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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6: Last Legs
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Rohan
3019
* * *
Things could have ended there. But of course fate had its own ideas and well, life unfolded otherwise.
Eomer was watching his face, and Legolas was once again reminded of why the man before him was a King… he had wise eyes, like Estel, and this commanding presence, like Estel. Eomer just wasn't as warm, wasn't as humorous, wasn't as blindly optimistic, wasn't as willing to suffer fools like me.
"Much is on your mind," Eomer observed, returning to his food when it was apparent that even his most powerful stare could not draw words from the elf's mouth.
"I was wondering," Legolas said, "I was wondering perhaps if I am keeping you from your duties. You needn't see to me, really. I've enjoyed the hospitality of these halls before, I can fend for myself."
"You are no bother," Eomer assured him, raising an eyebrow, "After all, I must eat too. But I do not know, Legolas… why did that statement feel as if it was I who was being dismissed?"
"Of course not," Legolas said quickly, "I just do not want to be an imposition, like an unwanted guest."
"These halls will always welcome you," Eomer told him, "I do not think I need to expound why. You've seen your effect on our folk. My aide could not cease speaking of you. Say…" Eomer's eyes glinted, "Would you be in need of one? I've just about had my fill of that impossible boy."
"No thank you," Legolas chuckled.
"Determined to travel alone," Eomer commented, turning serious once again, his eyes trying to read into the elf's.
"No," Legolas said lightly, wanting to keep the conversation from weighing too much, "I'm just not particularly inclined to welcome that brand of company."
"A sentiment I gravely share," Eomer said wryly.
Legolas put down his utensils, and folded his hands neatly over his lap. "This was a delectable meal, sire. Thank you."
"You barely ate," Eomer retorted, glancing over the elf's plate, "The cooks shall be disappointed. They will wonder if this means theirs is not a match for elvish fare."
"Tell them to take no offense," Legolas smiled, "It is more a poor reflection on me. More used to thin broths and uncooked things, I'm afraid. A menu more like to a warrior and a wanderer than those meant for the halls of Kings."
"Your royal houses do not serve such food?" Eomer inquired.
"I'm not there often enough to note," Legolas replied, slightly embarrassed.
"Where are you most often then?" Eomer asked.
The question made Legolas wonder about the same thing himself. "Here and there," he replied after a moment of thought, the realization surprising as well.
"A leaf in the wind," Eomer mused, "Ironic, that one of the Woodland Realm should have no roots."
Legolas smiled at him slightly. Well, he was just as puzzled over this disjointed, misplaced feeling that has long plagued his soul.
Life was too slow, he reflected, and he moved too fast, often feeling as if he exhausted all the heart of a billion lifetimes, and was emptily looking at a billion more. He was always too passionate for the oft-complacent elves, but also too bloody immortal to find a place among the more impulsive edain. He despised the idea of living when all else he cherished were dead, then again he could not die himself (at least not in the conventional sense.). He ached to leave the Earth and sail over the Sea, yet he desired fervently to remain as well.
Cannot live. Cannot die. Cannot leave. Cannot stay…
The dramatic irony was even more greatly apparent in a heart that had to love, and yet was slowly being killed by it. Cannot love, cannot stop. Crazy, crazy heart…
Cursed, self-destructive little insurrectionist… Stop. Damn you.
Lenne entered the room hurriedly, and had the discipline enough to bow to his master before turning to the elvish guest.
"My lord," he said, "Your horse… I'm afraid… I'm afraid we believe he is dying."
"May I be excused?" Legolas asked Eomer urgently.
"Go," Eomer told him as he hurriedly gulped down the food in his mouth, "I shall follow shortly." To his servant, he said, "Ensure that all is being done to save… Butter."
"Of course, my lord," Lenne nodded, saying to Legolas, "Follow me please."
* * *
The ridiculous fat horse's spirit was too great to be contained in this forsaken body. Legolas looked on dispassionately at the mare laid upon its side in the narrow stall.
If you had my body, you would live forever. If I had yours… I'll be at peace at last.
Legolas stepped forward, and the stable boys who were attending the horse looked to find the famed elf-warrior and hero with widened eyes.
"You shall not utter a word of this," Lenne told them belatedly, "Or the King will have our heads
in a platter."
"Oh Lenne,"
one of them breathed, "But this is Legolas. Of Helm's Deep. Of all those other places they sing
about. My brothers will be
thrilled." He wrinkled his nose, "Not to
mention my sisters."
"A breath of this to anyone and let's see where that gets you," Lenne told him harshly, "Swear on your mother's name, boy."
"I swear," they mumbled, and shuffled away. Lenne hesitated by the stall door.
"You may go," Legolas told him quietly, sitting on the hay next to the dying beast and running a hand across his side, "There is nothing to be done here."
"Are you certain, my lord?" Lenne asked, "The King said—"
"The King will say the same once he sees,"
Legolas told him, "Please go. There is nothing to be done here."
"I'm…" Lenne
hesitated as he turned to leave, "He's not the prettiest horse there is and
doesn't look very fast but… well. I'm
very sorry."
"It's all right," Legolas murmured at the boy, "His life was long and bountiful. It's not altogether a tragedy for things to end this way."
"Of course, my lord," Lenne said quietly, "If you need anything else, I will just be by."
He walked away, and Legolas was soon left with just the sound of the rain outside and pouring over the roof of the stables, and the labored breathing of his horse.
~Have a safe journey,~ Legolas murmured to it, his fingers running across the fine fur, ~I'm not particularly one of the strongest faith, but they say things begin anew. I believe this for you means you will probably have groats, barley and buckwheat to swim on, my friend. You'll eat 'til you fall asleep and end up fat as a cow, but quick as a warg in a haven where no mortal laws apply.~
The horse was looking at him with beady eyes that seemed satisfied. It was almost enviable.
~I shall join you soon,~ he said, trying the words on for size. It did not feel as awkward as he thought it might, with his fears and his realizations coming to a strange reality once worded and released into the air.
"You are probably more saddled than benefited by it," Eomer pointed out some hours ago, "That horse is on its last legs, mark my word. I shall give you a new one for the rest of your journey."
"It has quite a few leagues to it yet," Legolas assured Eomer, "It will do what it must, and it will take me where I ought to be."
~Is this where I ought to be then?~ Legolas asked the beast.
But the horse was dead. The rise and fall of its chest heaved, and ceased, beneath Legolas' palms, and the fat horse made itself a name amongst a litany of lost friends in a lifetime fraught with entirely too many of them.
TO BE CONTINUED…
THANKS TO ALL WHO TOOK THE TIME TO READ!!!
THANKS ESP. TO MY REVIEWERS: tychen, elveneyes, elessar*lover, starlit hope, MSL, andruill043, stoneage woman, LOTRfaith, angelmouse5, amy, cotume, dragonfly32, Kirsten, platy, deana, elvenranger13,
To elveneyes: the old friend was butter :) as you now know :)
To MSL: I try to be consistent with my posting. But I'm not sure just how consistent I'll be in the next few days because I'm still stuck at chapter 10, haha. Oh well :)
To andrull043: oh I know, eomer is so cool. I remember watching ROTK and just wanting to write something about him but I couldn't really figure out how I understand him 'til now, haha.
To stoneage woman: ah yes, cold because of people lost in 15 years. But I wouldn't be delving much into that. The old friend who died is butter :) I have no problems revealing my age :) I'm 20 years old, and am a business major in college—which makes me wonder where I find the time myself, haha!
To LOTRfaith: oh this story has nothing at all to do with my "Exile" trilogy :) I guess it's just incidental the cold representation is re-done :)
To cotume: no, those wounds are healed. It was the disease that came back, but the wounds are from elsewhere :) I'm so sorry… it's a confusing tale, isn't it? :) haha, the new wounds will be expounded on later. The flashbacks operate in such a way that they start from the past (2938) and will work its way up to the present (3019). Past and present will meet toward the end :) and about the story from my faves list… well, mn theis is a rather incredible writer methinks :) the piece blows me away too :)
To Kirsten: oh you guessed it… goodbye butter. Is that so evil? He died happy (promise!)! :) wow, thanks for your appreciation of the characters and the lines. Sometimes random lines pop into my head and I think it sounds nice and I try to build an entire story or like a scene around it. you picked up one of them! :)
To deana: actually I am leaning toward that one now :) although I'm still unsure :) we'll see :)
To elvenranger13: I don't know about other people, but I write in that prevalent topic because of this fallen hero thing. You know those stories about what would happen to the world if you've never been born? I think the importance of anyone is magnified when we are threatened by the loss of him :) so that is the reason for me although I'm not sure about others :)
THANKS EVERYBODY!!! 'TIL THE NEXT POST-- which will see the beginning of a renewed friendship :) 'TIL THEN!!!