Author: Mirrordance
Title: Tempus Edax Rerum ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")
Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…
PART 1: The Latecomer
The Council of Elrond, Imladris
October 25, 3018, The Third Age
The stranger was clad in heavy black. They thought perhaps he was a Ringwraith by the looks of him, and it stirred their blood until he lowered his fur-lined hood and appeared to be a fair-haired elf, albeit a profoundly rare and strange one.
His hair was golden and trimmed, not at all worn in the usually long, braided fashion, but instead with its short, jagged, layered edges barely touching the black-furred collar of his unbuttoned coat. His clothes underneath were also black, with specks of silver occasionally catching the light of the sun, buckles of black leather straps and edges of otherwise well-concealed weapons. His boots were light and sleek, and reached up to just below his knees. He would have looked exactly like the Prince of Mirkwood, except the Prince had long since walked past these gates and was at the moment, already involved in a secret council headed by the Lord of Imlardis.
The elf guards blocked the mysterious stranger's path, and sternly asked him what his business was in Rivendell.
~Last I heard,~ the stranger told them wryly, his irrepressibly humorous eyes also much like the slate-blue of the Prince of Mirkwood, save for a careful, somewhat bitter aging they found nestled there, ~The hospitality of Lord Elrond is open to all those with a kind will.~
The guards looked at each other, then back at him with suspicion.
~And such is yours?~ one of them asked.
~Yes,~ he replied easily.
~Who are you?~ another guard asked.
~If I told you,~ replied the stranger, ~you would not believe me. So let us leave it at this: as a sign of my good will, I would be happy to leave in your custody all of my weapons, and beg for the audience of Lord Elrond at the earliest possible time.~
~He is presently closeted in a meeting of grave importance,~ said a guard, ~You will have to wait.~
~If it is the Council of Elrond that you speak,~ said the stranger, ~I could think of no better a time than to speak to him of my grave tidings.~
The guards looked at each other. ~We have been expressly ordered not to disrupt it.~
~But I am invited,~ argued the stranger, ~It only happens that I am late. Or in some sense, possibly early. Either way, there could be no better time,~ he removed his bow and quiver and handed it to a rightfully stunned guard, and his coat soon followed. And then he pulled at the black leather straps that held his guns, and then his scimitars, and then the dagger from his boot. He opened his arms for their careful inspection. Now clad only in a high-necked black knit sweater underneath a black, armored vest and his black pants and a disarming smile, he looked far less menacing than he had when they first set eyes on him.
~If I didn't know for a certainty that Legolas Greenleaf was already inside,~ said one guard, ~I would say he were you.~
The stranger smirked at him. And easily led the way towards the location of the council as if he had always trod these paths, making the guards that escorted him wonder even more.
* * *
The pronouncement concerning the making of the fellowship of the ring had just been made by the time he had arrived, and his coming ceased all commotion and created a strange silence.
He could not resist a glance at his younger self, and once their eyes met, both knew they were connected in a way that defied space and time, and even reality. The Prince of Mirkwood's eyes widened a little at the sight of the stranger, and the stranger favored him with a hesitant smile.
"Who are you?" Legolas found himself asking… well, himself.
"I am you," he replied easily, before turning to Lord Elrond, "You sent me here, my lord. Or at least, your future self did. Now I wonder if you will listen to me."
Elrond's brows furrowed. "Do not speak in riddles, stranger. We are pressed for time as it is. Now tell us, plainly, who you are and what business have you here." To his guards he looked pointedly, and they exited by his unspoken order.
"I am Legolas," replied the stranger, "I am the Legolas of the future. Long has it been believed that time moves in a linear fashion. Past, present and future, one trailing after the other in an easily comprehensible manner. What's done is done, and one can only look towards living the future. But in latter years we would all come to know that what's done can be undone after all. With a new machine, mistakes can be rectified by returning through instances in time and changing what transpires. And that is what has brought me here."
"From how far into the future?" Elrond asked.
"Several thousand years," he answered, "A mistake will be committed here that I must prevent, to save the world as we all have come to know and love it."
"What mistake?" Aragorn asked, leaning forward and devouring the face of a friend he had long known, except now there were two of them, and thisw one he did not particularly felt comfortable with.
"The One Ring must not be destroyed."
--
"Preposterous," snapped the younger Legolas, "It spells the doom of men, and all of Middle-Earth. It must be cast into Mount Doom. Sauron must not be allowed to triumph."
"The future spells a more savage disaster," said the older Legolas, "An evil greater than Sauron himself. The books do not tell of Iluvatar's perfect foil, you see, for long has he been cast into darkness, until he returned. Yuno is his name, and he is Eru's reckless brother. As surely as there is black for all that is white, and dark for all that is bright, there is an evil that corresponds to all that is good. If Eru is the creator, Yuno is the destroyer. And in the future, he destroys all of Middle-Earth, and as of the time I had left, he was headed even towards the Undying Lands.
"I," continued the older Legolas, "Was sent back through time precisely by you, Lord Elrond, to ensure that the ring is not destroyed. We desperately need it. If the survival of Middle Earth relies upon its destruction, the survival of all of Middle Earth and all that lies beyond it relies in its preservation."
"How do we know these are not just wild demon-ranting from a mad elf?" growled the dwarf Gimli, "You ask us to prevent fates that we are not even certain are real! We only know our own immediate dangers."
"I do not have that blind luxury," snapped the older Legolas, "I have come from the future and I guarantee it," he looked at Aragorn achingly, "I need you to trust me."
Aragorn met his eyes evenly, "I do not have that luxury…" he hesitated before adding quietly, "…Legolas. But I admit the things you say merit thought."
The older Legolas averted his eyes, pained, even as Aragorn's eyes met the burning ones of the younger Prince of Mirkwood that he truly knew.
"How do we know you are not just some conjurer?" Legolas asked, "All that you say are… are bedtime stories for all we could tell. Fiction. Possibly intentional lies to keep us from what we must do."
The stranger set his jaws, knowing he was up virtually against the impossible. "If my own self cannot trust me, I cannot see how I could possibly succeed here."
"We are not even certain we are one and the same," argued Legolas, "I for one cannot believe you."
The stranger's eyes narrowed, and they looked at each other in a disconcertingly identical way. "Turn your palm towards me," he commanded, "And cut yourself across."
Legolas hesitated, not wanting to trust the stranger and definitely not wanting to prove him right. But everyone in the council had turned expectantly towards them, and he drew out a dagger from his boot and ran it across his left palm, drawing blood. The stranger turned his own left palm towards the other elf and the group watched as a wound appeared there as well, identical to Legolas', and then healed and scarred and faded, as if with time.
"I am you," the stranger said with finality, as the Prince of Mirkwood averted his burning gaze and set a piece of cloth against his own fresh wound.
"You must understand," said Aragorn, "Even if we are certain that you are one and the same, we cannot preserve the ring, for it is tantamount to ending our own lives. Such is a risk we cannot take, especially since all we have for proof of this future that you speak are your words. We know only what danger we see in the horizon. And such years you speak of are far beyond us."
The stranger shook his head in dismay. "What is dreadfully ironic here is that rather than anyone else, I was sent here because I was supposed to be trusted by all of you." He turned towards Lord Elrond, "I will see you when I return to the future, my lord. And you will sorely regret not having listened, because now I am a part of your memories. And you will know then, for a certainty, that you have made a mistake. Farewell."
"You will just leave?" Aragorn asked.
"Yes," said the stranger, turning away from them and exiting, walking away in the potent silence that followed, the barely-perceptible sounds of his footfalls fading into the distance.
"It would do us all good if you had him accosted and locked up until the quest is over," Legolas told Lord Elrond, "He will follow if you set him free, and he will try to stop us."
"Would he?" said Lord Elrond wistfully.
"Because I would," Legolas said quietly, "If I were so determined."
Lord Elrond turned to the Istari Gandalf expectantly, "What do you know of this?"
Gandalf rubbed at his beard in thought. He had been in silence all this while, and his counsel was invaluable. "I think we can rely on who he says he is. And if I can conclude that this stranger is indeed Legolas, then it follows that I can award him the same level of trust. Perhaps he speaks the truth. Let him roam freely to do as he will. We are more than able to defend ourselves, in case he strikes. Either way, one more stowaway hardly bothers me."
"Well it certainly bothers me," retorted Legolas, "He cannot be trusted. He will stop us, if he were I and all that he says are true."
"Then all is well and good," said Gandalf, "for if indeed the things he says are true, than it is only right that we be stopped, don't you think? Let the line run long. Things will happen as they ultimately must."
TO BE CONTINUED…