Chapter 21
When Legolas awoke, he was surprised by the silence. He didn't hear the crackling of flames or the shouting of voices. Nothing.
I am dead? He thought stupidly, before opening his eyes.
"Legolas?" Aragorn was next to him, and the rest of the Fellowship and some others surrounded him, holding their breath.
"Aragorn?" The elf replied. He turned and saw the aged old wizard at his other side. "Gandalf?"
"Welcome back, Master Elf." Greeted the wizard with a gentle smile. "We were beginning to worry about you."
"You were asleep for a long time!" Stated Pippen matter-of-factly.
"Was I?" Legolas asked, trying to sit up. His shoulder ached with pain, and he looked over and saw that he had been bandaged and treated.
"How is everyone else?" The prince asked. "Frodo?"
Gandalf smiled. "He is well, thanks greatly to you."
"Was anyone else injured? What about Maegluin? And her daughters? Was Celebhen killed? What happened?"
"You speak hastily, mellon." Laughed Aragorn. "I will tell all. Everyone in the Fellowship, besides you, of course, escaped unharmed." The ranger said.
"Even you?"
"Even I." Replied Aragorn. "Celebhen, unfortunately, was slain. And Maegluin and her daughters are frightened but otherwise unharmed…"
"They aren't her daughters." Legolas interrupted.
"What?"
"Celebhen had them with another elven maid. She's not their mother. Mithrendol told me." Legolas said.
"He told you this?" Gandalf repeated, leaning in closer to the seated elf.
Legolas looked at the old wizard as he remembered. "Yes." He stated quietly. "He told me everything. It all makes sense now."
The fellowship didn't say a word, but rather leaned in closer and held their breath once more, waiting for the elf prince to continue.
Legolas did just that. "Maegluin is not the mother of the four Daughters of Celebhen. Another elf-woman is. It's a long story."
Aragorn cocked his head. "Please, Legolas. Tell us."
Legolas smiled at his friend, who smiled in return.
"Celebhen had another child, a long time ago." He began. "His name was Mithrendol…"
*******
"Where are we going, Sondrian?" Asked the adolescent elf prince, Mithrendol.
"Just to the opposite side of the forest, my lord—your father has arranged a surprise for you." Answered Celebhen's chief of the guard.
"Why a surprise?" Inquired the younger elf. Four other elven guards walked behind him, all their eyes on him. Mithrendol could feel them. They made him feel uneasy. It was as if they had the eyes of a predator.
A pack of wolves…he briefly thought.
"What surprise?" He asked again, after he received no answer.
"You will soon know, young prince." Came the soft reply. Mithrendol noted Sondrian's tone with interest. He sounded…sad?
The young elf crossed his arms and continued walking, occasionally glancing back at the warriors behind him. What sort of surprise could his father have in mind? And why were his guards taking him so far away to show it?
Mithrendol suddenly had a dreadful feeling. He couldn't understand why…but he felt that something was not right, and he was afraid. Which was ridiculous. He was safe, at home, in his wood. And besides, he had his father's royal guard here to protect him.
The party walked for a while more with no more words exchanged. Suddenly Mithrendol looked ahead and gasped. He could see the edge of the forest, out into the grassy plains that slowly rose up to form the Misty Mountains! He had never been this far from his home before!
But he said nothing, and followed Sondrian as he walked to the very edge of the forest. He stopped then, but his young follower walked a few steps forward, gazing in wonder at the scene in front of him.
"Is this my surprise?" He asked as he turned. His breath caught in his throat suddenly.
Sondrian and the other warriors had brought out their bows and drawn them. But not at any animal or enemy—they were aimed directly at Mithrendol!
"Sondrian, what is going on!?" The young elf prince shouted, suddenly becoming petrified with fear. Why would these warriors whom he had known all his life suddenly turn on him?
"Mithrendol, you have been sentenced to death by…" Sondrian hesitated, but then went on. " Celebhen Silvereye, Lord of our people."
"Death?" Mithrendol blurted. "My father ordered this?"
Sondrian pulled back his bow further. "He did." He whispered sadly.
The chief of guard opened his mouth to order the guards to fire, but something moral inside must have tugged at him, for he hesitated—hesitated long enough for young Mithrendol to turn and begin to desperately run across the plain away from them.
Mithrendol knew he couldn't make it. He was going to die. Valar, how could this happen to him? What had he done?
The young prince had not run fifty feet when he heard the soft, sad words come from the mouth of his so-called protector.
"Fire." Came the words to his ear…and all at once the arrows came to his flesh.
One hit him in the center of the back—a good shot—and it would have pierced his heart had Mithrendol not twisted sideways as it entered. Another hit his left leg, causing him to fall. A third became embedded in his right shoulder, and the other two buried their barbed points into his sides.
The young prince fell. But he was not dead.
Mithrendol lay in pain…so much pain…listening as he heard Sondrian give the order to leave. He heard one last sentence.
"Speak of this to no one. Lord Celebhen has ordered that it be known his son was killed by orcs, and his body destroyed. They will not find him out here."
Mithrendol suddenly realized he was laying in a growing puddle of blood, and it was painful to draw in even the smallest breath. He felt a tear in his eye form. He didn't want to die. Valar, his life couldn't be over just yet.
What had he done to deserve such a fate? Why did his father suddenly hate him enough to have him killed? Mithrendol suddenly felt and emotion he felt only very rarely—hate. How could his father have done this to him? His own son! His heir! Mithrendol's hands dug into the ground as he felt his body shudder.
The sky grew dark, and Mithrendol blinked. As soon as he did, a billion red stars burst in front of his eyes. He suddenly felt very cold. So cold.
Suddenly, there was a hand upon his head. He hadn't heard anyone approach. The hand grasped him roughly by the roots of his hair and turned him around. Mithrendol realized the arrows in his back were gone. He hadn't even felt them being removed.
As he lay there, his fading vision cleared a bit. What he saw made him wish he was dead.
A Nazgul. Ringwraith.
"Are you afraid, young elf?" A hissing voice sneered from the mouth of the black creature. "Do not be. I have come to you to offer you little more than a deal—given to me by my master, Sauron himself."
Mithrendol's eyes grew wider, but he couldn't draw the breath to answer.
"Do you want to live?" The Ringwraith asked him, not knowing he could not speak.
Mithrendol was suddenly desperate. He didn't want to die. Not like this, not so young. He would make a deal with anything or anyone to live. Painfully, he managed to give the Wraith a nod of his head.
"And you want to make those who have wronged you pay, yes?" The Nazgul hissed.
Mithrendol hesitated, an action he couldn't afford to do in his situation.
"Answer me." The Ringwraith whispered.
Mithrendol nodded weakly. His head was beginning to cloud.
"My Master Sauron offers you this deal: If you do a favor for my Master, he will allow me to give you the gift of a new life." The Nazgul explained. "Answer now."
Mithrendol could feel his lungs ache as he tried to continue breathing. He wanted to agree. How could he do such a thing? Tto allow himself to become allies with his sworn enemies! He couldn't!
"Answer now or I will leave you for dead." The Nazgul repeated.
Panic gripped at Mithrendol's heart as he heard the Wraith's words. He couldn't die. He wouldn't die. He shouldn't. Anger began to bloom inside his heart, and hate for his father began to blossom.
Mithrendol sucked in an agonizing breath and finally breathed one word. "Yes."
The Nazgul's expression didn't change beneath its dark hood, but Mithrendol could have sworn he saw it smile. The Wraith reached down an armored hand and placed it on the young elf's chest. It rasped a few ugly, short words and suddenly Mithrendol felt life in him again—but very little.
"I have given you enough strength to survive a while longer. Do not move. I will return." With that and a black flash, the Wraith was gone.
Mithrendol stared up at the scattered cloudy sky. Was the Nazgul merely playing with him? Or had he really offered Sauron's help?
All Mithrendol could do was wait until the Nazgul returned.
And it did—not ten minutes after—and it was not alone. With him the Ringwraith dragged the struggling body of another elf youth—one who appeared to be a bit older then Mithrendol himself.
Mithrendol saw the other elf's eyes grow wide when he spotted the bloodied body of the elf prince on the cold ground. He watched as the Nazgul forced the other elf to kneel down next to his head. With his armored hand the Wraith grasped the other elf's head and forced him down towards the dying elf's head, their mouths nearly touching.
The other elf youth was screaming. But for some reason, Mithrendol could not hear it. All he heard was the Nazgul's words.
"Breathe." It ordered him. "Breathe, and you will be given new life."
Mithrendol would have liked to have told the Wraith that because at least one of his lungs was punctured he could not breathe, but he didn't want to anger to beast nor disobey it. He wanted to live. Slowly he began to draw air into his weak lungs.
Mithrendol felt a jolt of electricity suddenly course through his body. The shock caused him to gasp, and although it only made his pain stronger, also did something extraordinary.
He felt warmth begin to enter him from his victim's mouth. He saw a pale glimmer of…something…slid out of the other elf's mouth and into his own. He saw as the other elf's eyes grew huge with terror and pain.
Mithrendol realized he was hurting him. He was hurting a fellow elf—a kinsman! He had to stop!
Yet…he couldn't.
More of the glimmering, glowing stuff exited the other elf's body and entered Mithrendol's. Suddenly the elf prince didn't feel his body anymore. Then his other senses began to fade. His hearing and sense of smell disappeared, and his vision dimmed into complete blackness. He suddenly wondered if he had died before the Wraith had helped him.
But then his vision returned, and he found himself looking down at his own, pale face. Screaming, Mithrendol launched himself backwards, watching as the last of the life in what was his body was destroyed. He screamed again, a hand coming to cover his mouth once he noticed his voice wasn't the same. He looked down, at his hands, at his clothes. He wasn't himself anymore! He was in the other elf's body!
"I'm not myself!" He cried suddenly, unable to hold it in.
"Yes..." Said the Nazgul from behind him. "You are no longer Mithrendol, Prince of the Nimar, but Celidur, son of Brothil and Orowen."
"What?" Mithrendol blurted as he spun around. "What have you done to me? To him?" He gestured towards his formor body, now dead and still.
The Nazgul let out a cruel laugh, a sound that hurt Mithrendol's ears.
"I have saved you from certain death, elf. As you see before you, your body is dead. But your soul is not. It has taken the place of the poor soul that had belonged in the body that you are now." It explained. "But that is not your concern now. You agreed to a deal of my Master's."
"There was no deal!" Mithrendol retorted, standing up on shaky legs. "You asked me if I wished to live and I answered."
Mithrendol again could have sworn the Nazgul smiled at him again. "I believe you will like this deal. Perhaps…even enjoy it."
******
"…Mithrendol, who was now Celidur, was in return for being given life again, to kill his supposed father and his family, which at the time was only Maegluin. Doing so would leave the Nimar, a people that normally very strong, without a leader and without guide. It would have been possible for Sauron to destroy them much easier then."
Legolas finished with a sigh. Aragorn and the others finally sat back.
"But if that was when Mithrendol was just a youth, then why did he wait so long for his revenge?" Asked Boromir.
Legolas looked at the man from Gondor. "Why, because Sauron was defeated of course. The Nazgul went into hiding, and Mithrendol had no aid in helping murder his family. He needed to wait until Sauron again came to power."
"So…Maegluin had an affair with another elf that resulted in Mithrendol's birth…and when Celebhen found out he had Mithrendol killed…and after the Nimar traveled here Celebhen did not feel Maegluin worthy enough to bare his other children, as she had betrayed him once before…so he had an affair with another she-elf, which resulted in the birth of the Four Daughters." Gimli took a deep breath after he finished. "I will never understand the ways of you elves."
Legolas smiled, a gesture that surprised him. "I would not expect you to, Master Dwarf." He said, and the smaller creature gave him a look and a snort.
"So that is the mystery of the Nimar." Gandalf concluded, pulling out his pipe. "It was much more complicated than I would have first guessed."
"I wouldn't have guessed it either." Popped in Pippen.
"Pip, that was more complicated than you could ever hope to guess." Merry said to his friend.
Legolas laughed, and soon, the Fellowship began to break up and leave him. Only Aragorn stood by him, smoking his pipe.
Suddenly, Legolas smelled smoke in the air, and it was not from Aragorn's pipe. He painfully stood up, realizing where he was.
"Is the palace still burning?" He asked.
Aragorn bit the end of his pipe nervously. "We couldn't stop the blaze. That's not the palace that's burning, Legolas. The palace has already been destroyed. The White Wood is burning."
Legolas blinked as he processed the information. Then he turned around, and without the bodies of the Fellowship blocking his view, he finally was able to see where he was and what was around him.
He stood on a large rocky slope, smoke rising from the east—the White Wood burning. To the other side, he saw the hundreds of Nimar refugees, huddling in groups. Down below them, he saw the vast rock fields of Gondlad.
The sight greatly saddened him. His friends had given him the credit of saving their lives—as well as the lives of an entire people. But in doing so he had destroyed their home.
"Legolas!" The high voice of a female drew Legolas's eyes to the right, and he was the figure of Cefielle rushing towards him.
"You're alright!" She marveled as she reached him. "You were unconscious for nearly two hours."
Legolas's eyes passed Cefielle and back to the huddled groups of White Elves. "I'm sorry." He said without even realizing it.
Cefielle blinked and frowned deeply. "For what?" She asked softly. "Celidur?"
"No." Legolas replied truthfully. "For your people. I've destroyed your home."
Cefielle didn't say anything. She couldn't. She wanted to tell the Prince in front of her that she didn't blame him and that they'd find another home, but in very truth, she did blame him and she didn't know if they'd ever find another home.
"We have no place to go to." She finally said softly. "Our people now look to my mother for guidance, and she is in a state of shock from all of this. I don't know what will become of us."
Legolas suddenly became aware of the wizard Gandalf looking over his shoulder. He turned to face him.
"It is true that hope seems lacking in your search for a new home, young Princess, although it has not even begun yet." He said in his raspy, tired voice. "But I know someone who can help you."
"Who?" Cefielle and Legolas asked at the same time.
"You, of course, Legolas." Answered the wizard.
"What? Mithrandir, I couldn't possibly—what am I to do? I cannot magically conjure another home for these people!" Legolas said.
The wizard took a puff of his pipe and blew a smoke ring. "Nor can I. But you can send these people to another home."
"Where?"
"To Mirkwood, of course." Said Gandalf, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"My home?" Legolas clarified, and the wizard nodded.
"Would you, Legolas?" Cefielle asked. "Would you let us stay in your home, at least until we find another?"
Legolas suddenly realized the brilliance of the idea. If they didn't encounter any enemies along the way, the Nimar could safely journey across the mountain and to his home quite easily. Mirkwood was large, and although most of it was haunted with Sauron's ghostly presence, there would be enough room for all!
"I would, and I can." He said finally, turning back towards Cefielle. "My home is yours as well now. But I cannot lead you to it. You have to find your way by yourselves."
Cefielle's face fell. "Why not?"
"You forget that I have sworn my allegiance to Frodo. I must accompany him." Legolas explained.
"Do not be discouraged, young one." Gandalf cut in yet again. "Your people have among them many elders who remember the old world and know how to navigate. You will be able to freely pass over the mountain and then go forth into Mirkwood without trouble."
Cefielle listened to the old man's words, and slowly a smile spread across her face. "I must tell my mother and siblings at once!" She said, turning around.
But Legolas grabbed her arm before she could go. "Cefielle, wait." He said. "You must do something for me…once you reach the safety of my home, you must ask Maegluin to tell the truth about you and your sisters…and of Mithrendol."
"Legolas, I don't know what you are talking about." Cefielle said, confused. Obviously, Maegluin was too in shock to explain anything to her daughters yet.
"You will understand in time. But you must do that for me." Legolas urged.
Cefielle's green eyes floated down to the gray rock she was standing on, and then back up. "I will. Thank you, Legolas Greenleaf. The Nimar will not forget the favor you have done for our people."
With that she turned and walked away.
***********
The huge party of the Fellowship and the Nimar refugees spent the night on the mountainside. The next morning Legolas awoke early, along with his companions and began to prepare to leave. Gandalf thought it best that they continue their path south instead of passing over the mountain. The Nimar would have to pass over the mountain and travel to Mirkwood alone.
"Going back to fighting orcs seems almost appealing to me." Aragorn said as he and Legolas prepared to leave. Legolas looked at the ranger in surprise. Aragorn smiled.
"Sauron's evil plot is much less complicated than Mithrendol's was." He explained to the baffled elf.
"You forget, friend, that the plan to destroy the Nimar was Sauron's." Legolas said in return. "Mithrendol was simply a tool."
Aragorn realized he had lost the argument and changed the subject. "How is your shoulder?"
"Much better, thank you." Legolas said smugly as he swung his quiver and bow on to his back. Thankfully, those items had been saved from the fire.
Aragorn smiled and sighed. The two friends went on packing, and then finally moved down the slope to where the rest of the Fellowship was waiting.
The parting ceremony was small and short. Not many Nimar attended. Legolas couldn't blame them. Most of them did, after all, believe he and the others had brought with them this terrible stroke of evil. Of the ones that did come, there was Maegluin, who was now as silent as ever, and the Four Daughters, all clinging to her—except for Cefielle. Legolas realized the experience had made the youngest of the Daughters very independent…and strong.
The Nimar presented the fellowship with what little food they could spare, as much was destroyed along with their home. There was no other parting gift. The Fellowship said their short goodbyes, and then began to walk down the mountain.
"Our folks at home will never believe this when we tell it to them." Merry and Pippen were saying.
Legolas was about to thing the same thing, when suddenly, a small object flew past him on the breeze. With his elven reflexes he reached out and caught it before it flew to far away to retrieve. Looking down, he opened his hand to reveal…a leaf.
A white leaf of the Nimgaladh. Legolas observed it and saw that it's edges had curled with heat, and the leaf had only escaped the flames seconds before it would have been burnt.
"Merry!" He suddenly called out. "Pippen!"
The two young hobbits whirled around at the sound of their names, and watched as the elf approached them.
"Your families will believe you if you have proof of the White Wood's existence." He said the them, not yet revealing the white leaf in his hand.
"But we haven't any proof, Master Elf." Pippen said sadly.
Legolas reached down and grasped the young hobbit's hand, and gently placed the white leaf into it.
"Now you do." He said simply. He smiled, and then walked past the dumbfounded hobbits to walk in the lead with Gandalf and Aragorn.
Merry and Pippen stared at the leaf in Pippen's little hand and gasped.
"Now they'll have to believe us." Merry said.
"Yes! They will!" Pippen agreed excitedly as he placed the precious leaf in his pants pocket.
Legolas smiled when he heard the words and giggles exchanged by the young hobbits.
Yes…they will. He thought.
The End
***************
For those of you who are wondering (or to those of you who care), I do have a sequel in mind. But it will not be coming for a while. Thank you for reading my story! I feel really accomplished now that this is the first story I've actually finished! Thank you again!
~Roseblade22