The next few days passed in a flurry of activity. I reconciled, mostly, with my companions; Maranwë remained apart from me, refusing to be in the same room if it could at all be prevented. I tried several times to speak with her, but she simply fixed me with a blank gaze and turned away. Eventually, I decided to leave her to her thoughts, hoping that she would find someone to talk with.
Aragorn helped us prepare, planning and plotting and tracing routes. He called my company into his study the evening before we departed. He seemed strangely agitated, pacing through the small room. Legolas leaned against the wall by the wide windows, Gimli beside him. I watched Aragorn pace for many minutes.
"My lord. What troubles you?" I was puzzled by his actions; he had shown himself to be fairly even-tempered, and his upset worried me. He turned to face me, smiling tightly.
"I have ill feelings about this journey." He stopped, staring into the fire.
Legolas broke in. "Aragorn has requested that we go to Lórien, to see the Lady Galadriel before the last of the people there travel across the sea." He exchanged glances with Gimli. "He is also expressing a desire to travel with us that far."
"But, my lord, surely your presence is more urgently required here, in your own kingdom?"
He smiled wryly. "Indeed. But Arwen is beloved here also; she is more than able to handle the throne until I return." He turned back to us. "My mind is settled on this. I must also speak to Galadriel on another matter. And so I will ride out with you on the morrow, for one last small adventure with my old companions."
The conversation turned to small details of packing and travel. I slipped out, weary and troubled, leaving the Warriors to turn over our plans once again. I roamed through the silent halls, drawn to Arwen's conservatory. I had spent as much time as polite in that room since I arrived; the hushed, green space soothed me and reminded me of my home. Arwen had noticed early in our stay and had extended a standing invitation to visit at any time.
I pushed the door open and wandered inside. My fingers brushed soft petals and slick green leaves, flowers and plants that I could not identify but had come to love. I lowered myself onto the low stone bench in the corner, gathering my robes around me. The moon shone in through the tall glass windows, bathing my hands in silver and shadow.
I heard a slight sound behind me. A pale form moved towards me through the foliage, fluid and graceful, and dropped onto the bench beside me. I smiled.
"My lord, I do begin to think that you dog my steps on purpose. Have I committed some offense, that you are moved to follow me so closely?"
He tried to look severe; the effect was marred by the ghost of a smile hovering at the corner of his lips. "If you remember, it is my business to keep watch over certain guests in Aragorn's house, particularly if they are in the habit of walking out of important meetings."
"Not so important, sir, if they could do without you." We sat for a while in comfortable silence before I turned to him again.
"Why did you take responsibility for me, my lord? Why not allow the King to collect his honor-price and be done with it?"
He turned to me, his lips pressed in a thin, hard line. "Aragorn would not demand such a thing of you. It is not in his nature to have another suffer for sake of his honor. Nor is it in mine to watch any person cower, expecting punishment. You may be accustomed to harsh treatment from your people, but cruelty is not acceptable within our lands."
I sat, stunned. He narrowed his eyes at me, studying my reaction. I looked away quickly. How had he known?
"You wince every time a hand is raised near you. Your eyes are always on our hands as if you are waiting to be struck, and you cannot bring yourself to look at us full in the face. Such behavior must be learned, and I am sorry to see a fellow Elf so trained."
I picked at the skin of my left thumb, tearing into calluses hardened by years of scribing. I had often avoided my Master's questions thus, knowing that he hated the habit. Legolas, I feared, would not be put off so easily, so I hastily reached for some distracting subject.
"What think you of Aragorn's decision to accompany us to Lórien?"
He sighed, closing his eyes in slight irritation. "I think he longs for the past. I think he misses the adventures. I do not doubt his commitment to the throne, but I do think he wants one final adventure."
"Legolas, why does Aragorn wish us to travel to Lórien? I know that it is on a route to Rhûn and will be no inconvenience to us, but I do not understand the need."
He did not oblige with an explanation. "Galadriel is wise. Perhaps he feels she has words we should hear." He rose from the bench, stretched like a cat, and yawned ostentatiously. "It's late, and we leave early. You should sleep." He motioned me to precede him and closed the door gently behind us.
~***~
The journey to Lórien, though long, was blessedly uneventful. Niquë rode beside me most of the way, I assume to compensate for our harsh words at Minas Tirith. That was ever our way, to ignore difficulties between us until they no longer existed. We chatted of many inconsequential things, often forgetting our Western companions and slipping into Avarin for minutes at a time. Legolas rode with us at times, bearing Gimli on the back of his horse Arod as well. The two pointed out interesting sites as we journeyed north along the great river, joking and singing to keep our spirits high. Aragorn rode with the Warriors most of the way, discussing combat and legends of ancient battles.
We stopped one evening above the Falls of Rauros; while the others set about making camp I stood, awed by the massive Argonaths, unable to tear my eyes from the calm stone faces that seemed to gaze backward across centuries unnumbered and lost to the minds of men. Unexpectedly, I felt a terrible sorrow pressing on my chest. Tears poured down my face, a flood of salt as bitter as the sea. I gasped for breath, harsh sobs catching in my throat, my fists tightening in the sleeves of my robe.
Gentle hands grasped my shoulders, squeezing them through the heavy fabric of my robes. Legolas stepped closer to me, drawing me against his body. Strong, slender arms wrapped around my upper shoulders; a soft voice murmured in my ear.
"Mornië, why do you weep?" His words were meant to be soothing, but the kindness in them seemed to increase the pain to an unbearable level. I sobbed aloud, bowing my head into the angles of his arms. "What pains you, my friend?"
"I do not know, Legolas. I cannot express it." I tried to control the weeping, to regain the silent composure that our people prized so highly. I wiped tears from my face with my sleeve.
"Try." He waited.
I gestured toward the Argonaths. "They are timeless, are they not? They have been standing there for countless ages, and will likely be there for countless more." He nodded against the top of my head. "It is so...sad..."
"Why? Our kind are accustomed to immortality."
"Long after your people leave this place, they will still be here, witness to all the ages of the earth. Like my people. Like me. I will never leave this world until I die. I will not even have the comfort of my kin and another life when I weary of this one."
He sighed, a deep exhalation that stirred my hair. "You are young yet to worry about growing tired of this life, Mornië. You have many years of your life left and should not lose yourself in mourning for the future."
"I have already tired of it, Legolas. You could not understand-your people are many and strong and have hope. When we go into the Deep Forest, perhaps you will understand my sadness."
~***~