Sacrificing Happiness
Part three: The Hope of Man
By Angaaldaien

Summary: The prophecy is fulfilled
Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas
Rating: part 3- R
Genre: Angst, drama, Action/Adventure
Notes: The Aragorn and Arwen romance has disappeared, in fact, Arwen has seemingly disappeared… Does not exactly follow plot in either book or movie canon (closer to movie canon)- if you're a stickler for either, I suggest you don't read this. This is my first attempt at LOTR. Elvish is indicated by '…' and unspoken conversation with Galadriel by ~…~ Many thanks to all who have reviewed; it's what drove me to write the final chapter.
Email: angaaldaien@hotmail.com
Date of posting: 8/5/02
Date of reposting: 5/05/03
More Notes: Please excuse any discrepancies - I originally had a sex scene in part two but edited it out, and haven't the time to fine tune this chapter.

The keening cry echoed throughout the woods, waking the ring bearer and his sleeping companions. "Where is Aragorn?" Frodo questioned, afraid that the cry was from the man.

"And the elf," Gimly gruffly announced, brandishing his weapon against the trees. "Should not be a hard thing to think of, luring the man away while his companions attack us."

"You can't truly think that, Gimli!" Merry said, grinning from the way he saw Gimli gaze upon the Lady Galadriel.

"Stop your petty bickering," Boromir intervened. "Aragorn and Legolas could be in danger. Merry, Pippin, and I will search for them." He looked at the others for any disagreement. "Let's be off."

The small party found Aragorn being restrained by the elf. "Maybe Gimli was right," Pippin tittered to Merry, when he saw the delicate hand painfully grasping Aragorn's shoulder.

Aragorn glanced at his three companions with a tired sadness. "Legolas, unhold me."

Shame and an equal sadness tinged the elf's manner when he dropped his hand to the stone cold voice's command. "I will return to the campgrounds."

"Aragorn, what was that about?" Boromir inquired when Legolas left.

Aragorn gazed over the stream, attempting to sort the conflicting responses Legolas had given him. "He did not want to see to Galadriel," he murmured.

***

"You have not answered any of my questions."

Legolas mused, "Man is always full of hope, that in the darkest of situations he will find the light, even if there is none to be found. And in that hope, I will be strong as well." As if in realization, Legolas' body manner changed. He was lighter hearted, and his step quicker than before. A burden had been lost in Legolas' mind, for now, Legolas was truly ready to sacrifice his life for the man.

"Still you have not answered any of my questions," Aragorn insisted.

"I would that you ask me one to answer," Legolas returned, avoiding the seriousness in Aragorn's voice.

"What is it that you hide from me?"

It gave Legolas pause, as he carefully thought over the answer. "Tis an elvish secret, and one that I would surely die from if divulged." It was not a lie all together; Legolas knew that if the man died, he would die as well.

Aragorn glared at the elf. "Then tell me of your sadness."

But before Legolas could answer, a distressed cry echoed throughout the woods. "Galadriel," Aragorn hissed, moving in the direction of the sound.

A sudden jerk from his shoulder stopped the man. "Do not go to her; the mirror is her pain to bear alone." The grip upon Aragorn's shoulder intensified, and Aragorn was sure that Legolas reassured himself more than the man. The elf was afraid of what Galadriel saw, and the tension within Legolas' hand on his shoulder only proved it.

"As your pain is your own to bear?" Aragorn turned on the elf, angrily. "I should let you die of the anguish I see in your eyes? I should simply watch? I am not that kind of man, Legolas."

"And I would not have you pity me!" came the strangled reply, cut short by a sound only the elf heard. "The others are approaching."

***

The fellowship departed from the beauty of Lothlorien. The flowing river carried the eight away from the light, and Galadriel looked on, knowing she would never see one of their number again.

Gimli watched the lady grow smaller in the distance. What he saw, Legolas did not. The forest was a place of grief; the light so blinding in its attempt to disguise what was hidden within. The lone elf did not look back like the others.

The ships docked so the party could rest until the following day. They had traveled far from the woods, but spoken little. A silent sadness had swept the group into silence, and it was far from comfortable. But on land Legolas and Aragorn could no longer avoid each other.

Aragorn walked a distance into the trees, and Legolas followed. He was uneasy; he had been so since departure from Lothlorien and wished to leave. But it was no use pursuing the man to persuade him of this; Legolas too saw the fatigue of the others, they would not want to go any further. It was the man's stubbornness that did not allow him to forget about Legolas' secret, and it would be his stubbornness now. Instead, Legolas pursued him to aid him in what he knew was coming.

He had felt it once they docked. The uncanny sense that only elves possessed alerted him to the danger nearby. The darkness had struck him so forcibly that he nearly grasped onto Boromir for support. It was ever so soon. Indeed, the man had realized his love too late.

Legolas saw what Galadriel knew in her eyes. One of them was to die. It would be him; he would have it no other way.

Aragorn did not suspect the elf of following him, so wandered through the trees undisguised. He looked not at the nature surrounding him; it all dimmed in comparison to Legolas' beauty. There was nothing the man could think of to help the elf he desperately wanted to understand. He had thought he had succeeded in uncovering the elf's mask, but he had only cracked it. And in truth, his hope was dying for it seemed the mask fit too well on the elf's face. He loved Legolas with a passion, he would do anything for the elf, and demanded naught but love in return. Legolas had given that, but there was something more he hid.

Aragorn understood, at the same instant an arrow whisked by his head, imbedding itself in the tree beyond.

There was something hidden. Hidden out of love.

Anduril was out of its scabbard before the hoards of orcs arrived. Where the lonely arrow had come from, Aragorn neglected to determine. He failed to notice the fine markings that could only be elvish.

The orcs poured through the trees, changing the former beauty into something hideously ugly. They snarled, and smelt the air. There was man, and there was elf. The elvish scent perfumed the air, agitating their already aggressive nature. Battle lust consumed them, and they raced towards the prey.

Aragorn thanked the trees for their cover, although they were not dense enough to hinder his abilities. He swiped at the raging seething mass of orcs, and squeals of pain greeted his sword. Nevertheless the man was still retreating; with each swipe of his sword he took a step back. A shape flitted in the trees above but Aragorn did not spare a look in its direction. There was hardly enough time to react to the multiple attacks as it was. Sword and battle-ax sought to dismember him, but it was impossible to touch the man skilled in the elvish art of battle.

The orcish mass left behind a bloody trail of dead, but continued to surge forwards, dodging the trees with increasing skill. They ignored the dead and wounded, needful to taste the man's blood. After a few tense minutes the wave began to slightly subside, and Aragorn felt victorious, even as the sweat dripped into his eyes, momentarily clouding his vision of the carnage. Suddenly his short ragged breaths flew from him, and he was forced backwards. Aragorn gasped for air as his back contacted a firm tree, swiping the sweat from his eyes.

Legolas materialized from above, his long blond hair streaming as he gracefully leapt to the ground. "Do not stand!" Aragorn yelled, when he saw the creature behind the fair elf. But it was too late. Heedless to anything Aragorn said, Legolas stood. Within seconds Legolas had been pierced through the shoulder, the elven blood quickly staining his tunic. Moments later a second arrow found its way through Legolas' ribcage, revealing the white of bone. The slim body jerked forwards with the attack, splaying blood across the green grass, and onto the man.

The elf stumbled into Aragorn's arms, and both were leaning upon the tree for support. A great burden was lifted from Legolas' heart and he was content; Middle Earth was saved. The moisture accumulated within Legolas' eyes when he saw Aragorn, and the hopeless shock reflected within. "Why? Why did you do this?" Aragorn desperately asked. The harshness of his voice grated upon his ears, and he wished to block all sound. His hand found the tip of the arrow that had gone through the elf's shoulder, as if confirming that this was reality.

"I never thought I would die," Legolas whispered weakly, "for love of a man." The elf felt no pain, only regret at not having the time to share anything further with the man.

The battle paused around the man and elf, as the orcs watched the elf die. They grunted and hissed, relishing the sweet smell of elven blood, dripping its way down the tips of the arrows. But the Uruk-hai that had shot the arrow held the tide back; his leadership was undisputed, despite the growing agitation of his underlings.

Aragorn felt the desperate need to cackle into the wind, throwing all consciousness away. How could it be that the single being he would ever come to love would die but the next day? A tear seeped from the tired eyes. As the elven immortality leaked from Legolas' veins, Aragorn's hope dwindled, and he likewise felt his strength draining.

"You must save Middle Earth." Legolas reached a hand around the man's back and whispered, "You will survive." Tender lips found the man in a final goodbye.

The last of the elven strength that Legolas possessed gathered to his will. In one fluid motion Legolas yanked the bow from behind Aragorn's back, cocked an arrow while turning to face the Uruk-hai that stood watching, grinning ludicrously. It too had prepared another arrow, aimed with a deadly accuracy. Within a second both arrows were loosed, and both found their mark deep within the other's heart. Legolas jerked backwards, and a sigh of escaping air passed back into Middle Earth.

Aragorn caught the elf, but had little time but to place him at the base of the tree. The tide had broken with the death of its leader, and the hoard surged towards the man and elf, dripping with greed to taste the blood of elves.

Anger rose from the depths of Aragorn's soul, shrouding all other feeling of loss and pain. It enveloped him entirely, and the man knew nothing but rage. Orc after orc fell beneath his sword. A flash of light and another squeal echoed from the woods. The man did not tire, for to tire meant to face the bitter reality.

To Boromir, who fought the orcs a small distance away, Aragorn looked like the epitome of man. He stood valiantly over the fallen elf, eyes and blade flashing death. He was covered in blood, but none of it was his own, and his relentless attack had no end. But Boromir could not see the salty tears that blotted the man's vision. They flowed from him in a flood that did not cease, for there was no happiness to be found.

Eventually the orcs receded, repelled by the seemingly tireless efforts of the fellowship. By then, life had at long last passed from the ancient body of the elf. He had come to rest haphazardly against the tree, but his face tilted upwards, as if searching the sky. He was cold to the touch, and colder still in his eyes. Aragorn knelt above the elf, his warm tears splashing onto the pale elven face. Aragorn closed Legolas' eyes; they saw nothing any more. The glassiness that glazed over them left the man shaken more than he cared to admit. He had seen dead men before, but a dead elf was something else, something forbidden. That such a creature of light could die was horrific.

The birds began to titter in the trees. Nature was attempting to heal itself of the sorrows it had faced. Aragorn was reminded of Legolas' voice, its sweet melodious tone forever lost to him but in memory; sadness encroached upon his thoughts. It had been so long ago in Rivendell.

Even yesterday felt like ages. It could not have been the passing of but a day, wherein his love was realized and then lost. A terrible grief consumed the man's heart. Aragorn recalled what Legolas had said last, "You must save Middle Earth." What was there to save in it when the elf was gone?

His thoughts drifted to the memories of yesterday. The elf had promised the fulfillment of love one time, and then no more. Legolas had known. Frustrated anger clouded the gray eyes. "Then why?" Aragorn demanded seeking the answer where he knew none would come.

Instead the answer arose from another memory. Hope. Legolas had hoped that in death he would mean more than in life.

"Then, I will hope that you are right in saving my life," Aragorn told the elf. A lifetime of happiness had been lost and could not be replaced, but hope remained, and its strength was sufficient enough.

Boromir placed his hand upon Aragorn's shoulder in brotherly comfort. The last remaining tears ceased their flow, for there was still something more to fight for. "We cannot dally, my king." A deep reverence shaded Boromir's voice. He had come to accept Aragorn's succession as king.

"We shall not," Aragorn's voice rose in authority. "Return to gather our things, I will follow."

Boromir's footsteps retreated to the distance, and Aragorn returned to the fallen elf. Legolas was as pale in death as he was in life, but never this cold. It was like the elf had frozen into porcelain, his face unmarred by naught but tears. And this perfection had been Aragorn's, for a moment, and then lost. Aragorn unsheathed his dagger and placed it against the elf's temple. He sliced a braid from the golden head, and pocketed the flaxen hair. "May your hope strengthen my will to live."

A tender kiss to the flawless skin of Legolas' forehead marked the last warmth. "Goodbye," Aragorn whispered so that he heard alone. Andruil found its rightful place on Aragorn's belt, and the woods were left to themselves to reflect upon the damages that the One Ring's passage had caused. The birds tittered calling warning to each other, and then withdrew into the distance.

Legolas was left in the cold, his sacrifice complete.

END

Endnotes: An epilogue has been written to elaborate upon the success and demise of Aragorn; a prologue will be inserted, to explain the mysterious prophecy. I'm also speculating upon writing an alternate ending (since this one was so hard to write) that is happier. Please review.