Chapter 4
"What have you done?" Elrond turned abruptly from where he stood to see Aragorn at his door, breathless. His eyes were red from yet another bout of tears. He stormed into the room, stopping a few paces from the elf. "What have you done to him?" Elrond sighed mentally, cursing Legolas' guards for actually letting the man in.
"Aragorn, I had to do it..."
"He is dying in there! Have you seen him? He could not even register who I was with any response. He merely shied away, making some strange noises. He is dying of grief," he whispered the last sentence. Elrond nodded in understanding.
"Yes, but shall get better. His grief is from the separation from..."
"There is no separation grief here. It is the grief of loosing a lover. It is the grief of loosing his closest companion since his early years. He...will...die!" Elrond remained still unwavering, and Aragorn roared and turned around, kicking the nearest table. The jar of water on it splattered over the floor and a nearby chair, and the ornate wood piece toppled to the ground.
"He will come back to himself. You can help there."
"I will not bend to your will."
"I only think for you when I do this, Aragorn," Elrond almost pleaded.
"My concern? You only mean to do this for your concern! He "killed" your daughter! You are doing this for your own reason!" Aragorn turned abruptly away, and stomped out of the room. Elrond watched the door slam, and he felt despair creeping into his heart.
I must consult with Galadriel.
***
Legolas woke to the chirping of birds. His whole body ached just with the fluttering of his eyelids. Around him, he saw fuzzy images, illuminated by faint rays of morning sunlight peeking through a barred window. He groaned and blinked to clear his vision.
Around him was a plain room, very small and cramped. A high window was above him, facing east, with the sun directly in front of it. Plain stone covered ever surface, the floors and the walls. To one side was a heavy iron door, a small square hole cut in the top, bars crossing it.
So I am in a cell.
In Minas Tirith.
The darkness crept back on him, but a barrier there was now, and Legolas let it fall away. Aragorn had convicted him of this crime. He should know better than to suspect Legolas of such a crime.
He was watching his own thoughts from the outside, his mind floating in and out of a cloudy barrier. Legolas shifted his weight, and the cloud lifted a little.
Somewhere, in the vast palace, walked his lover, his melamin, his Aragorn. Sometime, he would face him again, in trial. Someday, he would look him in the eye and feel his love burning again, and he would not resist. Someday...
The door burst open with a thud, and a guard walked in, sneering as he folded his arms across his chest.
"By order of the King, you have been given better quarters, elf," he spat the last word like poison. "You should feel lucky." Legolas did not move. "Come on, you fool, get up and out of here! Or do you want to stay here? I would be just as pleased that way, though I doubt the King would." Legolas frantically shook his head to clear the fog.
"So Aragorn has given me a better chamber?" he asked hesitantly.
"Get up!" Legolas stood, balancing himself on the wall, and walked on shaky legs to the door. The man turned before he could reach it, leaving the Elf to make his way to the mysterious room on his own.
It was not hard to find, luckily, since a nice servant named Mlina knew exactly where it was. She led Legolas to the room and closed the door behind her. It was plain enough, with a bed, a nightstand, and a chair, but it was an improvement to the old cell. There was also a seaward facing widow that could be opened, to bring the fresh breeze to Legolas. His heart stirred, not for the sea, but for Aragorn, and Legolas angrily squelched that feeling, his anger trying hard to replace it.
"I want to see him again," he confided to the room as he fell onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. On it was a design of the City, the moon to one side of it, and the sun to the other. Directly above it was a seabird, spread in flight. Legolas' heart pulled for that bird, longing to grasp it, and he stretched his hand up skyward.
There was a knock at the door, and Legolas stood, walking to it to open it. When he did, he found the hall deserted, strangely. He wondered if he had been hearing things, but that was very unlikely. He shook his head and closed the door, content to take it as a teasing gesture by one of his many haters, and he fell back into the world of dreams where he could peacefully live without intrusion of unwanted characters.
***
Aragorn was very out of breath by the time he had run through most of the castle to reach his room, just to avoid the sight of his once beloved. He was absurd, knocking on the door in hopes that Legolas would answer. What would he say? What would he do? Rarely was the King at a loss for words, but as his hand reached up to touch the wood, his throat tightened and his mind froze.
"I will see him in a week," he concluded. Then, he could prove Legolas' innocence, and send him on his way, on the fastest steed he could find, so that he would make it Valinor. "I have done enough to hinder him, and now, I must help him all that I can." Still, in his heart was foreboding, a feeling of imminent loss and destruction, and Aragorn hung his head even as he considered the brightest outcomes of the forthcoming exchange.
***
"I announce the coming of Legolas, son of Thranduil, price of Mirkwood," called a herald as the doors swung open for Legolas. His muscles were stiff as he walked inside the circular hearing room. To each side were large crowds of people, some jeering at him, some weeping, some barely being restrained by the guards. Legolas looked straight ahead to ignore them, but that proved a fatal mistake, for sitting in the front of the hall, upon a stone throne, regal and proud was Aragorn. His untamable brown hair had somehow been pulled away from his eyes and partly tied back. He wore beautiful clothing, his over tunic adorning the symbol of Gondor, the tree with seven stars above it. Their eyes met, and Legolas felt his feet falter, but with the shove of a guard, he moved to the center of the room, surrounded on all sides.
"Legolas," pain was evident in Aragorn's voice, "son of Thranduil, you are convicted of the murder of Lady Arwen of the house of Elrond. What do you have to say for yourself?"
At first, Legolas could not get his mouth to move, but finally, he produced sound.
"I do not see what fool would come up with such an accusation," he spat directly at Aragorn, expecting him to be behind it. "I would never dare kill one of my own elvin kindred, no less Lady Arwen." Aragorn nodded approvingly. Suddenly, a man beside him, once unnoticed, stood. It was Elrond.
"If I may, Lord Aragorn, I wish to speak. Was it not true that Legolas harbored jealous feelings towards Arwen?" Legolas took a deep breath, clenching his jaw.
"There may have been jealously, but it was never to the extent that I would dare harm her." It was true; Legolas could not lie well at all, now least of all time. "If this all the proof on which the King goes by, then he is more incompetent than originally thought!" There was uproar, but Aragorn stood, silencing them all. He then sat again in a flow of his garments. Elrond still bored into Legolas with his piercing gaze.
"Legolas, the arrow with which was used to kill Arwen was one that would have to have been shot by an archer of much skill, and the bow would have to have been quite long in size. Only Mirkwood and Lothlorien make these bows. Do you carry a long bow with you sometimes?"
"Yes." Aragorn flinched, his eyes misting over at the response, but he soon gathered his composure.
"Lord Elrond, that will be enough for now," he commanded. Elrond shot him a slight glare before settling into his chair. Other men who were also seated beside him whispered to themselves. "Legolas, do you suppose that you could assist in finding the murderer of Lady Arwen?" It was just then that Legolas realized the formality with which Aragorn spoke of Arwen.
"I do not see why I would assist you!" he shouted before he could control himself. A great roar rose from every spectator, except for Aragorn. Guards surged forward to surround Legolas and restrain them, and he let them hold him back without a thought, beating him to the ground and cursing him.
"Stop it! Do not harm him!" Aragorn cried above the din. "I command you to stop!" The entire hall stopped suddenly. Legolas looked up through clouded eyes, seeing the circle around him drift away. Blood seeped from a corner of his mouth, and he could barely see a figure come and pick him up, strong, familiar arms cradling him. He hid in the warmth and let the man carry him out of hall, leaving the astonished people behind.
All at once, the hall burst into another fit. Men cried after the King, telling him to put down the killer, to let them have him. The guards knew that they had to protect the King, so they led the mob away, despite the resistance. All the while, Aragorn was hurrying back to his own room, Legolas sobbing in his arms.
Once there, Aragorn put Legolas down on the bed and hurried to a cabinet to one side, pulling out some bandages. The wounds were not bad, but the Elf had little resistance now to death, and even something as harmless as this could cause him to slip into the impenetrable abyss beyond.
"Nin mela, it is alright, they are gone," he whispered as he rolled the elf over. There were whip wounds on his back. He lifted off the elf's tunic gently, making sure not to cause the fragile prince any more pain. The raw skin throbbed, and Aragorn hurried away to get a mortar and make a salve to put onto them. Legolas, all the while, was still sobbing, though Aragorn doubted it was from physical pain. "I am coming back, my love. I am." He brought back the salve and gingerly applied it.
"No, I don't want to see you," Legolas murmured. "I never want to see you again, my love."
"You will not see me, then," Aragorn replied as he wrapped bandages around the elf.
"Don't leave me!" he cried, suddenly latching onto Aragorn's wrist. Aragorn caressed his hand and smiled, laying it to rest by Legolas' side. He rolled the elf over to assess his other wounds. There were a few scrapes, but nothing major. His blue eyes glistened, and Aragorn reached down to his porcelain face and wiped away the tears. Legolas closed his eyes and groaned. Aragorn's fingers ran over his lips, then along his cheek to his ear. The angular projection was just as soft and tender as ever, and Legolas flinched when he touched it, though he did not pull away.
"Mela," he muttered, bending down over the Elf. Legolas' eyes opened, and then closed as Aragorn gently kissed his lips. Legolas reached his burning arms up and wrapped them around Aragorn's neck. His hair felt clean, not greasy as usual, but was familiar, and comforting.
"I never want you to go," he muttered as Aragorn straightened up, avoiding Legolas' pleading eyes as he did.
"I will return," he comforted the elf.
"We were gone too long."
"Pain," Aragorn breathed.
"I felt pain because I lost you."
"I have you back." Aragorn kissed the elf's forehead, smoothing his hair, but Legolas heard not his words, for he had fallen into rest in the peace of his lover's presence.
***
The forest of Ithilien glowed with starlight, the boughs of sturdy trees swaying in the gentle breeze. Legolas looked up, still humming the tune of a song to himself. Promise hung in the air, and his face broke into a gentle smile as he stroked the leaf of a passing tree. Frodo and Sam, safe back from Mordor, the war over, the lands and peace... and Aragorn still alive.
Still, despite even the last of these joys, there was darkness in his heart, for when Aragorn ascended to the throne, beside him, as his beloved, Legolas would stand. He would live out his life in the realm of Gondor. The words of the song called to him again, and he began to sing quietly beneath his breath, but even though the melody was uplifting, his voice was melancholy and forlorn:
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying.
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years falling,
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing...
"I do hope these words are only in song and not in heart," said a voice behind Legolas. He whirled to find Aragorn, leaning on the trunk of a tree, smiling slightly. Legolas let out a breath and came to him.
"Of course, a'melamin. Did you expect that I would desert you, even if it was for the shores of the West?"
"You want to go to those lands, though," Aragorn replied with concern. Legolas let out an exasperated sigh.
"Yes, I do not deny my desire to see Valinor beyond, but no beauty of any of the Magic Isles compares to that of you." Aragorn crossed the rest of the distance between them, and Legolas closed his eyes as Aragorn ran his hand down the elf's cheek.
"My love, it is over," he whispered in the angular ear. "The war of the Ring is come to a close."
"So long ago it seemed we were in Rivendell, only considering the Quest. You were fearful, knowing that it would bring to this side of Middle-Earth, near to Gondor."
"I fear not know, for I have you with me," he muttered in response, kissing Legolas passionately on the lips.
Legolas stirred in his sleep but he did not awaken. Blurred images passed before his eyes as he rolled over, moaning, groping for a body that was not there.
Now, he was on the ground, Aragorn on him. Legolas let the man run his hands along his ears, moaning as he kissed the elf down his neck.
His vision clouded, and the dream filled with mist.
Voices cried out for Aragorn, but the couple ignored them, too engrossed in their own passions to hear the desperate note that tinted each call. Legolas faintly heard running feet crunching the underbrush and hurrying closer and closer. A warm kiss from Aragorn brought him back to his pleasures. The man ran his lips down the elf's neck and shoulder.
"My lord, elves from Lothlorien come with urgent news. The Lady Galadriel is here herself!" the messenger cried, almost to the two men on the ground. Aragorn craned his head that way, but he paid it little heed until the unfortunate man was upon them. He gasped, turning.
"My lord, The Lady Galadriel must speak with you immediately," he stammered. Aragorn was standing now, Legolas beside him. "Alone," the man added as he looked at the inseparable pair. Legolas turned his pleading, blue eyes on Aragorn, who squeezed the pale hand before striding to the messenger. Legolas did not make to follow; the darkness in the edges of his heart crept around to envelop his soul.
No dream was there that could have been more painful for Legolas at the time, and only to make matters worse, he woke to find his back throbbing in pain and his head aching. He rolled over, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling, then realized where he was.
His hands crept to his face to hide it from awful images, but before he could do anything, a hand pulled his arms down to rest by his sides.
"Do not be troubled, Legolas." The voice was somewhat unfamiliar: not cheerful, but not perfectly cold either, though there were undertones of hate in that voice. Legolas opened his eyes, and beside him was Elrond, his cold eyes the same, his face still stern, though there were lines of fatigue there Legolas had not seen before. "Aragorn would be here himself, though he doubted that you would enjoy his company at the present time. Also, he is currently making decisions on yesterday's trial, as he must, despite its abrupt ending." Elrond coughed. Legolas could not bring himself to say anything; his mind and heart and suddenly become devoid of all thought and emotion. He was a shell, sucking up the words that Elrond spoke to store.
"I suspect that someone will send word for you when he makes the verdict." Was that distaste in Elrond's voice. "He should do this, so emotionally tied to you." The words floated over Legolas, but life crept back. "No, I should not tell you, but I must. You caused much despair, Legolas son of Thranduil. Mayhap Galadriel's prophecy was in fact true, but we heard her wrong. Your sending has brought much despair. Arwen—" Both sat for a while in brooding silence, until, strangely, Legolas spoke.
"I would never murder Lady Arwen," his voice shook with anger. He sat up in bed, suddenly looking Elrond in the eyes. "Did you not trust me once, lord Elrond? Why is it that now you question me?"
"She was my daughter," Elrond whispered hotly. "Do you expect for me to sit by and let it pass that an elf shot her? Do you think I could accept that the culprit should go untried just because they were someone close to me, someone I knew?!"
"What culprit? I see no guilty elf in this room, in all of Minas Tirith, I suppose!" It was at that moment that the door burst open to the room, and a breathless elf rushed in. His blonde hair flew behind him as he rushed to the bedside. Legolas stiffened, his nostrils flaring.
"Legolas," Haldir said breathlessly. "They said you were here! You ran off— and I wanted to make sure that you were alright." For the first time, he noticed Elrond. "Lord Elrond," he said respectfully, bowing slightly before turning to Legolas. "Such sad news, is it not, that the fair Lady Arwen is dead?" Elrond coughed again, and Haldir closed his eyes in mourning. "She shall be remembered for a long while after. Tell me, why are you here? Surely it is not just for the mourning of Arwen, for she died at least two weeks ago." Legolas took a deep breath, but his blue eyes flickered with malice.
"If you wish it known, then I shall tell you. I have returned, convicted of the crime of the murder of Lady Arwen." Haldir's face hardened and he turned to Elrond, who had gotten up and was standing a little ways off like a statue.
"Appalling, that news is to me. For any to believe that you would dare to kill kindred—"
"Haldir," Legolas interrupted tiredly. "If you do not mind, I was at the current time, discussing matters with Elrond. I wish to speak with you yes, but now is not a good time. I understand your concern, but you also must understand me, for now. We can converse later, if I get a chance." The older elf's face fell, but he nodded.
"I understand. Most likely, you will find me in one of the gardens. Let us talk there as soon as possible. Lord Elrond," he extended his hand in farewell before backing out of the room and shutting the door behind him. Legolas let out a barely audible sigh.
"I would not consider our argument to be a discussion," Elrond stated once Haldir had left. Legolas turned to him, holding back his surging emotions.
"Please...leave me for now also. I have much to consider, and I need to do it in privacy. I wish neither anger nor friendship to impede my thoughts." He turned his now cloudy blue eyes on Elrond, and he understood that the prince was very close to breaking under whatever it was that currently troubled him.
"I understand," Elrond said as he left Legolas alone in the Aragorn's chambers.
The elf put his head between his knees, closed his eyes wearily. The storm had just begun.