Chapter Sixty: In Stone
A/N: Okay. Finally. I feel that I've played the bitch long enough. It's been way too long since I've been writing. I mean, damn. I guess I could blame it on tons of things -- I always felt guilty writing about the wonderful (cough, cough) lives of Legolas and Aila together, and it felt like I was cheating on my boyfriend. Well, thank God I dumped his ass. And then I moved on to writing Orlando Bloom fics … but I've still got this writer's block hangover and I've sort of painted myself into a corner with this fic and I don't know how to get out, but I finally figured it out.
This isn't the last chapter, though. Yes, I know, it's been so long, you guys deserve an ending. Yes. You do. I know that you don't trust me anymore when I say that I'll update, but this is an integrity for me now. I've got to do this. I've got to, if you'll ever read my writing again. There will probably be 63-65 chapters in this story. Count down.
Thanks to you guys, you most awesome reviewers. I haven't been on fan fiction .net in MILLENNIA. Seriously. But I went on, just out of curiosity today, and I found some new reviews. I'd figured everybody had given up on me. (Yeah, you had, but you reviewed in May. I could swear I had stopped writing in April … the 11th, when I hooked up with that guy. (Blegh.) But anyway, I've been toying with this ending for about a month and I figured I've got to end it. In a way that will fulfill my story's promise to you and so that I'll be fulfilled as a writer. (Though, I pretty much already am.)
Most tearfully, I'd like to sincerely thank ALL reviewers. I really can't remember any particular names, but just know that if you've at least READ my story, you have a special place in my heart. And I hope that I can continue with this. (I've got another idea for a story, but I won't post it until I'm ENTIRELY finished, so I don't put you guys through this again. That was the original plan with this story, but apparently that was shot to hell. This summer marks one year of working on this story and it seems a proper time to end it.
My most tearful thank you to you all.
…
The son may rest.
In stone.
In peace.
To ever save the elven race.
His light hath never shone.
The prophecy raced through Aila's mind, but she was still faced with the prone figure of her child's body, his arm crooked and trapped underneath the small of his back, his eyelids fluttering open and closed in his fit. She had thrown him down upon the stone walkway of the west wall, his foot resting on a low-slung opening for archers.
Aila sat on a parapet herself, watching the sun as it cast an eerie, almost cheery, glow on the camp of men beneath. A few spotted her, and she could hear the shouting. They shot arrows, of course, but they all fell horribly short, and she remained sitting, her eyes flowing smoothly over the scenery, taking in Mirkwood one last time as she sat, challengingly, on the edge of the wall, her feet dangling over, Findecano strewn across the walkway behind her. The ground lay many feet beneath her, several stories, in fact, and the dizzying height phased her little. She did not allow herself to look down. She only gazed across the horizon, the sun's great yellow eye sinking lower with each breath that escaped her now trembling body. Elves who were acting as sentries stayed far from where she sat, respecting the peace she demanded. None saw Findecano. None suspected anything.
Aila allowed herself to slide forward, inching cautiously towards the edge of the wall, towards the doom filled fall that awaited. Slowly, she closed out the scene before her.
The son must rest.
"In stone," she murmured. "In peace." Her murmuring of the prophecy became a chant, that slowly steadied into a flowing rhythm, Aila hardly allowing herself to take breaths between the short, chopped lines. It flowed like no chant or song she had heard or said before, but she knew the power of this new spell. If only she had realized it before. "The son may rest, in stone, in peace, forever save the elven race, his light hath never shone." But his light HAD shone, hadn't it? When he was born? But something was different now, wasn't it? This dark, evil taint upon his mind that she had let loose upon him.
If anyone was the blame, it was Lady Galadriel. Aila had the distinct impression that Galadriel had known exactly what had resided inside that book, and still she had let it loose upon her family. But, then again, Galadriel was wisest, and Aila told herself to trust the Lady's judgment.
So this was how it had to be.
She had to kill Findecano.
But she could not accept it.
A tear slid down her cheek and she kept her eyelids tightly together, drowning out all noise from below in the elven court, and concentrating solely on the wraiths that walked within her mind. This would be her final test, and she was going to lay it all out on the line.
She must kill Findecano.
But she must not accept it. She could not. He was her son, no matter how evil. She wondered briefly, was this how Hitler's mother felt?
Findecano must die.
…
"Prince Legolas," came Hukil's tinny voice, sharp and undefined, but fluid and unlike any Legolas had heard before. He turned quickly, his mind still preoccupied with other things. The men still held vigil outside his castle, but the ships were ready to disembark. "Princess Aila is sitting on the rampart wall, the west wall, sire, and several of the sentries are worried …."
Hukil needed to say no more.
***
I tried to kill myself, Legolas.
***
Aila's words from the ramparts at the city of Rohan were echoing through his mind. She had a past of it, it seemed to him her nature, and he could not allow himself to come so close to losing her again. He could not count how many times he could have lost her, but now, after so many years of happiness, he wasn't about to let those slip away on a mere impulse she had.
Quickly, he raced across the castle, taking stairs at great leaps, three or four at a time, and finally found himself racing along the north wall of the ramparts, bearing down on to the west. He could see shady figures in the dusk, and he sprinted even faster, but as he neared, he was met by the twitching form of Findecano, and Aila's figure hunched and sitting on the very edge of the parapet.
"Aila!" he shouted, hoping his voice would pull her out of whatever reverie she was in. A sudden sickness clenched his heart. Findecano. Aila. Was he to lose them both? Was he to die of grief, so close to the salvation of his people?
She did not acknowledge that she had heard him, but suddenly, he heard a sudden gasp emit from her mouth. Like a cry from a wounded bird, suddenly plummeting from flight, and she slipped from the wall, falling as though still asleep, and her eyes were closed.
His arm shooting out, he grabbed her forearm and pulling her back up, placing her down on the ground beside Findecano, her lips moving quietly, and he heard her words in small breaths, wind rather than voice.
"I lost," she was whispering. "I lose, and I give up. Melkor," she whispered audibly now, her voice rising to a tinny screech. And she screamed, but her eyes did not open, though her body began to convulse violently. Findecano's body suddenly became still and serene, a small smile creeping across his face. Legolas began to shout at them both, frantically, slapping them and shouting as loud as he could, but there was no acknowledgement in either face.
Aila continued to make soft, quiet screaming noises, as if a hand was clutching at her throat and she sputtered. Her breathing became swift, shallow, and laborious. Desperately, Legolas grabbed her hand and clutched it tightly to his chest, tearing beginning to form at the corners of his eyes, to try and pull her from her seizure.
"Legolas," she mouthed, as though finally realizing her was there, but he was not sure if she really knew. He had the odd feeling that her life was flashing before her eyes. He squeezed harder.
And suddenly, he felt drained.
His mind became hazy, his heart slowed down a few beats, his muscles becoming lethargic and he slumped forward, partly on top of, partly beside, Aila, and the hand grasping hers grew hot and he suddenly perceived that his energy was passing to her. So be it. They would all die together.
Legolas watched, as though in a hazy dream, as Aila's eyes flickered open beside him, her hands clutching suddenly tightly to his, and she sat up slightly, her eyes widening and she gasped, though her eyes were hazy and he knew she was concentrating on her mind. Letting out a scream of rage, she was suddenly alive with movement, her hair swinging, her head moving to block out the remaining rays of the sun, her fingers extricating themselves from his limp ones, and he watched, dazed, as they wrapped around one of his elven blades, which he carried with him always.
She unsheathed the beautiful blade, and her back arched as she hunched over the still limp for of Findecano. Another scream of rage rent the air, torn from her lips as if by another being, and Legolas realized that Findecano was laughing, though he still seemed struck by a seizure. The knife arched beautifully upwards, its long blade catching the sunlight and glinting as though off water. It was beautiful to Legolas and all of his attention was caught up in the beauty of his long dagger, he didn't realize what it meant.
Until the dagger sunk deep into Findecano's chest, Aila still clutching the handle with both fists, her face wrought with tears, and the blood spurted from her son's chest, splattering across her hands, even across her face, and Findecano gave one last shudder.
What happened next astounded Legolas in his dazed, confused, lethargic state. Findecano's body slowly turned gray, and Legolas realized his son was now stone.
"The son may rest.
In stone.
In peace.
To Ever save the elven race.
His light hath never shone."
Legolas found Aila spitting this prophecy out spitefully, but melodically, like some strange sort of chant.
Or a spell. But now that spell was broken, and Aila collapsed beside him, both her and his energy used up, and they both fell unconscious, their son's body a statue just feet from their prone figures.
A/N: Okay. Finally. I feel that I've played the bitch long enough. It's been way too long since I've been writing. I mean, damn. I guess I could blame it on tons of things -- I always felt guilty writing about the wonderful (cough, cough) lives of Legolas and Aila together, and it felt like I was cheating on my boyfriend. Well, thank God I dumped his ass. And then I moved on to writing Orlando Bloom fics … but I've still got this writer's block hangover and I've sort of painted myself into a corner with this fic and I don't know how to get out, but I finally figured it out.
This isn't the last chapter, though. Yes, I know, it's been so long, you guys deserve an ending. Yes. You do. I know that you don't trust me anymore when I say that I'll update, but this is an integrity for me now. I've got to do this. I've got to, if you'll ever read my writing again. There will probably be 63-65 chapters in this story. Count down.
Thanks to you guys, you most awesome reviewers. I haven't been on fan fiction .net in MILLENNIA. Seriously. But I went on, just out of curiosity today, and I found some new reviews. I'd figured everybody had given up on me. (Yeah, you had, but you reviewed in May. I could swear I had stopped writing in April … the 11th, when I hooked up with that guy. (Blegh.) But anyway, I've been toying with this ending for about a month and I figured I've got to end it. In a way that will fulfill my story's promise to you and so that I'll be fulfilled as a writer. (Though, I pretty much already am.)
Most tearfully, I'd like to sincerely thank ALL reviewers. I really can't remember any particular names, but just know that if you've at least READ my story, you have a special place in my heart. And I hope that I can continue with this. (I've got another idea for a story, but I won't post it until I'm ENTIRELY finished, so I don't put you guys through this again. That was the original plan with this story, but apparently that was shot to hell. This summer marks one year of working on this story and it seems a proper time to end it.
My most tearful thank you to you all.
…
The son may rest.
In stone.
In peace.
To ever save the elven race.
His light hath never shone.
The prophecy raced through Aila's mind, but she was still faced with the prone figure of her child's body, his arm crooked and trapped underneath the small of his back, his eyelids fluttering open and closed in his fit. She had thrown him down upon the stone walkway of the west wall, his foot resting on a low-slung opening for archers.
Aila sat on a parapet herself, watching the sun as it cast an eerie, almost cheery, glow on the camp of men beneath. A few spotted her, and she could hear the shouting. They shot arrows, of course, but they all fell horribly short, and she remained sitting, her eyes flowing smoothly over the scenery, taking in Mirkwood one last time as she sat, challengingly, on the edge of the wall, her feet dangling over, Findecano strewn across the walkway behind her. The ground lay many feet beneath her, several stories, in fact, and the dizzying height phased her little. She did not allow herself to look down. She only gazed across the horizon, the sun's great yellow eye sinking lower with each breath that escaped her now trembling body. Elves who were acting as sentries stayed far from where she sat, respecting the peace she demanded. None saw Findecano. None suspected anything.
Aila allowed herself to slide forward, inching cautiously towards the edge of the wall, towards the doom filled fall that awaited. Slowly, she closed out the scene before her.
The son must rest.
"In stone," she murmured. "In peace." Her murmuring of the prophecy became a chant, that slowly steadied into a flowing rhythm, Aila hardly allowing herself to take breaths between the short, chopped lines. It flowed like no chant or song she had heard or said before, but she knew the power of this new spell. If only she had realized it before. "The son may rest, in stone, in peace, forever save the elven race, his light hath never shone." But his light HAD shone, hadn't it? When he was born? But something was different now, wasn't it? This dark, evil taint upon his mind that she had let loose upon him.
If anyone was the blame, it was Lady Galadriel. Aila had the distinct impression that Galadriel had known exactly what had resided inside that book, and still she had let it loose upon her family. But, then again, Galadriel was wisest, and Aila told herself to trust the Lady's judgment.
So this was how it had to be.
She had to kill Findecano.
But she could not accept it.
A tear slid down her cheek and she kept her eyelids tightly together, drowning out all noise from below in the elven court, and concentrating solely on the wraiths that walked within her mind. This would be her final test, and she was going to lay it all out on the line.
She must kill Findecano.
But she must not accept it. She could not. He was her son, no matter how evil. She wondered briefly, was this how Hitler's mother felt?
Findecano must die.
…
"Prince Legolas," came Hukil's tinny voice, sharp and undefined, but fluid and unlike any Legolas had heard before. He turned quickly, his mind still preoccupied with other things. The men still held vigil outside his castle, but the ships were ready to disembark. "Princess Aila is sitting on the rampart wall, the west wall, sire, and several of the sentries are worried …."
Hukil needed to say no more.
***
I tried to kill myself, Legolas.
***
Aila's words from the ramparts at the city of Rohan were echoing through his mind. She had a past of it, it seemed to him her nature, and he could not allow himself to come so close to losing her again. He could not count how many times he could have lost her, but now, after so many years of happiness, he wasn't about to let those slip away on a mere impulse she had.
Quickly, he raced across the castle, taking stairs at great leaps, three or four at a time, and finally found himself racing along the north wall of the ramparts, bearing down on to the west. He could see shady figures in the dusk, and he sprinted even faster, but as he neared, he was met by the twitching form of Findecano, and Aila's figure hunched and sitting on the very edge of the parapet.
"Aila!" he shouted, hoping his voice would pull her out of whatever reverie she was in. A sudden sickness clenched his heart. Findecano. Aila. Was he to lose them both? Was he to die of grief, so close to the salvation of his people?
She did not acknowledge that she had heard him, but suddenly, he heard a sudden gasp emit from her mouth. Like a cry from a wounded bird, suddenly plummeting from flight, and she slipped from the wall, falling as though still asleep, and her eyes were closed.
His arm shooting out, he grabbed her forearm and pulling her back up, placing her down on the ground beside Findecano, her lips moving quietly, and he heard her words in small breaths, wind rather than voice.
"I lost," she was whispering. "I lose, and I give up. Melkor," she whispered audibly now, her voice rising to a tinny screech. And she screamed, but her eyes did not open, though her body began to convulse violently. Findecano's body suddenly became still and serene, a small smile creeping across his face. Legolas began to shout at them both, frantically, slapping them and shouting as loud as he could, but there was no acknowledgement in either face.
Aila continued to make soft, quiet screaming noises, as if a hand was clutching at her throat and she sputtered. Her breathing became swift, shallow, and laborious. Desperately, Legolas grabbed her hand and clutched it tightly to his chest, tearing beginning to form at the corners of his eyes, to try and pull her from her seizure.
"Legolas," she mouthed, as though finally realizing her was there, but he was not sure if she really knew. He had the odd feeling that her life was flashing before her eyes. He squeezed harder.
And suddenly, he felt drained.
His mind became hazy, his heart slowed down a few beats, his muscles becoming lethargic and he slumped forward, partly on top of, partly beside, Aila, and the hand grasping hers grew hot and he suddenly perceived that his energy was passing to her. So be it. They would all die together.
Legolas watched, as though in a hazy dream, as Aila's eyes flickered open beside him, her hands clutching suddenly tightly to his, and she sat up slightly, her eyes widening and she gasped, though her eyes were hazy and he knew she was concentrating on her mind. Letting out a scream of rage, she was suddenly alive with movement, her hair swinging, her head moving to block out the remaining rays of the sun, her fingers extricating themselves from his limp ones, and he watched, dazed, as they wrapped around one of his elven blades, which he carried with him always.
She unsheathed the beautiful blade, and her back arched as she hunched over the still limp for of Findecano. Another scream of rage rent the air, torn from her lips as if by another being, and Legolas realized that Findecano was laughing, though he still seemed struck by a seizure. The knife arched beautifully upwards, its long blade catching the sunlight and glinting as though off water. It was beautiful to Legolas and all of his attention was caught up in the beauty of his long dagger, he didn't realize what it meant.
Until the dagger sunk deep into Findecano's chest, Aila still clutching the handle with both fists, her face wrought with tears, and the blood spurted from her son's chest, splattering across her hands, even across her face, and Findecano gave one last shudder.
What happened next astounded Legolas in his dazed, confused, lethargic state. Findecano's body slowly turned gray, and Legolas realized his son was now stone.
"The son may rest.
In stone.
In peace.
To Ever save the elven race.
His light hath never shone."
Legolas found Aila spitting this prophecy out spitefully, but melodically, like some strange sort of chant.
Or a spell. But now that spell was broken, and Aila collapsed beside him, both her and his energy used up, and they both fell unconscious, their son's body a statue just feet from their prone figures.