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Cale au Aratar



A wave of panic swept over him as he awoke, he wasn't able to see and everything around him was dark. For a few brief moments he asked himself if he had already died, before his other senses awoke and told his mind, that he was in pain – and therefor still alive. Only then did he remember that he no longer slept with his eyes open as was the way of the elves – the healthy elves he corrected himself, but had his eyes closed.

As he lay in his bed, his eyes still closed as he feared the pain that opening them would undoubtedly bring he contemplated his life. Even for an elf or an Elven prince his life had been unusual. For the first decade of his life he had just been the prince of Eryn Lasgalen, first and only child of crown prince Thranduil and princess Silruinel; then when he had turned twelve he had had a first vision of the Aratar, telling him that he would be the High King of ALL Elves. Only weeks later he had been visited by Aule and gave him that oath in a moment of childish curiosity. At that time he had not known what it would take to keep that oath – he had cursed himself many times in later years for giving it – but now he knew, that it had been one of the wisest decisions of his life.

The friendship with Gimli was worth all the quarrels he had had with his father over his behaviour towards dwarfs. It was almost comical, that his father had a liking to jewels that rivalled that of a dwarf but disliked them more then any other elf he knew. Hopefully Gimli would change that.

His thoughts drifted from Gimli to Aragorn and he inwardly frowned as he reflected on his friends behaviour. He had seen the Rings influence on the heir of Isildur: it did not make him desire the Ring but doubt himself. Just as Boromir tried to claim the One to help defend and rebuilt Gondor and lost himself in the process, Aragorn lost all hope and his will to life. Only in Helm's Clam and later at the path of the dead did he regain his confidence, his will to fight.

But even now that Aragorn had regained his confidence he was not able to forgive him: his friend had been so lost in his own misery, that he had completely forgotten about Arwen. No, that was not right, he had not forgotten about Arwen Legolas mused, he had just taken the easy way out, telling himself, that it was enough to denounce his bond with Arwen before he had left and being therefor free to loose himself to death.

Unbeknownst to both Aragorn and Arwen he had been in the gardens that evening before they had left Imladris. He had heard as Aragorn tried to persuade Arwen to leave for Valinor – did Aragorn not know, that Arwen would die even if she travelled to the Undying Lands? That she would have faded even sooner because she was separated from him, her one true love?

How could his friend be so ignorant, he had been raised by elves and yet he was able to act as if he knew nothing of the first born.

True, he himself also went on this quest, but he had known that he was the only one who was able to fill that place, the only one of the elves who would be able to resist the One long enough to have a chance to come back. Althilwen had also known this, they both had known the chance of that happening since the day Isildur claimed the Ring.

Nearly wincing in pain Legolas opened his eyes and turned his head to his side, where he knew Althilwen was watching over him. Her blue eyes were glazed over, indicating that she was asleep, but even in sleep they were shown in brilliance. While Celebrian had come after her father Celeborn, Althilwen was almost the spitting image of her mother. She had the same eyes, the same nose, the same mouth... but she had the silver hair of her father and older sister.

A smile formed on his tired face as he remembered when they had first met: she had still been a child, at least in the eyes of the elves, not even fifty , while he had already been a fully trained warrior. His first taught when he saw her had been that he had was looking at the only girl that would bring him happiness. At that time he had not known, that she was the daughter of the Lady of the Light, the bearer of Vilya, he had just known that she was the most beautiful elleth he had ever seen.

That evening they had been officially introduced and it took only a few moments before it was clear for everyone present that one day the two of them would marry. Now more then three thousand years later they would finally be bound to each other – if he was able to fight the poison that cursed through his body.

Luimîr stood already next to him before he noticed him, a new wave of panic rushed over him at this, as he normally would haven been able to hear a falling leave on the other side of the castle.

"My king, how are you?"

Luimîr must have also noticed his inattentiveness as it was seldom that his uncle called him his king.

"You would not believe me, if I told you that I'm fine, would you, uncle?"

The older elf smiled slightly at his nephews question, true, Legolas looked like Thranduil, but other than that he was completely like his older sister Silruinel. He had the same sense of humour, the same fiery temper...

While his sister had the red hair to mach her temper, Legolas her son looked almost innocent with his golden hair and brilliant blue eyes. But once he got angry his face lost all his innocence, putting even his fathers tantrums to shame. Luin Nor, Blue Fire, the name was well earned: once angry the elves eyes darkened in colour, gaining an almost violet shade and looked as if a fire had been lit behind them.

Gil-Galad had been the one who had given his successor his name after he had learned first hand why it was better to never anger the heir of Thranduil and Silruinel. For everyone but Gil-Galad and Legolas it had been an amusing occasion, Gil-Galad was not able to see anything remotely funny as he had been the one who had been wounded in body and pride by a mere child and Legolas was to annoyed to see anything amusing.

Gil-Galad had travelled with his court to Eryn Lasgalen to meet the elf who should become his heir and was resting within the borders of Orophers realm near the outskirts of the wood, when a small elfling had picked up his bow. Believing to be confronted with an elleth Gil-Galad had made a remark, that the bow was much to big and heavy for such a small girl when her face had turned a remarkable shade of red and she had fired an arrow at him. Everyone was shocked, when the arrow found his mark in the left shoulder of the king.

The child had only remarked, that that should teach the arrogant elf a lesson and if he didn't want an arrow in his heart he should think before speaking and had disappeared into the treas.

It was a shocked group of Noldor that entered the palace of Eryn Lasgalen two days later. When they had asked king Oropher who the small girl had been he had looked at them questioningly and had not been able to answer. Only when they went later to the archery grounds to meet the Prince Legolas for whom they had come did they notice their mistake.

Needless to say that it had taken years before a friendship had formed between Legolas and Gil-Galad.

It pained him to see Legolas in such a state, so helpless and on the brink of dying. He was not sure, if Thranduil would survive his son long enough to name an heir if Legolas would really pass away. All that had held the king of Eryn Lasgalen after the death of his wife and daughter had been his son: even though his heart had started to break he had been able to pull himself together and survive to be a father for his only child and a king for Eryn Lasgalen, as only months ago his own father Oropher had fallen at the slopes of Mount Doom.

Many thought Thranduil heartless but he was just no longer able to express himself as freely as he had been able to before his heart had started to break. As he was now looking at Legolas he saw the same look of helpless heartbreak he had seen in the eyes of his brother in law and he could only hope, that there was still a way to reverse it, to mend the wounds that had been cut into his nephews heart.

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