by Ithilien
Chapter Seven: At the Heart of the Dream
Legolas slept with his eyes open. Aragorn could have taken that in itself as an assuring thing, but he did not. Legolas' pupils were exposed through the mere slits of his lids. That those lids were open at all Aragorn found as an indicator that Legolas' condition was returning to something of normal. Yet this drowse was not of normal reverie. Heavy sleep the elf did take; a healing sleep the Ranger knew it to be, and he hoped by the time all the Fellowship must wake that day, Legolas might be restored to something nearing full health. It was a trait of the Firstborn. They could heal with remarkable speed. It was not so much an unfathomable thing to hope that his friend might be well, especially since Aragorn had concluded that much of the lingering malaise he had seen in Legolas was only an aftereffect of the drug.
Still, despite the good turn in tide, Aragorn had spent the remainder of that day's watch wracked in guilt and unable to find rest. Instead he had whiled away the time at his friend's side. Boromir's watch concluded, and Sam was sleepily roused for his own. Still Aragorn remained. He nervously plucked away at the dirt, absently acting on the repressed fears of what he had committed. He stayed at the elf's side, watching over his resting companion, deriding himself all the while for what he had inflicted. He felt hopeless to find any real solution to redeem himself, and he knew that to approach the truth would only make the situation worse.
His was an evil fate, and it was clearly the Ring's doing. He berated himself for falling blind to the allure. It had tricked him, disguising itself in a subdued luster. He should have known that if pure want could not persuade him, the Ring would find another way to work Its way to him. Bribery, deception, corruption. None of these were above the Ring's menace.
Legolas stirred, his body shifting slightly as he roused to wakefulness. Sky blue eyes began to blink but appeared to find difficulty in focusing. It took a few moments more before the elf seemed to notice his surroundings.
"Legolas?" Aragorn prompted.
The elf's brow creased, and his eyes darkened. "Aragorn," he softly responded.
It was a start. The man smiled. "Yes, I am here. Can you look at me?"
The elf did. But there was something missing in his gaze. It felt . . . .hollow. The man's throat tightened with that lost look, and then Legolas asked with unfocused eyes, "What is this place?"
The man's heart skipped a beat. It was not a good sign that Legolas could not remember where he was. But then the light within Legolas seemed to brighten, and the elf's appearance sharpened as that hollow place seemed to fill. "I remember now," he stated, and his hand came up and touched the back of his head then, testing the area of his wound.
But the pleasure in finding the elf fell away as the elf repeated, "Yes, I remember now." The words made the tightening in Aragorn's throat even greater for he sensed danger behind them. Legolas grew quiet in contemplation. Nothing more was said for many minutes, and Legolas lay still. Aragorn could see the archer piecing the memories together as his eyes darted back and forth over the sky. The man's heart beat loudly in his chest as he awaited the outcome of the elf's thoughts. The quiet was unbearable, and Aragorn found he could not stay his tongue in his desire to fill the space with something. "Can you rise, Legolas? Do you thirst?" he finally said. He put out a hand to the elf as if to aid him in a comradely move. However, Legolas reflexively jerked away from the touch, sitting upright abruptly. His eyes went wide as he started, and his movement was like the skittish jolt of a wary animal.
"Legolas . . ." Aragorn softly uttered.
But then he opted not to say more. Prudence told him that Legolas should be the one to tell his mind.
In the background, the camp was coming to life. He could hear the slow rousing where Sam had built a small fire in the dimming light. The others were slowly gathering about it, taking their breakfast-dinner in small stages as their weary eyes came to focus. But from where he sat, Aragorn's eyes did not leave the elf. It suddenly occurred to the man that the Ring was conspicuously absent from his mind, and he wondered now if it were playing in the depths of Legolas' thoughts.
"My friend," he said, reaching out with a gentle hand laid open, as if to show he was unarmed. Legolas' eyes were saucer-round, but he slowly seemed to calm after another few breaths.
It did no good that Aragorn felt his own chest tightening in fear or that his limbs felt weak with his helpless worry. This moment was not about him. Still, his warring soul wished that Legolas would still; that he would fail to recall anything; that the elf would just forget what had happened and that they might move on. Blithely, easily, all could be as it had been. The entire incident could be masked if only the elf would not question it. But Aragorn understood that was not the way of elves. Just watching, he could see his friend struggling to resolve the missing parts in his mind, and even for the wariness felt by the Ranger's touch.
Aragorn expected he might hear the Ring calling to him then, reminding him that It was there just on the edge of his grasp, and all he need do was take It to make this horror go away. But he was prepared for that fight, and that voice never came.
Bits of conversation and laughter could be heard from the other side of the camp though a few in the party were still sleeping. The lazy awakening of the group seemed the right opportunity for the man and elf to speak. But Aragorn knew that would not last. Soon one of the others -- Gandalf most likely -- would seek them out to find out why they set themselves apart. Aragorn could not bare the thought of conversing with any other. The frivolity and lighter mood contrasted sharply with Legolas' darkening expression, and for the moment he only wanted to allay that. And then, as if perceiving the need to keep their voices dim, the elf could be heard in a whisper. The melodious quality was gone from his voice however. It seemed interwoven with shame instead.
"I fell."
Aragorn waited a long moment before answering, wondering what might come of this comment. "Yes," he confirmed.
"And then later, when I was on watch, you found me . . . unconscious," Legolas said, a deep furrow cutting across his brow.
Aragorn dipped his head, anxious for what might follow this recollection. His hands were shaking though the Ring's voice was still absent in his ears. "Yes," he hesitantly answered.
"I failed in my duty," Legolas continued, his words sounding stung.
"No, do not think that. You failed no one. You were not at fault," Aragorn replied, pleased to find no questions over the more dire event that had transpired.
Legolas' head shot up. "You were the one who told me I had been sleeping."
Aragorn felt his face flush under the accusation."I should not have said it in the way I did. I am sorry," he said, his chest constricting horribly with the regret he felt for Legolas' shame.
Legolas' mouth turned down into a deeper frown, and he turned his eyes away. Many minutes passed again and he said nothing. Aragorn felt certain his friend could see through his falsity, but at last Legolas said, "You spoke only the truth to me, Aragorn. I should have listened to you. I should have taken my rest as you offered it."
"No," the man countered, shaking his head, "your judgment was sound. There was no reason I should have doubted you."
"I failed in my responsibility, Aragorn. I let down the Fellowship."
Aragorn paused. A part of him had been prepared for the harsh encounter of accusation. He had half-expected the elf to discern what had really occurred, but what he had not expected was to encounter Legolas' guilt so deeply etched in the smaller comment. Putting all to blame on a dream seemed to have worked, only too well. The knowledge that Aragorn was not to be blamed for the greater crime gave him little relief, for he hated that Legolas should suffer guilt through the smaller words and incident. Yet he knew that revealing the truth would be far worse. All he could do was gaze on with compassion and try to ease Legolas' conscience.
"No one knows of the lapse, Legolas," Aragorn said as an encouragement and this was true. Boromir was the only one who had seen a part of it, and Aragorn knew the man of Gondor would keep it to himself. Already he had shown his faithfulness. In the hours since passing, only concerned glances had been exchanged between the Steward's son and the Ranger. Aragorn knew a sort of silent pact had been made, despite the man's earlier disdain for Aragorn's poor behavior. And though at waking Sam had looked with concern at Aragorn huddling over the elf, Boromir had muttered a few words to the Hobbit with some laughter, as if mocking the brooding mother hen Aragorn was taken to be. Aragorn was grateful for this. Boromir seemed to understand the need to conceal Legolas' momentary weakness, for he knew revealing illness (real or perceived) would serve none of them to the good at this point in the journey. Not even Gandalf would be told as far as Aragorn was concerned. He looked over to where the wizard was sitting. The maia's back was to them, and he seemed preoccupied in a conversation of his own with Frodo.
But the assurance was not enough to appease the elf. "You know of my lapse. You saw me at my worst. You were first witness to when I fled the pit after the fall."
"Your reaction was understandable."
In a tight whisper, Legolas said, "It was not! I was -- I was -- my fear overwhelmed me then, and the freight was beyond my control! It was as if thoughts were in my head then that I could not fend off!"
Aragorn shook his head slowly, as if to chase away a bad dream. Why was Legolas taking this so badly? "The space was tight. The air was difficult to breathe. You acted as anyone might."
"I was afraid of you and I was afraid of that place. I felt as if I were being forced into a hold, and if I did not leave then, I would be made into something for which I could not be freed."
"Legolas--"
"And then I acted the fool when I ignored your advice!"
"Legolas, listen to me--" Aragorn interrupted putting out a hand. He could not let this go on. He must somehow explain the truth to his friend.
"I will not release myself of this guilt, Aragorn!" Legolas said speaking louder as he again pulled away. "All I can think is the most wretched of thoughts: What if danger had come upon us while I had been unaware? My arrogance could have destroyed us all!"
Aragorn shook his head to negate what he saw. He felt then as if he could see the words as stabbing barbs, each one creating a wound that the elf drove into himself. They only served to solidify Aragorn's disgust for his own actions. None of this had been Legolas' doing. It was a cruel twist that Aragorn's wish for the incident to be relegated out of mind had come to pass, but there was no comfort in it.
He knew he must say something. The elf appeared on the verge of despair, and Aragorn would quell that if he could. But he would do it carefully. "I was on your watch, if you will recall. There was no danger to any but you. My fears were for you alone."
The elf glared malice. "I remember some of what happened, Aragorn! And what I recall was indeed a dangerous thing!"
The man sucked on his breath, afraid to move for fear of what might next be said. He stammered, "Wh-what do you--?"
Legolas' eyes were like daggers. "Much has been revealed to me. Do not think little on what transpired, for I know the greater part of it!" And then Legolas was gone. He darted from his place and into the brush, disappearing from all eyes in mere seconds.
Aragorn stood and tried to find his breath. He felt his chest had constricted so tightly that he could not breathe. He turned back to the others finding all eyes now upon him.
Gandalf was looking at him, and he found himself in a moment of truth. The wizard would either approach now and question, or . . . Warily he nodded, then he gave a motion with his hand and a twist of his head in a gesture that Gandalf could see to mean he was off to scout. And then he turned on his heel and followed the same path Legolas had taken. So fast was this flight and he hoped it would not be questioned. There was always danger in the wilds, and such cautious actions were often warranted. Thus he visualized how all might have looked from other eyes. From outward appearances, he imagined it to seem he and Legolas had been conferring when some warning came to the keen senses of the elf, and then the two had gone to explore. His ears listened sharply for Gandalf to call him back, but no such thing happened and he felt as if he had escaped what could have been a difficult encounter. He did not know if he had it within him to lie anymore.
His eyes then tried to find traces of Legolas' steps. He found clues right away and discerned the elf was not really fleeing him. If Legolas had wished to be hidden, he would have been. On the next rise he found the elf. His silhouette stood in stark contrast to the setting sun. The valley that had once been Hollin basked in the waning glow of light.
"I would rather not speak of this, Aragorn," Legolas began.
"You allowed me to find you. I take that to mean you wish to speak," Aragorn countered.
"I would rather forget it," the elf answered. Aragorn could hear the hint of a quaver in Legolas' voice.
The words were what he had longed to hear. Legolas would rather forget. But he knew their situation could not so easily be left. Although the imminent danger was past, Legolas still might fade. And what of their friendship? Was it too much to hope it could be repaired?
He could not let it go. The truth would need to be revealed.
Aragorn's nostrils flared in taut fear, and he could feel the corners of his mouth flicker into a wavering frown. The man's guilt had a tight fist wrapped around his heart. His voice was taut but kept low. "Tell me what you remember, Legolas." He could feel the cold sweat rising on his brow.
The elf turned his head aside but replied with words sliding as a whisper between lips that barely moved, "It is unbecoming."
The man felt chilled, but he knew he must reason more from the elf. Nothing solid had yet been said. There had been no accusations. Slyly he proceeded, as if to return to the previous ruse. "It was a bad blow you took. You fell unconscious. You could not control what came," Aragorn said, not fully wanting his sin revealed then and willing to use Legolas' injury to excuse what might come.
"And that is just it!" the elf exclaimed. Aragorn recoiled in his own surprise at how abruptly the elf's rage came. "It was like the feelings I experienced in that pit. I could not control myself. My emotions were beyond me. I remember so much." Then he turned away, as if looking upon the man were too painful to bear. "It comes to me as in dreams! It should not be like that . . . not in dreams."
Aragorn's mind struggled madly to understand. Whereas before he felt sure he was about to be revealed as a rapist, now incredibly, he was being confided to as a friend. Is he telling me about his dreams? "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I remember wanting . . . wanting in ways I should not feel! And all when I should have been taking watch. I remember wanting . . ." His voice trailed off there, and his brow furrowed in despair. Aragorn thought then that the elf might have cried for the thoughts he did not speak.
"Wanting what?" Aragorn whispered, trying to sound innocent in voicing the question, and feeling shame for daring ask it. He realized he was showing himself well as the compassionate confessor, though truthfully, he could not discern all the elf was attempting to tell him.
Legolas' eyes stabbed him, the gaze harsh. Nostrils flared and emotions tore at the elf prince's features. Again Aragorn cringed, for Legolas appeared to struggle against his self-incrimination. The Ranger felt he might find himself under attack if he gave any inclination beyond compassion and so he schooled his outward-showing fears. His expression must have held, for at last Legolas spoke. Aragorn could feel the shame in his words. "You do not understand!" the elf said, his voice a quaking whisper. "It was a dream."
Now he truly was perplexed. "So you have said, Legolas, but that does not explain why you find such a thing so abhorrent," Aragorn said softly, his voice a soothing counter to the elf's agitation, and for the first time, he truly felt the role of healer in this.
Legolas' eyes shied away, and it seemed he could no longer look at the man. At last he said, "My dreams are not as yours, Aragorn. You can say you dream, and that is enough to cast aside any odd notions that may course through your head. You do not control what occurs, it just happens. But that is not the way of an elf. Under normal circumstances, my dreams are of my make and control. I may fly on the back of an eagle, or swim the deepest seas and it will be of my choosing. I may run through fields fresh in clover, smelling them, feeling them, and it would be as if I lived it, and again of my choosing. I will feel it and be there by my own will. Mortal dreams are so limited in comparison to that of an elf's, and I take delight in dreams when I may. But in this dream, I had no control. I could see. I could feel. But I could not sway the reverie, Aragorn. The dream was not one I would choose. Never would I have chosen that!"
Aragorn was stunned, uncertain what he might say in answer, for it had never occurred to him Legolas might question the dream he had planted in this way. He had thought it enough to allocate all to simple reverie, but to find that answer more complicated made him feel just as confused as Legolas. At last he stammered out the first inane thought that came to his brain. "You said it -- it was a . . . a wanting."
"A wanting that was wrong! Please do not question me more, for I truly cannot speak on it, Aragorn. It is too personal. I will only say I should not have felt . . . that. It is not right for an elf to feel such . . . !"
Aragorn nodded as if understanding, but truly, he did not. Legolas was speaking in circles again, and he could not discern meaning behind his words unless he should ask more questions. But he did not want to ask more questions. He wanted to be done with this so that both he and Legolas might move on and put this behind them and forgive themselves of their transgressions, real and perceived. But the only thing he could think to say he knew would both calm and frighten the elf. Yet it was the only excuse he could think of that might quell a piece of this riddling guilt. And so he said it.
"It was the Ring's doing, Legolas. That is the only explanation I can find. The Ring was trying to bend you for a greater purpose." And as he spoke it, he knew it to be true in a way, for the fault did belong to the Ring, though who the instigator might have been he felt it better not to say. Still, it felt a relief somehow to put this burden elsewhere and in such a way that the elf might free himself from some of this blame. The deception remained, but it gave Legolas a chance to banish it as reason for his own guilt. And then as if to encourage the elf more, he said, "You can be grateful you did not give in to It."
Immediately he wished he could recant that last utterance, for he realized with the paling of the elf's face that such had not happened. Indeed the battle had been lost as Aragorn could recall. For although during the course of the rape the elf had fought him and cried out for a halt, his body had responded in pleasure nonetheless. Ultimately it had betrayed his outward protests. There had been fulfillment on a physical level. Bodily, Legolas had achieved completion to their act. Aragorn remembered his discovery of the evidence of Legolas' culminating pleasure and the scorning glee his demon-self had felt in that. As if that justified what I had done!
And he knew from Legolas' mortified expression then that the elf recalled that detail as well.
For Legolas, it was a horrible defeat. Yet Aragorn could not withdraw his words, for he knew, if all was just dream as he had convinced the elf it had been, he was not supposed to even be there. He could only pretend for the moment that he had not seen the elf's face crumble in despair.
Legolas did not look up, bowing his head as if to agree, and Aragorn knew he must give the elf time to recuperate this blow. Aragorn felt sickened for it.
In one swift motion he had delivered sound reasoning to give his friend a way to forgive himself for his shame. And then in the next breath he had exposed a worse failure. And again, Aragorn knew none of it need ever have happened. His heart pounded a mighty thrum in his chest. It was his own weakness that had brought these circumstances about, and his lies seemed to be compounding as the situation settled. Had he realized the Ring's influence from the start . . .
Banish these thoughts! I cannot go back!
It was true. He could not go back. He could only go forward.
Without saying anything more, he stood up then. No more would he take of this and no more would he allow the Ring to press upon him. It was absent from him now and it would stay that way. He stepped away from the elf then, feeling those eyes boring into his back but not caring what the elf saw anymore. He marched back to where the Fellowship was camped. He felt determination he could not put into words ride over him, and he felt his chin come up in a prideful look of purpose. He knew he must put his part to an end.
The camp was breaking and all were making haste to leave. Aragorn's guise of wariness had made the group edgy and they did not linger. That was just as well. The man wished to be gone from this place.
He grabbed his satchel as he strode across the camp and he knew not what the others thought then, for he did not bother to turn or look at them or explain. He did not care if he was seen or watched or questioned. He had something more important to do and he would not hide this along with his shame. With reason and conviction, he walked out of the camp and along the path to where Legolas had been found by the stream. None followed and he was again alone. The day's lingering under the sun had lightened the marks where his actions against the elf had been made. Still, to his trained eyes, he clearly saw everything that had happened here. He saw all the signs of an uncivil act. He saw rape.
He turned his back to it and faced the setting sun. It was time to put it away and time to make sure it would not occur again. He reached into his bag, and pulled out the pouch where he had stored the dried leaves of galenolas. He spilled the contents free, watching them drift away on the light wind the valley seemed to stir forth. He bid they never be put to use again, and he knew for himself, at least, this would be so. No more would the temptation be there. The petal-light wisps floated through the air and crossed into the sun. They flitted like ash over the red light of the sun's fire, black specs of deceit lost in the waning heat. And when they were gone from his hands, he knew he would no longer be capable of the evil the Ring derived. It was gone.
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They stood in a garden, the tinkling sound of water splashing into a pool somewhere near. The moonlight cast silver highlights across the leafy surfaces, and Galadriel shone brightly in the light. Her skin was radiant and glowing, and even in the darkness of night, she appeared as vivid and splendid as she did by the full of Anor's grace.
And yet her eyes were dark, looking through him and past him, and he knew his sentence was to be given. She had heard his defense, and he knew there could be no reprieve.
However, she did not hold his gaze as he might have expected. His vision did not become fixed upon her, as if ensorcelled. Instead she released him, her own eyes cast down.
"And Gandalf did not question you?"Aragorn's head hurt and he grew weary of speaking in his mind. His words were said aloud then for the effort to keep all inside was becoming too difficult. "He was concerned, but his concerns were unequally divided. I cannot speak for his mind, but he had confessed the Ring played with his thoughts too. For all I know, It may have been what convinced him to speak on my behalf in giving Legolas the potion. He seemed innocent in advising it, but I thought my actions innocent too, up until a point. I must assume Gandalf was distracted, because he did not question me. I cannot say if he spoke with Legolas. That is not to say he did not worry. I do think he worried, for all of us, but he fretted most for Frodo. And I think he relied upon the stronger folk among us to find remedy on our own where we could. It is already somewhat the nature of a warrior and hunter to keep to himself. I do not think it would have been comfortable for him to approach any of us to find out how we felt."
"You did not go back on your resolve then?" she asked.
He sighed. So the queries went on. He longed to be done of it. He wished only to know his end in this. Would it never come? "It became easy, for the temptation was removed," he sighed. "No more of the galenolas did I see after that day."
"It is curious that galenolas would be the instrument of Legolas' seduction for there is a history to this plant. Do you know of it?" Galadriel said in his mind, still not looking at him.
"I . . . know nothing of it," he replied, hesitantly, fearfully. He wished now he had pressed for more information from Elrond, and from the men he had known, for had he, he might never have chosen the course he did.
Her eyes slid over him then, something within her giving weight to a restrained furor. Her voice was even when she spoke, for it was aloud, but he detected a minute quaver that told him her outward control was a mask. "It is Morgoth who stole this plant from Yavanna's gardens. He changed its nature as he changes all things good."
"Morgoth?" Aragorn gasped, feeling a growing dread with this revelation. He had used the dark god's instrument in his doings?
"It said that he used this plant when he wooed his elven captives to the dark side."
"How?" the man managed to choke out, truly feeling sickened.
"Do you know the Quenyan name for this plant?"
"I . . . I do not."
"It is called eglanasolas."
"Plant of . . . forsaken dreams?"
"Yes. Forsaken dreams. Hopes abandoned."
"You speak in riddles, my Lady."
But she appeared to ignore him, focusing instead on the path her mind roamed. Her face grew terribly dark in the telling, her beauty hidden, as if trapped behind a cloud. "Elves cannot tolerate defilement. There are few who may withstand it should their bodies be taken in something outside of love. Most die." She paused a long moment and then he found himself caught in her gaze. "For others, there is rage."
Aragorn could say nothing, his heart racing as he wondered where Legolas fit into this tale.
"Morgoth fed this potion to the elves. He used it so that they could accept the defilement happening to them and so that they would not die in the act. Many still did, for they could not, even after they had survived the intimate taking, live with what had occurred. He made them lust -- in dreams, it is said -- and thus in doing so, he made them want for the defilement that was put upon them. They were helpless to resist. And when at their waking they remembered that this was not as their hearts chose, they either died of the heartbreak or grew to find rage."
The elf queen turned away, and her eyes took on a distant look. She still stood in darkness. "In Morgoth's dens, those elves who lived ultimately succumbed to their hate. They were twisted in their fury. It was one of the tools Morgoth used when he remade them into orcs," she said.
A sob spilled then from Aragorn's throat, the full of his actions slamming into him like the blow of a troll. He had followed Morgoth's path! He had gone into the deepest of pits in his actions. There was nothing lower and he had blindly walked there. Aragorn had known nothing of this! He felt his soul crumbling like a slip of parchment in a fire. His crime had grown a hundredfold times more evil in just this telling.
"Does he fade?" Aragorn asked desperately, whispering, not knowing which of the two outcomes she had laid out to him was the worse.
"You have been in his company these many weeks. What do you think?"
"Please tell me! Too much has happened since the time of my crime. We faced Caradhras, Wargs, the Watcher in the Water, and Moria. We saw Gandalf fall. Legolas has been strong through it all. And yet . . . " Tears were stinging his eyes in his panic. He had to know what he had done. He had to know!
"You and Legolas have barely spoken."
"I have tried!"
"It was a horror that which befell him. I could not blame him should he would wish to deny it or forget it." She appeared so calm in contrast to his flushed terror. "The potion you gave Legolas draws out desires. It heightens the yearning and makes even things unwanted desirous. It also makes what is unattainable come alive in the users mind. It is a powerful potion, difficult to resist. You played with Legolas' hopes."
"I have watched him! I have tried to assure him! If he has come to a point of realizing the truth, will he die in accepting it?" Aragorn asked.
"The thoughts you put in his head --"
"Tell me he will live! Please! Please!" He found himself upon his knees then and he was crying openly as he clapped his hands together. He was begging her.
"You are not concerned with how he might feel for you? Do you not wonder if he would rage against you?"
"If he should hate me, he still might live! Is that not the better thing?" Aragorn asked, and he felt the tears stinging his eyes and washing down his face with this plea.
She spoke again in her outward voice, her expression lofty and imperious. "Even now you cannot predict him."
Desperation made him cry. "Please, Lady! If you know, tell me!" His guilt and fears consumed him the more she went on in this.
"I have queried his mind, if that is what you wish to know."
"Does he fade?!"
A long silence followed, and then came the words, borne on a whisper. "He does not."
Emotional liberation overtook him as Aragorn collapsed into himself. The relief overwhelmed him as a sigh broke free from his chest like a breath of fresh wind. More tears came to his eyes, the break from guilt so fulfilling. His fingers stretched into the grass, finding the cool touch assuring as he listened to his sobs spill free of him, like rain. So happy was he to hear these words.
After many minutes of release, tiredly he sat upright. The weight was gone from him and he felt lightheaded and dumb. Blankly he confessed, "Some days he was well, especially in the presence of the Hobbits."
She stood above him. He could feel her eyes upon him. "He was doing his part to assure their safe passage. Giving them comfort was also a part of his task."
"And at other times he seemed saddened to the very depths of his soul. I sensed his change." He felt her hand on his shoulder then and he looked up at her.
Galadriel gave him something of reprieve in the next breath. "It took many long years of Morgoth's corruption to taint the elves this way. They would have hated him at first, only slowly learning to hate all the world for the repetition of hurts put upon them in the centuries passing. Elves are much stronger than even you might see. You may find ease in knowing such transformation did not come in a single event." And for the first time she seemed to smile at him.
She tilted her head as she stepped back from him then. The gesture an invitation for him to again rise and when he did so, she said, "The Ring attempted to bend him."
He could feel his brow come together with confusion in his response. "But I-- I thought It wanted me -- "
"You were not the only target of the Ring with that seduction, Aragorn. Yes, the Ring pursued you. It saw your bearing and knew you were in a place to claim power. But remember too that Legolas is also of noble blood. He could easily lead others into any cause he should choose. The Ring knew that too. The pursuit of power is all that It has desired. Ultimately, It would wish to be on the finger of Its master, but It also knows It is better placed with you or with Legolas than about the neck of a lowly Hobbit. The Ring was testing you both in the actions It put upon you. Where Legolas failed was in seeing through the pettiness of your passing words."
"Do you mean the blame I put upon him for falling into reverie? But that was a trifle in comparison to what truly befell him."
"You have greater power over him than you might know."
"No, you read it all wrong. He is stronger than that. He was upset because of the dream. That is what set him on edge."
"It appears you do not know him then."
"Twice now I have been told that," Aragorn snapped back.
"Then twice now it should be abundantly clear you do not," she crisply replied.
"I told him my words were misplaced. He knew . . ."
"Sometimes it is the smallest crack that will cause the wall to crumble."
"He believed in me . . ." he murmured, defeated. He had trouble understanding Legolas' hurts, or even more, Legolas' strengths. She had said he would survive, and for the moment he knew he must cling to that. "How did he survive what I did to him?"
She moved away from him then, stepping lightly. Her beauty was ethereal and elegant again, and for a moment she seemed almost unreal. But then she spoke and he felt her voice a grounding place for his heart. She faced him from where she stood. "Legolas showed his mettle. He resisted the potion you gave him and found a way to make it that he might survive the defilement put upon him at the same time. That is no small thing. He found a way of his own. But I cannot say what that was. There are some things that even I cannot read if one wishes not to disclose them. Legolas bars his mind to me. He is distressed, that I do know, but he will not share the reasons behind his feelings," Galadriel said.
"Then how do you know he will not fade?" Aragorn asked as he found his legs and drew nearer to her.
She touched his hand, and took it into both of hers. The gesture was assuring to him. "I can see his strength and his stamina. He has been crushed. Like Morgoth's spawn, a part of him has been corrupted. But he fights to remain as he had been. I can say no more than this."
Aragorn paused, trying to read between the words and concluding there was much in what had been left unsaid. "Yet you hinted to me that there was more to his heart than what might be perceived."
"Indeed. This may be what saved him."
Aragorn stood, confusion yet washing over him, and with it subtle anger for the dodging ways her assurances came. "Why can you not just tell me what you know?"
"Because it is not mine to tell, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Only Legolas can tell you what is in his soul."
"And he will not speak it," Aragorn said quickly, dejectedly, pulling his hand away as he turned.
"He needs to learn to trust again," the elven Queen said, and as he looked back at her, she seemed more the ethereal being then, less physical and more spiritual, if that were possible. She seemed to read the self-loathing he put upon himself as she said, "It is not you he does not trust. It is himself. He does not know if it is within him to believe in his own control or will."
"But he is strong," Aragorn cried.
"He thinks the Ring put desire into him. He does not trust that he can fight It."
"It was the galenolas that did it."
"He does not know that."
"Then I am yet at fault. Should I tell him I did this to him?"
"Nay. It will serve neither of you to go back. Legolas will heal when he learns of the good within him. He will find himself again when he knows he is not so easily bent to the will of others. To do this, I have asked that he seek camaraderie where he may not have looked before." She smiled warmly, but her eyes were sad as she said, "This time is trying for all, and Gandalf's demise weighs heavily upon Legolas. He would turn to you were his heart healed. He needs to re-establish that which was lost. It shall be done. He only needs time. Yet at the same moment he needs a companion for whom he might confer his mourning, one who would not know of the humiliation he suffered."
Aragorn digested that for a moment, adding the sum up, and then saying, "Surely you cannot mean Gimli?"
The elf Queen's laugh was like the sound of bells. "It seems unlikely, yes, but that is what I have encouraged. And he seems to be considering it. I think they would find more in common with each other than they might expect," Galadriel said with a smile.
"And what might Gimli think of this?" Aragorn asked, somewhat amused by the idea.
"Gimli is more willing to be a friend to Legolas than you might think. Already he is charmed by some of Legolas' antics, though he dares not let on such thoughts outwardly. And I think too he senses Legolas' pain. I think Gimli would be willing to be a friend, if Legolas were to approach first."
"I do not see that happening."
"Watch and see."
Aragorn gazed hard at the elf, then found himself startled as he read into what she had said. "By saying thus, does that mean I am given the opportunity to continue? You will not punish me? I shall not be sent away?"
Galadriel stepped away, her hands reaching as she crossed the garden. Her fingers plucked a delicate blossom of nephredil when she had reached the bordering rim. At last she said, "It is not mine to decide what punishment is fitting for you. Perhaps it is that you have already suffered enough. Mayhap you yet need to suffer more. Only you can determine this. But as for the Quest, the path remains open. You have been tested by the Ring, and trying though it was, ultimately, you have passed. It is your resolve that truly matters. And though you may see what has come as a failure, were I to come out as well as you have in my test, I should be pleased," she said enigmatically.
That statement was perplexing. "Lady?" Aragorn asked, not certain what she meant.
Then she looked on him with solemn eyes that said far more of what her make was than anything he had seen in this pretty garden scene. "Think you are the only one tormented by the whispers of the Ring, Ranger? It speaks to me as well," she replied, and a sense of terror rose in his chest at the subtle boom of her words. "The Ring offers much to me, and it is a temptation I know I must resist. Bringing it to this realm was a very dangerous venture. I know not how I might respond."
He noticed then that the nephredil blossom fell from between her fingers. He watched it fully descend to the ground at her feet, and then he spoke words of shock.
"But you . . . you are Galadriel," he said, gasping at the implications of her statement.
"I am Galadriel, and yet I may be a Queen of such power you might never guess it! Think about it, mortal!
Darkness seemed to pass over her like a storm cloud, and he could no longer see her face. Her voice was all he could make of her, and the sound of music was gone from it. "The world of the elves fades. Think of it. How do you think that weighs upon me?
"I abhor that it falls to you, son of man! It was ours first, and it is not right that we have failed in keeping it! It need not be like that!
"Can you even imagine what it might be for my people to remain here and be given the opportunity to see these lands blossom as they do on the far shores of Eressea? That is what was meant for this world, though it has never fully come. But I could have it that way! I could make it, were It mine . . .
"I scowl at the bitter gift granted us by the Valar. They took away our right to go between these two worlds, when once other choices had been ours! They are cruel in their continued punishment of us, and I would see that changed. Can you even understand this? Can you know what it is to have your heart shorn from your chest by desires called forth in the return to Valinor? Parting is an equally heartbreaking ordeal, and I curse all the Vala for putting the choice upon us. I could change that were It mine!
"Think you I do not miss my kindred abroad whom I may not see until I give up on this Middle-earth? I have loves here as well! To live as I do now means accepting these things! But the Ring . . . the Ring . . . It may vanquish those troubles from my mind. It makes promises to me that are hard to ignore."
Aragorn's mouth went dry. Suddenly he felt his own worries quite petty in comparison to the haunting whispers put upon Galadriel. If it had fooled him into considering It, what might It be coaxing in Galadriel's conscious soul. "You know--you know It lies. You know the reality of what It would bring."
"Do I? Be not so fooled by outward appearance. I am not the delicate flower you think me to be."
The way she said this made Aragorn tremble in fear. Not once did she look at him in this bit of exchange, and somehow her hidden face made her seem more the monster. Still, he would speak. "Even the greatest might be smote with one swipe of a blade. You know this." It was a threat.
"I do," she said, bending down to retrieve the dropped blossom before turning her seeking gaze upon him again. The light was back upon her brow. "Do you?" she returned. He could feel her probing his thoughts, and he could see the strength of his soul through her eyes. And then the question came, and she spoke again in his mind.
"What might you do should I take It as my own?"
He did not hesitate, his mind immediate in knowing his answer. "I would fight you to see It destroyed." And he knew in that instant that he had given the answer she so desired and would have expected of him.
She smiled at him then, her hand held out. The white flower was revealed to him. He took it as offered. "You shall claim what is yours. Hold your head up, Aragorn, for I can see you do know your heart. The Ring holds no power over you. Not truly. And now your job is before you, for not all might pass this test as you have."
He bowed his head, gladdened that he could feel proud. "What would you have me do then?" he asked.
She put a hand to his shoulder. "Protect the Ringbearer from those who might seek It," she said, and then he looked up, and gazed into her eyes, reading to the depths of her soul. The words were unspoken, but he heard them anyway. "Even should the one seeking It be me."
TBC
Response to Reviewers
Leralonde - I was really afraid to do a slash fic at first, but the fear is almost gone now. Almost. I do have a thought or two for another slash fic, but not with the pairing you like. I'm still undecided yet as to whether or not I will do it. Thank you for the wonderful compliment. Only seven more days . . .
Ldyharp - Thank you. As the story wraps up I keep hoping all those reading will continue to find it 'wonderful' . . . so much pressure. I'm so nervous.
Kel - You came off as very coherent to me. Thank you. In RL, the best I've published is some technical manuals and an intro here and there. I would love to do something real. Reviews rev my muses, so let's see where the ending of this story takes me.
Elfdancer - Thank you for recommending this story. I hope others do come and partake. Networking is the best way to find stories, I think, and I'm thrilled you think this one worthy of giving the lead. The confrontation came in this chapter, but I'm afraid it was a bit confusing. At least Galadriel made her part clear (scarily so), and now we also know Legolas will not die. That's a good thing, right?
Anon - Wow! Thanks! I will confess that I labor hard at getting all the thinking right. Most people would throw their hands in the air if they knew how many times I revise and revise. Even I get angry with myself because I'm continually futzing. I'm glad to know it can pay off.
Mercredi - Sometimes flimsy plans can work if we don't touch them. Aragorn is practically holding his breath in this chapter, and he's ready to give it all up should anyone even say a word to contradict him. He's in a tough spot, but he redeems himself in the end, I think. I'm sorry I can't go on the whole journey, but Tolkien wrote this story as an adventure, and the angst only fits in the quieter moments. The Fellowship had a lot of physical stuff to deal with after -- Wargs and Watchers and Balrogs. In some ways, all that external focus was probably good as it kept them from thinking about what was going on internally.
JastaElf - Dessert is coming up, and we're dishing out Truth and Emotional Unveiling. Whatcha say? Got any room left?
Nightwing - I know you wanted a Gandalf confrontation, but the muse said no. Actually, he said a little more than that. You should have seen him, all fury and might. "Do not think to press me into a conversation I choose not to have, foolish Ithilien. You know my involvement would alter the direction of the story, and I think I am the wiser to center myself on Frodo, and not Aragorn and Legolas. Go back to your tome, the one written by the master, and you will see that my focus was on the Hobbit and him alone. The doings of man and elf have little to do with the Quest or the ultimate path of the Ring. That is where my eye is, child." It was hard to argue with that.
Bookworm, .303 - You found me! Sorry, I should have mentioned that this story is posted at both fanfiction.net and at adultfanfiction.net. As for getting to Lorien, well, the Fellowship got a bit busy dealing with all the adventure of the journey Tolkien sent them on. They really didn't have time to think much on heartbreak and angst. Lorien is a good place to reflect on their hurts and find healing, I think.
IMTrinity - Well, I gave answers, but I purposely made them hard to understand. Legolas is holding back in telling all, and for good reason. One is that he was just raped, but the other is . . . well, secret. Though really, the clues of what is in Legolas' heart have been there all along, so despite the fact that he speaks in circles, he sort of, kind of, might be making a little sense to some. All will be told in the last chapter, coming next.
Theresa Green - Sometimes I wish I had a Ring to blame when some nastiness comes out of my mouth. The best I can offer is PMS, though my family hardly finds that a good excuse. Though truthfully, on a bad day, the two are not so very different. Boy, did I just put some plot bunny ideas into my head with that little meandering thought. The contrivance of Galadriel to pair up Legolas and Gimli I did with you in mind. Not sure why, but I felt you could appreciate it. Seemed like something they would discuss in one of your stories.
Lamiel - Oh good! That's a relief! I'd hate to think I'd ruined it just because I couldn't stop playing with it. Legolas reciting the words . . . there is something very tantalizing in seeing Legolas being coerced to say or do things he might not normally do. At least to me. I find it very stimulating, and although the sexual moment was over, I wasn't quite ready to let go of the controls. You have been wonderful about offering encouragement, and I will take you up on that set of eyes. Eight is on its way to you.
Reader's Digest - You have very profound insight, and I'm looking forward to your reaction as this story comes to an end. It seemed very fitting that Boromir was the one to find them and be the voice of reason in the abstract of Aragorn's strange behavior. I should say that I love parallels, and I see this story as one, really. Though it focuses on the attempts the Ring makes on Aragorn and Legolas, it really is meant to give the reader a chance to see just how hopeless Boromir's struggle was. If the Ring could do this to the two strongest characters in the Fellowship, did anyone else stand a chance? And more so, doesn't Frodo and his resistance to the Ring make him seem even more heroic after reading this tale? I think so.
Tapetum - No guilt intended, though I am delighted to know you are here. It's funny because I keep getting reviews from people lauding me as a slash writer, but I don't think of this story as slash. The sex is just a part of it, but not the chief motivation. Except for murder, rape is the worst crime I can think of, and that is what I wanted Aragorn to commit -- the worst crime conceivable, guided, of course, by the Ring. Ooh, do tell me about that scene! I haven't seen the movie, but if the scene is juicy enough, I'll go just for that. Tell me please?
Lisette - I'm going to try to use the SuperGlue again. Boy do I feel pressured. But thank you for your faith. This is why I keep tinkering with what Lamiel and ElfLady have already signed off on. I just want it to come out right. I really like this story, and I keep hoping folks will walk away feeling it was worth their time. As for Boromir . . .I don't think I ever considered it could be anyone else. I love parallels, and Boromir is prime to play with in this situation.
Shonenlyn - Wow! What a review! Thank you! I was flying high after that one, somewhere around Mars, I think. There are not many slash writers around. Period. Fanfic.net has been successful in chasing them away, and what is left is not always good. I think though, to do this well, it helps to mesh plot along with the slash. I don't really think of this story as slash, but more as a story with slash moments in it. I feel like you do though when I find a good slash fic. I want to shout from the treetops in joy. Thank you for coming out and encouraging me. It means so much and inspires me.
ElfGirl4 - That was nicely said. Thank you! It's all the muses' faults. They talk at me all the time about their motivations and tell me exactly what they might say. I'm just a stenographer sometimes. They do all the work. Well, I guess I can take credit for the plot. That was mine. But everything else came from them.
Templa Otmena - Alas, poor Iago, I didn't know him well. I've read Othello, but unfortunately, I can't say I know it like you do. MacBeth. That was my play. What I will say is that I am more than just a little flattered by your praises. Thank you! Those are about the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. As for Shakespeare appreciation, I believe you are so right. He never wrote in a singular direction. He had many twists in the path of his telling, and so many times when I've seen his plays acted I have found myself astounded by the diverging directions he has taken us down. I think the beauty of his work is the incredible weave he created in his character motivations and the subtle twists of his plots. He gave his characters reason and dimension, and, that is hard to do, especially in a play. Thank you for seeing some of that in my story though what I've done hardly compares. Still . . .thank you.
Jenolas - Well, here is your answer, though it is rather unclear as to what the outcome has really become. We are nearing the end though, and I really will try to put the parts back in place before all is complete. At least we know Legolas will live, the galenolas has been tossed aside, and that Aragorn has shown his true mettle in light of what could come of the Ring. What's left? Oh yeah, elf repair. ::pulls up sleeves::
Peace - You'll have to let me know if I succeed at redeeming Aragorn. This chapter was a start. I'll confess that I did not like Aragorn much after the last chapter either, but in this one, he is coming around. I'm not sure about him with Legolas, but I do like that he finally destroyed the key of his temptation. And that he faced Galadriel and showed his true quality . . . Aw, c'mon, you know you're wavering.