Reviewer Responses for Chapter 6...
Deana: SURPRISE...your wish has been granted...here's chapter seven... and...glad you liked the change with Thranduil! It WAS sad...
Chapter 7: Return of the Fellowship
Several days later...
Minas Tirith rose in the distance, dazzling white in the midday sun. It had been long since Legolas had visited the city, too long. It was a shame he had come in such dire times. He had not meant to be away so long, but things had been busy in Ithilien and then he had made the tragic trip to Eryn Lasgalen.
"The King returns!" cried the city's gatekeeper, quickly ordering his companions to open the gates for Aragorn and the others. The mithril gates cycled open and the company cantered into the city, not slowing to greet the gatekeeper. To himself, the man said, "Something must be wrong, the King is worried."
Aragorn and company rode toward the palace stables where they quickly left the horses to be attended, and then hurried inside to begin discussing courses of action. Much to Aragorn's surprise, the dining hall was already occupied.
"Aragorn! Arwen! It is wonderful to see you," came a deep voice from one of the tables. The dwarf jumped up when he saw the elf prince. "Legolas! My friend! What a pleasant surprise!" He hurried to the prince, who had entered the room, and gripped his hand.
Then, Gimli moved aside and four hobbits bounded forward, gripping each of the newcomers in a hug. Legolas bit back a cry at the pressure, but smiled. He didn't fool Gimli though. "What is it my friend?"
Aragorn, seeing the look in his friend's eyes, answered for the prince. "Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam...please have a seat. There is much to talk about; I will fill you in immediately on what has happened." Aragorn couldn't believe that he had forgotten that the Fellowship had made plans for a short reunion; he had been looking forward to it for several weeks. The news from Eryn Lasgalen had banished their plans from his mind completely.
Once the hobbits and dwarf had taken their seats, Aragorn, Arwen and Legolas joined them. "The elves of Eryn Lasgalen and Rivendell have been all but wiped out."
Aragorn was forced to stop speaking as a burst of questions and protests came from the rest of the Fellowship. For a moment, chaos broke out, until Frodo managed to quiet his cousins and Sam.
"Aragorn, we were just in Rivendell less than a month ago on our way here, and everyone was fine!" the elder hobbit cousin said in confusion.
Arwen sighed. "Then you were lucky, dear hobbits, because you avoided the brunt of the shadow that befell my people." She found she could not say more, and Aragorn quickly took control of the situation again.
"Legolas was gravely injured, but survived, as did his father. King Thranduil is in Rivendell, awaiting the return of Lord Elrond, because his wounds were too grave for him to be moved further and treated here." Aragorn took a breath. "Elladan and Elrohir went to Rivendell when we went to Eryn Lasgalen. We did not meet them in our journeys, but I've no doubt they are well."
Gimli looked closely at Legolas. "You are all right now?" When the elf nodded, Gimli let out a deep breath. "Thank Aule. Do you have any idea who attacked your people?"
Legolas stopped Aragorn before he could continue, feeling strong enough to speak about it himself. "Yes. My father believed it to be a wizard of the First Age, an immortal, who fell from grace long ago and has been in hiding ever since."
"Who is this wizard?" Pippin asked, looking at Legolas. "Why do you think it is him?"
Legolas sighed. "His name is Graelath. And we think it is him because he wields a great power, the power to cast spells, much like Saruman, but far worse. He is the last of his kind, a race that was rare and powerful." He went on to tell the hobbits and Gimli of Galadriel's rescue. They quickly agreed that this man's power, if used for evil, would be formidable.
"Do we have any idea who he would attack next?" Frodo asked, leaning forward on his elbows, not really believing that he was again engaged in saving this world, so soon after defeating Sauron.
Aragorn shook his head. "No, we have no idea. We can only hope we will discover his next target before it is too late, before they too suffer the fate of the elves."
Just then, Faramir, hearing of the King's return, entered the dining hall, and followed closely by his wife, Eowyn. He bowed to the King, and then turned to Legolas. "It is good to see you alive, my friend. We were worried about you." Then he spoke to Aragorn. "We have been invited to visit Edoras. King Eomer wishes his sister to be there for his birthday."
Aragorn nodded. "All right, but before you go, you should know what is going on. It may affect Edoras before you know it."
The two joined those already assembled and were quickly brought up to date. Eowyn brought herself to speak first. "I am sorry to hear about Eryn Lasgalen and Rivendell," she said. "We will be wary, if there is any sign of this spell in Edoras, we will send word immediately."
The king nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a good idea. We should send messengers to all the realms, just in case the spell has overtaken others."
Faramir and Eowyn took their leave. Legolas, who was tired from their journey, looked about ready to nod off. Gimli, concern in his eyes, put a hand on Legolas shoulder. "You should go rest, my friend. We will fill you in on everything that happens while you are gone."
Normally, the elf prince would argue, but this time he was too tired to do even that. "All right, but just this once. I will admit I am quite tired." He followed a servant from the room, all eyes following him as he left.
Once they were certain he was out of earshot, Frodo spoke up. "Is he really all right? What exactly happened in Eryn Lasgalen, what happened to him?"
Aragorn spoke in low tones, still afraid the elf would be able to hear him. "He was very badly off when we found him, but Legolas surprised us all. He has the ability to wield Elven magic. We had a glimpse of his magic when he used it to save us from the orcs we met with after leaving Eryn Lasgalen."
Taking turns, Arwen and Aragorn told their friends all that had happened in Eryn Lasgalen and the journey back.
In Legolas' quarters...
He bid thanks to the servant, and then closed the door to the guest chambers gently behind him. Immediately, fatigue overtook him. Then he saw himself in the mirror, bloody and full of dirt. He despised being dirty. His eyes came to rest on the large bath in the corner of the room, soap on the outer lip and shampoo next to it.
Smiling lightly, Legolas began the water, making it as hot as he could manage it. Just the thought of the warmth made him shiver in anticipation. Stripping from his soiled clothing, Legolas put them in a basket where he knew they would be collected and washed. In the meantime, he would wear the tunic he had found on the bed.
Undoing the braids in his hair, he slowly lowered his weary body into the water until it covered all of him save his neck and head. He just lay there for a moment before gathering the last of his strength to wash his hair.
As soon as the last of the shampoo was rinsed, he laid his head against the edge of the tub, and was fast asleep in moments, covered completely in the soapy water. If anyone had entered the room at that moment, they would have thought it was a dreamless sleep, so still was the form in the tub. But they would have been wrong.
-DREAM-
A field of yellow flowers surrounding by budding trees and great willows, lightly fluttering in the breeze. Legolas stood in the middle, breathing deeply and sighing contentedly.
This is a place I could stay forever, far from the hardship and sorrow of life in these times, he mused as he reached down and caressed a bloom. He knew he was dreaming as he stooped lower. Ah, but it is a good dream.
"But you can not stay here, muindor nin {my brother}, there is yet much for you to do."
Legolas' head snapped up, and he stumbled back a step at the voice of another in his dream. "Maranwe? Muinthel nin {my sister}? How are you here? This is my dream; you are in the Halls of Mandos!"
Maranwe laughed lightly, stepping in front of her brother and brushing hair from his eyes. "Yes, I am in Mandos' Halls, Legolas. But I wished to tell you something and was given the privilege of doing so."
Smiling now and reaching out to brush aside strands of his sister's hair, Legolas asked quietly. "Why did you not tell me of your visions, Maranwe? We shared everything."
She tilted her head. "Everything, Legolas?"
He frowned a bit, backing away. "Well, almost." Looking up, he couldn't remain forlorn long. It was too peaceful here; too wonderful to see his dear sister again. He took in her form in a flowing white gown, her beautiful face a few feet in front of him. As if she were still alive.
"You had to have a reason, muinthel {sister}."
Nodding lightly, she took her brother's hand and answered. "The shadow of Graelath prevented it, Legolas. Its hold was too strong on me and I just didn't have the strength to overcome it. I wish I could go back and change things, but one can not change fate or destiny, muindor {brother}."
Legolas held her hands in front of him and hugged her. "I miss you so much, Maranwe. What I wouldn't give to have you back. I wish I had told you of my powers, of this magic I possess. I am sorry I did not. The distance between Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien harmed our relationship and I am sorry for that."
"Do not feel sorrow, Legolas. For you will face much of it before this is over. Only remember that fate is fate and destiny is destiny and neither can be altered. What will happen, will happen, Legolas." She smiled now, stepping back toward a blinding flash of white light. "Remember me and that I love you, Legolas."
He reached forward, grasping air. "Don't leave, Maranwe! Please."
She only shook her head. "This is what is meant to be. We will meet again. Someday, somewhere, somehow."
And she was gone.
-END DREAM-
Legolas shifted in momentary discomfort, then sighed and settled back down in the water as if someone had whispered soothingly in his ear to banish his disquiet.
That is how Gimli and the hobbits, who had been sent to see how he was, found him later, fast asleep in the bathtub. Gimli, thinking his friend would be asleep, was surprised when he opened the door and did not see the elf in bed.
Pushing it further, he led the hobbits into the room and suddenly, Frodo laughed. Gimli turned to ask what was so funny, but when he followed the hobbit's glance, he too laughed, followed closely by Merry, Pippin and Sam.
The laughter roused Legolas, who jumped slightly, sending water splashing out of the tub, while Gimli chuckled more. "I never thought I'd see the day, catching an elf asleep in a tub. My, aren't you just a wee bit vulnerable there, master elf?"
Legolas frowned. "Perhaps, but who would attack me here, in the safety of Aragorn and Arwen's home?" He asked that they turn around then quickly donned a towel, wrapping it around his waist.
"All right, you can turn back," he muttered, after climbing from the tub. He stood, dripping torrents of water off his pale skin. Gimli was the first to turn, staring in shock at the wound on Legolas' back.
The hobbits gasped aloud, causing Legolas to turn toward them. Their eyes widened even more. The elf, now understanding the reaction, frowned. He wished he had covered up before they had seen the wounds, knowing it was only worrying his friends.
"Are you certain you are all right, Legolas?" Gimli asked, taking a step closer. Legolas nodded, gesturing for his visitors to take a seat.
"Let me show you something," the elf prince said, coming to sit across from them. He smiled lightly, trying to reassure the looks of worry on his friends' faces. "I have healing abilities, beyond what many elves can do."
He gently rested his hand on his sword wound, the worst of the three, wincing lightly at the touch. Then he began to speak. Since they did not speak elvish, Merry, Pippin, Sam and Gimli didn't know what the prince was saying. Frodo, who knew some elvish from living with Bilbo, was able to follow part of the chant.
Suddenly, they began to perceive a faint glow emanating from Legolas' hand, into his wound. He had his eyes closed now, concentrating very hard on his healing. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, but he continued to chant softly.
Then, as quickly as the light had appeared, it faded and Legolas opened his eyes, keeping his hand on the wound. "There is nothing to worry about, though the use of magic makes me tired, it does not hurt me. On the contrary..."
He moved aside his hand and smiled lightly at the gasps of his friends. Where the sword wound had looked blistered and bright red, jagged and barely closed, it now looked like it had been healing for months. The skin was tightly closed; white scar tissue had begun to form. The skin around the wound was not the angry red it had been moments ago.
Frodo was the first to speak. "Have you had this ability forever? Why didn't you use it to save Boromir, or King Théoden?"
He had known this question would come, but hadn't been prepared for it so soon. Leave it to the simple-minded hobbits to ask the hardest questions. Taking a deep breath, he spoke the truth. "In Lothlorien, Lady Galadriel spoke to me, in my mind. She told me she knew of this power I wielded, knew of its real purpose. As much as I might want to, she told me, I was not to use it during the quest of the Fellowship, for the quest had to be completed by the strength of the inhabitants of Middle-Earth alone. No magic. No healing."
To his relief, his companions nodded in understanding. "I guess she had her reasons." Gimli said.
Sam, quiet since they had all arrived, spoke now. "Yes, if he used magic, there would be no need for everyone to help. Heck, the future wouldn't be what it is today!"
Everyone looked at Sam with surprise. Legolas smiled broadly, "Exactly, Sam. You have got it just right."
He stood now, moving behind a light screen so that he could put on his leggings. Once he was dressed again, the blues, browns and dark greens he usually wore replaced with the white and brown of the borrowed tunic, he reached up to attempt rebraiding his hair, frowning at the pull on his shoulder and stomach.
Still not better yet, he said to himself.
"Let me." a soft voice said from across the room.
Spinning on his heel, he was startled to find Arwen standing in the doorway. Because she was an elf, she had a way with being able to move silently. Even Legolas had not known she was there, which worried him a little. He would need to be much more in tune when they left.
"All right, milady," he answered, handing her the brush he had been about to use. She laughed, chiding him for calling her "milady". He smiled and his blue eyes lit up teasingly. "It is a habit now, Arwen. You are, after all, a Queen."
She sobered only a little. "Yes, and you are a Prince, my friend. The only heir to King Thranduil. So perhaps I should be calling you 'sire'?"
Legolas gave her an ugly look. "No...perhaps not!" He laughed, promising not to call her milady if she didn't call him sire. "But you do have a point; I am a Prince, even if I choose not to make it known to all." Now, he frowned. "A Prince without a kingdom, however. Eryn Lasgalen is no more. It will fade into memory and in time the forest will overtake and erase all evidence of our once regal home. It is a sad thought, but in time, all things must come to an end."
Gimli, wanting nothing more to break the somber mood Legolas had unwittingly created, guffawed from across the room. "Legolas the Prince. He seems to be lacking a headpiece! What shall we crown him with, dear hobbits?"
Pippin smiled. "How 'bout a pillow?" He threw the pillow right at Legolas' head and the elf only just avoided a full blow to the head by leaning quickly to the side. He looked at Gimli and Pippin in awe, not fully believing they had just thrown a pillow at him.
"Oh, I don't like that crown very much, least not when I'm awake. Here, take it back," and he flung the pillow back at Pippin, knocking the hobbit back onto the bed.
Everyone laughed now, forgetting the destruction of the two Elven realms, until they saw Aragorn, a stern look on his face, in the doorway. "There will be no horseplay in this house. There are far too many important matters to attend to."
His tone and false face of seriousness didn't fool Legolas, who'd known him for a long time now. "Yes my Lord." The elf, being bolder then the others; took hold of a pillow and let it fly, right into Aragorn's face.
"Why, you!" The king shouted, a smile erupting on his own face as he held the pillow and swung it at the elf's head, hitting him soundly on the nose. "That'll teach you to throw a pillow at a king!"
Despite the fun they were having, they knew it had to end. "Come," Aragorn said. "We shall dine and discuss what we are going to do next."
Seated at a table laden with all sorts of delicious foods, the hobbits, Gimli, Legolas and the King and Queen discussed what they would do about Graelath and his schemes. "We do not know who he will attack next, that much is obvious." Aragorn said, playing with the roast pork on his plate. "But then again, he probably doesn't know that Legolas is alive, possesses Elven magic, or that we are on to him."
The others nodded in agreement, but no one could think of anything to add to the conversation. "Well," Gimli frowned, putting his fork down. "Perhaps someone can explain this Graelath to me a bit more. I'm afraid I really do not get how we came to this conclusion so quickly. Sure, he sounds like he can be a really evil wizard, but how do we know for certain he has turned and stayed turned? You said he was once a great wizard so what changed him?"
Arwen, being somewhat familiar with the stories of Graelath, decided to tell some of them so that Legolas could eat. She hadn't realized it, but the elf had eaten little on their journey and now seemed rather famished.
"All right, Gimli, you probably have a point. We should bring everyone up to date on Graelath." Settling into her chair, the Queen thought for a moment before beginning. "Graelath, the Black Wizard of the Great Wizard Council, was born in the middle of the First Age. He showed exceptional skill at wizardry from a young age and was taken under the wing of a powerful wizard of the council. Years passed before that wizard died and Graelath took his place on the council. He was a great man for many long years, outliving all the wizards of the council, but never achieving the highest chair, as he was always a little too emotional." She slowed, "as a matter of fact, it was emotion that led to his downfall."
-FLASHBACK-
"Graelath, you must go to the aid of the elves, they need your help right now, the threat to the Ethaim is not strong yet, it does not merit sending a wizard of the council," Gorgof, the head wizard chided his companion carefully, seeing the argument in Graelath's eyes and knowing the man had a temper.
"But, Gorgof! The Ethaim are my people, we are few in number! I fear for my family, I feel this threat of Morgoth is more dire then it seems!" He stepped into the center of the circle of wizards. "Please, let me go to my people, send another to the elves."
But Gorgof would have nothing of it. "The council has decided that the threat is with the elves. You are powerful, a great wielder of magic, you are the best for the job therefore you will go to their aid. We will send Makir to the Ethaim."
"Makir?!" Graelath exclaimed. "He is but an apprentice to the council! He is not skilled enough for a mission such as this. He will not be able to fend off an attack!"
Gorgof glared at Graelath. "Will you contradict this council yet again, Graelath, son of Aranim?" His voice was like daggers now, a fire in his eyes. He was not to be reckoned with in this mood.
Graelath glared right back at him. "So be it. But mark my words, Gorgof, if death comes to my people at your decision, things will change. Mark my words." He spun on his heel, his black cloak billowing out behind him, and stalked from the tower chambers of the council.
Gorgof's hard stare softened and his head dipped. "I have long feared this, for if Graelath falls, terrible things he will be capable of." He had not spoken to the council, but they all heard his words and looked at the door, which had just closed in Graelath's wake.
"Terrible indeed, for he can wait forever, until we are not here to stop him, and he has long since been forgotten by Man and Elf."
"Makir could do nothing. The apprentice wizard tried to stop the onslaught of the angered wolves. He tried to stop them from attacking the last of the Ethaim villages in Middle-Earth, the home of the great wizard, Graelath. But he could not." Arwen continued in a soft voice, remembering the stories that her father had told her of that terrible tragedy.
"Where is Graelath? Where is he now when his people need him?" cried one of the villagers, fighting off an approaching wolf with a broadsword and heavy shield, not seeing the one behind him which wasted no time in tearing into the man's flesh.
Makir cringed, his mind unable to comprehend what was happening, unable to think of any spells he had learned in his apprenticeship. All he could think as he stood there, staff trembling, was why had the council sent him, and not Graelath?
"Master Wizard! Can you do nothing?" called a woman, screaming as she struck out at a wolf with a large stick, hitting the creature on the nose, momentarily stunning him. "My father would be able to! What kind of wizard are you anyway?"
The woman was fierce, with dark brown eyes and fiery red hair. She looked a lot like the council member Makir had only met a few times in the council chambers. Behind her, in a huddle, were an old woman and another woman who looked about Graelath's age. His mother and his wife. In the wife's hands was a baby son.
"I am an apprentice, milady! I did not ask for this, on the contrary I wish they had sent Master Graelath!" He hit a wolf over the head with his staff, knocking the creature down. He could see the people tiring, the wolves increasing in number. Soon they would lose this fight.
The woman, Graelath's daughter, suddenly screamed. A wolf had caught her off guard, grabbing her arm in its jaw, teeth biting deep. It shook her like a rag doll, ripping the limb right off her and then Makir could watch no longer.
He ran.
Wolves were everywhere; people in all stages of death lay around the village. Old and young, man and woman, the wolves left none alive. Huddled in a corner were the cooling bodies of three women and a child. The wolves had not eaten them, for they had been defeated by a lone man, cloaked in black. But they had been defeated too late.
"NO!" cried Graelath, arriving to a scene of blood and carnage, wolves feasting on his people. Where were his wife and children? His mother? Were they alive? He raised his staff and shouted in a strong, clear voice. "Merith naghiar {Move not}!"
In a flash of light, the wolves were immobile, much as he had done with Carcharoth and his pack when he had saved that she-Elf in Doriath. So angry was he now, that instead of simply throwing them, he chose a more sinister route, so deeply rooted was his hatred.
"Arnew deniah ni ralim makinar unin {Let death by flame befall you}!"
His spell, for a spell it was, set all the immobile wolves on fire, their howls of pain filling the darkening sky for miles around as they burned, unable to move or douse the flames. He had no pity, watched them burn to death, held immobile even in death.
When they were all dispatched, little more then charred remains, Graelath released them from his spell and their bodies fell to the ground and disintegrated, leaving piles of ash and bits of bone on the ground. He hurried toward his own home, years of visits taking him there without thought.
He screamed in rage, despair, and self-loathing.
Dead.
Kneeling beside the bloody remains of his wife, mother, son and daughter, Graelath cried, tears of grief pouring down his face. He looked up at the sky, yelled. "Where is Makir? Why did he not save them?"
Inwardly, he knew the apprentice could not have. That he did not have the skills to do this. The wolves had been organized, no doubt controlled by Morgoth. Just as he had feared, the danger to the elves had been nothing compared to this. Why had the council stopped him from coming?
"They knew. They knew the threat was here." He chanted, hugging his baby son to him. "They will pay, they all will. The council is to blame. I will get revenge. I will kill them all!"
In that moment, his blue eyes turned black. His face twisted in anger and he clutched his staff. "But Makir first, for he is not among the dead." And with that, he left his village, never to return, and searched for Makir.
-END FLASHBACK-
"You can well imagine what Graelath did when he found Makir, sitting in a grove not far from the council tower, resting." Arwen shuddered at the thought. "The poor apprentice never knew what hit him; he was dead before his body hit the ground."
Gimli took a deep breath. "Did he kill the rest of the council as he vowed to do?"
"No, not right then. Most say he never did kill them," Legolas said, not looking up from his plate. "At least, that's what is commonly believed." When he did not continue, Gimli cleared his throat. Legolas looked up; all eyes had turned on him.
Putting down his fork, the Elf continued. "Everyone believed that the council was killed during an epic battle against Sauron, during the Last Alliance, which is somewhat true." Turning to Arwen and Aragorn, he smiled lightly. "But my family knows this did not happen as legend has it. For my father was there and he saw what happened."
FLASHBACK
Elves and Men were fighting side by side against the armies of Mordor. Long had it been since the days of Morgoth, the days when the wizard council had been strong. Now the new enemy was Sauron, once one of the Maiar, now a servant of Melkor and a Dark Lord. However, the council had grown old and weak. They were on their last legs, but determined to fight or die to protect Middle-Earth as they always had done.
"So...the great council comes out of its tower to fight like men?"
That voice. It commanded attention and drew the eyes of the council toward it. A man hooded and cloaked with a black staff in his right hand stood behind them, while the men and elves around him eyed him in doubt.
The head of the council at the time, Largath, looked at the man and knew right away who it was. "Graelath. Long has the council looked for you, your staff should have been destroyed long ago."
The old wizard stepped forward, raising his staff and was about to cast a spell when Graelath moved in, speaking rapidly in the tongue now only he knew. "Unin deniar {You will die!}!" Pointing his staff at the old wizard he shouted something unintelligible and the man, his eyes wide, fell backward, blood spurting from his mouth.
He was dead.
Eyes alight with fire; the hooded figure now pushed his hood back from his face, revealing a shock of red hair and black eyes. "You will all die!" Before anyone could fathom what was happening, he chanted again, quicker this time, and the wizards clutched their hearts.
One by one, they fell to the ground...dead.
Graelath looked around at the Elves and Men, who had not moved; who were not paying any attention to the battle raging at the foot of Mount Doom, and the cutting of the Ring from Sauron's hand went unnoticed.
"I have no qualms with you right now," the wizard said, turning and vanishing into the droves of reserves, never to be seen again.
END FLASHBACK
"My father was among those Elves who did not see the Ring cut from Sauron's hand, for they too were staring in awe at this wizard who had so easily killed the entire wizard council." Legolas stopped, letting his words sink in. "I, for one, have no trouble believing fully that Graelath is responsible for what befell my people."
He had spoken strong, but Aragorn could tell that the whole situation greatly troubled the elf. Legolas might have the ability to wield magic, but Aragorn knew the elf realized that his magic was not much compared to what Graelath displayed.
"I agree with Legolas," Aragorn said. "And that is why we have our work cut out for us. How are we to defeat someone as powerful as this man? I do not have any ideas right now, I only know that the fight will come to magic and only one of us can do magic." All eyes turned on Legolas, who was silent, and understandably sullen.
"Yes, I fear it will," the elf said simply.
Deana: SURPRISE...your wish has been granted...here's chapter seven... and...glad you liked the change with Thranduil! It WAS sad...
Chapter 7: Return of the Fellowship
Several days later...
Minas Tirith rose in the distance, dazzling white in the midday sun. It had been long since Legolas had visited the city, too long. It was a shame he had come in such dire times. He had not meant to be away so long, but things had been busy in Ithilien and then he had made the tragic trip to Eryn Lasgalen.
"The King returns!" cried the city's gatekeeper, quickly ordering his companions to open the gates for Aragorn and the others. The mithril gates cycled open and the company cantered into the city, not slowing to greet the gatekeeper. To himself, the man said, "Something must be wrong, the King is worried."
Aragorn and company rode toward the palace stables where they quickly left the horses to be attended, and then hurried inside to begin discussing courses of action. Much to Aragorn's surprise, the dining hall was already occupied.
"Aragorn! Arwen! It is wonderful to see you," came a deep voice from one of the tables. The dwarf jumped up when he saw the elf prince. "Legolas! My friend! What a pleasant surprise!" He hurried to the prince, who had entered the room, and gripped his hand.
Then, Gimli moved aside and four hobbits bounded forward, gripping each of the newcomers in a hug. Legolas bit back a cry at the pressure, but smiled. He didn't fool Gimli though. "What is it my friend?"
Aragorn, seeing the look in his friend's eyes, answered for the prince. "Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam...please have a seat. There is much to talk about; I will fill you in immediately on what has happened." Aragorn couldn't believe that he had forgotten that the Fellowship had made plans for a short reunion; he had been looking forward to it for several weeks. The news from Eryn Lasgalen had banished their plans from his mind completely.
Once the hobbits and dwarf had taken their seats, Aragorn, Arwen and Legolas joined them. "The elves of Eryn Lasgalen and Rivendell have been all but wiped out."
Aragorn was forced to stop speaking as a burst of questions and protests came from the rest of the Fellowship. For a moment, chaos broke out, until Frodo managed to quiet his cousins and Sam.
"Aragorn, we were just in Rivendell less than a month ago on our way here, and everyone was fine!" the elder hobbit cousin said in confusion.
Arwen sighed. "Then you were lucky, dear hobbits, because you avoided the brunt of the shadow that befell my people." She found she could not say more, and Aragorn quickly took control of the situation again.
"Legolas was gravely injured, but survived, as did his father. King Thranduil is in Rivendell, awaiting the return of Lord Elrond, because his wounds were too grave for him to be moved further and treated here." Aragorn took a breath. "Elladan and Elrohir went to Rivendell when we went to Eryn Lasgalen. We did not meet them in our journeys, but I've no doubt they are well."
Gimli looked closely at Legolas. "You are all right now?" When the elf nodded, Gimli let out a deep breath. "Thank Aule. Do you have any idea who attacked your people?"
Legolas stopped Aragorn before he could continue, feeling strong enough to speak about it himself. "Yes. My father believed it to be a wizard of the First Age, an immortal, who fell from grace long ago and has been in hiding ever since."
"Who is this wizard?" Pippin asked, looking at Legolas. "Why do you think it is him?"
Legolas sighed. "His name is Graelath. And we think it is him because he wields a great power, the power to cast spells, much like Saruman, but far worse. He is the last of his kind, a race that was rare and powerful." He went on to tell the hobbits and Gimli of Galadriel's rescue. They quickly agreed that this man's power, if used for evil, would be formidable.
"Do we have any idea who he would attack next?" Frodo asked, leaning forward on his elbows, not really believing that he was again engaged in saving this world, so soon after defeating Sauron.
Aragorn shook his head. "No, we have no idea. We can only hope we will discover his next target before it is too late, before they too suffer the fate of the elves."
Just then, Faramir, hearing of the King's return, entered the dining hall, and followed closely by his wife, Eowyn. He bowed to the King, and then turned to Legolas. "It is good to see you alive, my friend. We were worried about you." Then he spoke to Aragorn. "We have been invited to visit Edoras. King Eomer wishes his sister to be there for his birthday."
Aragorn nodded. "All right, but before you go, you should know what is going on. It may affect Edoras before you know it."
The two joined those already assembled and were quickly brought up to date. Eowyn brought herself to speak first. "I am sorry to hear about Eryn Lasgalen and Rivendell," she said. "We will be wary, if there is any sign of this spell in Edoras, we will send word immediately."
The king nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a good idea. We should send messengers to all the realms, just in case the spell has overtaken others."
Faramir and Eowyn took their leave. Legolas, who was tired from their journey, looked about ready to nod off. Gimli, concern in his eyes, put a hand on Legolas shoulder. "You should go rest, my friend. We will fill you in on everything that happens while you are gone."
Normally, the elf prince would argue, but this time he was too tired to do even that. "All right, but just this once. I will admit I am quite tired." He followed a servant from the room, all eyes following him as he left.
Once they were certain he was out of earshot, Frodo spoke up. "Is he really all right? What exactly happened in Eryn Lasgalen, what happened to him?"
Aragorn spoke in low tones, still afraid the elf would be able to hear him. "He was very badly off when we found him, but Legolas surprised us all. He has the ability to wield Elven magic. We had a glimpse of his magic when he used it to save us from the orcs we met with after leaving Eryn Lasgalen."
Taking turns, Arwen and Aragorn told their friends all that had happened in Eryn Lasgalen and the journey back.
In Legolas' quarters...
He bid thanks to the servant, and then closed the door to the guest chambers gently behind him. Immediately, fatigue overtook him. Then he saw himself in the mirror, bloody and full of dirt. He despised being dirty. His eyes came to rest on the large bath in the corner of the room, soap on the outer lip and shampoo next to it.
Smiling lightly, Legolas began the water, making it as hot as he could manage it. Just the thought of the warmth made him shiver in anticipation. Stripping from his soiled clothing, Legolas put them in a basket where he knew they would be collected and washed. In the meantime, he would wear the tunic he had found on the bed.
Undoing the braids in his hair, he slowly lowered his weary body into the water until it covered all of him save his neck and head. He just lay there for a moment before gathering the last of his strength to wash his hair.
As soon as the last of the shampoo was rinsed, he laid his head against the edge of the tub, and was fast asleep in moments, covered completely in the soapy water. If anyone had entered the room at that moment, they would have thought it was a dreamless sleep, so still was the form in the tub. But they would have been wrong.
-DREAM-
A field of yellow flowers surrounding by budding trees and great willows, lightly fluttering in the breeze. Legolas stood in the middle, breathing deeply and sighing contentedly.
This is a place I could stay forever, far from the hardship and sorrow of life in these times, he mused as he reached down and caressed a bloom. He knew he was dreaming as he stooped lower. Ah, but it is a good dream.
"But you can not stay here, muindor nin {my brother}, there is yet much for you to do."
Legolas' head snapped up, and he stumbled back a step at the voice of another in his dream. "Maranwe? Muinthel nin {my sister}? How are you here? This is my dream; you are in the Halls of Mandos!"
Maranwe laughed lightly, stepping in front of her brother and brushing hair from his eyes. "Yes, I am in Mandos' Halls, Legolas. But I wished to tell you something and was given the privilege of doing so."
Smiling now and reaching out to brush aside strands of his sister's hair, Legolas asked quietly. "Why did you not tell me of your visions, Maranwe? We shared everything."
She tilted her head. "Everything, Legolas?"
He frowned a bit, backing away. "Well, almost." Looking up, he couldn't remain forlorn long. It was too peaceful here; too wonderful to see his dear sister again. He took in her form in a flowing white gown, her beautiful face a few feet in front of him. As if she were still alive.
"You had to have a reason, muinthel {sister}."
Nodding lightly, she took her brother's hand and answered. "The shadow of Graelath prevented it, Legolas. Its hold was too strong on me and I just didn't have the strength to overcome it. I wish I could go back and change things, but one can not change fate or destiny, muindor {brother}."
Legolas held her hands in front of him and hugged her. "I miss you so much, Maranwe. What I wouldn't give to have you back. I wish I had told you of my powers, of this magic I possess. I am sorry I did not. The distance between Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien harmed our relationship and I am sorry for that."
"Do not feel sorrow, Legolas. For you will face much of it before this is over. Only remember that fate is fate and destiny is destiny and neither can be altered. What will happen, will happen, Legolas." She smiled now, stepping back toward a blinding flash of white light. "Remember me and that I love you, Legolas."
He reached forward, grasping air. "Don't leave, Maranwe! Please."
She only shook her head. "This is what is meant to be. We will meet again. Someday, somewhere, somehow."
And she was gone.
-END DREAM-
Legolas shifted in momentary discomfort, then sighed and settled back down in the water as if someone had whispered soothingly in his ear to banish his disquiet.
That is how Gimli and the hobbits, who had been sent to see how he was, found him later, fast asleep in the bathtub. Gimli, thinking his friend would be asleep, was surprised when he opened the door and did not see the elf in bed.
Pushing it further, he led the hobbits into the room and suddenly, Frodo laughed. Gimli turned to ask what was so funny, but when he followed the hobbit's glance, he too laughed, followed closely by Merry, Pippin and Sam.
The laughter roused Legolas, who jumped slightly, sending water splashing out of the tub, while Gimli chuckled more. "I never thought I'd see the day, catching an elf asleep in a tub. My, aren't you just a wee bit vulnerable there, master elf?"
Legolas frowned. "Perhaps, but who would attack me here, in the safety of Aragorn and Arwen's home?" He asked that they turn around then quickly donned a towel, wrapping it around his waist.
"All right, you can turn back," he muttered, after climbing from the tub. He stood, dripping torrents of water off his pale skin. Gimli was the first to turn, staring in shock at the wound on Legolas' back.
The hobbits gasped aloud, causing Legolas to turn toward them. Their eyes widened even more. The elf, now understanding the reaction, frowned. He wished he had covered up before they had seen the wounds, knowing it was only worrying his friends.
"Are you certain you are all right, Legolas?" Gimli asked, taking a step closer. Legolas nodded, gesturing for his visitors to take a seat.
"Let me show you something," the elf prince said, coming to sit across from them. He smiled lightly, trying to reassure the looks of worry on his friends' faces. "I have healing abilities, beyond what many elves can do."
He gently rested his hand on his sword wound, the worst of the three, wincing lightly at the touch. Then he began to speak. Since they did not speak elvish, Merry, Pippin, Sam and Gimli didn't know what the prince was saying. Frodo, who knew some elvish from living with Bilbo, was able to follow part of the chant.
Suddenly, they began to perceive a faint glow emanating from Legolas' hand, into his wound. He had his eyes closed now, concentrating very hard on his healing. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, but he continued to chant softly.
Then, as quickly as the light had appeared, it faded and Legolas opened his eyes, keeping his hand on the wound. "There is nothing to worry about, though the use of magic makes me tired, it does not hurt me. On the contrary..."
He moved aside his hand and smiled lightly at the gasps of his friends. Where the sword wound had looked blistered and bright red, jagged and barely closed, it now looked like it had been healing for months. The skin was tightly closed; white scar tissue had begun to form. The skin around the wound was not the angry red it had been moments ago.
Frodo was the first to speak. "Have you had this ability forever? Why didn't you use it to save Boromir, or King Théoden?"
He had known this question would come, but hadn't been prepared for it so soon. Leave it to the simple-minded hobbits to ask the hardest questions. Taking a deep breath, he spoke the truth. "In Lothlorien, Lady Galadriel spoke to me, in my mind. She told me she knew of this power I wielded, knew of its real purpose. As much as I might want to, she told me, I was not to use it during the quest of the Fellowship, for the quest had to be completed by the strength of the inhabitants of Middle-Earth alone. No magic. No healing."
To his relief, his companions nodded in understanding. "I guess she had her reasons." Gimli said.
Sam, quiet since they had all arrived, spoke now. "Yes, if he used magic, there would be no need for everyone to help. Heck, the future wouldn't be what it is today!"
Everyone looked at Sam with surprise. Legolas smiled broadly, "Exactly, Sam. You have got it just right."
He stood now, moving behind a light screen so that he could put on his leggings. Once he was dressed again, the blues, browns and dark greens he usually wore replaced with the white and brown of the borrowed tunic, he reached up to attempt rebraiding his hair, frowning at the pull on his shoulder and stomach.
Still not better yet, he said to himself.
"Let me." a soft voice said from across the room.
Spinning on his heel, he was startled to find Arwen standing in the doorway. Because she was an elf, she had a way with being able to move silently. Even Legolas had not known she was there, which worried him a little. He would need to be much more in tune when they left.
"All right, milady," he answered, handing her the brush he had been about to use. She laughed, chiding him for calling her "milady". He smiled and his blue eyes lit up teasingly. "It is a habit now, Arwen. You are, after all, a Queen."
She sobered only a little. "Yes, and you are a Prince, my friend. The only heir to King Thranduil. So perhaps I should be calling you 'sire'?"
Legolas gave her an ugly look. "No...perhaps not!" He laughed, promising not to call her milady if she didn't call him sire. "But you do have a point; I am a Prince, even if I choose not to make it known to all." Now, he frowned. "A Prince without a kingdom, however. Eryn Lasgalen is no more. It will fade into memory and in time the forest will overtake and erase all evidence of our once regal home. It is a sad thought, but in time, all things must come to an end."
Gimli, wanting nothing more to break the somber mood Legolas had unwittingly created, guffawed from across the room. "Legolas the Prince. He seems to be lacking a headpiece! What shall we crown him with, dear hobbits?"
Pippin smiled. "How 'bout a pillow?" He threw the pillow right at Legolas' head and the elf only just avoided a full blow to the head by leaning quickly to the side. He looked at Gimli and Pippin in awe, not fully believing they had just thrown a pillow at him.
"Oh, I don't like that crown very much, least not when I'm awake. Here, take it back," and he flung the pillow back at Pippin, knocking the hobbit back onto the bed.
Everyone laughed now, forgetting the destruction of the two Elven realms, until they saw Aragorn, a stern look on his face, in the doorway. "There will be no horseplay in this house. There are far too many important matters to attend to."
His tone and false face of seriousness didn't fool Legolas, who'd known him for a long time now. "Yes my Lord." The elf, being bolder then the others; took hold of a pillow and let it fly, right into Aragorn's face.
"Why, you!" The king shouted, a smile erupting on his own face as he held the pillow and swung it at the elf's head, hitting him soundly on the nose. "That'll teach you to throw a pillow at a king!"
Despite the fun they were having, they knew it had to end. "Come," Aragorn said. "We shall dine and discuss what we are going to do next."
Seated at a table laden with all sorts of delicious foods, the hobbits, Gimli, Legolas and the King and Queen discussed what they would do about Graelath and his schemes. "We do not know who he will attack next, that much is obvious." Aragorn said, playing with the roast pork on his plate. "But then again, he probably doesn't know that Legolas is alive, possesses Elven magic, or that we are on to him."
The others nodded in agreement, but no one could think of anything to add to the conversation. "Well," Gimli frowned, putting his fork down. "Perhaps someone can explain this Graelath to me a bit more. I'm afraid I really do not get how we came to this conclusion so quickly. Sure, he sounds like he can be a really evil wizard, but how do we know for certain he has turned and stayed turned? You said he was once a great wizard so what changed him?"
Arwen, being somewhat familiar with the stories of Graelath, decided to tell some of them so that Legolas could eat. She hadn't realized it, but the elf had eaten little on their journey and now seemed rather famished.
"All right, Gimli, you probably have a point. We should bring everyone up to date on Graelath." Settling into her chair, the Queen thought for a moment before beginning. "Graelath, the Black Wizard of the Great Wizard Council, was born in the middle of the First Age. He showed exceptional skill at wizardry from a young age and was taken under the wing of a powerful wizard of the council. Years passed before that wizard died and Graelath took his place on the council. He was a great man for many long years, outliving all the wizards of the council, but never achieving the highest chair, as he was always a little too emotional." She slowed, "as a matter of fact, it was emotion that led to his downfall."
-FLASHBACK-
"Graelath, you must go to the aid of the elves, they need your help right now, the threat to the Ethaim is not strong yet, it does not merit sending a wizard of the council," Gorgof, the head wizard chided his companion carefully, seeing the argument in Graelath's eyes and knowing the man had a temper.
"But, Gorgof! The Ethaim are my people, we are few in number! I fear for my family, I feel this threat of Morgoth is more dire then it seems!" He stepped into the center of the circle of wizards. "Please, let me go to my people, send another to the elves."
But Gorgof would have nothing of it. "The council has decided that the threat is with the elves. You are powerful, a great wielder of magic, you are the best for the job therefore you will go to their aid. We will send Makir to the Ethaim."
"Makir?!" Graelath exclaimed. "He is but an apprentice to the council! He is not skilled enough for a mission such as this. He will not be able to fend off an attack!"
Gorgof glared at Graelath. "Will you contradict this council yet again, Graelath, son of Aranim?" His voice was like daggers now, a fire in his eyes. He was not to be reckoned with in this mood.
Graelath glared right back at him. "So be it. But mark my words, Gorgof, if death comes to my people at your decision, things will change. Mark my words." He spun on his heel, his black cloak billowing out behind him, and stalked from the tower chambers of the council.
Gorgof's hard stare softened and his head dipped. "I have long feared this, for if Graelath falls, terrible things he will be capable of." He had not spoken to the council, but they all heard his words and looked at the door, which had just closed in Graelath's wake.
"Terrible indeed, for he can wait forever, until we are not here to stop him, and he has long since been forgotten by Man and Elf."
"Makir could do nothing. The apprentice wizard tried to stop the onslaught of the angered wolves. He tried to stop them from attacking the last of the Ethaim villages in Middle-Earth, the home of the great wizard, Graelath. But he could not." Arwen continued in a soft voice, remembering the stories that her father had told her of that terrible tragedy.
"Where is Graelath? Where is he now when his people need him?" cried one of the villagers, fighting off an approaching wolf with a broadsword and heavy shield, not seeing the one behind him which wasted no time in tearing into the man's flesh.
Makir cringed, his mind unable to comprehend what was happening, unable to think of any spells he had learned in his apprenticeship. All he could think as he stood there, staff trembling, was why had the council sent him, and not Graelath?
"Master Wizard! Can you do nothing?" called a woman, screaming as she struck out at a wolf with a large stick, hitting the creature on the nose, momentarily stunning him. "My father would be able to! What kind of wizard are you anyway?"
The woman was fierce, with dark brown eyes and fiery red hair. She looked a lot like the council member Makir had only met a few times in the council chambers. Behind her, in a huddle, were an old woman and another woman who looked about Graelath's age. His mother and his wife. In the wife's hands was a baby son.
"I am an apprentice, milady! I did not ask for this, on the contrary I wish they had sent Master Graelath!" He hit a wolf over the head with his staff, knocking the creature down. He could see the people tiring, the wolves increasing in number. Soon they would lose this fight.
The woman, Graelath's daughter, suddenly screamed. A wolf had caught her off guard, grabbing her arm in its jaw, teeth biting deep. It shook her like a rag doll, ripping the limb right off her and then Makir could watch no longer.
He ran.
Wolves were everywhere; people in all stages of death lay around the village. Old and young, man and woman, the wolves left none alive. Huddled in a corner were the cooling bodies of three women and a child. The wolves had not eaten them, for they had been defeated by a lone man, cloaked in black. But they had been defeated too late.
"NO!" cried Graelath, arriving to a scene of blood and carnage, wolves feasting on his people. Where were his wife and children? His mother? Were they alive? He raised his staff and shouted in a strong, clear voice. "Merith naghiar {Move not}!"
In a flash of light, the wolves were immobile, much as he had done with Carcharoth and his pack when he had saved that she-Elf in Doriath. So angry was he now, that instead of simply throwing them, he chose a more sinister route, so deeply rooted was his hatred.
"Arnew deniah ni ralim makinar unin {Let death by flame befall you}!"
His spell, for a spell it was, set all the immobile wolves on fire, their howls of pain filling the darkening sky for miles around as they burned, unable to move or douse the flames. He had no pity, watched them burn to death, held immobile even in death.
When they were all dispatched, little more then charred remains, Graelath released them from his spell and their bodies fell to the ground and disintegrated, leaving piles of ash and bits of bone on the ground. He hurried toward his own home, years of visits taking him there without thought.
He screamed in rage, despair, and self-loathing.
Dead.
Kneeling beside the bloody remains of his wife, mother, son and daughter, Graelath cried, tears of grief pouring down his face. He looked up at the sky, yelled. "Where is Makir? Why did he not save them?"
Inwardly, he knew the apprentice could not have. That he did not have the skills to do this. The wolves had been organized, no doubt controlled by Morgoth. Just as he had feared, the danger to the elves had been nothing compared to this. Why had the council stopped him from coming?
"They knew. They knew the threat was here." He chanted, hugging his baby son to him. "They will pay, they all will. The council is to blame. I will get revenge. I will kill them all!"
In that moment, his blue eyes turned black. His face twisted in anger and he clutched his staff. "But Makir first, for he is not among the dead." And with that, he left his village, never to return, and searched for Makir.
-END FLASHBACK-
"You can well imagine what Graelath did when he found Makir, sitting in a grove not far from the council tower, resting." Arwen shuddered at the thought. "The poor apprentice never knew what hit him; he was dead before his body hit the ground."
Gimli took a deep breath. "Did he kill the rest of the council as he vowed to do?"
"No, not right then. Most say he never did kill them," Legolas said, not looking up from his plate. "At least, that's what is commonly believed." When he did not continue, Gimli cleared his throat. Legolas looked up; all eyes had turned on him.
Putting down his fork, the Elf continued. "Everyone believed that the council was killed during an epic battle against Sauron, during the Last Alliance, which is somewhat true." Turning to Arwen and Aragorn, he smiled lightly. "But my family knows this did not happen as legend has it. For my father was there and he saw what happened."
FLASHBACK
Elves and Men were fighting side by side against the armies of Mordor. Long had it been since the days of Morgoth, the days when the wizard council had been strong. Now the new enemy was Sauron, once one of the Maiar, now a servant of Melkor and a Dark Lord. However, the council had grown old and weak. They were on their last legs, but determined to fight or die to protect Middle-Earth as they always had done.
"So...the great council comes out of its tower to fight like men?"
That voice. It commanded attention and drew the eyes of the council toward it. A man hooded and cloaked with a black staff in his right hand stood behind them, while the men and elves around him eyed him in doubt.
The head of the council at the time, Largath, looked at the man and knew right away who it was. "Graelath. Long has the council looked for you, your staff should have been destroyed long ago."
The old wizard stepped forward, raising his staff and was about to cast a spell when Graelath moved in, speaking rapidly in the tongue now only he knew. "Unin deniar {You will die!}!" Pointing his staff at the old wizard he shouted something unintelligible and the man, his eyes wide, fell backward, blood spurting from his mouth.
He was dead.
Eyes alight with fire; the hooded figure now pushed his hood back from his face, revealing a shock of red hair and black eyes. "You will all die!" Before anyone could fathom what was happening, he chanted again, quicker this time, and the wizards clutched their hearts.
One by one, they fell to the ground...dead.
Graelath looked around at the Elves and Men, who had not moved; who were not paying any attention to the battle raging at the foot of Mount Doom, and the cutting of the Ring from Sauron's hand went unnoticed.
"I have no qualms with you right now," the wizard said, turning and vanishing into the droves of reserves, never to be seen again.
END FLASHBACK
"My father was among those Elves who did not see the Ring cut from Sauron's hand, for they too were staring in awe at this wizard who had so easily killed the entire wizard council." Legolas stopped, letting his words sink in. "I, for one, have no trouble believing fully that Graelath is responsible for what befell my people."
He had spoken strong, but Aragorn could tell that the whole situation greatly troubled the elf. Legolas might have the ability to wield magic, but Aragorn knew the elf realized that his magic was not much compared to what Graelath displayed.
"I agree with Legolas," Aragorn said. "And that is why we have our work cut out for us. How are we to defeat someone as powerful as this man? I do not have any ideas right now, I only know that the fight will come to magic and only one of us can do magic." All eyes turned on Legolas, who was silent, and understandably sullen.
"Yes, I fear it will," the elf said simply.
