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 THREE: The Journey Ends
At the shores of Eldamar, Aragorn sat, watching the sea with his deep gaze desperately raking it for some vision, a vision that his heart yearned for far more than his eyes did.
"He should not have brought you here," a voice said from behind him.
Aragorn knew that it was the Lord Elrond, flanked by his twin sons and Gimli the dwarf.
"He should not have paid for us with his life," said Aragorn bitterly, "He only purchased for us this loss, and a lengthier life to live with it."
The waves crashed rhythmically along the shores, filling their silence with its strength and assuring repetitiveness.
"I'm sorry, Estel," Elladan told him softly, "We should have tried harder to dissuade him."
"I beg you not to fool yourself," said Gimli, "There is never any dissuading that idiot."
"Perhaps it is all just as well," said Elrond, "His heart always moved in two places, he might as well be lost to the sea that bridged the distance between them."
"He should not have been lost at all," Aragorn said, rising from his seat and dusting at his clothes.
"Estel," Elrond put a hand upon his shoulder, "You are unhappy here. It is silly for a paradise to be so. If you wish to leave, the Eldar and Valar would surely permit it."
"It would be like spitting on his grave, ada," said Aragorn sternly, "I wish to take a walk."
Excusing himself from the group, Aragorn felt their watchful eyes upon his back as he walked away from them, following the lines of the beautiful paradise shore, that was now his prison.
He had woken from his deep sleep, stirred by a power he did not understand. He had thought perhaps that he was already being called upon by Iluvatar towards his promise, his Gift to Men, that fate that awaited mortals after death, where there was always joy. But he had wakened to the Undying Lands, with the earnest and lonely faces of his dearest friends hovering over him.
His heart felt that something was amiss. But before he could even think to ask what was happening, he asked them where Legolas was. And he was gone. The rest of the tale he had managed to piece together, and it did not paint a pretty picture.
In older days, it was ambition and pride that had taken Numenor towards this Blessed Realm and ultimately, to its fall. For Legolas, it was his misplacement and loneliness that had pushed him to take mortals into the Undying Lands and caused his own fall. The gods seemed to find his will and love admirable, even as it went against their desires and the plans of Iluvatar. And so his great love was compared to Luthien's, and Earendil's, but so he too shared each a part of their lonely fate. Luthien, who loved so greatly that she took upon herself the Doom of Man, all at once Earendil, who had gone to the Undying Lands never to return to the mortal realm he had also loved. Legolas, beloved Prince and hero, lost to the seas between the two fates.
"Your thoughts run very deeply."
Aragorn turned beside him, to find that even in midday, the shoreline had become obscured by a thick, rising mist, and within it, his old friend stood, as if he lorded over them.
"Ah," Aragorn said, pleased, a smile crossing through his weary, lonely features, "I thought it was only a matter of time before my madness sent me a vision of you."
Legolas smiled too, but there was a sadness in his eyes that could not leave it, and it was so like the haze of the mists that surrounded him.
"I am not your madness, mellon," he said, "At least, any more than your usual craziness."
"I see," said Aragorn, "Of course you would say that. But what brings you here, then?"
"I have been watching you these past days," replied Legolas, falling into step beside Aragorn as the two of them walked along the shoreline, "I did not bring you to a paradise. I brought you to the darkest places of the world."
They walked together, saying nothing. Each one's heart was heavy, but found some solace in the other's company, even as each was the cause of the other's grief.
"There are some things," said Legolas, "Which I fervently wish I learned to accept sooner, before I did things that could no longer be rectified. I am sorry, Estel. I was selfish."
"I never known you to be so," Aragorn said softly, "It is the heart that makes us foolish. And yet we could not live without these passions."
"I have been given a chance," said Legolas breathlessly, "to give back to you what I have taken."
"You needn't—" Aragorn was saying, but Legolas took him by the shoulder, and steered him towards the waterline. The mists parted for them, and Aragorn's eyes rested upon a gray ship in the shape of Ulmo's swans.
"Time to go home, Elessar."
* * *
The gods were on their side, this time, as they vanished from the shores of the Blessed Realm, guided by a beautiful breeze that was quick to take them home, but warm and comfortable upon their skin.
Aboard the ship they talked animatedly of the past, of the future, of things that weighed heavily in their minds and of memories that made them somewhat lighter. Only too short was this voyage, though soothed by the rhythms of the sea were their hearts.
Needing no steering, the ship neared the lands of Arda, and moved unhindered against the current through to Anduin.
"It takes us to Lorien," Legolas said to Aragorn with a smile, "Where Arwen fled after your sleep. If she could be found, Aragorn, you would know where."
The winds brought the ship to rest along the riverbanks. Hesitantly, Aragorn stood and faced his old friend.
"And so the voyage ends," he said softly.
"The road was long," agreed Legolas, "and yet it has brought us back to where we began. Curious, how it still seems changed, as if my eyes were new."
Aragorn dismounted from the boat, his heavy boots creating a splatter on the shallows. He looked towards Legolas expectantly.
"You would not come see Arwen with me?" he asked, even as he knew the answer from his friend's lonely gaze.
"This is no longer my land," said Legolas, "Perhaps it never was. I was bound to it by my soul, even as the Sea calling strived to part us. But ultimately I do not belong here. Nor there."
"What becomes of you?" Aragorn whispered, not quite understanding.
"Nothing that does not fit me," Legolas told him with a sad smile, leaning over from inside his ship and engulfing Aragorn in a tight embrace, "Take care, Estel. You have given me much to cherish in remembrance."
With these words, he did not so much leave as… vanish. His blue eyes, hazed by his grief was the color of the mists that surrounded him and trailed him in their timeless fog. Aragorn watched as he faded, part of the sea and yet part of the air, neither here nor there. Tangible, but could not be held, or encased.
Turning away from the banks of the river, Aragorn ran towards where his own heart rested, its pounding and beating furious as his hopes and joy escalated with each step he took towards Cerin Amroth, towards her. And there indeed did Aragorn and Arwen find each other once more, and where they embraced and shared a grave that was evergreen, and potent with a love eternal that, though incomprehensible to those lives that would follow them ever after, struck at the soul and gave it peace and reassurance, even as the leaves fell and the seasons changed, and as time passed and all things have weathered and were forgotten, as they were wont to.
THE END
October 22, 2003
SOME NOTES:
On Middle-earth canon regarding the Undying Lands. I am not quite sure if I understood it well. This is my first heavily-literature-oriented piece, and I hope I did not stray too far from what is correct. If I did, he he, let's all just pretend it's a very distinctly wild AU, then :)
On the gods. As in cases of legends all across middle-earth, these gods have had a history of giving exceptions to the rule, so I thought Legolas may want a chance at that :)
On Legolas. A fascinating character. This is a very character-driven piece. I wanted to portray Legolas as Elrond and Elrohir saw him in this fic; kind of torn. He lives as if there was no tomorrow, yet his passion could never be quenched by his thousands of years. This makes him very lonely, especially since he has formed an attachment with mortals that he was not really depicted as having with those of his kin. I wanted him to fear death not for himself, but for those that surrounded him. So what does indeed become of him in the end? A servant to the gods, yes, and if you noticed that he was often trailed by the mists (which was also a constant image in the entirety of the fic), he becomes kind of its keeper, as much as Osse keeps the waves. It's liquid, but air, it's there, then it's gone. I wanted the fic to have a kind of fairy tale quality about it.
A disclaimer. I'm really rather uncertain about this fic. I may or may not edit it. That depends on how disagreeable you may find it, ha ha. Please don't flame me. I can make excellent repairs if just given the chance, he he. We'll see how fickle the muses are. But for now, the story stays as it is. I hope I got that fairytale tone across… hm. Oh, well. I had fun writing it. C&c's always welcome! :)