Cale au Aratar: 23

It was not often that he felt so helpless, as if he was failing all those around him – and indeed, this time he was. He was called the best healer in Arda, yet when it mattered he was not able to help; he had failed to save the life of his beloved wife and now he was failing to save the life of his prince, his king. Deep down he knew that it was not his fault, that there was no cure for a broken heart save the one that caused it but the sense of failure remained.

His body needed sleep, he could feel the weariness seeping through him with every heartbeat but he refused to sleep as long as there was still a chance for Legolas. None of them had slept more than a few hours since they had arrive in Minas Tirith but he himself hadn't slept at all during the last week when he had left in search for the fourth ring. Of course, he had rested his mind now and then but even that was not enough and he knew that he needed to sleep before his body took the rest it needed on its own.

"Thranduil, we have to allow his friends to see him, there is nothing more I can do for him, nothing more any of us can do."

The king of Eryn Lasgalen did not remove his eyes from his only surviving child as his friend spoke to him. Yes, he heard the words that were spoken, he even understood their meaning – but he would not allow himself to believe them. Believing them would mean giving up on his beloved Greenleaf, acknowledging that his son would die and that was something he would never do. How could he give up on his son when his son had in a similar situation refused to give up on him? He would not fail his son in such a way – and he knew that he was not the only one who thought that way. None of those who were holding vigil was willing to give up on the prince of Eryn Lasgalen, even Aragorn wanted him to live. While Elrond thought, hoped, that he was not aware who caused his sons heard to break he had known from the moment he had learned of his sons failing health who was the cause. He might not be blessed with foresight but he had still known from the moment Legolas had come back from his visit to Imladris and told him of the small Estel, that the small edain carried his sons heart, his happiness and his very life.

Yet he had also known from that very moment that he would be completely helpless if the edain ever managed to break his sons heart. Not for one moment had he believed, that Aragorn had broken his sons heart intentionally, that he had wanted his friend to suffer or even to die and it was only this knowledge that stopped him from taking the life of Gondors king. It didn't matter that he thought of the new king as something like a grandchild, or great grandchild as he had seen in Arathron a grandson. He had once seen Saruman as a friend and it was Saruman who had ordered to kill his son. Not only that but he had also created a cross between men and orcs and had brewed the most horrible poison ever invented. Already more then two weeks had passed since he had send out some of his guards to hunt down the traitor and he knew that by now they had to have found him and were bringing him back to Gondor.

"Than let them in, my friend – but give up on him yet. I know that he will survive, I know that I will hear his voice again, that I will kneel before him when he is crown our king!"

As he spoke the last words Thranduil had raised his head to look directly at his friend and his eyes were filled with determination.

"Let them see my son in his weakened state, not because he could be dying but to make them understand. Make them understand that even though we are immortal we can die – easier perhaps even than them."

For a moment Elrond faltered before he pulled himself with visible effort together and stepped to the door. Before he opened it he turned around and surveyed those assembled in the chamber. Almost the whole ilsa tirnoë stood lined up along the walls and even though they had stood that way since the day they had arrived all of them still carried their numerous weapons. No, not all of them: both his twin sons had placed their weapons on the ground next to Legolas bed when they had assisted them calling onto the rings. Cuilya – he had never believed that Celebrimbor could have forged a ring even more powerful than his own. The power of the last Ring had shocked him to his core. He, like everyone else, had felt the power that rolled from Legolas as he had awakened the ring but different than all except the other two ring-bearers he had also felt his own ring strengthening. Absentmindedly he looked down on his own hand. Vilya was sparkling and pulsing with power like it had never done before. Even when he had received the Ring from Gil-Galad on the eve of the battle of Mount Doom did the ring shine like this. Yes, Legolas had told him that only Cuilya could unlock the true power of the other three rings but he had not expected that it would make such a difference.

Being a ring-bearer he was able to see the ring on his prince' hand and he marvelled not for the first time how no-one had noticed the affection the smith had had for the young elf. Looking at the ring it was clear to him, that Celebrimbor must have loved Legolas as much as he had loved Galadriel and he wondered if Legolas had been aware of those feelings. He had to have been, how else was it to explain, that Legolas had been able to see – and apparently feel – the death of the smith? He knew, that he would most likely never receive an answer, even if Legolas would survive but he would always wonder.

All eyes turned to him as he stepped out of the bedroom, all eyes were questioning, fearing, hoping and for a moment he wished to be anywhere but where he stood.

"You can see Legolas – but I warn you, he is not conscious and he will most likely not survive the next night...the dead are awaiting him yet fear his coming. If he still lives after the next dawn he will stay among us."

Without an other word he turned around but left the door open behind him, knowing that once his words had sunken in the others would follow. Gimli was the first who came out of his stupor and followed him. He felt the dwarf stiffen behind him as his eyes fell on his friend. Had Legolas before been pale, paler than he already normally was, was he now barely visible among the white bed-sheets. His golden hair fanned out around his overly pale face, his bright blue eyes were closed and his lips were nearly as white as the rest of his skin. They had foregone to dress him in his usually sleeping cloths the when they had changed the bandages after the invocation of the rings and had instead they had opted to clad him in a short silver tunic that was closed with soft strings of silk and was easily to change.

As soon as he had entered the room Gimli thought that even near death the elf looked perfect. Yes, he was paler than before, deadly so and his glow had considerably dimmed to the point where it was barely showing and yet the elf looked just as majestic as the first time he had seen him. When he had travelled with his father to Rivendell he would have never thought that he might wish to exchange his own life for that of an elf, any elf. But as he saw his friend lying on his bed he wished to lay there in his stead. He was mortal, he was supposed to die someday but the elf should live till the end of time. Even a year ago he would not have cared if this elf had died but now, now that elf was his best friend and he would do everything in his power to save him – only that there was nothing he could do. Looking around he saw that no-one was paying attention to him, all eyes were fixed on the elf and he marvelled how much trust they put in him. Of course there was no way that he could beat an elf in battle, he had no illusions about that fact, but still they trusted him enough to pay him no attention while he was in the room of their prince. His father would be shocked and furious to see him here, standing unconcernedly in a room full of elves, king Thranduil included.

Slowly he walked over to the bed, choosing deliberately the side on which Legolas father was sitting and spoke to his friend softly in Khuzdul. It didn't matter if the elf could hear him but he had to tell him how much he cared for his friend, how much he honoured him – and how much he would miss him if the other should indeed die.

The hobbits were the next to enter the room, each looking sadder and more scared than the others. They had seen death during the quest, they had even killed but never, never had they believed that Legolas their elven companion could die, especially after the ring was destroyed. None of them spoke as they hurried over to the bed and climbed on it on the foot-end, there was nothing they could say, nothing that could save their friend. When the earth had trembled and the sky had been filled with storm, lightning and rain they had hoped that there was still a chance left for their friend to survive – but now that they saw him they were no longer sure. The elf had always been so full of life, so playful and always there to sing for them or tell them some tales. When Gandalf had fallen in Moria it had been Legolas who told them about the numerous times he had met the Istar and had thereby eased their grief a little bit. They missed his voice, his laughter and feared that they might never hear it again.

Slowly the room filled around them with all those who had previously waited in the outer room. Each of the new-comers. Mortal and immortal alike entered the room, fearful of what they would find, fearful, that when they would leave the room again its occupant would no longer be among them. Pain was etched into the face of Eowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan. When she had first met the fair prince her cousin had just hours ago died in her arms and not long ago her uncle had also died in her arms. While she still grieved for their death and would grief for them as long as she was alive, just as she still grieved for her parents, did she know that they had been supposed to die. They had been mortal, just like she and her brother were, but Legolas... Legolas was an elf, he should live forever, he wasn't supposed to die and she felt that his death would be needless. The war was over and there should be no more death still there he lay dying not of the wound his body had received during the battle, not even any longer from the poison. No, he was dying because his friend had broken his heart.

There was absolutely no need for his death, no need for the proud prince to die – except that he was wounded in the one way that could not be healed. But what use would his death have? The race of the Eldar would vanish from the shores of Arda to become a legend, a myth and soon be forgotten. She could see it in the eyes, on the faces of each of the Elves that they would leave if the prince should die, not one of them would survive him, she was even sure that Lady Arwen would slowly fade. Could Lord Aragorn, no King Elessar not see that not only his friend but also his foster father and brothers, all of his immortal friends and even his bride were slowly dying? It would not be one person who would die but a whole race!

As she raised her eyes from the still form of the Elven prince her gaze caught that of her brother who stood next to Aragorn. For a faint moment Eomer seemed caught in the steely gaze of his sister and he was almost sure that he could hear her thoughts, hear what she knew had to be done. With new resolve he tore his eyes from his sisters and turned to the king of Gondor:

"Do you remember what you said to hour people as we stood before the Black Gate? I will remind you what you said that day!

Sons of Gondor, of Rohan. My brothers.

I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!

A day may come, when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of Fellowship, but it is not this day!

I ask you now, Aragorn, has the day come for you that you forsake your friends and break these bonds? Or will you fight as you told us that day to do?"

Aragorn looked shocked at Eomer as he heard his words repeated to him. Had it really gone so far? Had he really forsaken his friend and broken the bonds of fellowship? With fear he realised that he was close to destroy the friendship, the very life he had held dear for nearly as long as he could remember. AS he straightened his shoulders he looked into his friends eyes and answered him with the words he had used before the last battle:

"But it is not this day! Thos day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you, stand, men of the West!"

A smile graced Eomers face as he stepped out of Aragorns way and allowed him to step to the bed.

With baited breath all those who knew what Aragorns roll in the failing health of Legolas was waited to see what he would do. Smiles flickered over some of their faces, frowns over others as he didn't halt at one of the chairs that surrounded the bed but instead laid down next to the dying prince. Even those Elves who were sitting directly next to the bed had to strain their ears to hear even small parts of what Aragorn was whispering into his friends right ear.

"You can't leave us my friend, we need you, we need you to make us smile, to make us laugh. Who will be there to fight with me till I am exhausted when I am nervous? Who will teach the children I want to have together with Arwen what true friendship means when you are no longer here? What will happen to Althilwen when you die? Do you want the woman you love to die from grief? She would not be the only one, your father, her parents, your whole families would fade without you."

Tears were leaking out of Aragorns eyes while he spoke and he didn't notice. He didn't notice that he grasped one of the limp hands of his friends or that his other was stroking the hair of his friend. All he knew was that he could not let his friend die, that he would not cease to fight till he opened his eyes again or till he stopped breathing.

"Please, Legolas, I need you, you can't leave me! You were the one who showed me that life was worth living for when I had learned of my heritage and was banished from Imladris. You were the one who did not scorn me my love for Arwen.

At Helms Deep I was so afraid, afraid that we would loose, that I had led Gimli and you to your deaths, afraid that Arwen had really left for the Undying lands. But most of all I was afraid that I would fail. I did not realise it then but I wanted it all to end, I wanted to be free of my destiny, of my fears, of my duties and guilt. For moments I thought that it would be easier to just die that night, I wished to die that night... And as usual I told you that but I was to angry and to afraid to tell you of my fears and instead lashed out at you.

When I was a child you often told me that I should not react with anger when I was afraid – and yet that is what I did. I hurt one of the most important persons in my life, I hurt you my best friend beyond repair because I reacted with anger, with fury to my pain.

I beg you to live – not because of me or anyone else but because of you: you are more worth than to die just because I wasn't able to control my fear. I am not worth your death! Yes, I know that you would disagree with me, but as you would tell me that you are not worth my death – and don't deny it, you have often told me that – I tell you now that I am not worth your death. You are more worth to me than my life.

Please come back to us, come back to me – I need you as my friend, as my brother, my confident... and even my father. You have been all that to me, please be continue to be there for me, for I am lost without you!"

The Return of the King movie script