Darkness.
Haziness.
Emptiness.
There was nothing else. He could not open his eyes, and his chest hurt. Whether he was able to moan or not, Aragorn did not know, but he thought a sound escaped his lips. It could have been his imagination. All he knew was that there was nothing else; all he could think about was taking his next breath. He did so now...and grimaced in pain.
His body involuntarily started when a hand was laid on his forehead; the hand was hot, too hot for his already sweltering body. He tried to move away from it, but the hand would not let him get away.
"Easy, Aragorn, easy. We are here now." A deep, familiar voice drifted into his thoughts, but whose it was he could not decipher. It hurt too much.
"How is he?" a softer voice, but just as deep penetrated his consciousness. He still could not open his eyes.
"His fever is going down, I think..." the first voice replied. A cool, soothing cloth was placed on his blistered brow. Aragorn, even in his groggy state, sighed contentedly. Water spilled into his throat, washing away the scratchy, broken pain he could not remember the beginning of.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity to him, Aragorn slowly, but surely forced his eyes open. Nothing was in focus, but there was light. Then there were shadows. The voices however, continued.
"He's coming around, Elrond."
"Aragorn?"
The first that he saw clearly was a blue ring near his eye, one that was familiar. The hand it belonged to stroked his hair out of his face. "Ion-nin? Come back to the light. Come back."
Aragorn blinked, and suddenly all was clear. "Adar? Legolas?"
"It is I, Aragorn. Lord Thranduil is with me." There was a pause, as the information sunk in.
"Lord Thandu...?" Aragorn rasped, his strength not allowing him to speak.
"It's alright, Ranger," the king replied playfully. "You're going to be fine."
"We are here with you, son. Everything's alright now."
Aragorn sighed, content at his father's voice. He knew all was safe, and his mind allowed him to drift to a now peaceful slumber.
A few hours later...
Legolas stopped at the entranceway. He heard the voices of the kings inside, quietly discussing his friend's condition. He sighed and closed his eyes. How could he face them? How could he tell them what he had done?
With the thought, the floor spun beneath him. He braced himself against the wall, shutting his eyes against the swaying. He touched the bandage around his head, trying to stop the throbbing that had occurred so many times since they had returned.
After a few moments, the ache stopped and though still shaky, he was able to let go of the wall and stand again. He couldn't understand what was happening to him; Lord Elrond had told him to be careful, as the head-wound would take time to heal, and cause dizziness and nausea...but surely it should have started improving by now? It had been a week since their journey, yet there was very little sign of improvement. Legolas knew he had probably been out of bed longer than he should have today, but this was something he needed to do. It had to come out.
Legolas pushed himself away from the marble wall and pulled back the curtain. Aragorn was still laying on his bed, the same as he had been for a week, but now Thranduil was there beside him as well, his own wounds healed enough to enable him to assist Lord Elrond in caring for the ranger.
The ranger...the Dunedan...the heir of Isildur...the friend of all friends. There, lying on the intricately carved bed, was the man Legolas could never have lived without. There was so much they had been through together, so many dreams they had longed for together...so many hopes they had striven for together. Legolas gazed down at the paneled floor, memories of all emotions flooding over him. Being an only child had taught him one thing: he longed for companionship, for someone to share his joys with when parent and guardian could not be there...he had always longed for a brother...a kindred spirit...he had found one in Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Strider, Ranger from the North. The elf sighed, despondently.
Legolas' eyes fell on his father's face, still unaware of his presence. How often he had seen that noble face looking down on him at night, when nightmares had haunted him, when he had needed comfort...his was the face and the hands and the strength, that had held him close and been there for him. Legolas hastily wiped an unwanted tear away, berating himself for crying like a little lad. How could he hope for a better father? How could he say that there was anything lacking from him?
Thranduil turned slightly, and caught his son's shadow out of the corner of his eye. "Legolas! Your friend is doing well, his fever broke this morning...Legolas?" the king stopped suddenly, his brows creasing with worry. He stood and nearly bounded to his son, who still stood in the doorway, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. "Sit down, Legolas, you're not well."
Legolas' eyes snapped up, breaking from his trail of thoughts. "I'm fine, Adar, honest." He didn't resist Thranduil's pulling however, and allowed himself to be seated on the large chair out of the broad sunlight coming through the window.
"I'm the healer, I'll tell you when you are fine," Elrond and Legolas could sense the parental fluster in Thranduil's voice. "Stay there," he commanded, and hurried over to the side table where the bandages lay.
"Adar, I'm fine!" Legolas protested.
"Silence. You're bleeding again." He sat down next to his son and proceeded to remove the head wrap.
"What?" Legolas was startled to find blood running down his temple. "Oh," he agreed, and did not resist anymore.
He could feel Elrond staring at him, boring a hole in him with his dark eyes. He could not help but feel the lord's powerful gaze engulfing him, as an ocean engulfs the grain of sand. He did not look up, afraid that the elf-lord had already guessed his purpose here.
But neither could he look to the side, his father fixed him with a similar stare, one he was familiar with very well. He closed his eyes as he felt his father's gentle hands re-administer the bandages to the wound. He knew he was anxiously awaiting his son's purpose. He didn't want to say anything, but Legolas knew it would have to come out soon.
Thranduil continuously glanced at his son, anxious for his condition; over the past few days and weeks, Legolas had slowly seemed to become weaker, and his eyes had lost their shine...his spirit had deteriorated. When Elrond had first seen to the injured band, he had been more concerned about his friend's shoulder wound, so the Silvan had submitted humbly, assuming that Legolas' injury was not severe. But as the days passed, the prince had not improved by much. It worried both fathers.
They had seen it too many times before...elves dying of inward pain...taking hundreds of years to die...a tortuous decaying of the soul, more horrific than the physical. It tore them apart every time they had witnessed it. And now that Aragorn was officially on the mend, they immediately turned their attention to the young prince.
Thranduil tied off the bandage. "There," he trimmed off the excess and stood. "That should do for awhile." He bent over the blonde head, a sudden concern on his strong features. "You can open your eyes now, son."
Legolas blinked a few times, as if he found it difficult to focus. He looked up at his father standing over him. "Pardon?" he asked.
Thranduil knew he had heard him. Nevertheless, an awkward smile broke the concerned look. "I'm finished. You're free to go."
The blue eyes dropped distractedly. "Oh...aye, of course." The prince stood and made his way to Aragorn's side.
The ragged breathing that had so worried him had now calmed into a steady and even rhythm. Legolas sat down next to the sleeping man, now oblivious to the presence of his mentors. He stared at the young brother he had chosen to protect; his slender hand stroked the dark, stray hairs away from the closed eyes.
The thoughts ran through his mind as it had so many times during the past days and nights. The choice that had laid before him...the decision he had made...the one he had betrayed...
Betrayed...
The word thumped in his mind again...traitor...traitor...Traitor!
Legolas' eyes flickered, as he suddenly felt lightheaded, and struggled to keep upright.
"Legolas!" Thranduil's hand on his arm helped him to refocus. "Adar?"
"Legolas, you're not well," the voice was commanding and resolute.
"Perhaps I rushed him to soon," Elrond's voice came from behind him. "We should help him back to his room—"
"—No, I'm alright." Legolas stood, with aid from his father.
"No, you're not alright, ion-nin. I thought for a moment you were going to collapse alongside your friend! You need rest."
Legolas did not have the will or strength to resist. He closed his eyes to still the swaying he felt, and braced himself to concentrate. When all was relatively still, he opened his eyes, and exhaled, relieved the thoughts had stopped.
"Are you alright now?" Thranduil stooped to look in his face. Legolas nodded and looked up at the noble face gazing at him.
'NO!' It was worse! Studying Aragorn was torture enough, but looking at his father...
"TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR!"
His eyes went wide in overpowering shock and dismay at what he had done. He nearly fell into his father's arms, his mind racing, pounding until suddenly...there was nothing.
Everything went blank...no more memories...no more family...no more torture...
Legolas collapsed.
Chapter EightHe awoke tasting blood. Subconsciously, he realized that he had to open his eyes, something he had never had to do before.
Legolas didn't know how long he had been laying here. The worried voices of the other elves in the room told him that he had been longer than normal.
"Adar?" Legolas' voice was weak.
Thranduil rushed to his side. "Legolas...don't try to talk now, son." A hand stroked his brow, a comforting gesture to his perturbed mind. A damp cloth sponged away the thin stream of blood running from his mouth, a fair sign of hemorrhaging.
"Adar, I have to tell you...I have to..."
"Shh," his father quieted him gently. "You don't have to tell me anything. I know why you are not feeling well; it was a hard decision to make."
Legolas sighed and winced, tears choking in his throat. His father didn't know how hard it had been, and how it was still affecting him. He didn't!
"Son," Thranduil continued lovingly. "It is over now. Thank the Valar the outposts noticed the wild-men approaching and came to our rescue when we did. Thank the Valar that both of us are still here with you." A softness, an understanding came into the king's eyes as he sat by his son's side. There was a slight pause, as Thranduil confronted the apparent truth.
"I knew what had to be said. You had a duty to the world...Aragorn is the Heir; you could not give him up."
Legolas went blank, not sure what to say or feel. "Father, I..."
"Nay, enough. I do not wish to know. You did what you thought was best. You taught me something...even if you love someone, you must put others before yourself. Even though I am your father, I come second place to the protection of this world."
Legolas brows furrowed, confusion flooding his mind. This wasn't right, it was not how he had planned it at all...
"Had you chosen to end Aragorn's life, the prophecy could not have been fulfilled. You did well, ion-nin, very well."
Legolas did not answer. His face was blank and unemotional; Thranduil could not read his expression. The blue eyes looked away, and they seemed confused and distraught.
Thranduil decided to leave the issue for now. "Rest now, Legolas. Your guilt has caused your mind to overpower you; you had a slight hemorrhaging, that is why you collapsed. If you stay in bed for a few days, and don't do anything strenuous, your strength will return."
The prince only nodded slowly.
Thranduil looked at his son lying mournfully under the blankets. His love was stirred when Legolas pulled the covers up to his chin and turned on his side, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Thranduil's heart ached for his son. How could he have ever given up Oropher, his own father? The king shuddered to think, and yet, his own son had been forced to do so for the benefit of all the peoples of Middle-Earth. Thranduil knew there were no true words of comfort for his son; he would have to forgive himself, when he was ready.
Thranduil made one final effort to comfort and distract his son from the terrors he knew he must be facing. He leaned closer over Legolas' head. "I never did tell you about your mother, Legolas...would you...I could tell you our story when your feeling up to it?"
Legolas rolled over again, a strange look on his face, one that Thranduil could never hope to read or understand. But he nodded slowly, and attempted to smile. There was a momentary silence, as father and son gazed at each other solemnly. Finally, Legolas broke the silence. "I'd like to learn from you, Adar. Tell me soon."
"I will, son. I will. There is so much I need to tell you. So much you need to know about me...and her...about us."
As he spoke, Legolas' eyes glazed slowly, the sound of his father's soothing voice carrying his tired mind off into a calm, dark world of temporary peace and comfort. Thranduil smiled, and ran his gentle fingers through the soft, blonde hair lying on the pillow. His heart, though grieved by his son's trial, was glad...his question had been answered. His son was ready for the arduous task that lay before him...once he himself had passed on...
Chapter Nine"Mellon?" Aragorn stood beside the window, gazing at Legolas standing on the veranda.
The elf did not turn at the sound. No indication at all was given that he had even heard him.
Aragorn's brows creased in curiosity. "Legolas?"
The elf started and turned his head. "Oh...Mae govannen, Aragorn. Are they all prepared?"
"Aye," the Ranger approached the banister alongside the elf and leaned his weight on it, casually, his silver-blue eyes scanning the courtyard below them. Upon command from their captain, the elven riders below them swiftly mounted with one accord, and sped out from the gate into the woods...into the unknown future that awaited them.
The prince sighed when they had gone. "I wish I could go with them," he said despondently, then his voice dropped to a whisper. "Perhaps I could put an end to the nightmare..."
Aragorn did not miss it however. He did not look up, but his entire countenance was one of thought, and contemplation. He decided to continue with his original purpose in seeking out his friend. He would have to tell him sometime anyway...
"You're father told me everything," he began, quietly. "...About how you gave him up for my life..."
Legolas looked at the Dunedan askance. There was an uncomfortable pause. Legolas did not know what to say.
His friend did it for him. "But that's not how it happened, is it?"
Legolas quickly pulled his eyes down to the view below him, growing more uncomfortable by the minute.
Aragorn shifted his position, and gazed straight at him, sincerity and sympathy clearly written on his face. "I know, Legolas. I don't know how I could ever give up Elrond...and you knew that I wouldn't want you to betray Thranduil. You knew that I would want you to turn me over to them...and I don't blame you. It's a true heart that would put his country's destiny over his own wants and desires...I know your love for me, Legolas, and I want to you to understand that I harbor no hard feelings against you for sacrificing me...that's what I would have wanted you to do. The choice was well made...your people need their king. I can't stand in the way of that, regardless of how much we love each other."
The only answer he received, was the solitary tear that spilled down the prince's cheek. A breeze suddenly blew, stirring his hair and mantle, making a mournful, but beautiful sight to any beholder.
Aragorn knew that his task of comfort was complete. He had showed his friend that there was no guilt to be felt on his part...he had done what any prince of Mirkwood should have done; he had stood beside his king, no matter what the cost. Aragorn was proud of him. Gently, Barahir rested on the silk-covered shoulder, assuring its owner that his love and friendship would never wane.
With no more words to be said by either, Aragorn left his friend standing there on the porch, cloak flowing behind him, silver tear on his cheek, unspoken dismay and bewilderment in his heart...
Legolas had never known such grief in all his years...
A few hours later...
The Master of Imladris re-checked his belongings. Time was precious: he had been away from his own people long enough, and was in a rush to return to his homeland, and the twins. He sighed subconsciously; he hoped there was no trouble in his land. With the warriors gone to finish off the wild-men, his heart rested easier, but he could not help but wonder if similar events had happened in Rivendell while he was away. He shook his head, clearing his mind of pessimism.
A soft sound made his tapered ears perk up. His dark eyes quickly scanned up, and were immediately surprised to see the fair prince wander through the door.
"Legolas?" he questioned, not unkindly. "Is there something wrong? You're not feeling poorly again, are you?"
Legolas did not look at him. He seemed distracted, off-track, wandering aimlessly. "Hm?" he asked, not sure at first what the lord had said. "Oh...no, thank you, I'm...doing much better now."
The elder's dark brows narrowed somewhat disbelievingly. He said nothing, but kept his eye on the young one, as he aimlessly walked around the room, seeming to gaze intently at the accents and articles of the room that Elrond knew were as familiar to him as his own two hands.
Legolas meandered his way around the guest quarters, and then abstractedly stopped by the bed, next to Elrond, and peculiarly began to trace the design of the coverlet with his finger.
Elrond looked at him accusingly. "My prince, what is on your mind?"
Legolas needed no second prodding. "Master, how do I tell them?" he gasped out, the desperation clinging hard to every syllable he poured out. "One thinks I gave up the other, and the other thinks I gave him up! They both believe that they sacrificed themselves for the other...how do I tell them..." The prince sank onto the bed in utter despair. "How do I tell them the truth, when the truth is the most painful thing they will ever hear?"
Elrond was silent, his heart aching with sympathy and feelings for the youth before him. He was too young to deal with such hurt and guilt...
He inhaled, his advice immediately ready to be given when asked for. "You don't."
Legolas looked up at him in complete shock. "What?"
"You don't tell them the truth. You simply refrain from telling them anything."
"I don't understand, Maser..."
"Each is in your good grace, each believes that he gave himself up...Can you imagine their guilt if the one found out that he almost cost the other his life?"
Legolas shook his head slowly.
"Knowing your father as long as I have, I believe that if you told him that you saved him and gave up Aragorn...it would devastate him. Your father would do anything to protect the youth, and especially that one. He knows what Aragorn means to the world. It may cause him to suffer the way you did...maybe even to death."
Legolas listened intently, his eyes focused on the marble floor, as he considered the ancient elf's words.
"If on the other hand, you told Estel that he had killed your father...he would never be able to forgive himself. He admires your father almost as much as he does you or I...it would kill him inwardly knowing that he had sacrificed an immortal one, especially your father."
Elrond moved in front of Legolas, forcing him to look up at him. "Don't you see, lad. Let each believe his own story. It would only do more harm than good to tell them otherwise. In fact, it could even be deadly. You would only cause them more pain, know-ing that they had been the reason for the other's death. How could you live with yourself...if Garthond's threat had been fulfilled?"
Legolas nodded adamantly now. "I understand what you are saying, Master. I can't cause them the same pain I have had recently. I am sparing them pain and grief...something I wish could have been done for me..." He suddenly snapped his head up, staring Elrond in the eye, a new flourish of dismay on his face. "But I must tell someone! I can't hide it within myself any longer, I can't!"
"Tell me." The elf lord sat down on the edge of the bed beside the youth, all kingship temporarily gone. Only the father was there, the one that had comforted Estel, Elladan, and Elrohir, when they had been frightened, and needed comfort. He was willing to share it with another hurting son, even one that was not his own. "Tell me. Your secret will go with me to the end."
Legolas turned to him, and only stared for the longest moment. Finally, he nodded slowly.
"Close the door."
Slowly, Legolas stood and walked to the giant door that stood before him. He grasped the knob in his strong, slender hand. His eyes locked with it, the reality of what he was about to do striking him full force. He looked up, thinking, his eyes seeing nothing...only realizing...the truth of his treachery would remain in this room forever.
THE END
Thanks to everyone that has and/or reviewed this fic. Your support and encouragement means a me! I hope I have been able to bring some joy and excitement to you all!
Niroveka
