Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR nor do I own the song
Warnings: Angst
Mindless Babble: Shhh! This has a song in it!
Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end
Elrond gathered the lifeless body into his arms and held it close. Tears ran, unchecked, down his cheeks to fall on even paler skin. The elf let his fingers run through the dark silken locks as he cradled his lost child. He remembered a time when he had held his son in much the same way; only it was Estel who wept. His mother, Gilraen, had succumbed to the grief of losing her beloved husband, leaving the flawed, human child alone in a world of seemingly perfect elves.
Elrond had held him then, telling the boy that he would always have a home in Rivendell.
Sleep now
Dream- of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across distant shore
Gandalf looked upon the elf lord with sad eyes. He watched the three younger elves go to kneel next to the human and his adoptive father. There was shock, disbelief and hurt clearly written on their faces. The wizard knew his own face reflected the same emotions. His heart had become unbearably heavy. As Gandalf watch the elves, a single thought kept repeating in his head.
'Have I done the right thing?'
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
The beautiful elf-maiden stared up at the stars easily finding the star of EƤrendil shining bright in the early morning light. She stood on the hill of Cerin Amroth, still dressed in her sleeping gown, trying to think through a puzzle that taunted her. She had come to this place hoping the stars would help her, but they held no answers. They could not explain to her why she had woken to a pain like that of a knife being plunged into her very heart.
Starlight turned her tears to diamonds as Lady Arwen Undomiel wept for reasons unknown to her.
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping
Legolas took the vial from the floor to set it aside. His fingers brushed his friend's hand and he recoiled in horror. The hand was so cold! Cradled in the arms of the only father he had ever known, Legolas could almost believe that Aragorn was merely asleep. His heart believed it.
But his mind knew he would never see the silver eyes of his best friend again.
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
It was some time later, and the sun was just coming over the mountains. Elrohir watched its passage with deadened eyes. His little brother was dead. How dare the sun rise on such an occasion? He sat on the balcony outside his room, a place that had usually given him comfort. His cheeks were wet through the light breeze the disheveled his hair tried to dry them.
Shouldn't it be raining?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home
Elrond stepped into circular room, pausing briefly to glance at the mural painted on the far wall of white ships with tall sails. He gently laid the body of Aragorn on the altar that had been draped in black velvet. He carefully set his son's head on the small pillow, brushing the silken locks of dark hair from the ashen face. The man had been dressed in his finest clothing. Elrond could almost hear his son protesting, saying that he would have preferred to be honored in his Ranger's gear. The thought brought a faint smile to the lip of the elf.
At Aragorn's feet, Elrond laid the shards of Narsil, the blade that was broken.
And all will turn to silver glass
Alight on the water
All souls pass
Elladan found his twin on his balcony sobbing uncontrollably. The elder of them (only by a few minutes, as Elrohir would often say) stood in the doorway a moment before going to sit behind his brother. Elladan wrapped his arms around Elrohir's shaking shoulders. The younger sank into the embrace, glad for the company. The sun lit the water turning it to silver.
The same shade as their brother's eyes.
Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Nine riders dressed in black thundered across the open plain, their horses foaming at the mouth. Suddenly the lead rider reined in his horse, causing the animal to rear up. The other eight slowed their own mounts and returned to their leader. Wordlessly they confirmed what they had felt. As one, they spoke the thought out loud.
"The Ranger is dead."
Don't say
We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again
And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping
Legolas sat in the window, listening to the elven voices raised in song, a lament for Estel. He glanced into the circular room, avoiding the altar the stood in the center of the chamber. On the wall opposite of the entrance was a mural of great white ships crossing a rough sea. The rest of the room was seemingly made up of glass separated by large stone pillars. The ceiling was a clear dome of glass that allowed the soft pink light of the partly cloudy morning to light the small area. Without wishing to do so, the blue eyes of Legolas fell on his friend.
Aragorn looked so peaceful. The last time the elf had seen him so serene was on a hunting trip that Legolas had taken a young Estel on. It was the first time they had gone without the twins and it had gone well enough. They had not actually killed anything but the shy and quiet had finally relaxed around the Noldor elf. They had started to make their way back to Rivendell when a sudden downpour forced them to seek shelter. Estel had found a shallow cave that offered a bit of protection and together they huddled in it. The boy had started to shiver so Legolas pulled him to his chest and wrapped his cloak around the both of them. The rain eventually let up and the Legolas moved to stand but stopped when he noticed the child in his arms.
Sleeping safely in the arms of the elf.
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls cry?
Elrond wandered through the halls of the Last Homely House, images from the past superimposing on the present. A newly widowed Gilraen softly singing a lullaby to her infant son. Elladan and Elrohir, still in their warriors garb playing with a three year old Estel. A boy of four winters curled up next to his mother's grave marker. The young teen wistfully watching elven children his own age play; watching because he was rarely ever invited to join. A young man sitting by the fireplace reading. A man of many summers, still looking young, presenting the elf lord a carving of a great eagle.
A breeze swept through an open window carrying the scent of rain and the cry of the seabirds.
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home
Gandalf sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea growing cold as his stared unseeingly at it. He had seen the twins trying to comfort each other in Elrohir's room. Legolas had chosen to sit with his friend pondering how the human had taken up residence in such a great part of his elven heart in such a short time. Elrond still wandered the halls of the Last Homely House seeing only images from the past. Gandalf turned his own thoughts inward. Though his heart ached terribly, he knew he had done the right thing.
He just needed to come home soon.
And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West
He was weeping. His best friend had tears streaming down his pale cheeks. That wasn't right. His friend never cried. What could have happened to cause such painful grief? A memory suddenly rose in his mind. A bottle wrapped in a smooth material that contained a bitter tasting liquid. Then came the feeling of weightlessness. He remembered seeing his family and friend gathered around a body; his body. He had died.
"Legolas?"
