Author: Mirrordance
Title: Last Stand
Summary: The battle at the Black Gate leaves Legolas strange wounds that do not heal. He knows he is slowly dying & keeps it a secret, as he tours the fleeting mortal pleasures of the world before his last breath. He finds an unwilling coconspirator in Eomer
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3: Finding Estel: A Memory II
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Rivendell, 2938
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He woke to the morning with Elrond's face hovering over him. The Lord of Imladris had a lined, worried expression about him as he looked over the Prince, and stilled it only when his eyes drifted to his patient's face and realized that he was awake.
~Good morning, Legolas,~ he greeted the younger elf with a quick smile, ~The sun has been up for hours waiting for you.~
~I slept late,~ Legolas replied, tempted to retort that one of the House's strangest guests was the cause for his trouble. But the world was spinning, and he was too weary to be clever. He licked his lips, and suffered the indignity of the examination.
~You sleep with eyes closed,~ Elrond murmured to him, ~And you have trouble waking. I am worried, Legolas. I'm going to send for your father.~
~He is busy with far greater things,~ Legolas said quickly, ~Please do not bother, my lord. He doesn't have the time, or the luxury. The King should not risk the peril of travel here for my sake. The people cannot lose him in times so dark.~
~I cannot remain silent of these worries,~ Elrond said, even as he knew that Legolas' considerations were worth thought.
~It will pass,~ Legolas lied.
~I've seen this kind of deterioration once before,~ Elrond told him quietly, ~I know what it means. Your ada must know as well.~
~We made unregretful goodbyes,~ Legolas told him, ~We've never let things go unsaid. Let things unfold as they will, my lord. But spare him the road here.~
Elrond simply frowned, and raised one of the Prince's cold hands and felt for the irregular pulse upon his wrist. ~You're too cold,~ Elrond murmured.
~I'm not uncomfortable,~ Legolas assured him quietly, averting his gaze in embarrassment, ~Thank you for having me. I'm sorry for the vast inconvenience. I would not have come, if it was not to ease the worries of my already-much-burdened father.~
~It is not an inconvenience,~ Elrond guaranteed him, ~I desperately wish for you to get well. Or if not…~ he hesitated, ~Perhaps you wish to sail beyond the sea. It is a remedy that has worked for… others.~
~Your wife, my lord,~ Legolas said softly, after a moment of thought, ~I've heard of her. I am very sorry.~
~They broke her body,~ Elrond said, trying to keep his tone even, though there was a harshness to his voice that he could not deny, ~But more than that, I detest that heartbroken defeat I see in your eyes, it reminds me of her last goodbyes. And we all know how that story ends.~
Celebrian's wounds were poisoned and did not heal. She suffered them for quite awhile before she went over the sea. Such a story elves from the world over were well-aware of.
~I'm sorry,~ Legolas said again, after a moment.
~It's not your fault,~ Elrond said, belatedly, ~It is just the despicable parts of this world that seek to destroy things that are beautiful. You have a stout heart, I know it. But we can only weather so much and I know… I know you've weathered much. I can never know what she felt and saw, just as I can never know how greatly your heart breaks such that it wishes to still. But I do understand that no one is invulnerable, Legolas. As tough as our bodies may be, the spirit remains our greatest weapon and all at once our greatest liability. The shedding of our tears are as lethal as the spilling of our blood.~
He placed Legolas' hand down, and patted it reassuringly, ~This can still go both ways, Legolas. I will not tell you to be strong, because I know even the mightiest of us fall if their hearts were broke. I will tell you to be hopeful.~
Legolas breathed deeply, and pushed himself up to sit. Elrond managed to restrain himself from offering aid, but watched the elf prince carefully, ready to assist at any troubled moment. Legolas managed to lean against the elaborate headboard without incident.
~To be strong is easier,~ the elf-prince said wryly, courting a smile from the older elf.
~You can try them both,~ Elrond said.
Legolas turned his head toward the door, hearing approaching and urgent steps from outside a beat before the Lord of Imladris.
~Enter,~ Elrond commanded.
It was one of his twin sons. Which one in particular, Legolas was unsure. He watched the worried eyes of the handsome elf seek his father's.
~Ada,~ Elrohir said, ~I still cannot find Estel.~
Legolas sat up straighter. Fantastic, he thought miserably, wondering if he should believe he actually had anything to do with that…
~Excuse me,~ Elrond said to the prince, patting his hand one more time before rising in a flurry of robes and following his son out the door.
Legolas stared at the wall before him, the one the urchin of a boy used to enter his room the night before. It shifted again and he held his breath, awaiting the infernal boy's head to peer out at him. This time, however, it really was the head injury, for the entire room was shifting.
He gulped down on the familiar sensation of nausea. His hand shook as he reached toward the night stand, using it to brace himself as he struggled to stand. He successfully got to his feet, and the world swayed and tilted, white lights exploding along the corners of his vision as he struggled for breath and balance.
I needed to walk anyway, he reasoned as he took his first steps forward since the yesterday, when he arrived and settled on what was admittedly quickly becoming his deathbed.
He glanced behind him at the wrinkled, white silk sheets. It was calling him back, looking very inviting and warm with the sun playing with its light and shadows. Instead, he grabbed his robes and put them over his sleeping clothes.
His hands reached for the wall, and felt along its length for any sort of curious latch or knob. His searching took him to the front of an aged mirror, and he glowered at the sight of himself.
I look like a corpse, he thought with displeasure, And I know very well how corpses look.
His mother, his brother, his friends… a crumpled heap of blood and mud and tangled white limbs folded most unnaturally…
He shook his head in dismay, and consciously ran trembling fingers over his face. It unfortunately did not do much for his dark-rimmed eyes and hollowed cheeks.
I'm going to find that blasted boy and he's going to think I'm a ghoul, he decided.
He pulled back his hair, and noted with dissatisfaction that the old cut on the side of his forehead was still trickling blood, which ran in his hair and down the lines of his jaw.
Mother once told me I was beautiful, he remembered, just as he remembered hating it. He was young and brash, head full of stories of heroes and legends. He once claimed he wanted a scar, maybe two. Nothing too terrible, just some little ones that made him look brave. She laughed at him, and said again that he was very beautiful.
Not anymore, he sighed, turning away from the mirror and resuming his search. He reached the end of the wall finding nothing to open up the secret way. He glanced at the door to his room, wondering if he should just tell someone of the night before, recalling grimly that he gave his word to the boy, to keep his hideous little secret.
But its not fair, he thought miserably, It was practically coercion. And I was not in the proper frame of mind to come to a fair and binding decision…
He could imagine his father shaking his head and clicking his tongue in dismay. You should never give your word lightly, Legolas…
He missed his ada. Nevertheless, word given and irrecoverable. He could do nothing else but press forward. The mirror caught his eye again, and he stepped toward it, refraining from looking at his face and instead concentrating on the ornate frame.
It was made of spun iron, here and there encrusted by pearls and colored stones in a pattern reminiscent of an intricate garden. The mirror was built into the wall, and he frowned in thought.
His fingers brushed against the carvings, and there he found the latch he'd been looking for. The wall shifted aside with a quiet rumble. He glanced inside, and found a long, narrow winding walkway.
~Estel?~ he called out tentatively, not particularly willing to step inside, particularly since it was dark and he had yielded his lamp to that crazy adan.
~Estel!~ he called out again, and was met with no reply. He ran a hand over his face. The air in the secret way was dank, and he was having trouble staying on his feet as it was.
~I am going to kill you when I find you,~ he muttered under his breath, stepping inside. His walking was shaky at best, and though the narrow space was uncomfortable, at least the walls were close together and he could brace his hands against them as he moved forward.
He kept the secret door behind him open; it was dark enough as it was, and he had no plans of getting hopelessly lost here. Besides, he promised Estel he would not tell anyone. If they saw the open wall, then the Household can figure out the situation for themselves.
He soon came to a crossroads. To go straight? To turn left? To turn right? Or to cease playing the fool and simply turn back?
~Estel?~ he called, and just as he was convincing himself that either the boy was dead or probably not there, he heard a quiet shuffling down the left hall.
He frowned, and took a deep breath that seemed entirely too inadequate. It was this space… he hated narrow spaces. He loved air and sky, and stars and horizons that stretched into infinity. It was also probably this infernal disease that was taking him to his death. But he pressed forward, because he was needed, and because there really was little else to do.
He found the boy crumpled to the ground, a tangle of robes and limbs and abandoned intentions… For a terrible moment the world stopped and tilted.
His mother, his brother… a crumpled heap of blood and mud and tangled white limbs folded most unnaturally…
He fell to a knee, and his hand trembled with more than his bodily hurts as he reached to touch the boy.
Warm, he realized with relief, before the more rational side of him deduced that to be this kind of warm was not altogether such a great thing. The child said he was running a fever. Looks like it caught up with him at last.
At least you're alive, he thought, sending a quiet prayer up to the gods. Near the boy's head, he found his lamp. He shook his head in dismay.
~Estel,~ he said, shaking the sleeping child's shoulders, ~Estel, wake. You've picked the worst place to take a nap.~
The adan groaned and mumbled something incomprehensible, before his silver-gray eyes opened and blearily settled upon the elf.
~What are you doing here?~ he asked Legolas incredulously.
~I should be asking you the same,~ Legolas replied evenly.
~I got dizzy,~ Estel answered, ~I just rested awhile.~
~It's morning,~ Legolas told him flatly, ~And your house is turned upside down in search of you.~
~I'm in trouble,~ he concluded, shooting up to a sitting position. He moved too quickly for his weakened young body and he tilted in dizziness, eyes wide in confused surprise. He broke into a cold sweat, even though his body raged with a fever.
Legolas laid both hands upon his shoulders to keep him still. ~Grab the lamp, will you?~ he ordered the child, who complied and felt for it in the dark. Estel lit it, and looked at the elf with wounded eyes.
~They are going to flay me alive,~ he mumbled miserably.
~Yes, they are,~ Legolas replied, not in the mood to be particularly reassuring, ~But you are ill, and therefore will likely have a respite.~
~That's kind of good,~ Estel said, his eyes lighting up somewhat, though they were clouding and tiring quickly.
~Keep your hands on the lamp,~ Legolas told him, as the elf picked him up and carried him in his arms, ~I don't want it to fall on my foot, or to clatter to the ground and trip us.~
~I can walk,~ Estel protested, though Legolas noted with some amusement that he did little else. So he said nothing, and retraced his steps back to his room.
The boy was fast asleep by the time they got there, and Legolas lowered him to the bed, vastly relieved of the burden. Normally, it should not have been an inconvenience. But his body was trembling with the exertion, and he was profoundly thankful that the journey back was not any longer, or they'd have both ended up on the ground and missing.
Wearily, he closed the passageway, then trudged to the door of his room. A pair of Mirkwood guards stepped toward him in alarm.
~My lord!~ they exclaimed, ~You should not be--~
He raised a hand to halt the well-meaning protests. ~Please summon Lord Elrond for me.~
~Are you well?~ asked one soldier, alarmed, ~Can we be of any assistance?~
~No, please,~ Legolas said, ~Please just get Lord Elrond for me. Tell him I found Estel.~
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Lord Elrond stormed into the room with his twin sons and a vast entourage of personnel that he sent away upon sight of his youngest son sleeping peacefully upon the Prince of Mirkwood's borrowed bed.
He sighed in relief, and sat beside Estel's arm, touching his face reverently.
~A relapse,~ the Lord of Imladris muttered to himself, ~Oh, he will hear from me when he wakes.~
Elrond looked up at his sons, and then at Legolas who was standing in a corner of the room, leaning heavily against the walls. His legs were trembling and just unreliable at best, and he was held up by their support. Elrond scowled at him.
~I'm sorry but I cannot explain,~ Legolas said to his host apologetically, his strained voice shaking, ~You must ask him when he wakes.~
~It is not over this that I am displeased,~ Elrond told him, rising and standing before him. Legolas flinched at the scrutiny.
~Take my little rebel of a son to his room,~ Elrond said to his twins, his eyes never wavering from Legolas', ~Make sure he stays there, tie him to the post if you must.~
~A wise recourse,~ Legolas murmured, looking beyond Lord Elrond's shoulder as the twins took Estel away and closed the doors behind them.
Elrond took Legolas' face in his hands, and the Mirkwood elf saw that the Lord of Imladris had that pained what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you expression.
~I cannot explain,~ Legolas said again, his voice now more notably shaky in the emptied and quiet room.
~No one has ever been able to explain Estel so I do not bother to ponder it,~ Elrond sighed, ~Why are you on your feet?~
~I found myself in a situation I could remedy,~ Legolas said mildly, ~It was a minor inconvenience, and the least I could do for your House, given your graciousness and hospitality.~
Lord Elrond pulled his hands away, and found one streaked with blood. He looked at them dispassionately, ~Your wounds refuse to heal. You need as much rest as you can get.~
~I'm in no rush--,~ Legolas said, and cut himself off just as he thought to consider precisely what that implied. No rush to rest, for death was quickly claiming him and thereafter he could surely rest for an eternity.
Elrond took him by the elbow, and held some of his weight as he stepped away from his corner, ~To bed now.~
Legolas stepped forward, sweat beading upon his brow. The walls were shifting. The whole blasted room was tilting. He stumbled and took the both of them to the floor.
~I'm sorry,~ he said to the Lord of Imladris blearily.
~It's all right,~ Elrond murmured to the younger elf helplessly, pulling him to a warming embrace as he drifted to unconsciousness. The last things he heard before the blackness completely claimed him was Lord Elrond calling for help.
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The Prince's eyes fluttered open to find the room almost as dark as the world beneath the lids of his tired eyes. He felt as if he was deep underwater, where everything was dark and unclear. The barest sounds of the night was a resonating, lingering and over-loud oppression. He was acutely aware of every inadequate breath, and there was a weight over his entire body that restrained his movements.
It was night, he noted, and a dim light was actually gracing the room somewhere to his left. He turned hungrily towards it, defying the throbbing pangs across his head the movement was costing him.
As his eyes rove through the room, he found the wall across from his bed was open, and therefore he was not surprised when his eye fell on the precocious seven-year-old adan sitting on a weathered chair placed close to the left side of the bed.
What do you want now? He wondered, watching the oblivious boy for a quiet moment. Estel fit snugly into the padded old chair, his knees curled up beneath him. He was dwarfed by the size of the gigantic and ancient atlas he was leafing through. The silver of his intelligent eyes burned through the pages.
~What--~ Legolas began, and cut himself off at the surprisingly weak and strangled sound of his voice. He cleared his throat as the boy's head shot up to look at him. ~What are you doing here?~
Estel closed his book, and leaned over toward the ailing elf. ~I forgot to ask you your name.~
~That's why you're here?~ Legolas asked wanly.
~No, no,~ Estel chuckled at him, as if he was being ridiculous, ~Of course not. I suppose I just suddenly wondered.~
~I'm Legolas,~ the Prince replied, too tired to argue, ~What are you doing here?~
~You've been asleep for two days,~ Estel replied, ~I didn't think you would mind the company. I sure could use some. No one has seen me in hours and hours and hours!~
Legolas was perplexed to notice that the boy was right; his body ached, but he…, well, he didn't mind. It was almost a relief, to be speaking with someone of things that didn't weigh so heavily.
~I'm supposed to be stuck in my room too,~ Estel said glumly.
~Still sick?~ Legolas asked, alarmed. The fool has been gracing the blasted secret ways again and he was seriously asking for trouble!
~Oh, no,~ replied Estel, ~It's my punishment this time. But, well. They could hardly board up the secret ways, could they? They are means of escape in case of terrible situations after all.~
~Your ada said he could have you tied to a post,~ Legolas informed him, ~He was very worried about you, I was tempted to tell him where you were.~
~I'm pleased you stood by your word,~ the intelligent boy nodded at him royally, as if his approval was a blessing!
~It was clever and unfair of you to have wrought it from me,~ Legolas chided him, ~I was in an ailing state of mind.~
~I think it evens out the game,~ Estel told him, ~You are, after all, much bigger and much older than me.~
Legolas almost laughed, but the sensation flew from him as his vision blurred into specks of colors and indistinct lines. He heard the furious thudding of his heart, and the feeling of drowning and fading was mind-blanking and encompassing.
Estel watched in alarm as reason and awareness vanished from his newfound friend's eyes. The elf's chest rose laboriously with a shuddering breath, and his brows furrowed furiously with his pain. His face was flushed with a low fever, and the blood from the side of his head soaked the pillows. Estel had almost grown used to the sight of that unclosing wound, but now that it actually looked as if the Elven prince was dying and not merely asleep, it lent a new brand of menace.
~I'll get ada,~ Estel said to Legolas urgently.
Legolas' hand blindly reached out to him, and Estel caught it hesitantly. The elf's fingers were so deathly cold…
~Please,~ Legolas whispered, ~He can offer me no relief. This is better. Quieter. Less trouble. It will end. I could just go to sleep.~
His words were not making proper sense, but Estel was distinctly aware of what it meant. The elf before him was dying.
Legolas' grip slackened, embarrassed at the intimacy and perceived intrusion of the contact, but the boy reclaimed his hand and kept it.
~They said your heart was broken,~ Estel told him nervously, ~Because you lost those whom you loved, and your heart seeks to follow them. They say you're dying because your heart is broken… It's like a fairy tale.~
The boy's words swirled around him like a haunting dream. He was fading, he was drifting away, and the chatter was warming, so he listened.
~But this is life,~ Estel said, his words quickening with his fears, ~It's supposed to be different. Or I want some other fairy tale to come true instead. Like the wooden boy who became a man. You think there could be some man who turns into an elf? I want to be an elf. I want to live forever. Because I'm not an elf. I suppose it's really very plain to see. Or I do not know, maybe you hadn't noticed. You do not seem… much aware…~
He hesitated and bit his lip, his warm grip tightening about the elf's fingers, ~I wish you would live. Because I have questions.~
The elf's eyes drifted close. Estel leaned in closer, near to his face. Legolas' expression slackened and relaxed as he fell into a deep sleep, though he could still hear the words dancing across his distorted and fading reality.
~I wish you would live,~ Estel said again, ~Because I think I like you. You talk to me like a big person. Like I'm as big as you. Or maybe you're just really particularly surly to everybody. I don't know. But I want to know.~
His nervousness was making him digress, tossing him from one thought to another. ~You know Lord Elrond is not my real ada?~ he asked the unresponsive elf, ~I wondered why I had different ears. My real one is dead. But Lord Elrond is good to me. His wife left. His heart was broken too, like mine. But two broken hearts equal to one full one. It's not so bad. I know your heart is broken, but I can give you some of mine, and then some of Elladan's, and some of Elrohir's and some of Ada's. Or we can steal them if they refuse. We'll all make a big full one yet. It's not so bad. You'll see. You'll see when you wake up.~
TO BE CONTINUED…
MASSIVE THANKS TO ALL WHO TOOK THE TIME TO READ :)
THANKS ESPECIALLY TO MY REVIEWERS: tychen, silvertongue, unni, msl, lady of the twilight woods, sodalite, ladyjanelly, amy, gozilla, obsidian raven, crystal rose, kelsey, faeliel, elessar*lover, angelmouse5, platy, elveneyes, sundiata, Kirsten, starlit hope, deana, lotrfaith, and halandleg4ever.
To unni: it's not at AU… at least not until the end of the war of the ring. After that, the story totally diverges from the book as to what happens to legolas :)
To msl: the first flashback is just to set a precedent that the malady has happened to him before. The flashbacks maybe by the 15th part or so will be detailing how he got the malady this time around. Sorry to confuse :) I wanted to pepper the big story arc with short little stories that are memories :) like, a big reflection on life before one dies. so far, that is what these flashbacks are for.
To lady of the twilight woods: yup, this is totally different from my previous trilogy of exile-escape-return. This is something else altogether :)
To faeliel: oh wow, thank you :) your first review… thanks for taking the time to write one for me :) I hope the rest of this fic will not disappoint :)
To elessar*lover: oh I want to kiss them too! I have an idea… you take estel, I'll take legolas, haha.
To platy: oh no, I haven't been killing anyone behind your back, haha :) the reason for the hopelessness and the resurgence of the malady will be revealed in the flashbacks to come (probably by my 15th post). In the meantime, these are just meant to create a scenario and establish the foundation of a friendship :)
To Kirsten: I'm glad you like my depiction of legolas. The character is so well-loved it's always a gamble to write him, especially in ways that may diverge from the conventional. I suppose I really do find his ultimate loneliness as a big tragedy in the making. Which is why I find I always write about it :) I like depicting him as more complex because of that, and a bit colder, just waiting to be thawed. I don't know. It may feel right by me, but I'm always afraid if it would be regarded as too far off the mark. I'm glad you don't think so and thank you for saying so :)
To starlit hope: he won't be sailing :) the memory is before the war of the ring :) and I want him to stay here, haha.
To lotrfaith: in the flashback, he lost his mother, a brother and some friends. In the 'present' timeline (3019) he hasn't lost anyone yet but he fears it so greatly. The reasons for the malady will be made more clear later along the length of the fic :)
I HOPE YOU GUYS AREN'T CONFUSED :) Everything in italics are flashbacks or memories. The dates are also important details, at least in following assumptions from the book :)
BTW, I hope you are not minding my 'colder' Legolas-Aragorn interaction… I thought I'd try and make them more reserved; it is very hard to have fast and true friends in actuality, I think. But that reserve will change with time. I guess I wanted to try this tack. My other friendship stories progressed very quickly because of the context of their situation (like they have to work together). Placed in a calmer setting, with no immediate dangers creating the necessity of trust, I wanted to see what I could do with them :)
Anyway, THANKS AGAIN and 'TIL THE NEXT POST!!!