Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Want my very own Legolas so very much,
but nope, he is already taken... **sigh**
Please, please review. I will add more about this request for review at the end of the chapter. This is the end of Part 1.
Warning: Disturbing imagery. Solid R rating.
A/N: Not going to translate entire conversations in Elvish, so please just assume that when the Elves speak to each other, they are using Sindarin.
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Chapter 14:
NIGHT 20, GONDOR CASTLE
Legolas regained consciousness to the feeling of his Elven father tending to his injuries. But how could this be? Alagos had erased everyone's memories of him; the Prince was certain Thranduil had no inkling that he existed. Yet, the gentle touches were so familiar; contained in each contact was the fatherly love the King of Mirkwood had for his oldest son. There was no mistaking this sensation.
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YEAR 300, MIRKWOOD
"Where is my son?" thundered the King of Mirkwood. Thranduil had just returned from his visit to Lothlòrien to consult the Lady of Light on a recurring dream, where shadows from the East grew and covered his lands in darkness. He was under the firm belief that Sauron was destroyed; but the warnings in his dreams could not be ignored. His consultation with Lady Galadriel had not ease his worries. Though the mirror showed no indication of a resurgence of the Dark Lord, Thranduil could not help feeling the war with darkness was not yet over. It was in this uneasy mood that the Elven King discovered his adventurous oldest child missing when he had given expressed instructions to keep the boy within palace grounds.
Legolas was of an age where he was about to begin formal warrior training. Under the King's personal instruction, the Crown Prince had already gained a mastery of the bow that surpassed most seasoned warriors. The young Elf had also started learning the arts of close quarters combat, using the traditional hunting knives of the Woodland Realms. For an Elf-child his age, Legolas' skills with weaponry were phenomenal, something the King should be proud of; except for the tiny detail that his child's tendencies for wild adventures seemed encouraged by his fighting abilities.
On more than one occasion, the young one had stolen out of the palace to explore the surrounding forest. Often when he was found again, after an exhaustive search, Legolas would be covered with cuts and bruises, spinning tales of grand adventures he had in the woods. Mirkwood was not as safe as it once was; creatures of darkness had migrated into the southern parts of the forests. It was not uncommon for the young Prince to encounter such beasts. Thanks to his skills, Legolas had always managed to defeat these 'monsters', but never unscathed.
Though it was the Royal healer's job to dress the young Elf's wounds, Thranduil often took over the duty of caring for his son. The little one's injuries were not too serious; and it was nice to be able to have a conversation with Legolas when the child was not bouncing around in excitement. No matter how the King tried to impress upon his eldest son the dangers of venturing alone, every time Thranduil left the young Elf unattended, he would return to find Legolas missing. This was already no surprise to the Elf-lord; but influenced by the darkness of his dreams, the King of Mirkwood could not help being extremely worried about his golden child.
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It was not until nightfall that the Crown Prince of Mirkwood was found, lying unconscious by the edge of a ravine. Below, on the rocks of the gorge, lay a dead Forest Troll. Healers were brought in to tend the injured Elf-child immediately. Legolas was covered with minor scratches, probably obtained in his haste to escape the troll. But what worried the healers the most were wounds on his chest and head. The Prince's chest was severely bruised; and several ribs appeared broken. They knew immediately that was where the beast's blow landed. A wide, deep laceration marred the side of the young Elf's beautiful forehead; it must have been bleeding profusely for Legolas' hair was crusted in blood when he was found.
After hours of effort, the Prince's condition had been stabilized. For days, Legolas drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to find the strength to speak or move, even to open his eyes. All that he felt was the occasion touches of his father gently cleaning his wounds and re-bandaging them. Though Thranduil had not said a word, the young Elf knew how worried his sire was; that the older Elf was vowing to keep a better watch on his willful child. When Legolas finally awoke, the King gathered the wounded child gently into his arms and welcomed him back.
"Ada, are you not angry with me?" asked the young Elf quietly. He knew he had disobeyed the King's order by leaving the palace. It was his fault that he was almost killed.
"No, little one. Merely angry at myself for not being there when you needed me," replied Thranduil softly into his child's ears before shifting to allow Legolas to see his eyes. His child was gifted in reading emotions; he wanted the young Elf to see the truth for himself.
"Oh, ada, I am so sorry. I promise I will be a good boy from now on. I will never do anything to upset you so much again," sobbed the young Prince, seeing how much worry he had brought to his loving, understanding father. He felt so ashamed that he had gone on his little adventures selfishly, without thought of how his sire would react.
"Shh...Don't cry now. You are safe and everything will be all right," comforted the King as he moved to embrace his son once more.
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NIGHT 20, GONDOR CASTLE
With effort, Legolas opened his eyes to find the King of Mirkwood finishing his work in bandaging his wounds. Instead of leaving his cell, Thranduil remained with him, watching him with a frown of intense concentration. The Prince was about to ask the ancient Elf why he had saved him from the twins when he heard the familiar voice of his Elven father in his mind. "You need to learn how to take better care of yourself, little one."
The Prince did not know how it was possible that his sire remembered him; or that the Elf-lord was able to communicate with him inside his mind the way they used to when he was Legolas the Elf. But he was so overjoyed that if his battered body would allow it, he would be bouncing up and down with joy the way he used to do as a child. "Ada, how..."
"You will always be my beloved son, Legolas. No magic could take that away," replied the King, understanding the questions that filled his child's mind. He would like to speak to his son more on personal matters; but the importance of the situation at hand outweighed the desires of his heart. "Does Aragorn know you are here?"
"Yes and no. He knows I am an Eternal Watcher; but he doesn't know my true identity," answered the Prince in the King's mind, as he shifted closer to his father.
"I see. So this is a trap for Morn-ndùath. He is here, then," reasoned the King. He understood his son well; it was in Legolas' character to volunteer to be the bait in a trap for the Dark One.
"Yes. I think he has taken Elrohir," replied the Prince sadly. The only way to destroy Morn-ndùath was to kill the form that carried him. The younger twin was a good friend when Legolas was a Mirkwood Elf. He was also Aragorn's foster brother. It would be difficult for the Man to face one of his own family in battle.
"No. I do not sense malice other than the usual hatred for the creatures of darkness in the twins. Morn-ndùath is not in either one of them," said Thranduil. The King of Mirkwood shared his child's gift in reading people's emotions to some extent. He was certain he had not misread the twins' intentions.
"If only I had maintained consciousness for longer," sighed Legolas. He trusted his father's judgment, but the Dark One was cunning. He wished he had not missed his opportunity of confirming the Elven King's opinion.
"Do not be so harsh on yourself, son. There is only so much you can do on your own," comforted the King. "I must leave now to speak with Aragorn."
"Please, do not tell him who I am. I don't want him to see me like this," pleaded Legolas, looking up to hold Thranduil's eyes.
The King was certain Aragorn loved his child for who he was, not his beauty. The fact that the Prince was now in Uruk-Hai form would not matter. Thranduil knew the Man would be satisfied with spending some time in Legolas' company before they were parted again, regardless of how the Prince looked. But he also knew this was not his secret to give away. Though the King wished to tell the Man the entire truth, he would respect his son's decision.
Nodding his reassurance, Thranduil whispered in Legolas' mind before leaving the cell, "Rest now, my child, and regain your strength. Tonight will be a trying one."
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Legolas was awoken by the sound of a muffled cry. Opening his eyes and shifting to look outside his cell, the Prince was shocked to find his two guards unconscious, and a Man bent over their prone form. He could not ascertain the identity of his visitor for the human's back was to him. When the Man finished rummaging through the fallen guards clothing, he hurried towards the cell with a key ring in hand. By the dim light of the torches, Legolas recognized the Man - it was Faramir, the Steward of Gondor and Aragorn's most trusted friend.
"No!" cried the Prince in denial. This human before him was the only one his beloved trusted enough to confide in. If Faramir died, Aragorn would have to bear the burden of governing Gondor alone. To force the King to kill his best friend to save Middle Earth was simply too cruel.
"Come," commanded Faramir as the Man dragged the Prince to his feet, grabbed his arm and propelled him out of the cell.
Legolas would have struggled; but he was too weak. It took all his strength to stumble behind the Steward of Gondor. He knew that Faramir was bent on making him leave the dungeons. Even if he could not walk on his own strength, the human would have carried him. It was like Morn-ndùath to be so cautious, leading him somewhere secluded before killing him. Through the winding tunnels of the castle, they traveled in silence. The Prince was too busy thinking of a way to leave his beloved Man and father clues that he failed to notice Faramir had stopped until he ran into the human's back.
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"Where are you taking the prisoner, my lord?" asked the Lady of the castle in a gentle, sweet voice as she approached.
Legolas wanted to scream and warn her to leave immediately. It was bad enough that Aragorn must lose his best friend; the Prince would do anything to protect Arwen from harm. He knew that though Aragorn loved him, King Elessar could not be without his Queen. But before he could make a sound, the Steward of Gondor stepped forward and answered calmly, "To the throne room, my Lady, by order of the King."
Silently, the Prince prayed that the Lady would be satisfied with the explanation. It was a good thing that the Dark One was in a merciful mood tonight; Legolas could imagine that on an average day, Morn-ndùath would kill Arwen too, just for the fun of it. His joy, however, was short-lived as he saw the human shifted to lay a hand on the hilt of his sword unobtrusively.
Gathering the last of his strength, the Watcher forced his injured body into motion, shoving the unsuspecting Steward of Gondor onto the ground. With the human immobilized under his weight, Legolas shouted his warning to the Queen, "Run, my Lady."
No footsteps answered his warning; the agitated Prince looked up to find Arwen standing over them, an icy smile on her serene face. Shocked by the Evenstar's expression, Legolas lost concentration for a second, which allowed Faramir to struggle free and stood. In one swift motion, the Steward of Gondor drew his sword. Standing protectively in front of the fallen Uruk-Hai, he pointed his weapon towards the smiling Queen.
Chilling laughter reverberated in the corridor as Arwen shook her head and regarded the human. "You really are too intelligent for your own good, my dear Faramir. How do you know?"
"You are more concerned about the success of the Quest than Aragorn's safety. You cannot be the real Lady Arwen," replied the human calmly as he studied his opponent. Legolas, meanwhile, was too shocked to speak, move or think. The Prince merely lay there on the ground as the information that Arwen was Morn-ndùath slowly sunk in.
"Since you are about to die, I will let you in on a secret. What you said isn't exactly true. The Evenstar was quite gifted in magic. I tried to take over her form by force, but failed. She was the one who proposed this alliance. She will help me with my plans and, in return, she wants me to enchant Aragorn into giving her his complete devotion. She has as much control over this body as I do. She just does not exert her will unless she is spending time with her husband," explained the Dark One with a predatory smile.
Legolas watched helplessly as the valiant human warrior attempted to strike Morn-ndùath, only to be sent flying backwards against a wall by the evil Watcher's magic. The force of the impact left Faramir barely conscious. The Man could only groan softly as the Lady glided towards him. Picking up his sword, Arwen stood over the Steward of Gondor, prepared to end his life with a single blow.
The shock that froze the Prince in place had finally subsided. By the power of sheer will, Legolas leapt to his feet and charged the Dark One. But once again, Morn-ndùath's magic lifted the Watcher and tossed him against the wall. As he landed next to the fair-haired Man with an unceremoniously thud, Arwen's soft laughter taunted them, "Oh Faramir, you wanted to save your friend, but you have only made things easier for me. When they find both of you dead tomorrow, they will just assume our brave Steward died in an attempt to prevent our Uruk-Hai prisoner from escaping."
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The two warriors struggled to move, but to no avail. They were held by the Dark One's magic; all they could do was watch as the Lady raised Faramir's sword. But the blow did not come; she was interrupted by the elder twin's uncertain question, "What is happening, little sister?"
The twins were on their way back to the dungeons to continue their torment of their Uruk-Hai prisoner. What they did not expect was to find their sister holding Faramir's sword over the fallen Steward. It would be understandable if Arwen were poised to kill the hideous beast, which had somehow managed to escape. But it was clear that the Evenstar wished to end the life of the Steward of Gondor first. This simply did not make sense.
"Nothing, my dear brothers," replied Arwen softly as she lowered her sword and turned her attention to the twins.
Elrohir immediately knew something was wrong. The figure in front of them was not their sister. The urge to draw his sword and charge the Elf-maiden was overwhelming. With difficulty, the younger twin suppressed his desire to attack and called out, "Arwen?" He needed to know that this feeling was false, for its implications were far too horrible to imagine.
"I am sorry, Elrohir," whispered the Lady as the cold smile faded, replaced by a sad one.
"So am I, little sister," muttered the younger twin as he drew his sword with lightening speed and struck the temporarily defenseless Arwen.
At the last minute, the Lady brought up her sword to deflect the blow. But Elrohir was stronger and the impact pushed Arwen's sword back into herself, drawing blood. Jumping back, the evil one gave a furious roar as invisible arms grabbed his assailant and flung him into the air. The older twin was now on the move, trying to catch his brother before Elrohir reached the cold limestone wall. He did not completely understand what was happening; but Elrohir was his twin; Elladan would do all he could to protect him.
The younger Elf collided hard with his brother. As they both collapsed onto the floor, they could hear Morn-ndùath mocking them in their sister's voice, "Do you seriously think two puny Elves can contend with my will? You Middle Earthlings are more stupid than I thought. Now..."
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The Dark One's gloating ended with a shriek of pain as an arrow pierced her back. In the blink of an eye, another shaft followed, aimed directly at Arwen's heart. But the element of surprise was lost. This time, Morn- ndùath spun round, stopping the arrow in mid-air and sent it flying back towards her mystery attacker. When the shaft hit a wall in a harmless clatter, the evil Watcher frowned as he began to scan his surrounding in earnest. One of the Eldars had discovered his true identity. This would be a harder battle than he anticipated.
Morn-ndùath decided that luck was on his side when he sensed that his opponent was the King of Mirkwood, the only one of the ancient Elves without a Ring of Power. As a Wood Elf, Thranduil was more in tune with nature and was better at concealing his presence than the others. But the Eldar's lack of magic limited his offensive capabilities. Thranduil could only rely on surprise attacks. If the sorcerer could discern the Elf's location, this victory would be his.
The Dark One's concentration was broken when the Uruk-Hai shifted. Somehow, the beast had managed to overcome his immobilization spell. At the sound of the creature's groan, the air in the hall tensed. That was when it dawned on Morn-ndùath that it was Glorgalad in the Uruk-Hai's body. The young Prince was Thranduil's son in his life on Middle Earth. The ancient Elf's worries for his child was manifesting through the elements. Striding over leisurely to the fallen Legolas, the evil sorcerer grabbed the Prince by his hair and yanked him to his feet.
Holding his sword to his nephew's throat, Morn-ndùath said sweetly in Arwen's singsong voice, "Come out, come out, wherever you are. You don't want to see me slit your little baby's throat, now, do you?" As if to emphasis his point, the Dark One pressed the blade harder against the Prince's throat, nicking his flesh slightly.
The Mirkwood Elf knew they were all doomed if he surrendered. But he could not possibly stand by and watch Arwen murder his child. Risking exposure, Thranduil moved from his hiding place and approached Arwen, notching an arrow aimed at the Lady's sword arm.
Morn-ndùath's plan worked. He sensed the Elven King's position the moment he moved within the range of his magic. Black tentacles materialized from the shadows surrounding Thranduil and seized him. Despite his struggles, the ancient Elf was unable to free himself as the tendrils transported him towards the evil sorcerer.
Watching with satisfaction as the Elven king writhed against his restraints in vain, Morn-ndùath whispered, "Welcome, King Thranduil. Now you will have a better view as I gut your child. It would be more satisfying for both the Lady and I if Legolas were in his true form. But I suppose this will have to do."
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Aragorn was dismayed to find the dungeon empty and the two guards unconscious. At first, the Man suspected Morn-ndùath had struck and he had failed in protecting his ally once again. But when the soldiers on the ground moaned softly, indicating they still lived, the King of Gondor knew it was someone else who took the Watcher. It could not be the Mirkwood Elf; Thranduil had somehow learnt of their scheme, but he agreed that they should leave 'Legolas' in the dungeons. He only suggested that their 'prisoner' should be guarded more carefully.
Suddenly, the uneasy thought of his foster brothers taking the Watcher for further torturing drifted into Aragorn's head. He was about to head to the twins' rooms when a cry of agony froze the Man in his tracks. It came from the tunnels that led out of the castle. Running as fast as his legs would carry him, Aragorn rushed towards the sound, praying to Valar that he was not too late.
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Dark blood oozed out of the Prince's injured abdomen. Held still by the Dark One's magic, all Legolas could do was cry out in pain as the evil sorcerer used his dagger to create shallow cuts along the length of his mid- section. Smirking at the young Eternal Watcher's pain, Morn-ndùath prepared to repeat his assault, fully intending on slicing the Uruk-Hai's body open with his next stroke.
Arwen wanted the one who stole her husband's heart to die a slow painful death. The Evil one was more than happy to comply. Morn-ndùath had taken care to make each slash slowly and not too deep, denying the Prince the refuge of unconsciousness and giving him plenty of time to savor the pain. So delighted was the Dark One on his task that he did not realize another figure now watched the scene in horror.
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Aragorn froze at the sight of his wife bent over the prone form of the Eternal Watcher with a bloody dagger in hand. Screams of denial echoed in his mind - Arwen could not possibly be Morn-ndùath. The Evenstar was compassionate, the mother of his children, his Queen! There was not a single trace of darkness in her soul; she could not possibly be the evil Tirn Uipira. He gave up Legolas and his heart so he could be with Arwen, the perfect Queen for the people of Gondor. What he saw could not be happening. There must be another explanation for the sight in front of him. Perhaps he had fallen asleep by accident and this was only a bad dream.
The Man covered his ears to block out another cry from his new friend. He closed his eyes, believing the image would vanish when he re-opened them. But those were useless gestures; nothing could shut out the anguish in the Eternal Watcher's voice or stop the shivers that ran down Aragorn's spine. His heart lurched as Legolas whimpered. No..."This is not real."
The Dark One turned at the sound of the Man's voice. At once, the Evenstar resumed control of her body and glided to join her beloved husband. "Don't worry, love, everything will be all right. You are just dreaming."
Opening his eyes, the King reached out to touch his wife's face. Arwen now wore a loving expression the Man knew so well. Smiling sweetly, the Lady reached up to caress Aragorn's callous hand as she leaned into his touch. Looking directly into the Man's confused eyes, the sorcerer whispered hypnotically in the Evenstar's lilting voice, "What you saw before you was not real. It was a product of your overstressed mind, manifesting itself in a vivid dream."
As the others watched the interaction between the couple, they wanted to shout and warn Aragorn against the Dark One and Arwen's treachery. But Morn-ndùath's magic held them completely immobile. Even their tongues were unable to move. The only one free to make a sound was Legolas; but the Prince seemed to have fallen unconscious from the evil sorcerer's torture as he laid unmoving on the floor, belly almost slit open by Arwen's dagger.
Leaning on Arwen's arm, the King began to stagger away from his allies, clearly convinced that he was asleep and dreaming. The fallen warriors knew that when the Dark One returns, he would erase the twins' memories and kill the others. Morn-ndùath could not afford to allow Thranduil or Faramir to live. After all, the Steward of Gondor was able to guess his secret and the Elven King overcame Alagos' spell and remembered Legolas. As the couple's silhouettes disappeared in the shadows of the corridor, the warriors knew they had failed.
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Legolas was weakening. He barely had enough energy to cling to consciousness within his battered physical form. Through the pain and darkness, the Watcher could sense his beloved's presence. He cried out to Aragorn for help, but the Man did not respond. Instead, the King started moving away, probably enchanted by the Dark One's magic. That was when the Golden Prince made his choice. He would use the last of his inner light to help his allies against Morn-ndùath. The Tirn Uipira could not exist on Arda without physical form; to leave his body without proper transportation rituals meant inevitable death. But, he would have several minutes before he dissipated completely, enough time to pour his entire being into one single spell. Slowly, the Prince allowed his powers to seep out of his Uruk-Hai body into the darkness of the corridors.
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"Aragorn..." , a soft moan in the Man's mind. Legolas' voice, there was no mistaking it. So, this was indeed a dream, for the Prince never visited him in reality.
"Aragorn...", even softer this time, so weak that the Man had to strain to hear it. Something did not feel right. Why did Legolas sounded so faint? Was he hurt? No, the Prince should be safe in his own realm since Morn- ndùath was on Middle Earth. Confused, the King glanced at his gentle wife who supported him. Maybe this was something he had subconsciously manufactured in his fantasy, his beloved's voice calling for him to come back as he left with Arwen by his side.
Another whimper assaulted Aragorn's mind, followed by soft incoherent words. Though the Man could not make out the phrases, the meaning was clear. Legolas was hurt and needed his help. But why would the Prince ask him for help? They were in different realms, aren't they?
That was when a light cut through the fog that clouded Aragorn's mind. Legolas was here with him, right now. There was no denying it; the Man could feel his beloved's presence surrounding him. His mind drifted back to the scene he dismissed as a nightmare - his wife in the act of murdering his new friend, his wife telling him he was just dreaming. But, if everything were just a dream, why would he need to walk back to his rooms? Could he not just will himself away, out of this nightmare? And why was Arwen here with him, supporting him?
The light in Aragorn's mind grew stronger, its golden brilliance overwhelming his vision. Within the glow was an image of the Man's fallen allies in the dark corridor. That was when the King came to terms with the fact that Morn-ndùath and Arwen were one and the same. The sorcerer had used his weakness against him; because Aragorn wanted desperately to believe what he saw was only an illusion, he had become a willing prey of Morn-ndùath's spell.
The Man was furious with himself; but he knew it was not the time to show his emotions. The Dark One was now walking unsuspectingly beside him; this was his opportunity to do his duty to Middle Earth and keep his promise to Legolas. Though he did not truly love Arwen, what he must do still broke his heart. But, King Elessar would fulfill his duty. He was willing to give up true love and happiness; and now, he would kill his own wife. His responsibilities to his people and Middle Earth would always come first, even if it meant he had to sacrifice everything he ever held dear, even if it would leave him a broken Man.
The light that blinded him dimmed. Aragorn could see again now. But the Man closed his eyes to fight the onslaught of tears. Silently and swiftly, the King pulled out the dagger in his belt and plunged it deep into his Queen's chest. Arwen gasped in surprise at the sudden pain. She staggered a few steps backwards to look uncomprehendingly at the one she loved. "Why?"
The King opened his tear-filled eyes to look at his dying wife and whispered brokenly, "Oh, Arwen, I am so sorry."
Aragorn reached for his Lady, wanting to cradle her in his arms as she faded. But he drew back in shock as the Elf's expression hardened. Letting out a bitter laugh, she shrieked, "If I cannot have you, no one will!"
Suddenly, the Man felt the air tensed as power surged from the wounded Queen. Aragorn wanted to move, but he was held captive by the evil one's spell. As dark blades raced towards him, obliterating everything in their paths, all he could do was stare defiantly at the Elf would claim his life.
Before the blades reached Aragorn, a brilliant explosion of golden light dispelled the darkness. Morn-ndùath screamed in pain as the dagger embedded in Arwen's chest glowed fiery red, sizzling her flesh. As the Elf- maiden fell backwards, eyes glazed in death, the Man knew they had won. The evil Eternal Watcher was destroyed. However, the relief that Middle Earth and the realm of the Tirn Uirpira were saved did not dull the pain in Aragorn's heart. His Queen was dead.
As the light faded, the Man began his hesitant stumble towards the Evenstar's body. He froze in his tracks, however, when he heard his beloved's voice called his name. "Aragorn."
Spinning around faster than he thought possible, he was greeted with the sight of a golden silhouette of his Prince standing before him. "How can this be?"
Smiling sadly, Legolas made no attempt to answer. Instead, he floated closer to the Man until they were almost touching. Aragorn reached out, wanting to stroke his beloved's silken hair, but his hand went through the glittering form. He withdrew his hand in surprise, intending to ask the Prince for an explanation. But he was stopped when Legolas carefully laid a slender finger close to his lips. They were not touching; but as little specks of light darted from the Watcher onto his lips, Aragorn could feel the tingling warmth of his beloved upon his skin. "Oh, Legolas.."
Leaning closer until their lips almost touched, the Prince whispered, "No matter where I am, I will always love you."
Golden sparks flew between them as the lovers kissed, pouring all their love and longing into that one simple touch. For the first time in eleven years, Aragorn felt complete. Closing his eyes to lose himself in the sensation of being with Legolas, the Man felt as if they were the only people in the world. In the sanctuary of his lover's embrace, Aragorn was finally free from his burdens. As long as his beloved was here, there was no fear the Man could not conquer; he would no longer have to face the world alone.
A sudden chill found its way into the Man's bliss. As he opened his eyes, he saw that his Prince was fading. Stepping back in horror, his vision was filled with the image of Legolas disintegrating before him into tiny specks of gold. The Eternal Watcher smiled at him sadly, flickers of silver drifting from his exquisite eyes. "Namarie, melethron nîn. [Goodbye, my lover.]"
"No!" Aragorn screamed, reaching out to hold onto his beloved, needing to keep Legolas by his side. But fate was against him. In his arms, Legolas dissipated into glittering stardust, leaving the Man alone with an empty embrace.
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The reality of his loss struck Aragorn mercilessly. All the Man could do was fall onto his knees and wept. When Morn-ndùath was destroyed, the other warriors in the corridor recovered their abilities to move. But before they could go to the King of Gondor's side to offer their comfort, Legolas appeared. As it was clear to all present that the lovers would want privacy for their reunion, they stayed where they were in silence. Now that the Prince had vanished, the group rushed to the sobbing Man as quickly as their physical conditions allowed.
Looking at each other, a silent agreement was formed that Thranduil, Legolas' father, should be their spokesperson. The ancient Elf would understand the Man's grief best and should be most able to console him. "Legolas would not wish to see you like this," said the Elven King gently as he laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulders.
When there was no reaction, the Elven King continued, "My son believed in your strength, Aragorn. Be strong for him. Be the Man he loves."
The words seemed to have an effect on the heart-broken Man as he lifted his head and gazed at his companions. With shaky hands, Aragorn wiped off his tears and slowly rose to his feet. Legolas had promised him eternal love; his beloved would never go back on his words. Aragorn could not change what happened; his lover was gone. His opportunity for true love had past and would never return. All he could do now was to live as a Man worthy of the golden beauty's devotion. And for as long as he breathed, Legolas would live on in his memories, the perfect Prince of his Dreams.
End Part 1
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If people like sad endings, this is where they should stop reading. On the other hand, if people don't want Aragorn to spend the rest of his life alone, review! I may not be one of the Valar, but I can force them to revive Legolas, like they did Glorfindel. They will even give our darling Elf his original body back. Not going to put our couple back into the same world until I get 180 reviews.
Please, please review. I will add more about this request for review at the end of the chapter. This is the end of Part 1.
Warning: Disturbing imagery. Solid R rating.
A/N: Not going to translate entire conversations in Elvish, so please just assume that when the Elves speak to each other, they are using Sindarin.
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Chapter 14:
NIGHT 20, GONDOR CASTLE
Legolas regained consciousness to the feeling of his Elven father tending to his injuries. But how could this be? Alagos had erased everyone's memories of him; the Prince was certain Thranduil had no inkling that he existed. Yet, the gentle touches were so familiar; contained in each contact was the fatherly love the King of Mirkwood had for his oldest son. There was no mistaking this sensation.
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YEAR 300, MIRKWOOD
"Where is my son?" thundered the King of Mirkwood. Thranduil had just returned from his visit to Lothlòrien to consult the Lady of Light on a recurring dream, where shadows from the East grew and covered his lands in darkness. He was under the firm belief that Sauron was destroyed; but the warnings in his dreams could not be ignored. His consultation with Lady Galadriel had not ease his worries. Though the mirror showed no indication of a resurgence of the Dark Lord, Thranduil could not help feeling the war with darkness was not yet over. It was in this uneasy mood that the Elven King discovered his adventurous oldest child missing when he had given expressed instructions to keep the boy within palace grounds.
Legolas was of an age where he was about to begin formal warrior training. Under the King's personal instruction, the Crown Prince had already gained a mastery of the bow that surpassed most seasoned warriors. The young Elf had also started learning the arts of close quarters combat, using the traditional hunting knives of the Woodland Realms. For an Elf-child his age, Legolas' skills with weaponry were phenomenal, something the King should be proud of; except for the tiny detail that his child's tendencies for wild adventures seemed encouraged by his fighting abilities.
On more than one occasion, the young one had stolen out of the palace to explore the surrounding forest. Often when he was found again, after an exhaustive search, Legolas would be covered with cuts and bruises, spinning tales of grand adventures he had in the woods. Mirkwood was not as safe as it once was; creatures of darkness had migrated into the southern parts of the forests. It was not uncommon for the young Prince to encounter such beasts. Thanks to his skills, Legolas had always managed to defeat these 'monsters', but never unscathed.
Though it was the Royal healer's job to dress the young Elf's wounds, Thranduil often took over the duty of caring for his son. The little one's injuries were not too serious; and it was nice to be able to have a conversation with Legolas when the child was not bouncing around in excitement. No matter how the King tried to impress upon his eldest son the dangers of venturing alone, every time Thranduil left the young Elf unattended, he would return to find Legolas missing. This was already no surprise to the Elf-lord; but influenced by the darkness of his dreams, the King of Mirkwood could not help being extremely worried about his golden child.
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It was not until nightfall that the Crown Prince of Mirkwood was found, lying unconscious by the edge of a ravine. Below, on the rocks of the gorge, lay a dead Forest Troll. Healers were brought in to tend the injured Elf-child immediately. Legolas was covered with minor scratches, probably obtained in his haste to escape the troll. But what worried the healers the most were wounds on his chest and head. The Prince's chest was severely bruised; and several ribs appeared broken. They knew immediately that was where the beast's blow landed. A wide, deep laceration marred the side of the young Elf's beautiful forehead; it must have been bleeding profusely for Legolas' hair was crusted in blood when he was found.
After hours of effort, the Prince's condition had been stabilized. For days, Legolas drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to find the strength to speak or move, even to open his eyes. All that he felt was the occasion touches of his father gently cleaning his wounds and re-bandaging them. Though Thranduil had not said a word, the young Elf knew how worried his sire was; that the older Elf was vowing to keep a better watch on his willful child. When Legolas finally awoke, the King gathered the wounded child gently into his arms and welcomed him back.
"Ada, are you not angry with me?" asked the young Elf quietly. He knew he had disobeyed the King's order by leaving the palace. It was his fault that he was almost killed.
"No, little one. Merely angry at myself for not being there when you needed me," replied Thranduil softly into his child's ears before shifting to allow Legolas to see his eyes. His child was gifted in reading emotions; he wanted the young Elf to see the truth for himself.
"Oh, ada, I am so sorry. I promise I will be a good boy from now on. I will never do anything to upset you so much again," sobbed the young Prince, seeing how much worry he had brought to his loving, understanding father. He felt so ashamed that he had gone on his little adventures selfishly, without thought of how his sire would react.
"Shh...Don't cry now. You are safe and everything will be all right," comforted the King as he moved to embrace his son once more.
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NIGHT 20, GONDOR CASTLE
With effort, Legolas opened his eyes to find the King of Mirkwood finishing his work in bandaging his wounds. Instead of leaving his cell, Thranduil remained with him, watching him with a frown of intense concentration. The Prince was about to ask the ancient Elf why he had saved him from the twins when he heard the familiar voice of his Elven father in his mind. "You need to learn how to take better care of yourself, little one."
The Prince did not know how it was possible that his sire remembered him; or that the Elf-lord was able to communicate with him inside his mind the way they used to when he was Legolas the Elf. But he was so overjoyed that if his battered body would allow it, he would be bouncing up and down with joy the way he used to do as a child. "Ada, how..."
"You will always be my beloved son, Legolas. No magic could take that away," replied the King, understanding the questions that filled his child's mind. He would like to speak to his son more on personal matters; but the importance of the situation at hand outweighed the desires of his heart. "Does Aragorn know you are here?"
"Yes and no. He knows I am an Eternal Watcher; but he doesn't know my true identity," answered the Prince in the King's mind, as he shifted closer to his father.
"I see. So this is a trap for Morn-ndùath. He is here, then," reasoned the King. He understood his son well; it was in Legolas' character to volunteer to be the bait in a trap for the Dark One.
"Yes. I think he has taken Elrohir," replied the Prince sadly. The only way to destroy Morn-ndùath was to kill the form that carried him. The younger twin was a good friend when Legolas was a Mirkwood Elf. He was also Aragorn's foster brother. It would be difficult for the Man to face one of his own family in battle.
"No. I do not sense malice other than the usual hatred for the creatures of darkness in the twins. Morn-ndùath is not in either one of them," said Thranduil. The King of Mirkwood shared his child's gift in reading people's emotions to some extent. He was certain he had not misread the twins' intentions.
"If only I had maintained consciousness for longer," sighed Legolas. He trusted his father's judgment, but the Dark One was cunning. He wished he had not missed his opportunity of confirming the Elven King's opinion.
"Do not be so harsh on yourself, son. There is only so much you can do on your own," comforted the King. "I must leave now to speak with Aragorn."
"Please, do not tell him who I am. I don't want him to see me like this," pleaded Legolas, looking up to hold Thranduil's eyes.
The King was certain Aragorn loved his child for who he was, not his beauty. The fact that the Prince was now in Uruk-Hai form would not matter. Thranduil knew the Man would be satisfied with spending some time in Legolas' company before they were parted again, regardless of how the Prince looked. But he also knew this was not his secret to give away. Though the King wished to tell the Man the entire truth, he would respect his son's decision.
Nodding his reassurance, Thranduil whispered in Legolas' mind before leaving the cell, "Rest now, my child, and regain your strength. Tonight will be a trying one."
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Legolas was awoken by the sound of a muffled cry. Opening his eyes and shifting to look outside his cell, the Prince was shocked to find his two guards unconscious, and a Man bent over their prone form. He could not ascertain the identity of his visitor for the human's back was to him. When the Man finished rummaging through the fallen guards clothing, he hurried towards the cell with a key ring in hand. By the dim light of the torches, Legolas recognized the Man - it was Faramir, the Steward of Gondor and Aragorn's most trusted friend.
"No!" cried the Prince in denial. This human before him was the only one his beloved trusted enough to confide in. If Faramir died, Aragorn would have to bear the burden of governing Gondor alone. To force the King to kill his best friend to save Middle Earth was simply too cruel.
"Come," commanded Faramir as the Man dragged the Prince to his feet, grabbed his arm and propelled him out of the cell.
Legolas would have struggled; but he was too weak. It took all his strength to stumble behind the Steward of Gondor. He knew that Faramir was bent on making him leave the dungeons. Even if he could not walk on his own strength, the human would have carried him. It was like Morn-ndùath to be so cautious, leading him somewhere secluded before killing him. Through the winding tunnels of the castle, they traveled in silence. The Prince was too busy thinking of a way to leave his beloved Man and father clues that he failed to notice Faramir had stopped until he ran into the human's back.
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"Where are you taking the prisoner, my lord?" asked the Lady of the castle in a gentle, sweet voice as she approached.
Legolas wanted to scream and warn her to leave immediately. It was bad enough that Aragorn must lose his best friend; the Prince would do anything to protect Arwen from harm. He knew that though Aragorn loved him, King Elessar could not be without his Queen. But before he could make a sound, the Steward of Gondor stepped forward and answered calmly, "To the throne room, my Lady, by order of the King."
Silently, the Prince prayed that the Lady would be satisfied with the explanation. It was a good thing that the Dark One was in a merciful mood tonight; Legolas could imagine that on an average day, Morn-ndùath would kill Arwen too, just for the fun of it. His joy, however, was short-lived as he saw the human shifted to lay a hand on the hilt of his sword unobtrusively.
Gathering the last of his strength, the Watcher forced his injured body into motion, shoving the unsuspecting Steward of Gondor onto the ground. With the human immobilized under his weight, Legolas shouted his warning to the Queen, "Run, my Lady."
No footsteps answered his warning; the agitated Prince looked up to find Arwen standing over them, an icy smile on her serene face. Shocked by the Evenstar's expression, Legolas lost concentration for a second, which allowed Faramir to struggle free and stood. In one swift motion, the Steward of Gondor drew his sword. Standing protectively in front of the fallen Uruk-Hai, he pointed his weapon towards the smiling Queen.
Chilling laughter reverberated in the corridor as Arwen shook her head and regarded the human. "You really are too intelligent for your own good, my dear Faramir. How do you know?"
"You are more concerned about the success of the Quest than Aragorn's safety. You cannot be the real Lady Arwen," replied the human calmly as he studied his opponent. Legolas, meanwhile, was too shocked to speak, move or think. The Prince merely lay there on the ground as the information that Arwen was Morn-ndùath slowly sunk in.
"Since you are about to die, I will let you in on a secret. What you said isn't exactly true. The Evenstar was quite gifted in magic. I tried to take over her form by force, but failed. She was the one who proposed this alliance. She will help me with my plans and, in return, she wants me to enchant Aragorn into giving her his complete devotion. She has as much control over this body as I do. She just does not exert her will unless she is spending time with her husband," explained the Dark One with a predatory smile.
Legolas watched helplessly as the valiant human warrior attempted to strike Morn-ndùath, only to be sent flying backwards against a wall by the evil Watcher's magic. The force of the impact left Faramir barely conscious. The Man could only groan softly as the Lady glided towards him. Picking up his sword, Arwen stood over the Steward of Gondor, prepared to end his life with a single blow.
The shock that froze the Prince in place had finally subsided. By the power of sheer will, Legolas leapt to his feet and charged the Dark One. But once again, Morn-ndùath's magic lifted the Watcher and tossed him against the wall. As he landed next to the fair-haired Man with an unceremoniously thud, Arwen's soft laughter taunted them, "Oh Faramir, you wanted to save your friend, but you have only made things easier for me. When they find both of you dead tomorrow, they will just assume our brave Steward died in an attempt to prevent our Uruk-Hai prisoner from escaping."
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The two warriors struggled to move, but to no avail. They were held by the Dark One's magic; all they could do was watch as the Lady raised Faramir's sword. But the blow did not come; she was interrupted by the elder twin's uncertain question, "What is happening, little sister?"
The twins were on their way back to the dungeons to continue their torment of their Uruk-Hai prisoner. What they did not expect was to find their sister holding Faramir's sword over the fallen Steward. It would be understandable if Arwen were poised to kill the hideous beast, which had somehow managed to escape. But it was clear that the Evenstar wished to end the life of the Steward of Gondor first. This simply did not make sense.
"Nothing, my dear brothers," replied Arwen softly as she lowered her sword and turned her attention to the twins.
Elrohir immediately knew something was wrong. The figure in front of them was not their sister. The urge to draw his sword and charge the Elf-maiden was overwhelming. With difficulty, the younger twin suppressed his desire to attack and called out, "Arwen?" He needed to know that this feeling was false, for its implications were far too horrible to imagine.
"I am sorry, Elrohir," whispered the Lady as the cold smile faded, replaced by a sad one.
"So am I, little sister," muttered the younger twin as he drew his sword with lightening speed and struck the temporarily defenseless Arwen.
At the last minute, the Lady brought up her sword to deflect the blow. But Elrohir was stronger and the impact pushed Arwen's sword back into herself, drawing blood. Jumping back, the evil one gave a furious roar as invisible arms grabbed his assailant and flung him into the air. The older twin was now on the move, trying to catch his brother before Elrohir reached the cold limestone wall. He did not completely understand what was happening; but Elrohir was his twin; Elladan would do all he could to protect him.
The younger Elf collided hard with his brother. As they both collapsed onto the floor, they could hear Morn-ndùath mocking them in their sister's voice, "Do you seriously think two puny Elves can contend with my will? You Middle Earthlings are more stupid than I thought. Now..."
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The Dark One's gloating ended with a shriek of pain as an arrow pierced her back. In the blink of an eye, another shaft followed, aimed directly at Arwen's heart. But the element of surprise was lost. This time, Morn- ndùath spun round, stopping the arrow in mid-air and sent it flying back towards her mystery attacker. When the shaft hit a wall in a harmless clatter, the evil Watcher frowned as he began to scan his surrounding in earnest. One of the Eldars had discovered his true identity. This would be a harder battle than he anticipated.
Morn-ndùath decided that luck was on his side when he sensed that his opponent was the King of Mirkwood, the only one of the ancient Elves without a Ring of Power. As a Wood Elf, Thranduil was more in tune with nature and was better at concealing his presence than the others. But the Eldar's lack of magic limited his offensive capabilities. Thranduil could only rely on surprise attacks. If the sorcerer could discern the Elf's location, this victory would be his.
The Dark One's concentration was broken when the Uruk-Hai shifted. Somehow, the beast had managed to overcome his immobilization spell. At the sound of the creature's groan, the air in the hall tensed. That was when it dawned on Morn-ndùath that it was Glorgalad in the Uruk-Hai's body. The young Prince was Thranduil's son in his life on Middle Earth. The ancient Elf's worries for his child was manifesting through the elements. Striding over leisurely to the fallen Legolas, the evil sorcerer grabbed the Prince by his hair and yanked him to his feet.
Holding his sword to his nephew's throat, Morn-ndùath said sweetly in Arwen's singsong voice, "Come out, come out, wherever you are. You don't want to see me slit your little baby's throat, now, do you?" As if to emphasis his point, the Dark One pressed the blade harder against the Prince's throat, nicking his flesh slightly.
The Mirkwood Elf knew they were all doomed if he surrendered. But he could not possibly stand by and watch Arwen murder his child. Risking exposure, Thranduil moved from his hiding place and approached Arwen, notching an arrow aimed at the Lady's sword arm.
Morn-ndùath's plan worked. He sensed the Elven King's position the moment he moved within the range of his magic. Black tentacles materialized from the shadows surrounding Thranduil and seized him. Despite his struggles, the ancient Elf was unable to free himself as the tendrils transported him towards the evil sorcerer.
Watching with satisfaction as the Elven king writhed against his restraints in vain, Morn-ndùath whispered, "Welcome, King Thranduil. Now you will have a better view as I gut your child. It would be more satisfying for both the Lady and I if Legolas were in his true form. But I suppose this will have to do."
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Aragorn was dismayed to find the dungeon empty and the two guards unconscious. At first, the Man suspected Morn-ndùath had struck and he had failed in protecting his ally once again. But when the soldiers on the ground moaned softly, indicating they still lived, the King of Gondor knew it was someone else who took the Watcher. It could not be the Mirkwood Elf; Thranduil had somehow learnt of their scheme, but he agreed that they should leave 'Legolas' in the dungeons. He only suggested that their 'prisoner' should be guarded more carefully.
Suddenly, the uneasy thought of his foster brothers taking the Watcher for further torturing drifted into Aragorn's head. He was about to head to the twins' rooms when a cry of agony froze the Man in his tracks. It came from the tunnels that led out of the castle. Running as fast as his legs would carry him, Aragorn rushed towards the sound, praying to Valar that he was not too late.
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Dark blood oozed out of the Prince's injured abdomen. Held still by the Dark One's magic, all Legolas could do was cry out in pain as the evil sorcerer used his dagger to create shallow cuts along the length of his mid- section. Smirking at the young Eternal Watcher's pain, Morn-ndùath prepared to repeat his assault, fully intending on slicing the Uruk-Hai's body open with his next stroke.
Arwen wanted the one who stole her husband's heart to die a slow painful death. The Evil one was more than happy to comply. Morn-ndùath had taken care to make each slash slowly and not too deep, denying the Prince the refuge of unconsciousness and giving him plenty of time to savor the pain. So delighted was the Dark One on his task that he did not realize another figure now watched the scene in horror.
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Aragorn froze at the sight of his wife bent over the prone form of the Eternal Watcher with a bloody dagger in hand. Screams of denial echoed in his mind - Arwen could not possibly be Morn-ndùath. The Evenstar was compassionate, the mother of his children, his Queen! There was not a single trace of darkness in her soul; she could not possibly be the evil Tirn Uipira. He gave up Legolas and his heart so he could be with Arwen, the perfect Queen for the people of Gondor. What he saw could not be happening. There must be another explanation for the sight in front of him. Perhaps he had fallen asleep by accident and this was only a bad dream.
The Man covered his ears to block out another cry from his new friend. He closed his eyes, believing the image would vanish when he re-opened them. But those were useless gestures; nothing could shut out the anguish in the Eternal Watcher's voice or stop the shivers that ran down Aragorn's spine. His heart lurched as Legolas whimpered. No..."This is not real."
The Dark One turned at the sound of the Man's voice. At once, the Evenstar resumed control of her body and glided to join her beloved husband. "Don't worry, love, everything will be all right. You are just dreaming."
Opening his eyes, the King reached out to touch his wife's face. Arwen now wore a loving expression the Man knew so well. Smiling sweetly, the Lady reached up to caress Aragorn's callous hand as she leaned into his touch. Looking directly into the Man's confused eyes, the sorcerer whispered hypnotically in the Evenstar's lilting voice, "What you saw before you was not real. It was a product of your overstressed mind, manifesting itself in a vivid dream."
As the others watched the interaction between the couple, they wanted to shout and warn Aragorn against the Dark One and Arwen's treachery. But Morn-ndùath's magic held them completely immobile. Even their tongues were unable to move. The only one free to make a sound was Legolas; but the Prince seemed to have fallen unconscious from the evil sorcerer's torture as he laid unmoving on the floor, belly almost slit open by Arwen's dagger.
Leaning on Arwen's arm, the King began to stagger away from his allies, clearly convinced that he was asleep and dreaming. The fallen warriors knew that when the Dark One returns, he would erase the twins' memories and kill the others. Morn-ndùath could not afford to allow Thranduil or Faramir to live. After all, the Steward of Gondor was able to guess his secret and the Elven King overcame Alagos' spell and remembered Legolas. As the couple's silhouettes disappeared in the shadows of the corridor, the warriors knew they had failed.
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Legolas was weakening. He barely had enough energy to cling to consciousness within his battered physical form. Through the pain and darkness, the Watcher could sense his beloved's presence. He cried out to Aragorn for help, but the Man did not respond. Instead, the King started moving away, probably enchanted by the Dark One's magic. That was when the Golden Prince made his choice. He would use the last of his inner light to help his allies against Morn-ndùath. The Tirn Uipira could not exist on Arda without physical form; to leave his body without proper transportation rituals meant inevitable death. But, he would have several minutes before he dissipated completely, enough time to pour his entire being into one single spell. Slowly, the Prince allowed his powers to seep out of his Uruk-Hai body into the darkness of the corridors.
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"Aragorn..." , a soft moan in the Man's mind. Legolas' voice, there was no mistaking it. So, this was indeed a dream, for the Prince never visited him in reality.
"Aragorn...", even softer this time, so weak that the Man had to strain to hear it. Something did not feel right. Why did Legolas sounded so faint? Was he hurt? No, the Prince should be safe in his own realm since Morn- ndùath was on Middle Earth. Confused, the King glanced at his gentle wife who supported him. Maybe this was something he had subconsciously manufactured in his fantasy, his beloved's voice calling for him to come back as he left with Arwen by his side.
Another whimper assaulted Aragorn's mind, followed by soft incoherent words. Though the Man could not make out the phrases, the meaning was clear. Legolas was hurt and needed his help. But why would the Prince ask him for help? They were in different realms, aren't they?
That was when a light cut through the fog that clouded Aragorn's mind. Legolas was here with him, right now. There was no denying it; the Man could feel his beloved's presence surrounding him. His mind drifted back to the scene he dismissed as a nightmare - his wife in the act of murdering his new friend, his wife telling him he was just dreaming. But, if everything were just a dream, why would he need to walk back to his rooms? Could he not just will himself away, out of this nightmare? And why was Arwen here with him, supporting him?
The light in Aragorn's mind grew stronger, its golden brilliance overwhelming his vision. Within the glow was an image of the Man's fallen allies in the dark corridor. That was when the King came to terms with the fact that Morn-ndùath and Arwen were one and the same. The sorcerer had used his weakness against him; because Aragorn wanted desperately to believe what he saw was only an illusion, he had become a willing prey of Morn-ndùath's spell.
The Man was furious with himself; but he knew it was not the time to show his emotions. The Dark One was now walking unsuspectingly beside him; this was his opportunity to do his duty to Middle Earth and keep his promise to Legolas. Though he did not truly love Arwen, what he must do still broke his heart. But, King Elessar would fulfill his duty. He was willing to give up true love and happiness; and now, he would kill his own wife. His responsibilities to his people and Middle Earth would always come first, even if it meant he had to sacrifice everything he ever held dear, even if it would leave him a broken Man.
The light that blinded him dimmed. Aragorn could see again now. But the Man closed his eyes to fight the onslaught of tears. Silently and swiftly, the King pulled out the dagger in his belt and plunged it deep into his Queen's chest. Arwen gasped in surprise at the sudden pain. She staggered a few steps backwards to look uncomprehendingly at the one she loved. "Why?"
The King opened his tear-filled eyes to look at his dying wife and whispered brokenly, "Oh, Arwen, I am so sorry."
Aragorn reached for his Lady, wanting to cradle her in his arms as she faded. But he drew back in shock as the Elf's expression hardened. Letting out a bitter laugh, she shrieked, "If I cannot have you, no one will!"
Suddenly, the Man felt the air tensed as power surged from the wounded Queen. Aragorn wanted to move, but he was held captive by the evil one's spell. As dark blades raced towards him, obliterating everything in their paths, all he could do was stare defiantly at the Elf would claim his life.
Before the blades reached Aragorn, a brilliant explosion of golden light dispelled the darkness. Morn-ndùath screamed in pain as the dagger embedded in Arwen's chest glowed fiery red, sizzling her flesh. As the Elf- maiden fell backwards, eyes glazed in death, the Man knew they had won. The evil Eternal Watcher was destroyed. However, the relief that Middle Earth and the realm of the Tirn Uirpira were saved did not dull the pain in Aragorn's heart. His Queen was dead.
As the light faded, the Man began his hesitant stumble towards the Evenstar's body. He froze in his tracks, however, when he heard his beloved's voice called his name. "Aragorn."
Spinning around faster than he thought possible, he was greeted with the sight of a golden silhouette of his Prince standing before him. "How can this be?"
Smiling sadly, Legolas made no attempt to answer. Instead, he floated closer to the Man until they were almost touching. Aragorn reached out, wanting to stroke his beloved's silken hair, but his hand went through the glittering form. He withdrew his hand in surprise, intending to ask the Prince for an explanation. But he was stopped when Legolas carefully laid a slender finger close to his lips. They were not touching; but as little specks of light darted from the Watcher onto his lips, Aragorn could feel the tingling warmth of his beloved upon his skin. "Oh, Legolas.."
Leaning closer until their lips almost touched, the Prince whispered, "No matter where I am, I will always love you."
Golden sparks flew between them as the lovers kissed, pouring all their love and longing into that one simple touch. For the first time in eleven years, Aragorn felt complete. Closing his eyes to lose himself in the sensation of being with Legolas, the Man felt as if they were the only people in the world. In the sanctuary of his lover's embrace, Aragorn was finally free from his burdens. As long as his beloved was here, there was no fear the Man could not conquer; he would no longer have to face the world alone.
A sudden chill found its way into the Man's bliss. As he opened his eyes, he saw that his Prince was fading. Stepping back in horror, his vision was filled with the image of Legolas disintegrating before him into tiny specks of gold. The Eternal Watcher smiled at him sadly, flickers of silver drifting from his exquisite eyes. "Namarie, melethron nîn. [Goodbye, my lover.]"
"No!" Aragorn screamed, reaching out to hold onto his beloved, needing to keep Legolas by his side. But fate was against him. In his arms, Legolas dissipated into glittering stardust, leaving the Man alone with an empty embrace.
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The reality of his loss struck Aragorn mercilessly. All the Man could do was fall onto his knees and wept. When Morn-ndùath was destroyed, the other warriors in the corridor recovered their abilities to move. But before they could go to the King of Gondor's side to offer their comfort, Legolas appeared. As it was clear to all present that the lovers would want privacy for their reunion, they stayed where they were in silence. Now that the Prince had vanished, the group rushed to the sobbing Man as quickly as their physical conditions allowed.
Looking at each other, a silent agreement was formed that Thranduil, Legolas' father, should be their spokesperson. The ancient Elf would understand the Man's grief best and should be most able to console him. "Legolas would not wish to see you like this," said the Elven King gently as he laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulders.
When there was no reaction, the Elven King continued, "My son believed in your strength, Aragorn. Be strong for him. Be the Man he loves."
The words seemed to have an effect on the heart-broken Man as he lifted his head and gazed at his companions. With shaky hands, Aragorn wiped off his tears and slowly rose to his feet. Legolas had promised him eternal love; his beloved would never go back on his words. Aragorn could not change what happened; his lover was gone. His opportunity for true love had past and would never return. All he could do now was to live as a Man worthy of the golden beauty's devotion. And for as long as he breathed, Legolas would live on in his memories, the perfect Prince of his Dreams.
End Part 1
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If people like sad endings, this is where they should stop reading. On the other hand, if people don't want Aragorn to spend the rest of his life alone, review! I may not be one of the Valar, but I can force them to revive Legolas, like they did Glorfindel. They will even give our darling Elf his original body back. Not going to put our couple back into the same world until I get 180 reviews.