Mori knew she was dreaming. There was nothing in the world so bright and warm and beautiful, except perhaps her feelings for Legolas, but those were not a physical manifestation. She opened her eyes and found herself standing on the sea shore, warm white sand under her bare feet and water lapping at her feet as blue as Legolas' eyes. In the shallows was a small boat with a delicately carved swan on the bow. Two figures stood under the white sail, arm in arm. Their tender smiles were familiar to her.
"Naneth? Ada? Am I dead?" she asked curiously. The two elves exchanged glances and then her father dropped gracefully into the water and waded towards her. He stopped while he was still ankle deep in the lapping water. She stepped forward to throw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
"Dead, little feather? Do you wish to join us, then?"
Morithawen looked up to see her mother standing just behind her father. She stepped out of her father's arms and into her mother's. She laid her head against her mother's shoulder and sighed.
"I miss you so much and I have so much I want to talk to you about. And there is so much pain, and shame," Morithawen said softly. Just the memory of those rough, blackened hands on her body made her shiver with fear and revulsion. She actually preferred the pain over the thought of being defiled by the touch of filthy orcs, but the thought of facing either made her tremble. Her mother murmured comforting words and then drew her further out into the water. Her knees were wet. She looked up and saw her father was already pulling himself back into the boat and was leaning over to help her up.
"Come with us, Morithawen. Come with us and rest," he said, with a coaxing smile. She put her hand up to grasp his wrist but she hesitated when a gentle breeze carried the sound of a lament. Legolas was crying. The thought of her beloved caused a jolt of pain from the bottom of her toes to the top of her head. She cried out and fell back into the water. Her mother caught her and the pain subsided.
"What troubles you, little feather?" Lymerawen asked gently. Morithawen leaned back against her mother for a moment and then sighed, looking up at her father. His eyes, before a gentle, loving mirror of her own, were for just a moment full of grief and sadness the color of a sky at midnight without stars. They returned to warm amber again, but she hadn't mistaken that flash of indigo blue.
"Legolas grieves for me," she whispered. The sound of the lament swelled around her along with the waves on the sea. Her pain returned threefold and the sun was suddenly blocked out by dark clouds. Her mother's arms were little comfort.
"Come with us, little feather," the gentle woman pleaded, trying to push Morithawen forward as the waves began to crash against the little boat. It rocked in the swells and the anchor wouldn't hold long. Morithawen trembled.
"I cannot leave him, Naneth."
"He will follow us soon, my daughter, if you choose to come," Anarorn said from the boat, nearly shouting to be heard over the now howling wind. Morithawen reached out again to catch her father's hand, but she only wanted to get closer so that she could hear him without straining. He immediately pulled her into the boat. The howling wind began to abate and the swells didn't rock to hard now. Her mother was suddenly in the boat behind her. Morithawen clasped her father's hands and although grateful that the pain subsided again, it frightened her. Because her pain seemed to coincide with Legolas' lament, which had faded to merely a whisper on the wind.
"Ada, does he love me so much?" she asked softly, looking into eyes that were so much a mirror of her own, only where her own held pain and questions, his held a deep sadness. "Would he die of heartbreak if I were to leave with you?"
"Yes, Morithawen. Legolas' fea is bound to yours. Where you are, he will always try to follow," her father said gently. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was reluctant to tell her this information. He didn't seem surprised when Morithawen pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill. Her parents moved together again, arm in arm as they regarded her. She gave them a sad smile. Behind her, the wind began to pick up again and rain began to fall in great, fat droplets.
"Legolas would die for me, but it is not his time to go. Therefore I must live for him. I love you, I do, but I cannot come with you now," she stated gently, tears slipping down her cheeks as she stepped back against the side of the boat. Her parents both wore sad expressions, but she thought she saw pride there as well. She lifted her hand to wave and then turned, throwing herself out of the boat and into the choppy waters. She battled her way back towards the sand, hoping that the steadily increasing pain would not stop her before to reached dry land. She was in water to mid-calf when she slipped and fell, crying out as the pain became a consuming fire.
Gentle hands caught her and pulled her from the water. She tried to open her eyes but they felt heavy and bruised. Something soft pressed into her back, not sand, and a breath of warm air chilled her damp skin. Voices murmured gently, familiar sounds that comforted as well as warned. The searing pain centered on her leg and she opened her mouth to scream but no sound emerged. She felt the warm droplets on her face and neck, tasted the salt of them. Tears, not her own. She felt the tender kisses on her cheek, her eyes, her lips. Each brush caused both comfort and pain as they touched bruises and cuts, but she concentrated on those sensations to distract from her leg.
"She was gone, Estel. For a moment or two, her fea was gone," Elladan whispered softly. He stood across the tent with Aragorn and Elrohir, the three of them giving Legolas and Morithawen at least a bit of privacy. The Mirkwood Prince was curled up on the narrow cot at the back of the tent, cradling Morithawen against him. They were both covered with thick blankets and furs and Legolas' voice could still be heard singing softly, for the first time in over an hour not thick with the sound of tears. Aragorn had finally had a chance to ask Elladan and Elrohir about the lament that Legolas had begun singing a while ago, the words haunting and so full of despair that Aragorn had felt goosebumps rise on his skin and they still hadn't disappeared completely. He had been too involved in bathing Morithawen's cuts and then setting the break in her leg to let himself give into the fear that he might lose his sister. It wasn't so much the physical injuries that worried him as those to her soul. She had been through such dark times and had endured horrible things. His hope that she would pull through hinged on the fact that she hadn't been sexually assaulted. That violation would have destroyed any desire she had to remain in Middle Earth.
"Something pulled her back, more than likely Legolas. The Valar be praised for that mercy," Elrohir chimed in quietly. Aragorn simply nodded. He wasn't needed in the role of healer right now and the fact that his sister had died, if only for a moment, hit him hard. He felt his knees tremble and was glad when the twins each took an arm and led him quietly from the tent. Once outside, they found a cookfire and all sat and turned talk to other things. The battle for Middle Earth wasn't over yet. Much was still to be done.
Morithawen woke to the sound of birds and the feel of sun on her face. It was the first time she had come fully awake in two days and she knew immediately that Legolas was not nearby. He had been a constant presence in her mind since she had turned away from her parents and decided to stay with him rather than go. She knew he was gone not only because his presence was absent, but also because he had told her farewell. Even in her dreams she had savored the lingering kiss he had left on her mouth before he had gone. To Mordor with Estel and Gimli to provide a distraction for Frodo and Sam. It was her job to stay here and heal. Here being the Halls of Healing in Minas Tirith, unless she missed her guess.
"My lady?" asked a quiet voice from beside her bed. She made the effort to turn her head and open her eyes. She gave the woman beside her bed a slight smile and was rewarded with a beaming smile in return. The woman's face was careworn and quite wrinkled, but her eyes were sharp and bright blue.
"Good to see you awake, Lady Morithawen. That young man of yours was so worried, not to mention Lord Aragorn and a passel of other young people. Even those little hobbits were asking after you. How bad is your pain, Lady? Can I get you anything to drink or to eat?" she asked cheerfully.
"Water?" Morithawen asked softly, her voice barely a whisper. The woman was obviously expecting that, because she had leaned in close and was watching her lips intentely. She nodded and offered a small waterskin, holding it so that just a trickle fell between her open lips. She swallowed and then closed her eyes again. She must have fallen into another healing sleep because when she next opened her eyes, the old woman was gone. In her place was a familiar face. She didn't bother to hide her surprise.
"Eowyn?" she asked, glad that her voice was stronger. The golden hair woman gave her a wan smile. She looked tired and heartsore, but her voice was warm.
"Lord Aragorn asked me to look in on you," she said. Morithawen nodded but must have still looked confused, because she spoke further. "I rode into battle with my people. It was an eye opening experience that I do not wish to have again. I met the Lord of the Nazgul and suffered the Black Breath. Your brother saved me."
Morithawen smiled again. Estel would be one of the few Men alive to know a cure for Black Breath. A little bit of athelas and some tender, loving care. She smelled a lingering essence of athelas here and knew she had Estel to thank for that.
"That sounds like Estel. He always did have a special talent for healing," she stated quietly.
"Estel?" Eowyn asked curiously.
"Aragorn's Elvish name. It means Hope," she said with a warm smile. Eowyn was quiet for moment after that and Morithawen took the time to access herself. She was hurting but it was a dull ache now. Her greatest ache was from her leg and it was set in a plaster cast. Each breath caused a slight twinge in her chest, but nothing to be overly worried about. She knew if she looked in a mirror she would see a multitude of yellowed bruises and half healed cuts and welts. Overall, she was in decent shape and should be up and about in another day or two. It was amazing what a couple of days in bed could do for an elf.
"They have gone to Mordor," Eowyn said out of the blue. Morithawen focused her attention back on the woman and nodded.
"Aye. Legolas let me know," she said softly. Eowyn looked startled and opened her mouth to ask a question and then closed it again. No doubt she had been informed that Mori hadn't woken until after the men had left. Morithawen resisted the wicked smile she wanted to give the woman. It was nice to keep some things mysterious about her race. What Eowyn had heard about them would only be fueled by her imagination and stories. When Eowyn finally spoke again, it was about something more serious.
"Do you think they have a chance of returning?"
"There is always a chance. Good will eventually take the victory. We can only pray that it will happen in our lifetime and not that of our children or children's children," Mori said gently. Eowyn scowled a bit.
"If we even have children," she muttered. Morithawen bit back a sigh and then paused for a moment. After a while, a smile began to form on her lips. This young lady was bitter about Aragorn's rejection but she was soon to find someone to drive all thought of that from her mind.
"You know, you should go out into the gardens. It is such a beautiful day and the fresh air will do you much good," she suggested. Eowyn looked startled by her suggestion. Morithawen just nodded at her and asked that she stop and request a meal for her first. After Eowyn was gone, the smile faded. Morithawen envied her that ability to go out into the gardens. At the moment, she was stuck in bed. At least the windows were open. With that last thought and a quick prayer to Illuvitar for the safety of her beloved and her brother, she drifted back into a normal, open eyed rest while waiting for her food to come.
"Trust me, Mirtha. The cast can come off. It has been a full two weeks and I promise that it is healed. I wish to take a bath before my betrothed arrives. Mithrandir is certain they will arrive within the next day," Morithawen said. She was arguing with her elderly nurse, who was still in amazement over the fast healing of her cuts and bruises. The dark worry hanging over Minas Tirith had disappeared when word came that Mordor was defeated and the ring had been destroyed. Without fear and doubt to shadow her healing, the last lingering pain had faded away.
"My Lady, I fear that if you take off the cast now, it could damage your leg. Please wait until Lord Aragorn returns," she pleaded. Morithawen sighed softly and shook her head.
"If you do not take it off, Mirtha, I will take it off myself. Please trust me. Elves heal fast, faster when their hearts are full of joy. The only thing holding a shadow over my spirit is the thought of greeting Legolas in this ungainly thing," she said quietly, looking directly into the other lady's sharp blue eyes. Mirtha narrowed her eyes for a moment and then sighed, nodding. Twenty minutes later, Mori was lounging in a tub of warm water up to her neck. She thought back over the events of the past two weeks and smiled. Other than the destruction of Sauron and the Ring, there were many good things. One of those was Eowyn and Faramir's romance. Morithawen still found human courting rituals to be whirlwind fast, but their lives were so short they couldn't spend fifty years just getting to know the person they were going to marry. The next good thing was the return of Mithrandir to Minas Tirith with the Eagles. That in itself was wonderful, but when they had Frodo and Sam in tow, it was an occasion for joy and celebration. Not that the hobbits were aware of much. Their trek into Mordor had cost them physically and both were still recovering. She had been overjoyed when she had looked in on Sam earlier today and he was alert. She had helped him eat his first meal in over a week. She had laughed to hear him complain that he could only have weak broth. She had missed the hobbits and their appetites.
As the water began to cool, she stirred herself to wash her hair and scrub herself clean. Once she was out of the tub she toweled herself dry and sat down to brush out her hair. Her eyes gravitated to the dress hung in the window to air and she smiled happily. With a little help from Mirtha and Eowyn, she had gathered the material and had used her time in bed to sew the dress. Just where Mirtha had found the gossamer thin, incredibly fine veil she wouldn't tell, but it laid over the heavier forest green silk like a mist. The sleeves were not finished just yet. She would be doing some embroidery on them before her wedding. She wanted to talk to Arwen about her headress, however. She was almost certain her foster sister would be in Minas Tirith before the next full moon. She almost hoped that Luthawen would be with her. She missed her friend and was hoping that she hadn't already taken herself to the Gray Havens and into the West.
A second dress was laid out on her bed, a simpler one of russet and brown. This is what she slipped into before she literally skipped out of the room. She made her way out into the gardens and began to sing softly as she visited with the trees and flowers there. After a while, however, that made her restless. She left the gardens and moved up to the long marble terrace that led up to the Grand Hall. She didn't walk towards the Hall. The White Tree of Gondor depressed her greatly. It was dead. She knew that it would be replaced before Estel as crowned, but she had no idea how he was going to find another sapling.
The guards did little more than glance at her and she was surprised but didn't approach any of them. She moved to the wall and leapt up onto the top of it. The foot-wide stones were a perfect path and the view from there was amazing. There were times, however, that she was glad of her elven hearing. The Guards were moving towards her at a swift pace and if she hadn't heard them, she might have been startled into a fall. She turned on her heel and faced them, knowing immediately the problem. They were concerned for her safety. She could understand the concern since it was quite a drop on the other side of the wall, but as an Elf, she spent much of her life in the trees. Narrow footpaths and long drops didn't phase her. To appease them, however, she got down and leaned against the wall. One of the guards continued to hover near her, but she tuned him out. She was watching the horizon.
After an hour of standing completely still, staring into the distance, Morithawen's guard finally moved away and left her alone. She continued to stare for another hour before she stirred, a smile on her face as she turned away from the wall and dashed for the steps down into the heart of the city. She didn't quit running until she had reached her room in the Halls of Healing. She pulled on an olive green cloak and flipped up the hood. It had been a gift from Faramir after a walk through the city with herself and Eowyn had caused more than one collision in the streets. It was telling to Morithawen. Fifty years ago the common people of this city all saw elves on occasion. Now it seemed that Elves were becoming more legend than fact. She wondered what kind of reaction Estel's marriage to Arwen would cause.
There was no real need to hurry. She had seen the small army when they were still beyond Osgilgath. It would be another two hours before they arrived in the city. Not that she was going to wait two hours. Having a human foster brother, she had a very unelfin sense of urgency when it came to time with her loved ones. When she reached the lower level, she went to the stables and commandeered a horse for the afternoon. As she rode through the lower level toward the gate, she was pleased to see that the damage from the Battle of Pelennor Fields was being cleared and buildings were being rebuilt. There was quite a bit of bustle on this level and she had to guide her spirited gelding through work crews and groups of curious onlookers. When she finally reached the gate, the horse was ready for a run. She gave her name to the guards at the gate and then leaned down over the horse's neck and whispered encouragement in his ear. He was off like an arrow shot, galloping down the wide access road to the city and then across the plains.
The mood in the ranks was quiet. Victory over the Dark Lord could only carry someone so far before physical reality caught up with them, especially when those that made the victory possible very probably had not survived the destruction of Mordor. On top of the grief, everyone was bone weary, dirty and hungry. They were moving slowly to accommodate the injured. The worst of the wounded had been left behind in a camp until help could be sent back to them. At the head of the column rode Aragorn, talking quietly with Legolas. The elf was walking beside Aragorn's horse since Arod was being used to transport someone with an injured leg.
"I cannot believe you promised him you would go back to Helm's Deep. You hate caves," Aragorn was saying. Legolas grimaced but nodded.
"It will be worth it. He has agreed to come back to Fangorn with me. It is time he learned a little more respect for trees," Legolas said with a slight smile. Aragorn shook his head.
"I'm sure he thinks you need a little more respect for caves, too," he stated. Legolas rolled his eyes. Aragorn grinned, marveling at the playful side that Gimli seemed to bring out in his elven friend. It was also good to see him in a better mood. Aragorn thought that might have something to do with the fact they should reach Minas Tirith late this afternoon and he would be able to see for himself if Morithawen was well. He had done nothing but worry about her since they had left her two weeks ago, lost in dreams and healing sleep. Aragorn himself was a little worried, but he had too many other things dancing around in his head to be able to give it much thought. If she was in serious trouble, Legolas would know it. He always seemed so in tune with Morithawen, so much so that they could speak mind to mind when they were together and even when they were apart if the need was great enough.
"Someone rides from Minas Tirith at a gallop. Do you think it is a messenger, Legolas?"
Elladan had moved up beside them, pointing off into the distance. Aragorn peered into the distance but didn't see anything. He hadn't expected to. Legolas, however, shaded his eyes and nodded.
"Perhaps," he said, drawing out the word. Something about the rider made him pause. It wasn't until a half hour later that he was certain.
"It is Morithawen," he said softly, surprise and joy in his voice. Aragorn looked down at him in surprise and then he dismounted his horse, offering Legolas the reins. The elf looked at him for a moment and then smiled, leaping onto the back of the horse and digging in his heels. The fine chesnut stallion sprang into a run. Aragorn grinned and turned towards his foster brother. Elladan chuckled softly, a sound filled with relief. Morithawen must be alright if she was riding out to meet them. An hour later, they came across the two elves, sitting in the tall grass under a spreading oak tree waiting for them to catch up. They were both smiling and looked completely peaceful and composed. Aragorn wasn't fooled in the least. He whispered softly in Morithawen's ear when he gathered her close for a hug. She laughed softly and actually blushed as she glanced over at Legolas. Legolas just smiled as if he knew the greatest secret in the world. Once they were back on the road, however, he pulled Mori close and whispered a question. She grinned and didn't answer verbally. She just reached over and ran a finger down the braid that ran behind his right ear. Legolas chuckled wryly.
"Damned Rangers. Never miss a thing, do they?" he murmured, understanding now what Aragorn had seen. His braids had been redone and he knew from experience that Morithawen had neater hands than he did. Morithawen laughed.
"I should hope not. He had a good teacher," she said gently. Legolas sighed.
"Teachers, Morithawen. You practically raised him yourself. As proud as I am of him, I can only imagine how much you feel. He is ready for the crown. Maybe not completely willing, but he's ready for it and he knows the people need him," he said quietly. Morithawen nodded and wrapped her arm around Legolas' waist and laid her head on his shoulder, a tender smile on her face.
"I cannot wait until we have a little Estelion to teach as well," she said. Legolas was quiet for a moment before responding to her telepathically.
'That is assuming that there will be a queen to Aragorn's king.'
'Not to worry my love. Estel may have tried to send Arwen away, but she is most stubborn. There will be a wedding and at least one little Estel to spoil,' she replied, a laugh in her mindtone. Legolas looked at her, shock evident in the slight widening of his eyes. Then a smile blossomed on his face and his eyes sparkled with mirth. Morithawen wished for some privacy at that moment, for his beautiful face filled her with such joy and desire that she wanted to kiss him until the moon was full again. She settled for a mental caress and then smiled wickedly.
'You know, little Estel will need a playmate.'
Next --->
Back to Becky's Fan Fiction