Disclaimer: I don't own a thing, unfortunately. If I did, I would be a very, very rich person right now...
Author Note: My dad just died last night [at 56] of a heart attack, so I might be too busy in the next week or so too actually post any more chapters. However, never fear, I shall finish this story...an event like this makes me want to write anyway.
A Dark Sunrise
Chapter Twelve - Burdens
Aragorn was over-joyed to say the least with the news of Legolas' stay.
'And I thought I was the skulking ranger!' He joked, slapping a startled Legolas on the shoulder. 'Too long have you roamed the countryside, old friend; I've so missed the Company.' His voice lowered suddenly and he stepped nearer to the elf. 'I need to ask you a favour, Legolas.' Legolas nodded and moved apart from the small crowd of youth who surrounded them - Arwen had so many daughters!
When they had reached the door of Legolas' old room, Aragorn stopped him with his hand. Legolas was surprised to see the intense look of relief on the kings face; a face which had weathered in the past years.
'It is good that you've returned, Legolas; Arwen has not been well at all.'
The Elf's face darkened, his lineless face frowning. 'What do you mean? Has she been ill?'
'Not exactly; she is more like a shell when you are away. She looks healthy enough, and my physicians assure me that physically, she is well. But I know she is not alright. Arwen has always emotional, but lately, she seems drawn. Stretched. Something is paining her.'
'The absence of her father and brothers perhaps? She was with them for many life times of men.'
'Perhaps. I believe she misses the elves in general. She still has me, and all of her children, but it is as though she were alone. She's broken.'
Legolas sighed, and traced a finger over the delicately carved wood of his door. 'I think I am not the one to help her, Aragorn.'
Aragorn looked closely at the elf, who looked just as he had twenty-five years ago, but who's eyes had aged a lifetime. 'You can certainly do better than I,' the king said gently, 'you've always had a way with her.'
Letting out his breath, Legolas nodded and pushed his door open, leaving the king to think to himself.
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Breakfast the following morning was quite an event. Word had spread quickly of the elves return, and especially of his plans to stay. Seraphia followed him persistently, her 18 year old mouth open in wonder. Legolas didn't mind, really. He rose early and layed down late, so he always had plenty of time to himself. Arwen's daughters; 5 there were, stood a safe distance away, observing every move, giggling and whispering behind their hands.
Legolas was sure he was nothing to look at; perhaps they were laughing at him. He wore the same hunting ware he had used in the wild; the light, streamlined tunic was streaked, and his leggings spotted. His tall, soft boots were scuffed and un-polished. But his hair; his hair as always was fair and straight and clean. His skin was smooth and pale and made his brilliantly crystal eyes seem even brighter. No, they could not possibly be looking at him.
Eldarion, at least, was the same. Legolas found it remarkable to contrast the king and his son; Aragorn was kind and open, his brown wavy locks falling to his shoulders. Eldarion on the other hand was a mass of black hair, framing the fair skinned face and storm-grey eyes. He was quiet and serious and lithe; very unlike Aragorn's muscular build. He had been greatly influenced by Legolas' training, and by his mothers blood; Eldarion carried an uncanny resemblance to Elrond, in voice, appearance, and temper. He would make a good king.
Legolas surveyed the table, taking in the daughters who sat across from him, vying for his attentions, Eldarion, who sat quietly by his own shoulder, Seraphia claiming the seat to Legolas' other side. Finally, his eyes swept over Aragorn and Arwen, positioned at the head of the table, Aragorn's hand covering Arwen's, their heads close together in private conversation. Risking drawing the attention of the chattering girls, Legolas slid from his seat and walked soundlessly out of the hall doors.
He realised he should have stayed at the table at least until the king and queen were gone, but he was sure he would not be missed. He made his way to the stables, and let himself into Harlofell's stall. He heard the barn door open behind him, but concentrated on stroking his mare's silver coat.
'You suffer,' came Eldarion's soft voice from the stall door. 'Why do you not speak to her?'
Biting back a sharp reply, Legolas controlled himself. 'You mother has nothing to do with my pains, young master.'
'Indeed.'
Legolas stopped stroking his mare's coat, and turned to face the prince. His elven eyes quickly picked the figure out of the shadows. Eldarion had always been skilled at reading him, even as a young boy.
'Did she ever tell you how we met?'
'Many times. She said that even then, you were secretive and moody.'
Legolas laughed then, long and genuinely at the young man's choice of words.
'Secretive and moody?' He said incredulously, remembering well the many times Arwen had gazed at him with exasperation. 'Yes, I suppose I was. So much has changed.'
Eldarion nodded, and crossed his arms. 'You miss her, yet you refuse to be near her. Why does she irrititate you so?'
'She doesn't,' Legolas said quickly. 'She never has. But there are some things that will never change; things that are too late to change, that burden me. Such is the curse of the Eldar, Eldarion.' He lowered his eyes and clenched his fist, remembering acutely the night of the dance in Rivendell. But that was before the Quest, before the wedding, before her choice.
'She needs you now,' Eldarion said, leaning forward in order to see Legolas' face in spite of the shadows. 'Father grows older, and Arwen knows her time is running out. I think she didn't realise how much it would hurt, seeing him die. I think she does not understand death.'
Legolas looked up sharply, but Eldarion's eyes were focused on Harlofell. 'Nor do I, Eldarion. Is it a curse or a gift? I do not know. Perhaps someday I will.'
Eldarion was silent at this, and did not press the matter.
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
Author Note: So yes, yes, I will put the next chapter up as soon as I have some time...I have the next few chapters ready, so all I need is the time. Hope you all are well. Hello to those at F4F.
--Red Dragon
Author Note: My dad just died last night [at 56] of a heart attack, so I might be too busy in the next week or so too actually post any more chapters. However, never fear, I shall finish this story...an event like this makes me want to write anyway.
A Dark Sunrise
Chapter Twelve - Burdens
Aragorn was over-joyed to say the least with the news of Legolas' stay.
'And I thought I was the skulking ranger!' He joked, slapping a startled Legolas on the shoulder. 'Too long have you roamed the countryside, old friend; I've so missed the Company.' His voice lowered suddenly and he stepped nearer to the elf. 'I need to ask you a favour, Legolas.' Legolas nodded and moved apart from the small crowd of youth who surrounded them - Arwen had so many daughters!
When they had reached the door of Legolas' old room, Aragorn stopped him with his hand. Legolas was surprised to see the intense look of relief on the kings face; a face which had weathered in the past years.
'It is good that you've returned, Legolas; Arwen has not been well at all.'
The Elf's face darkened, his lineless face frowning. 'What do you mean? Has she been ill?'
'Not exactly; she is more like a shell when you are away. She looks healthy enough, and my physicians assure me that physically, she is well. But I know she is not alright. Arwen has always emotional, but lately, she seems drawn. Stretched. Something is paining her.'
'The absence of her father and brothers perhaps? She was with them for many life times of men.'
'Perhaps. I believe she misses the elves in general. She still has me, and all of her children, but it is as though she were alone. She's broken.'
Legolas sighed, and traced a finger over the delicately carved wood of his door. 'I think I am not the one to help her, Aragorn.'
Aragorn looked closely at the elf, who looked just as he had twenty-five years ago, but who's eyes had aged a lifetime. 'You can certainly do better than I,' the king said gently, 'you've always had a way with her.'
Letting out his breath, Legolas nodded and pushed his door open, leaving the king to think to himself.
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
Breakfast the following morning was quite an event. Word had spread quickly of the elves return, and especially of his plans to stay. Seraphia followed him persistently, her 18 year old mouth open in wonder. Legolas didn't mind, really. He rose early and layed down late, so he always had plenty of time to himself. Arwen's daughters; 5 there were, stood a safe distance away, observing every move, giggling and whispering behind their hands.
Legolas was sure he was nothing to look at; perhaps they were laughing at him. He wore the same hunting ware he had used in the wild; the light, streamlined tunic was streaked, and his leggings spotted. His tall, soft boots were scuffed and un-polished. But his hair; his hair as always was fair and straight and clean. His skin was smooth and pale and made his brilliantly crystal eyes seem even brighter. No, they could not possibly be looking at him.
Eldarion, at least, was the same. Legolas found it remarkable to contrast the king and his son; Aragorn was kind and open, his brown wavy locks falling to his shoulders. Eldarion on the other hand was a mass of black hair, framing the fair skinned face and storm-grey eyes. He was quiet and serious and lithe; very unlike Aragorn's muscular build. He had been greatly influenced by Legolas' training, and by his mothers blood; Eldarion carried an uncanny resemblance to Elrond, in voice, appearance, and temper. He would make a good king.
Legolas surveyed the table, taking in the daughters who sat across from him, vying for his attentions, Eldarion, who sat quietly by his own shoulder, Seraphia claiming the seat to Legolas' other side. Finally, his eyes swept over Aragorn and Arwen, positioned at the head of the table, Aragorn's hand covering Arwen's, their heads close together in private conversation. Risking drawing the attention of the chattering girls, Legolas slid from his seat and walked soundlessly out of the hall doors.
He realised he should have stayed at the table at least until the king and queen were gone, but he was sure he would not be missed. He made his way to the stables, and let himself into Harlofell's stall. He heard the barn door open behind him, but concentrated on stroking his mare's silver coat.
'You suffer,' came Eldarion's soft voice from the stall door. 'Why do you not speak to her?'
Biting back a sharp reply, Legolas controlled himself. 'You mother has nothing to do with my pains, young master.'
'Indeed.'
Legolas stopped stroking his mare's coat, and turned to face the prince. His elven eyes quickly picked the figure out of the shadows. Eldarion had always been skilled at reading him, even as a young boy.
'Did she ever tell you how we met?'
'Many times. She said that even then, you were secretive and moody.'
Legolas laughed then, long and genuinely at the young man's choice of words.
'Secretive and moody?' He said incredulously, remembering well the many times Arwen had gazed at him with exasperation. 'Yes, I suppose I was. So much has changed.'
Eldarion nodded, and crossed his arms. 'You miss her, yet you refuse to be near her. Why does she irrititate you so?'
'She doesn't,' Legolas said quickly. 'She never has. But there are some things that will never change; things that are too late to change, that burden me. Such is the curse of the Eldar, Eldarion.' He lowered his eyes and clenched his fist, remembering acutely the night of the dance in Rivendell. But that was before the Quest, before the wedding, before her choice.
'She needs you now,' Eldarion said, leaning forward in order to see Legolas' face in spite of the shadows. 'Father grows older, and Arwen knows her time is running out. I think she didn't realise how much it would hurt, seeing him die. I think she does not understand death.'
Legolas looked up sharply, but Eldarion's eyes were focused on Harlofell. 'Nor do I, Eldarion. Is it a curse or a gift? I do not know. Perhaps someday I will.'
Eldarion was silent at this, and did not press the matter.
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
Author Note: So yes, yes, I will put the next chapter up as soon as I have some time...I have the next few chapters ready, so all I need is the time. Hope you all are well. Hello to those at F4F.
--Red Dragon