Author: Mirrordance
Title: Journey's End
Summary: As Aragorn's passing away draws near, Legolas decides to 'kidnap' him to the Undying Lands and save him from his death, with the grudging help of Gimli the dwarf and the twin sons of Elrond.
* * *
CHAPTER 1: A Secret Voyage
The grace of the Lord of the Elves in Ithilien as he rode majestically upon his faithful steed was unmistakable even from a distance, even from the less-keen eyes of a human. He rode with carefully constrained harshness, the hooves of a strong-but-aging Arod pounding furiously against the ground. His golden hair swirled with the breeze, his brow mighty and aged not by time and years, but by the wisdom in his burning eyes. He was seen about Gondor often enough, and seemed not to grow any older in all these years, save for those eyes…
"Open the gates!" exclaimed the watcher of Minas Tirith, and he turned to a runner ordering, "Inform the household that Prince Legolas arrives at last."
Barely slowing his horse to greet the soldiers whom he was familiar with, Legolas passed them by in great speed, heading single-mindedly towards the halls of the mighty fortress.
There upon its very door stood Eldarion, son of Aragorn and now King of the reunited kingdom of Gondor and Arnor, standing tall and proud as he awaited the coming of one of his father's dearest friends, and one of the world's most-renowned heroes.
Legolas reined his horse to an abrupt stop, and dismounted adroitly, bowing slightly to the new King in a solemn salute.
"I have heard of your rise upon the throne from Ithilien," Legolas said to the King, "Your father's crown rests well upon your noble brow, it seems… and the scepter lies sure and safe in your hands."
"Thank you," Eldarion said to the elf of whom legends spoke in great honor and pride, "I regret you did not receive news of my father's passing soon enough to have come here to bid him farewell."
A flash of sadness passed across Legolas's eyes, before he masked it with great resolve and skill, "I was otherwise occupied. Where is your mother?"
Eldarion averted his eyes for a moment, "She too has made her farewells. She decided to spend her remaining seasons somewhere in Lorien."
"I see," Legolas said softly, knowing exactly what that had meant, though Eldarion was loathe to say it; his mother now awaited her death, awaited her waste and languish, in Lorien which has been emptied by the ages, but still slow of time. This whole miserable land was being emptied by the ages before his very eyes…
"I know you have work to do, Sire," said Legolas, "I shall not keep you from it anymore than I already have. I know where your father lies. I shall see to him myself."
Eladarion hesitated. He would make time, even in the most pressing of days, to entertain his father's dearest friend especially in events such as these. But he was his father's son, with at least a fair share of his father's knowing, and he understood that the elf wished fervently to be alone.
"Of course," Eldarion nodded, "Join me for supper later this evening. Your friend Gimli, he is working on what would eventually be my father's tomb with other dwarfs out upon the fields. He will be with us as well. Unless you want me to send for him immediately?"
"No, I can fend for myself, for now," Legolas answered politely, even as his mind was screaming No!, he did not want any witnesses upon his first sight of Aragorn in his cold sleep. It would shatter him, to have someone else there, saying comforting words that were useless salve on a wound that went bone-deep.
"The sons of Elrond will also be with us tonight," said Eldarion, "I am sure you would find great joy upon seeing your old friends."
On the contrary, Legolas seemed to find some sort of displeasure in that last statement, but he nodded and watched the son of Aragorn leave satisfied with his reply, just before he turned away and headed for the Silent Street.
* * *
~As the years passed,~ he said softly, his soothing voice a complement to the potent quiet of the House of Kings, ~I knew this day would come and yet… mellon… such a pain to see you this way, even in your most stunning beauty.~
Legolas carefully circled King Elessar, lying upon his bed with his arms folded over his heart, his eyes closed in his deep sleep. No, he was not yet dead, but dreadfully close to it. He had chosen this grace, when he felt his passing drew nearer and nearer, unwilling to fall from his high seat perforce, unmanned and witless.
~I would not have done the same,~ Legolas told him softly, devouring the King with his hungry eyes, as if willing him to wake by his steely, ice-blue gaze, ~I would have let Death claim me kicking and screaming and fighting. Perhaps it is indicative of your old age, that you would allow Him to take you so easily.~
And yet even with his joke he could not bear to smile, not even to lie to himself that it was funny, that it was well-timed, not even to smile imagining Aragorn would be smiling too. No… this steely death made no allowances for even the coldest of comforts. It was too glaringly real. Too inescapably concrete.
~Why must you leave me so?~ he asked achingly, ~Why must everyone leave me so? Why must I watch all things wither and fade? Why could things not stay as they were? We had no need for Deathless Lands, or Iluvatar's promises of a Haven beyond the Circles of the World when we have made our Haven here.~
Taking a shaky breath, he tentatively held the King's slack hands in his shaking ones.
~But for all of this misery,~ said Legolas determinedly, ~I can still save you, Estel. And I will.~
* * *
~You are late in coming, Legolas,~
The elf in question looked up at Elrohir, who said so when the silence had been too burdensome and the trivial, subtle clatter of the silverware had at last been deemed too inadequate too fill it.
~I had affairs in Ithilien,~ Legolas said quietly, inviting no other questions, averting his gaze and unwilling to meet the sharp eye of Elrohir, or Elladan's, or even Eldarion's and Gimli's. He focused upon his plate as if his life depended on it.
~I never knew you to put anything between Estel and yourself,~ pointed out Elrohir, ~He was looking for you.~
~I came as soon as I was able,~ Legolas said with finality, laying down one of his silver and looking up at Elrohir harshly, his hand fisting.
~Peace, mellon,~ said Elladan, raising up his palm, ~Elrohir was merely disappointed in that you were not able to say your farewell. But we are certain that Estel would understand, he always understood you best.~
Legolas set his jaws and nodded, his fist loosening grudgingly. He felt his frustrations come to a head, and it seemed that he needed only the slightest provocation to release it. The death of Aragorn symbolized the death of an age, and possibly his own death in the sense that he now felt nothing bound him to this land anymore. He had long suffered the longing for the Sea, yet he did not wish to at last fulfill it by Aragorn's death.
Wanting to leave and wanting to stay, suddenly aimless, even if he had long since known the day would come, even as he had watched the King age before his eyes… the pain was still shockingly acute. He had lost his friend, and all at once, he himself was lost.
~How fares the south?~ Eldarion asked him.
~All is well, sire,~ replied Legolas, ~'Tis a beautiful land indeed, and made more so by our perseverance.~
~Then one wonders at what could have kept you from being here,~ mused Elrohir aloud.
Legolas said nothing, and Gimli, sensing his distress, filled in the swiftly growing void of the conversation, ~For Legolas to have been as late as he was, it must have been very important then, wouldn't you say so, Master Elf?~ he turned to Elladan.
~I would say so,~ said he, looking at his twin sharply, in warning.
Eldarion, the youngest of the group was wise for his years, but between these folk was a history older and stronger than he, and he could not find it in himself to lord over their quarrels, even if he was King and master of this land, master at least of this very table. Tomorrow night, he decided, tomorrow night he would dine at a later hour, and beg his work as an excuse…
His father would have laughed and gamely called him a coward and an awful liar… The thought sent a smile to his face, even caught as he was in sorrow for the loss of both his parents, and now the grief that the sorrow of his guests were in turn further causing him.
Elladan caught his smile and looked at him most dubiously, as if he found the King utterly mad. He hurriedly smothered his grin. It was, after all, profoundly inappropriate.
Dinner moved on from course to course, the clatter of silver resounding most uncomfortably. And yet it seemed the group had ultimately decided it was best for no one to say anything at all.
* * *
The Silent Street was quiet enough at the height of the day, much more so in the dead of the night.
Cold and gray and empty it was, bland of color, but distinctly strong of spirit. There were no ghosts here, but it was steeped in history and greatness that overwhelmed even the most weathered of warriors, like its visitor-- nay, its intruder-- tonight.
His feet were light, soundless as they sauntered across the empty streets towards the House of Kings. His coat swirled with the moonlit night, his hair seemingly sharing its glowing silver against the deep, dark sky.
Looking about him, he scurried up to King Elessar's resting place, and froze before the bed, feeling that he was not alone, and being watched most astutely.
Not very many beings could sneak up to an elf, and this seasoned warrior even less, but the twin sons of Elrond equaled his skills in the least, and Legolas found them watching him amidst the shadows.
~You see, Elrohir,~ said one, ~I told you he would have come to say farewell to Estel if he didn't have some other form of mischief afoot.~
The twins stepped out of the shadows to regard Legolas curiously.
~What brings the Prince of Mirkwood here so late?~ Elrohir added sarcastically, ~Come to say good night to Estel, perhaps?~
~Are you two not here as well?~ snapped Legolas, ~What right have you to question me, when I know not what in turn has brought you?~
~We thought perhaps you had something planned,~ said Elladan, ~What is your excuse?~
Legolas looked away from them, towards Estel's face. He could lie, of course, and return on the morrow. But he knew the twins would be by then as well, and on the days after. And Estel had precious little time…
~I hurriedly built a ship in Ithilien when I heard of Estel's weakening,~ he said suddenly, just as he made up his mind about a course of action, ~I aim to bring Estel to the Blessed Realm. And I mean to succeed. If you wish to stop me, I guarantee you would only be able to do so by extreme force of physical restraint. And I will fight you madly.~
~A fool's errand,~ said Elladan dispassionately, ~You know as well as we that 'tis not the land itself that makes whoever goes there undying. It is the very presence of the immortals within the land that makes it so.~
~But it is a place of the most wise,~ reasoned Legolas, ~They know things there that we do not. Estel deserves this chance. The gods may lend him a few years, a few months… there he could live a while longer, uninterrupted by his duties, his worries, in a place of beauty and wonder. Perhaps they may even gift him with immortality. If any mortal ever in all the ages deserves it, 'tis Aragorn. If the gods can bestow mortality upon the deathless, like Luthien, then they may do the reverse--~
~This is madness,~ said Elrohir, harshly cutting him off, ~You assume too many things. You assume that the Valar or Eldar can help him. And yet you do not even think that perhaps the gods would not even let him pass through the seas. No man can go there, no human has ever been allowed.~
~Aragorn deserves this chance, at least, a chance from us, if not from the gods~ Legolas said fervently.
Elrohir's eyes softened, and he took a step towards the elf, ~'Tis your grief talking, Legolas. Let him be.~
~I will not,~ Legolas said stubbornly, moving towards the King, which Elrohir blocked.
~You are a selfish one,~ Elrohir said to him coldly, ~He desires this. And yet you think only of yourself, of your grief, of your loneliness. Of our tragic fate. Legolas. Let. Him. Be.~
Legolas' eyes narrowed; Elrohir had struck a nerve. ~Selfish it is if you desire to deem it so. But get out of my way.~
~You dare not take from him what he has freely chosen?!~ exclaimed Elladan, disbelieving.
~Dead is dead,~ Legolas told him coldly, lying boldly though his eyes glistened, ~No matter how much time I buy for him, 'tis where he will head. And yet I live. If you do not wish this for Estel, then give it to me.~
~You are mad,~ Elrohir told him softly, though he stepped back and let Legolas stand before Estel's dying body. He looked towards his brother with wide eyes.
Elladan took a deep breath, and Elrohir, used to his actions, shook his head at his twin, wordlessly trying to convince him to change his mind.
~We will help you.~
Elrohir shook his head in dismay, but said nothing to countermand his brother's decision. Legolas looked at Elladan with a fleeting, distrusting hope in his glimmering eyes.
~I do not understand,~ he admitted softly.
~Niether do I,~ sighed Elladan, ~But a friend you are to us, Legolas. If we cannot stop you from your foolishness, we can at least help you conquer the trials you will undoubtedly face along the way.~
~And besides,~ said Elrohir, ~I know of only a pair of beings who have the barest chance of talking you out of this mad scheme and incidentally, they all languish beyond the seas. That would be your ada, and ours.~
He nearly smiled when he watched Legolas' lips quirk, and his eyes light up ever so slightly, lending him life and spirit for the first time in a long while.
* * *
The three elves worked quickly. Legolas and Elrohir
hoisted Estel up between the two of them, and carried him out as Elladan took point and led the way.
Preoccupied as they were, they missed a particularly wily dwarf who stood by the exit, barring their way. He was dressed in his night robes and smoking a pipe, looking at them wryly.
"Stealing from the dead?" he asked, his full voice lowered to as much as he could manage.
"Stealing the dead would be more precise, Master Dwarf," said Elladan coolly, irked that he had not sensed the dwarf's coming, "Are you going to get out of our way?"
"I do not know what you crazy elves are planning," he said, surly that he was not included, "But if you do not let me join, I will scream to my stout old heart's content and let all of Gondor fall upon your mischief."
"We are headed for the Undying Lands," Legolas told him quickly, almost excitedly, "I built a ship, it is in Ithilien."
Gimli frowned, he obviously did not think he would be going that far. But he sighed and said, "I have always wanted to rest my eyes upon the Lady Galadriel again."
He shuffled to Elladan's side and looked around carefully, "To the Undying Lands it is, then. And here I was just out to say good night to Aragorn," he added, not knowing why Legolas' eyes danced, as he found it somewhat funny.
* * *
Three elves, a dwarf and a near-dead human rode through the night, moving south towards Ithilien. The breezes were picking up it seemed, though Legolas was unsure if it were simply the season, or his eyes were tainted by his anxiety.
Clutching Aragorn's limp body tighter against him, he looked sideways upon his fellow riders to ensure that they were indeed there.
He had, until now, felt so alone… And though they had at first been a hindrance to his great plans, his heart was soothed by their reassuring presence.
Gimli had both arms about Elladan's waist, holding more tightly than he was wont to; it was the first time they had ever shared a steed, and though Gimli knew the elf well, he was not quick to trust his manner of riding. Legolas recalled those same short arms resting about him, knew the exact feel of it by memory, after so many journeys together. The dwarf had a certain grudging warmth about him that suited Legolas perfectly. He wondered what it would be like, by the time he must lose Gimli to death as well…
"I imagine Eldarion would not be pleased with us," Gimli grumbled, catching Legolas' eye.
Elladan chuckled. "I imagine he simply wanted us to leave under any circumstances, and would be most grateful to his father for providing the occasion."
They rode in silence for quite a while, the winds indeed picking up around them as if it knew something was amiss. A storm was brewing, and Middle-earth shook with its simmering strength.
"What of Arwen?" Elrohir asked over the din of the howling winds.
"I dare not offer her false hopes," replied Legolas, "Or encounter her objections. We seek aid for Estel first, and then return for her to bear her to the Blessed Realm and be with him. Besides, I know not where in all of the Golden Wood she has fled, and an elf of her kind will not be found if she does not wish to be. We have precious little time to do so. Her seasons are many, yet. We can return for her later."
"You fear to encounter our younger sister's objections," Elrohir commented, amused, "One more being who could have talked you out of this madness that I had not thought of. It's a shame indeed that they are all indisposed and Elladan and I are doing so miserably."
"Not only miserably, Elrohir," Elladan laughed, "We even stepped up and joined! Legolas is indeed a wily one. Very clever. Ada, he will not be pleased at all!"
Legolas smiled at him, though they all knew that their fathers, grave though their anger may be, was the least of their worries.
The last time humans have dared to cross the great expanse of the western sea and came upon the Undying Lands, the great god Iluvatar shook the world to all of its foundations, angered by their transgression. Numenor was sank in this Change, and the Undying Lands was wrested from the Circles of the World, never to be reached by mortals or anyone without great elf ships that could find the Straight Road.
What punishment would their actions yield, Legolas wondered. What had he gotten them all into?
TO BE CONTINUED…