A/N: Thanks, everyone, for the incredibly sweet reviews! I hope you like
this chapter; I almost cried myself. I don't know whether this is the end
or not; I tend to update rather infrequently, waiting for inspiration to
kick in. We'll see if a continuation suggests itself. If you like Gandalf
or Pippin or both, I'd like to stick in a shameless plug for my story (also
still incomplete, but not abandoned) "As Close as Ever." Thank you very
much for reading.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Aragorn, Legolas and the rest of the Fellowship don't belong to me, and neither do any other people, places or things mentioned in this story. Luckily for them, they belong to the marvelous imagination of J.R.R. Tolkien and also to New Line Cinema.
'Elves,' thought Aragorn hopelessly. 'Shun them and they surround you by the thousands. Seek out the company of one and he is nowhere to be found.' He had been looking for Legolas for what seemed like an age of the world. He had no intention, however, of searching every tree in Lothlorien, so he relied on his instincts, a practice that had always served him well. He stopped short in the shadow of a mallorn when he saw that a few more steps would lead him into Galadriel's garden. What hidden power dwelt there, he did not know; he had never seen it. But he suddenly knew without a doubt that Legolas was there. Concern for the prince swept away his nearly implacable dread, and he stepped slowly into the hidden sanctuary.
Legolas was bent over a stone basin, muscles rigid and intent on the swirling contents. Aragorn believed that Legolas could hear him, although his steps were what humans would call soundless on the soft carpet of leaves. He was loath to interrupt, but he stepped closer, determined to glimpse the Elf's face before he did anything drastic. Legolas spoke suddenly, and Aragorn froze, one foot in front of the other.
"I do not understand," he whispered painfully. "The fair folk of Thranduil's wood must soon pass to the Havens. The trees I loved are but an illusion, only a taste of my true home. What Elf would risk the peace of Valinor for a future that is not his to share? Lady, why am I here? Where dwells Mithrandir?"
Aragorn almost spoke, but Legolas sighed suddenly, seeming to have found an answer from the thought of the Lady. Before Aragorn could return to the shadow of the trees, the Elf turned and saw him. Mortal and immortal regarded each other silently, until Aragorn spoke, hurt clouding his every word.
"You need not have come. If the call of the sea is what you desire to follow, I would not deny you. You are right; this need not be your struggle. I have been selfish," he finished quietly.
To his annoyance, Legolas laughed, the sound drifting through his mind like bright music. "You, my friend? I do not think so. You are many things, Dúnadan, but 'selfish' is decidedly absent from their number. A trifle misguided, perhaps. I am no pet or piece of baggage that you have dragged along on your quest, my friend. Lord Elrond sent me, yes. But do you believe that I, who from infancy have had my every wish fulfilled, who have been pampered and catered to by a doting father and king, would have come if I had not wished it?"
Aragorn caught the amused sparkle in Legolas' eye and found himself laughing as well. He then sobered quickly when he returned his thought to the prince's torturous words spoken in what he now knew had been perceived by the Elf to be solitude. "Do you feel a debt to me, Legolas? Is that why you are here?"
Legolas stared at him for a moment, the Elvish version of surprise written across his features, then approached him carefully until each filled the other's entire range of vision. "Surely more than honor and duty lies between us, Aragorn? I am here... I do not rightly know the reason, but it is enough to know that I am here."
Aragorn smiled sadly. "He is gone, Legolas. That is the answer you seek. His spirit is out of our reach forever."
Legolas paled, all trace of humor or warmth having vanished from his exquisite features. "Gone?" he stuttered, searching Aragorn's eyes desperately. "How?"
"It is worse when the body remains," Aragorn explained patiently, placing a hand on each of the Elf's trembling shoulders. "It is hard to say farewell, then. My mother..." He stopped then, knowing it was unnecessary to say any more. Gilraen did not belong here, in this garden of fading glory, a testament to the coming darkness. She was darkness now, and he could not find her anywhere; he was not ready to search for her on this particular journey.
"What happens to an Elf?" Legolas asked suddenly, deeming that the time for drifting in the past had elapsed. His eyes pleaded with Aragorn to make a different answer than the one he knew was coming.
"They also pass out of this world. I do not know how they fare then. I am mortal," he reminded Legolas gently.
Legolas looked down for a minute, then raising his head suddenly, said with a determined frown: "I do not wish to die."
Aragorn nearly wept at this, but with a substantial effort managed to say quite steadily: "No more does anyone. It is not pleasant to leave all that we love behind and pass into the unknown."
Legolas considered this, then asked with the frankness of a child: "Do you fear your death?"
"I fear a death where something yet remains for me to accomplish," said Aragorn truthfully. "I fear a death alone in the wilds, with no face dear to me to fill my sight before I am swept away. I fear a quiet, meaningless death."
"You fear death without Arwen," said Legolas knowledgably. To his surprise, Aragorn flinched and turned away. Realizing what was passing in his friend's mind, he spoke with authority. "Aragorn, it is not selfish to desire happiness in love. It is not selfish to accept any great gift freely given. You are already proving yourself worthy of her."
"I do not wish to lead her to her doom!" he shouted angrily, spinning around to face the Elf once more. "If I could I would undertake this task alone. She will die for me; any member of this Fellowship could do the same, and I cannot bear it! I have never wanted this..." He froze in horror, realizing that his secret had slipped its way to the surface of their discourse without his realizing it. He decided that it would be foolish to avoid a topic he had come to discuss, so he endeavored to continue. "I... I have lived in fear of precisely this situation since- for a very long time, Legolas. I feel guilty for craving companionship. I do not deserve so many sacrifices, especially Arwen's. You cannot tell me that it is a privilege to be the last hope of my race. I need other hope. I thought once, long ago, I might seek it somehow with..." He trailed off here, ashamed beyond words. What had been so easily released in Elrond's embrace, a stronghold of understanding and matching despair, was fighting its induction into words. He did not want Legolas to be ashamed of him, or worse, to hate him for his weakness and folly.
The Elf understood perfectly, however, and the dark flush of barely controlled anger crept slowly up his pale cheeks. Aragorn merely hung his head. "Look at me, Estel." Aragorn flinched and raised his eyes to the flashing blue ones pinning him to the spot. Legolas only called him that when he meant not to be trifled with. Suddenly the force of the Elf's anger vanished, and Aragorn almost stumbled with the lightening of the air. He saw only pure, naked fear in his friend's eyes, and he trembled with guilt when he heard the Elf whisper: "You would not seek him, Aragorn, you would not..."
"Only Elrond knows," Aragorn said desperately. "Please, I was only a boy..." He suddenly felt his own anger rise, and it frightened him. "Have you ever been given a connection to a figure out of legend, Legolas? Have you ever had your entire identity ripped away from you in an instant, only to have it replaced with something you cannot possibly fulfill? Have you ever been told that the fate of your entire people hangs on you alone? My heritage weighs heavily on me even now. It is nothing short of cruel to bestow that on one so young that he has built himself a dream of his life to come, never knowing that just beyond the borders of his illusion lives constant persecution and hatred."
He turned away then, certain of the tears threatening to spill over, but a gentle hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around into a close, desperate embrace. They were both silent for a moment, each drawing strength from the other, until Legolas spoke. "You have just shown me my reason," he said firmly. Aragorn pulled back in surprise, finding a look of fierce determination and seriousness in the Elf's eyes. "I swear to you, Elessar, Hope of the Dúnedain, that I will keep you to your purpose. As long as you draw breath, my friend, I will keep you from darkness. Your star shall not fail."
Aragorn could find no words. No other had ever considered anything of the sort. Elrond understood, and Aragorn's tears were his tears, but he stood firmly apart from Aragorn's destiny and always had. If Celebrian had not sailed, perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps Elrond would have been more willing to fight the war of Men a second time. But he had always known, ever since that day, that he would have to walk his path alone. But Legolas had sworn to him that he would never again be so alone, that their fates would be one... "Thank you," he said softly, grasping the Elf's hand in his. "Thank you so much."
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Aragorn, Legolas and the rest of the Fellowship don't belong to me, and neither do any other people, places or things mentioned in this story. Luckily for them, they belong to the marvelous imagination of J.R.R. Tolkien and also to New Line Cinema.
'Elves,' thought Aragorn hopelessly. 'Shun them and they surround you by the thousands. Seek out the company of one and he is nowhere to be found.' He had been looking for Legolas for what seemed like an age of the world. He had no intention, however, of searching every tree in Lothlorien, so he relied on his instincts, a practice that had always served him well. He stopped short in the shadow of a mallorn when he saw that a few more steps would lead him into Galadriel's garden. What hidden power dwelt there, he did not know; he had never seen it. But he suddenly knew without a doubt that Legolas was there. Concern for the prince swept away his nearly implacable dread, and he stepped slowly into the hidden sanctuary.
Legolas was bent over a stone basin, muscles rigid and intent on the swirling contents. Aragorn believed that Legolas could hear him, although his steps were what humans would call soundless on the soft carpet of leaves. He was loath to interrupt, but he stepped closer, determined to glimpse the Elf's face before he did anything drastic. Legolas spoke suddenly, and Aragorn froze, one foot in front of the other.
"I do not understand," he whispered painfully. "The fair folk of Thranduil's wood must soon pass to the Havens. The trees I loved are but an illusion, only a taste of my true home. What Elf would risk the peace of Valinor for a future that is not his to share? Lady, why am I here? Where dwells Mithrandir?"
Aragorn almost spoke, but Legolas sighed suddenly, seeming to have found an answer from the thought of the Lady. Before Aragorn could return to the shadow of the trees, the Elf turned and saw him. Mortal and immortal regarded each other silently, until Aragorn spoke, hurt clouding his every word.
"You need not have come. If the call of the sea is what you desire to follow, I would not deny you. You are right; this need not be your struggle. I have been selfish," he finished quietly.
To his annoyance, Legolas laughed, the sound drifting through his mind like bright music. "You, my friend? I do not think so. You are many things, Dúnadan, but 'selfish' is decidedly absent from their number. A trifle misguided, perhaps. I am no pet or piece of baggage that you have dragged along on your quest, my friend. Lord Elrond sent me, yes. But do you believe that I, who from infancy have had my every wish fulfilled, who have been pampered and catered to by a doting father and king, would have come if I had not wished it?"
Aragorn caught the amused sparkle in Legolas' eye and found himself laughing as well. He then sobered quickly when he returned his thought to the prince's torturous words spoken in what he now knew had been perceived by the Elf to be solitude. "Do you feel a debt to me, Legolas? Is that why you are here?"
Legolas stared at him for a moment, the Elvish version of surprise written across his features, then approached him carefully until each filled the other's entire range of vision. "Surely more than honor and duty lies between us, Aragorn? I am here... I do not rightly know the reason, but it is enough to know that I am here."
Aragorn smiled sadly. "He is gone, Legolas. That is the answer you seek. His spirit is out of our reach forever."
Legolas paled, all trace of humor or warmth having vanished from his exquisite features. "Gone?" he stuttered, searching Aragorn's eyes desperately. "How?"
"It is worse when the body remains," Aragorn explained patiently, placing a hand on each of the Elf's trembling shoulders. "It is hard to say farewell, then. My mother..." He stopped then, knowing it was unnecessary to say any more. Gilraen did not belong here, in this garden of fading glory, a testament to the coming darkness. She was darkness now, and he could not find her anywhere; he was not ready to search for her on this particular journey.
"What happens to an Elf?" Legolas asked suddenly, deeming that the time for drifting in the past had elapsed. His eyes pleaded with Aragorn to make a different answer than the one he knew was coming.
"They also pass out of this world. I do not know how they fare then. I am mortal," he reminded Legolas gently.
Legolas looked down for a minute, then raising his head suddenly, said with a determined frown: "I do not wish to die."
Aragorn nearly wept at this, but with a substantial effort managed to say quite steadily: "No more does anyone. It is not pleasant to leave all that we love behind and pass into the unknown."
Legolas considered this, then asked with the frankness of a child: "Do you fear your death?"
"I fear a death where something yet remains for me to accomplish," said Aragorn truthfully. "I fear a death alone in the wilds, with no face dear to me to fill my sight before I am swept away. I fear a quiet, meaningless death."
"You fear death without Arwen," said Legolas knowledgably. To his surprise, Aragorn flinched and turned away. Realizing what was passing in his friend's mind, he spoke with authority. "Aragorn, it is not selfish to desire happiness in love. It is not selfish to accept any great gift freely given. You are already proving yourself worthy of her."
"I do not wish to lead her to her doom!" he shouted angrily, spinning around to face the Elf once more. "If I could I would undertake this task alone. She will die for me; any member of this Fellowship could do the same, and I cannot bear it! I have never wanted this..." He froze in horror, realizing that his secret had slipped its way to the surface of their discourse without his realizing it. He decided that it would be foolish to avoid a topic he had come to discuss, so he endeavored to continue. "I... I have lived in fear of precisely this situation since- for a very long time, Legolas. I feel guilty for craving companionship. I do not deserve so many sacrifices, especially Arwen's. You cannot tell me that it is a privilege to be the last hope of my race. I need other hope. I thought once, long ago, I might seek it somehow with..." He trailed off here, ashamed beyond words. What had been so easily released in Elrond's embrace, a stronghold of understanding and matching despair, was fighting its induction into words. He did not want Legolas to be ashamed of him, or worse, to hate him for his weakness and folly.
The Elf understood perfectly, however, and the dark flush of barely controlled anger crept slowly up his pale cheeks. Aragorn merely hung his head. "Look at me, Estel." Aragorn flinched and raised his eyes to the flashing blue ones pinning him to the spot. Legolas only called him that when he meant not to be trifled with. Suddenly the force of the Elf's anger vanished, and Aragorn almost stumbled with the lightening of the air. He saw only pure, naked fear in his friend's eyes, and he trembled with guilt when he heard the Elf whisper: "You would not seek him, Aragorn, you would not..."
"Only Elrond knows," Aragorn said desperately. "Please, I was only a boy..." He suddenly felt his own anger rise, and it frightened him. "Have you ever been given a connection to a figure out of legend, Legolas? Have you ever had your entire identity ripped away from you in an instant, only to have it replaced with something you cannot possibly fulfill? Have you ever been told that the fate of your entire people hangs on you alone? My heritage weighs heavily on me even now. It is nothing short of cruel to bestow that on one so young that he has built himself a dream of his life to come, never knowing that just beyond the borders of his illusion lives constant persecution and hatred."
He turned away then, certain of the tears threatening to spill over, but a gentle hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around into a close, desperate embrace. They were both silent for a moment, each drawing strength from the other, until Legolas spoke. "You have just shown me my reason," he said firmly. Aragorn pulled back in surprise, finding a look of fierce determination and seriousness in the Elf's eyes. "I swear to you, Elessar, Hope of the Dúnedain, that I will keep you to your purpose. As long as you draw breath, my friend, I will keep you from darkness. Your star shall not fail."
Aragorn could find no words. No other had ever considered anything of the sort. Elrond understood, and Aragorn's tears were his tears, but he stood firmly apart from Aragorn's destiny and always had. If Celebrian had not sailed, perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps Elrond would have been more willing to fight the war of Men a second time. But he had always known, ever since that day, that he would have to walk his path alone. But Legolas had sworn to him that he would never again be so alone, that their fates would be one... "Thank you," he said softly, grasping the Elf's hand in his. "Thank you so much."