Author: Mirrordance

Title: Escape

Summary: Aragorn is lost during a tour with the Rangers, and Legolas later finds him in Bree, without his memories & happily relieved of all his noble burdens, making the elf hesitate to bring him back to who he truly was.

* * *

PART TWELVE

* * *

      It was late afternoon, a few hours before the sun was to set when Cecilia stepped out of her room clutching a sheaf of papers.  She walked down the halls of her house, glancing at the rooms she passed. 

      The children's bedrooms were empty as they oft were in these hours.  They were all in the common room with Estel, who was in the middle of telling them a story.  He glanced up at her arrival and his brows raised, wordlessly asking her if she needed anything.  She shook her head and left, and found Sari and Teresa in the kitchen, beginning the evening meal.  She stepped out of the house, glanced left and right.  Damien and Biggles were tending the horses and cleaning the stables.  The elf Haldir was doing exercises with his swords, testing his might even under injury.  Her eyes at last fell to Legolas, who was crouched on the ground and tending to her barely surviving garden.  They were now showing a promise she had not seen in a long time.  Frowning slightly, she stepped forward towards him.

      He felt her coming as he always did, and he looked up at her and greeted her with an uncertain smile.

      "I hope you don't mind," he said, "I thought perhaps, I could do something with them."

      She shook her head, and crouched down beside him.  He felt uncomfortable, especially given their last exchange.  And so he spoke of lighter things.

      "These will grow strong," he promised her, "And would need little minding," he pointed to an area of the garden, "in a few weeks you will see the first of the blooms there.  They will be yellow.  And then the violets would grow next.  I know they are not as functional, but I'm not as good with vegetables and fruits, and—"

      She waved away his concerns, insisting, "It's good, it's good."

      He dusted his hands on his clothes and pulled himself up.  He offered her his hand, and she took it, rising to her own feet.

      "What can I do for you?" he asked her.

      She raised her sheaf of papers, and he could see her furious scrawls and what was undoubtedly the next production of the Bree-folk Company of Actors.

      "I'm not acting for you," he guaranteed her quickly.

      Her thin lips curved to a smile.  "I didn't think so.  But I need your help.  You know, the forest keeps us fed and the river keeps us from being thirsty.  But the plays give us gold and silver to trade for weapons, for clothes, for oil, for tools and horses.  I have to keep it going.  And I want to be taken more seriously.  So I'd be paid more seriously, you get my meaning?"

      "Yes," Legolas said, "What of it?"

      "I want to slip in snippets of elvish," she replied, "To make it sound more… exotic.  More real.  You will help me."

      Legolas frowned.  'Real' was hardly how he would describe the last production of the struggling group. 

      She scowled at him.  "That's not very polite of you.  And I was just thinking your mother, she brought you up right."

      Legolas chuckled, surprised, knowing her mother up in the halls of Mandos would have found it funny too.  She had such kindness and humor.  And so for the sake of his mother, he would in turn, indulge the old woman.

      "What is it going to be about?" Legolas asked.

      "It's a drama," Cecilia told him.

      "Was the last one a drama too?' Legolas asked tactfully, trying to keep a straight face.

      "No!" she retorted, offended.

      He blinked at her innocently.

      "It's about an elf-man," she told him excitedly, and Legolas thinks he has found the stern woman's weakness at last, "fallen in love with a mortal woman.  A noble elf man too.  So.  They cannot be together.  It's a tragedy.  A love-suicide.  We will have the crowds weeping!"

      "That depends," Legolas told her wryly, "If Damien will be taking the stage or not.  And if you will continue having carrots for ears."

      She looked at him flatly.  "Oh you have a mouth on you."

      He smiled at her.  She smiled back.

      "Why can't they be together?" Legolas asked her, wondering what she was thinking.

      "It's not the way of things," she said simply, "Their paths diverge.  In life, as well as in death.  It is only pain and heartache."

      "Doesn't all love entail pain and heartache in some way?" Legolas argued, "Surely it is not excuse enough."

      She looked at him thoughtfully, and promised him she would give it more thought.

* * *

      The next evening, the Bree-folk Company of Actors was in the common room.  Haldir thought, rather wryly, that it must have included him now, for he somehow turned out to be their prop master by default.  Cecilia spent the day tossing out assignments, and she told the 'uncooperative' elves that everyone in the house had to earn their keep. 

      "This is ridiculous," Estel had said, holding out a pair of carrots, one much longer than the other, "We have a house overrun with elves and I still have to wear these."

      Haldir reached for the longer carrot and chopped off the end with his dagger and handed the 'ear' back to him.  Estel smiled sourly.  Cecilia watched them for a moment, then gave Haldir several more carrots to take care of.  And the props have not stopped coming since.

      "Would you by any chance lend me that intricate blade of yours, Haldir?" Biggles asked.  He was already wearing his carrot ears.

      "These do not leave my arm's reach," Haldir told him, "I'm sorry.  And…" he seemed to be searching for the right words to say, "You know, there are no portly elves.  There never has been." 

      "If you will not play," Cecilia snapped at him, "I will not suffer your complaints.  And your kin can stand the misrepresentation."

      Sari laughed shamelessly.

      "So what's the story?" Teresa asked Cecilia excitedly.  They were surrounded by children who were just as excited.  Apparently, it was tradition in the house for Cecilia to tell the story in front of the children before it was performed anywhere else.

      "Dalsegno is the son of an elf-lord," she began, and when Estel stood tall and straight and pumped at his chest, the children laughed.

      "He is tall, and handsome, and brave and noble," Cecilia continued, "But like all heroes, he was flawed in one way: he could not love."

      "Why not?" Estel asked.

      "All the elf-women wanted him," Cecilia continued, "All the families approved of him.  But he wanted nothing and no one.  A hideous curse was put upon him at birth by an evil wizard whom his father defeated in a raging battle from long ago.  All whom he loves will perish, vowed this evil, evil man, just before he perished.  And because the curse could not be undone, a good wizard took his heart from him, and he could no longer love thereafter."

      "Are you sure that's the work of a good wizard?" Allan asked, eyes wide, "I don't think so."

      "He meant well," Cecilia replied, "The noble elf's heart was put in ice and cast away, and hidden in the furthest corners of Middle-Earth.  Through the centuries it was forgotten.  But a mortal woman found it.  And gave it life.  Suddenly, the elf felt a strange thirst that the havens of his land could not quench.  He felt a hunger that could not be satisfied.  An emptiness that ached to be filled.  His heart was calling.  And he was going to it."

      "Is he going to fall in love with her?" Biggles asked, "When he finds it, I mean? He is, I bet."

      "But she's going to die!" one of the children pointed out.

      "Maybe he just wants it back," said another, "he isn't really going to use it."

      "Of course he'll use it," retorted Biggles, "that's why it's a tragedy.  Someone will die."

      "It's a tragedy?" the child asked, wide-eyed.

      "So he does find her," Cecilia continued, after battles and a long quest.  "He knows what his love costs, so though he found his heart, he crushed it and tossed it away.  But the evil wizard was cunning.  Anyone can love with or without their hearts, and the elf loved her with the whole of his being and the whole of his soul.  Sacrificing his heart to save her life was love too, and she dies anyway.  But she dies with joy in her heart, because it is through this that she discovers he loved her after all."

      A hush fell in the room.

      "Well it's sad, isn't it?" Biggles sniffed.

      "I think they should be together," Teresa argued.

      "But they had love enough," said Cecilia, "short as it was.  The mortal woman was bound to die anyway, for such is her fate.  It was bound to end."

      "But not so soon," insisted Teresa, "They didn't even have children, or… or… a house."

      All in the room were quiet as they looked at her, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  She concluded her argument in incomprehensible muttering.

      "Should they be together?" Cecilia asked the crowd in general.

      "Yes," Sari said, and his cheeks flushed too.  He lowered his head, but the irrepressibly sharp eyes of Haldir caught it cleanly.  He almost laughed; the spirit desired to lie but was a slave to the traitorous body.

      "Maybe another wizard comes along to resurrect her," Biggles suggested, nodding enthusiastically.

      "He should have just grabbed his heart and left," grumbled Estel.

      Legolas head shot up to look at the adan.  His hand was to his temple again, and Legolas knew that Arwen was making herself felt. 

      You can only escape so long, mellon.

      Estel sensed the elf's stare and met his eyes evenly.  Lodged there was a strange anger there that Legolas could not understand.

      "Excuse me," Estel muttered, making his way out of the room, barely noticeable since a new debate had been opened and everyone had to have his say.  Legolas walked after him.

* * *

      Estel turned towards the elf angrily, the moment the two of them reached the porch of the house, and no one else was near.

      "Why are you following me?" Estel demanded, "Stop following me."

      Legolas held his ground, several steps away from the man.  It was glaringly obvious to him, although it might not be to Estel, that the man was referring to far more than this night.

      "Why are you so angry?" Stung, Legolas found he had little else to say.  And so he held his silence, and his distance.

      Estel's shaking hands snaked through his hair, and his eyes shook with tears he could not explain, "I do not… I… Ever since you came here.  I've been so confused.  I'm suddenly unsure.  All was well until you happened by.  All was well."

      Estel raised his eyes to the elf's, whose gaze was fiery with paralyzed indecision, and a deep, gnawing hurt.

      "I'm sorry," he said quickly, quietly, "I'm so sorry.  I do not know what came over me.  I do not know…" he searched for the right word, "… much.  I find I do not know much at all.  It's taxing.  And it gives me fear.  And," he tried a strained smile, "and apparently it makes me a little crazy too."

      But Legolas could not find it in himself to pretend anymore.  No more smiling.  No more dismissals of questions he did not have the strength to answer.  No more indecision.  No more illusions.

      "I'm sorry," Estel said again.

      "It's all right," murmured Legolas, "I… I had to leave anyway."

      "I didn't mean any of those things," Estel insisted.

      Yes, you did, Legolas knew, but he found no inclination to argue.  This was all ending.  It was a dream.  And he was waking in a most harsh way.

      "And I most certainly do not want you to leave," Estel continued, "I was just… expressing my frustrations.  Do you know what I mean?" he groaned, and slapped his face with his hand, "Oh how can you know what I mean, I do not even know what I mean."

      Estel sighed.  "Legolas," he scrambled for the words, "I have a feeling you want something of me.  Yet I find I do not have the heart to give it.  And if you were truly kind, you will not ask it of me."

      Legolas looked at him intently, and recalled what it was Cecilia had said just days ago:

      "You say that for him much greater things are meant.  But he is happy here, he is loved here, and of joy and loving there are no greater things.  If one man cannot be happy, I know not what it is you are all trying to save.  The world shall move as it ultimately will.  But let him have his peace.  This is one man who has already given more than enough, by the light he has brought to my days, and the days of all who live here.  Let us have our peace."

      Legolas nodded at Estel, though mostly it was for himself.  He came to a decision.  He will leave at first light.

      "I will leave at first light," Legolas repeated out loud. 

      "Do not leave on my account," Estel pleaded, "I'm sorry! It was foolish, I was thinking of some other thing—"

      "I've lingered here too long," Legolas told him, "I was expected back home long ago.  It is just as well.  Really, do not feel any of this was caused by your words.  They only fueled things that have long been making demands of me.  I must leave."

      Estel stared at him, hesitant.  "Well.  If you are truly needed back home…"

      "There are things I must do," Legolas said, "And… well, so do you.  They will be looking for you inside."

      Estel took a deep breath, and offered him a smile.  Though he looked regretful for the harshness of his words, there was also relief there that sent a knife through Legolas' heart.  Estel was relieved that he was going.  Estel wanted him gone.

      Legolas told the adan he had to leave, but in truth he felt as if he was the one being left behind.  

      Estel tilted his head thoughtfully at the elf, still smiling uncertainly.  There was still an acute loss here that was not missed by his perceptive mind, even as clouded as it presently was, and it was a curious contradiction to the relief that was sending waves of joy through him.  Sadness and joy, inextricably, incomprehensibly mixed.

      Estel turned towards the door, but paused and told the elf he sorely regretted he was leaving, for he felt as if they had long known each other.

      "Though that's not possible, is it?" Estel concluded.

      "No it's not," Legolas lied, finding one last untruth in himself, smiling at the human reassuringly. 

      "We shouldn't have kept you for very long," Estel told him, reaching for his shoulder, "We all have places to go after all."

      There was a certain finality to it, and though the human said "I'll see you in the morning" afterwards, it sounded belated, as if it were only an afterthought, a polite and diplomatic goodbye, another comfortable lie in a situation already hopelessly compounded with them. 

      We all have places to go.

      And Estel, though he now at last found his home here, still had a journey of his own to make—to live out the rest of his now ridiculously happy life.  And it was a profoundly aching thought that not only was Legolas not a part of it, he was not even welcome.  He was the storm that would tear it to shreds, literally and figuratively the bitter reminder of everything the man had left behind.  Legolas would break it apart by his very presence.  He would be the one to shatter all of this life's most careful, most elaborate and most comforting illusions.

      Well.  Perhaps not.  He was leaving.

      Though I am the one being left behind.

      The night was painfully quiet again.  And Legolas felt there would be many more nights like this in the future.

TO BE CONTINUED…