Cale au Aratar 19

His mind told him that he was still alive, no, that was not correct, his mind told him that he was not yet insane, that he had not yet lost completely control over it even though his breaking heart had already forced his body into unconsciousness. Time held no longer a meaning for him, all he knew, all he felt was pain and the differing wish to die or to live. He was not aware how much time had passed since his awareness of the outside world had left him, since he had become a prisoner of his own mind held by pain and true and false memories. Often he saw himself surrounded by friends long passed believing them at his side until his mind, the still sane part of his mind, managed to dominate his thoughts and let him remember their deaths. At other times he saw his friends dying around him, dying even though he knew that they were still alive. He had wanted to cry out in anguish when his mother and sister had come to him, their bodies mutilated as they had been when he had found them, telling him that he could have saved them that it was his fault they were dead and that he had to pay for failing them tearing his beloved Althilwen from his arms and killing her before his eyes.

Yet his body had no longer the strength to call out.

He could not call for help when he had to watch his friends, friends he knew still lived, being tortured and killed, could not call for his father that he was still alive, that he had not yet given up fighting. Sometimes he heard his friends talking, even felt them sitting at his side but he was to weak to bring his body out of its unconsciousness. As his mind told him that he was still alive it also told him that he was fast fading, every breath, every beat of his heart bringing him closer to death. Some part of him told him that he should be afraid but he could not discern of what he should be afraid. Should he fear that the poison reached his mind before his heart completely shattered? Should he fear that he would be turned like those before him who had come into contact with Morgoths Tears before him? Had he to fear surviving more than dying? He was no longer sure, worse yet he could no longer find it in him to care. The only conscious thought, wish that was left within him was for the pain, the unspeakable anguish to end no matter if in death or insanity.

Contemplating he looked around the room his eyes sweeping over a dwarf, hobbits, men ...and elves. Never would he have imagined that he would be together in a room with an elf, least of all so many, some of them the most powerful beings in Arda. A grim smile flickered over his face as his gaze came to rest on Lady Galadriel, mere months ago he had called her a witch and now he was sitting here admiring her calm and beauty. As if sensing his gaze she turned to him her deep blue eyes boring into his very soul before she smiled at him and turned once again to her husband.

So much had changed since that morning when he and his men had encountered Aragorn, Gimli...and Legolas on the planes of Rohan. He had disliked the elf at first – or at least he had tried to tell himself that it was dislike and not fear and shock that a being could be at the same time so beautiful and deadly. Till that day he had prided himself to be an exceptional warrior, that no-one could surprise him but he hadn't even seen the elf draw his arrow yet not even a blink of an eye after he had insulted the dwarf he found an arrow pointing in his face. Had it not been for his men he was not sure what he would have done. When he had returned to Helms Deep on Gandalf's urging he had been shocked to encounter so many elves who were fighting – and dying – for his home. Eowyn had told him later that day that Legolas was not just a warrior of his people but a prince. Now though he wondered if the elf really was just one of the Elven-princes or if he was not the Elven prince. He had seen how the other Elves acted around him, how they guarded him and not all of them came from the prince's kingdom.

So much had changed since that day he had met the Three Hunters, Mordor had fallen – as had Isengard, so many people had died fighting for their freedom his uncle king Theoden and his cousin Theodred among them – should this Elven warrior follow them now that there was peace? What was there he could do to help if not even the prince's own race could help him? The healing abilities of the Elves were famed even though the Eldar had long been feared by the people of Rohan, there had to be something that could be done to aid the prince.

He had barely spoken to the golden haired elf and he was not sure if it was because of his awe or because they had nothing to say to each other but he vowed to himself that when the elf would wake up he would make an effort to get to know him. When he woke up... he had never been overly optimistic on the contrary Theodred had often accused him to be the worst pessimist he had ever met but he refused to believe that the Elven prince would die.

Absentmindedly he raised a goblet of wine to his lips, not even caring that it was wine and not the ale he preferred to drink like most from Rohan did. He did not remember much of his parents even though he had been already allowed to carry small weapons when they died but one think was clearly on his mind as he took a sip of the wine. When they had been children their mother had told them tales of Elves, wonderful tales of graceful immortal beings who could control the very elements of Arda. He had always believed the tales to be just that but now he began to wonder. Had that really been just tales to tell the children or did they harbour some truth? When Legolas had still been conscious he had heard Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Gandalf and Gimli talk about the Elven Rings and he could not help but wonder if they could not be used to help Legolas.

"The Three are loosing their power, king Eomer..."

Startled Eomer looked up as he heard a soft voice inside his head, a voice that reminded him of the voice of Lady Galadriel. With narrowed eyes he looked at the graceful Elven Lady to find her eyes boring for moments into his before he once again heard the voice, her voice:

"Be at ease, Horse-Lord, you seek to help your friend as do we all. You wondered why we do not aid the prince with the three rings of power that are left ... even before the One was destroyed their power was fading, they alone would not be enough.

Eärendil's son has left in search for the fourth ring, a ring no-one but the prince knew of – maybe with its help we will be able to aid him...

Do not give up hope, Eomund's son, only Hope can safe Legolas and bring him back from the gate of Namos halls. Search for Hope King of Rohan, search for the Hope of Men, for only Hope can re-light the Blue Fire!"

It took all his control not to let his surprise – and fear – show as he realised that it really was the Lady of the Golden Wood that had just spoken to him inside of his head. What more could she do, were the rumours he had heard as a child and young warrior about her and her powers true? Could she really bewitch the mind and control others actions just with her will? Slowly, ever so slowly the words she had spoken to him entered his conscious mind. They could not use the Three Elven Rings to help Legolas but than why was Eärendil's son searching for a fourth ring? And who was Eärendil or his son? He knew that Eärendil was the name of a star but how could a star have a child?

Once again he let his eyes travel around the room, accessing who was present and who not. Despise Faramir and Haldir he knew that everyone else who was not in the room with him was with Legolas... except Lord Elrond who had left nearly a week ago. Could Lord Elrond be the one Lady Galadriel had spoken of? But how was he connected to Eärendil? And who or what was the hope of men? Of course he had heart that Elves liked to speak in riddles and only hint at important facts rather than telling them outright but he had never been the one who was spoken to in that way. Why couldn't she just tell him whom he needed to find – or what – in order to do something for his friend. Did he dare to call the Elven prince his friend? Had he earned that right? Yes, he mused that he had the right to call the other his friend or rather consider the Elf his friend no matter how the Elf saw him. Someone who was willing to die for him, his family and friends deserved to be called his friend.

How the world had changed in a few short months! Even half a year ago he thought himself as a simple soldier, third Marshal of the Riddermark. He had been suspicious of everything he did not know especially Elves. And now... now he was King of Rohan, friends with a dwarf, four hobbits of whom one was in his service, the king of Gondor ...and Elves. The very Elves he had feared not so long ago but also the Elves who trusted him to help saving their prince. He would do everything in his power to show them that he deserved the trust Lady Galadriel had placed in him, in the people of Rohan – and he knew whom he could ask for help: the one man who had known Elves all his life, who had grown up among them.

Aragorn was startled out of his thoughts as Eomer approached him, he had neglected the king of Rohan during the last few days, where he had been happy when he managed not to neglect his duties as the king of Gondor to much. If it hadn't been for Faramir Gondor would have been completely without a ruler.

"Aragorn"

Eomer greeted him his voice as solemn as everyone else's,

"Have you ever heard of the "hope of men"?"

For moments Aragorn just looked at his friend before he answered him reluctantly:

"Lord Elrond called me that when he brought Andruil to me... He had named me Estel, hope, when he took me in as his foster son after the death of my father..."

He trailed off, lost in memories, two sentences both spoken with a hint of despair, of resignation yet one – the first also spoken with pride and love: "Ónen i-Estel Edain" answered by himself with "Ú-chebin Estel anim" "I gave Hope to the men" "I have kept no hope for myself". How true these words were!

Yes, Elrond had given hope to the men, he had raised their king so that he could return to claim his throne yet he himself had never wanted the throne of Gondor and now he would loose his best friend to death. His only consolation was that he would finally be able to marry Arwen – but would Arwen still be able to love him when she knew that he caused the death of her friend and uncle? Would she still love him when her aunt and maybe even her grandparents faded from grief?

When he had had spoken those words to his foster father he had just had a dream in which Arwen told him that she had chosen a mortal life - and was therefor doomed to die – and Elrond had told him that Arwen was dying. He had had no hope to see the love of his life again. He could have lived with the thought that Arwen had sailed West, that she would live eternity without him but the mere thought of her dying left him hopeless and terrified.

Eomer's voice finally penetrated his thoughts and he tried to forget the despair he still felt even if it was for a different reason.

"So you are the Hope the Lady Galadriel spoke of!"

Puzzled Aragorn looked at his friend urging him to continue,

"She told me that only the hope of men could help Legolas. She must have meant you, that only you could save him."

Eomer did not know why he omitted Lady Galadriels last words why he did not tell Aragorn that she had called Legolas the Blue Fire but he felt that it was something he was not allowed to disclose to anyone. When he turned his eyes from the king of Gondor he was once again met with the glance of the Lady of the Light who seemed to urge him to follow on the path he had just entered.

Aragorn felt as if a heavy blow had been delivered to his heart, pressing it together and leaving him faint. Somewhere deep within him he had known that he was the one who had caused Legolas heart to break, had known that it would be at least partly his fault if his friend died... And yet he had still had the hope that he was wrong, that he was not the cause. Now hearing from Eomer that Galadriel thought that he was the only one who could help Thranduils son was nearly unbearable. How could he help Legolas when he was the cause for his fading? How could he un-break the heart of his friend when he didn't even knew exactly what he did to break it in the first place. Not only would he bear the responsibility of breaking his friends heart but he would also be responsible for not mending it while he still had the chance. How he wished that he had not been so fascinated with Legolas golden hair. Had he stayed away from him, had he not tried to win the friendship of the prince of Eryn Lasgalen Legolas would live.

Even though Saruman was responsible for Legolas poisoned wound he had committed far greater blunder, had hurt his friend much deeper than any arrow or sword ever could. He knew that there was no forgiveness for his actions, that even if Legolas should ever be able to forgive him he himself could not. Morosely he continued his thoughts asking himself if his friend would survive or even wake up for a last time. A new, equally depressing thought entered his guilt-filled mind: did he even have the right to marry Arwen after everything he had done to Legolas? Did he have the right to see his greatest wish fulfilled when his friend was dying through his fault? Worse yet, would he also break Arwen's heart in a moment of ignorance? Had he the right to risk the life's of those he loved just so he could be happy – not caring what he did to them? Yet he knew that Arwen had already chosen. Her life was tied to his, his death would also mean the end of her life... and should he abandon her she would fade within days if not sooner. He did not know how Legolas was able to hold on for so long, what gave him the strength to continue living while his heart was breaking and a poison slowly killed his body.

Haldir had said that it was because of his love for Lady Althilwen and his oath to Frodo that he was still alive but from what Legolas had said to him in the gardens he had gained the impression that it was also because of him, because he had sworn to both of his parents and also to himself that he would be there for him on his coronation. Didn't the rapidly worsening of his friends condition now that the coronation had passed support his fear?