with Erestor and fetch clean blankets. Elrohir, could you and Glorfindel set the water tanks to warm and find Estel, he…."
"He is here, Elrond," Glorfindel's voice interrupted. The Elf-Lord was standing by the fireplace, Aragorn in his arms, unconscious. "He believed I think, as did we all, that Legolas had gone. It overwhelmed him."
Elrond stroked a tender hand over the tangled dark hair of his youngest as Glorfindel brought him forward.
"Put him in that chair for now," he said, "When the bed is changed, we will make space for Estel. They will wish to be near each other when they wake."
Glorfindel nodded as those in the room went about their appointed tasks. Exhausted by injury and grief, the Elven Prince and his Human friend and brother now slept peacefully .
***
Aragorn came gradually to wakefulness. It was quiet and bright golden light was shining on his face. The air was cool and Aragorn sensed it was early morning. He lay curled on his side, wrapped in soft blankets, his head resting on a soft pillow.
As he became more wakeful, Aragorn realised he was lying on a bed and that he could hear soft breathing somewhere nearby. A gentle hand was stroking his hair, the movement hypnotic and soothing. Then memory hit him and he curled in on himself, ignoring for a moment the other presence, "Legolas, oh mellon nín ."
The hand on his hair stilled and a quiet voice spoke from behind him, "I am here, Estel."
Aragorn froze. Legolas's voice had sounded real enough. No. Legolas was dead. His mind had simply been trying to comfort him with the familiar voice.
"Estel." Again the voice of his friend called softly to him and Aragorn squeezed his eyes together. No, leave me, do not torture me so.
The voice behind him spoke once more, and this time, though very weak, it held a note of amusement, "If you do not turn around you stubborn Human, I may be forced to sit up to show you I am here, and I am not entirely sure that I can move."
Aragorn jumped as if he had been stung, simultaneously sitting up and whipping round. Someone had placed Aragorn on top of the covers, swathed in yet more blankets, next to the injured Elf; his father, he suddenly knew. Elrond would have known that the two friends, now brothers, his mind silently added, would be able to assure themselves that the other was well, or at least alive, as soon as they woke.
Doubt suddenly assailed Aragorn and he bit his lip, looking down at the bandage covering his left hand. Despite Elrond's assurances, he wondered in sudden doubt about how Legolas would react to discovering his blood had been mingled with Aragorn's.
"I heard you calling me….my brother," came the calm voice.
Aragorn's eyes flew to Legolas's face. The Elf was smiling, sorrow and joy mingled on his face, "I know of our bond, Dúnadan. It gave me the strength to hold on a little longer, strength to fight a little longer and then…" Legolas's voice trailed off and he looked up at Aragorn, storm-blue eyes bright with tears, "My mother came, Estel. I was dying, I could feel it, and in my pain I was glad to go. Your father was trying to save me and then I felt her there. She told me it was not my fault and that she loved me." His voice lowered and Aragorn caught the catch of pain as his friend continued, " And she spoke of my father," again the soft voice faltered, "She said he would understand in time and she told me…" Legolas looked away, frowning a little in confusion," that I would be needed. " He looked back up at Aragorn "She said that Middle Earth would need me and that you…would need me."
Aragorn took Legolas's hand where it lay on the coverlet and held it in both his own, "I do need you, my brother. I will always need you. We are your family, Legolas, my father and my brothers, and now we two are bonded by blood as well as by fate. I pledge you my companionship and my love also, Legolas Greenleaf, for as long as I live…..and beyond."
"As I pledge you mine," Legolas responded. Blue eyes held grey and after long moments, Legolas smiled, "Let us see what the future holds for us, my brother."
Poised at the threshold, behind the door and just out of sight of the two friends, Elrond bowed his head in gratitude and relief and wondering thanks. Lînivren, he thought silently to the bright morning, May you walk the Halls of Mandos in peace, knowing you have wrought here more than any of us can yet tell…There was no answer, but Elrond's heart knew that she had heard. For a moment he paused, then he entered the room, clean clothing and fresh bandages in his hands.