"He has the right to criticize who has the heart to help."
–Abraham Lincoln

"Never, ever, ever give up."
–Winston Churchill

"A friend walks in when everyone else walks out."
–Anonymous

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Last of the Jedi

"It's them. In the next room over," Morgan struggled to say.

Aragorn jumped up and rushed to the next room. Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, and Bergil were fine. Radagast was leaning heavily on his staff but would be okay. Peter and Athos had collapsed to the ground.

"Get Morgan in here!" Aragorn shouted. Gandalf did so faster than Aragorn thought anyone could.

"Are they okay?" Gandalf asked, setting her down gently.

Morgan hesitated a moment. "Athos is fine, or will be; he's just exhausted. He tested the cure on himself, the big fool. It works. Peter . . . I'm not sure." She took the old man's hand. "Come on," she whispered.

Peter slowly opened his eyes. "Did we make it?" he asked.

"You made it," Morgan smiled. "Mae govannen to Imladris, Daëlin."

"Your Elvish is getting better."

"And you're trying to change the subject. Peter, what's wrong?"

"Morgan, do you know how many times I've almost died, almost slipped just too far, almost seen for myself what Heaven is like? Morgan, I'm not going to make it this time. I know it. The others . . . they're gone, Morgan."

"How did you know that?"

"They'd be here with you otherwise. When gone am I, the last of the Woodland Wanderers will you be."

"You've seen The Return of the Jedi too much, Yoda."

"I know. You're too good to us, Morgan, and now you're the last of us."

Morgan didn't argue, didn't deny what the old man was saying. If Peter was sure enough to admit it, there could be no doubt. Instead, she started to sing, soft and low.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero
And everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'Cause your spirit's the wind beneath my wings."

Peter managed to smile a little, and took his young friend's hand. "Morgan, years and years ago, when I was ten, Aramis passed this torch on to me. I now pass it to you, Smeagol Fasir Kenobi."

"I can't do this alone."

"You won't. Everyone who has helped me will help you, Morgan le Fay."

"Trying to use all my nicknames in one conversation? You'll confuse everyone else. Did you see the look on Strider's face when you said Smeagol?"

"Oops."

"That's okay."

"Morgan . . ."

"Yes, Peter?"

"These are for you." He unfastened his cape and removed his sword from his belt. He handed her his stick. "Anything you find in a certain cabin that might help you is also yours. The Nightwatchers . . . they'll trust you."

"Hannon le."

"Here." He removed the wooden cross from around his neck. "Always keep the faith, mellon nin. Never give up hope." His voice was getting softer. The pain was fading from him. The weariness was slipping away.

"I love you," Morgan whispered, and they shared one last hug.

"Namarië," Peter said softly. "I love you, too." It was the last thing he ever said. At that last moment, Morgan shared his thoughts, his feelings. She knew he was at peace. They faded into sleep at the same time. Only one of them would wake.

"Will she be okay?" Gandalf asked Radagast, who was trying to shake Athos awake.

"I don't know," the Wizard said. "Of all the Woodland Wanderers, she was closest to Peter. They were so alike, the same courage, the same willingness to forgive even when not asked. She won't hold it against Athos . . ."

"Won't hold what against me?" Athos groaned. Then he saw Peter. "No," he whispered. "No! I should've known! I should've been able to tell it'd be too much! I should never have let him come!"

"Athos, Daëlin wouldn't want you to blame yourself. He believes everything happens for a reason," Radagast said quietly. "One man's sunset is another man's dawn."

"Sunset," Athos nodded. "Of course."

"Huh?"

"A book I finished reading recently. One part hit me; a poem by Robert Frost," he said while he found a wound on Morgan's arm and applied the cure before she could wake up and complain that it stung. "Oh, how did that poem go?

Samuel stepped in from the hall.

"Nature's first green is gold,
Its hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower,
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."

"How did you know that?" Athos asked.

"We just finished reading it in school–The Outsiders, that is. Hit me, too, like some kind of unforseen doom. The bond the Woodland Wanderers had, the way Morgan kept them together and still included you, that's gold, Athos. Come on. Legolas and Faramir need you."

"Thank you, Samuel."

"My pleasure, Athos. You're a good man."

"Morgan always said something like that. I wonder if she still believes it."

"Athos, you know Morgan even better than I do. She knows what happened, why you did what you did," Samuel said encouragingly as Athos treated Faramir.

Last of all they came to Legolas. "This will work?" Avanwë asked.

"I tested it on myself, oh doubtful one. Do I look dead?"

"You look exhausted."

"That's better than dead. This will only keep him from dying. Elrond and his people can probably find something for the pain. Now, if you'll let me . . ." Avanwë moved aside enough to let Athos through.

No sooner had Athos administered the cure, however, and everyone arrived back in the room, than Avanwë let out a cry of pain. "Something's gone wrong," she told Athos.

Only then did the leader of the gleems realize what he had done wrong.

"Blast!" he shouted, and then reverted to the gleems' native language for the sake of the innocent ears nearby. "Drat! Drat! Drat!" he announced when he was through shouting. "Why didn't I—Aaaaaarrrrggggghhh! It has a totally different effect on Elves! Duh, Athos! Duh! Elrond, Ronosa, Nora, come with me. Avanwë, hold on. Keep him conscious. We have to figure this out soon!"

"Merry, Pippin," a voice called.

"Boromir?" Merry whispered.

"Legolas is dying. Unless the four of them find something in ten minutes, well, I'll be greeting him soon."

"No," Pippin whispered softly.

"They still have time, and Athos is determined. He'll do anything in his power to prevent more death."

"Merry, Pippin, come with me and get a snack," Aragorn invited. Merry looked confused for a moment, but then caught on. Pippin just looked hungry.

"How can you possibly–" Frodo started, but the trio was already out the door.

"You heard him, too, didn't you?" Aragorn asked once they were a safe distance from the others."

"Yes," Merry nodded.

"What about–" Pippin tried to ask.

"No time for food, Pippin," Aragorn said. "We have to help Elrond and the others."

Legolas knew something had gone wrong. The poison was spreading much too quickly, the pain growing too fast. He tried to cry out, but couldn't. He barely had the strength to breathe.

He couldn't move at all, couldn't even open his eyes. To even try was like having a thousand spears driven into one part of his body. He knew he couldn't last much longer.

Only one thing was comforting; someone was trying to help him, trying to ease his pain. She knew it was probably useless, that all she was doing was making death a little less painful, but he was grateful anyway. He couldn't say this with words, but Avanwë knew.

It had been almost three thousand years ago. Legolas had only been twenty–quite young for an Elf. He'd met Avanwë in Mirkwood.

He was amazed to learn that she'd been part of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. He'd always wanted to be less of a prince and more of a warrior.

Of this his father disapproved. He didn't want his only son to risk his life needlessly. So he'd called Avanwë to his hall.

At first, all he did was look for mistakes in her story, to prove to his son that it couldn't possibly be true. He found none. Not many women, even Elf-women, had fought in that battle, but she'd used the name Livya and passed as a man. The name wasn't mentioned in any tale because, though she'd been a brave warrior, she was never a captain or a person of rank.

Thranduil warned his son that this Elf meant no good, and would lead him to his death, but he paid the warning no heed. He was curious. For the next week, he and Avanwë hunted together, sword fought together, and got into trouble with the King for coming back late together.

One night, though, they were even later than usual. Most of the stars had faded and the sun almost started to appear when the pair arrived, each with a few barely noticeable cuts and bruises.

Legolas started to make up an excuse, but Avanwë knew his father wouldn't accept it. She told him the truth. They had been attacked by a small party of goblins, and managed to kill the whole dozen. She told him quite calmly that Legolas had killed almost half of them, and that he had the potential to become the best warrior in Mirkwood.

This infuriated Thranduil. He banished Avanwë from his kingdom. They hadn't seen each other since. 'Why do we still have so strong a bond?' Avanwë wondered.

Maybe it was because they were kindred spirits. They were warriors, and yet could be gentle as a mother deer. They shared a love for the adventure, the unexpected. Legolas couldn't stand it when people thought he was all prissy and goody-goody just because he was the Prince of Mirkwood. Avanwë couldn't stand it when people thought that way just because she was female.

Whatever the reason, it appeared that Thranduil's prediction that Avanwë would lead him to his death was about to come true.

"Morgan," a voice called. "Wake up." Part of her wanted to. Part of her didn't. She knew her friends' deaths hadn't been a dream. She knew she would have to carry on alone. Also, she was having the best of dreams, or rather a memory . . . .

"So what now?" Balo had asked. What she'd really meant was she was tired of sitting around and doing nothing. Latano's niece loved adventure, danger, flying off the handle and erupting like a volcano for the smallest reasons.

Morgan had been the first to look to the others for an idea. Now she was on her own. 'No, not alone,' she reminded herself. 'God is with me. He will help.'

Eric had easily admitted he didn't know what to do. If a flat-out attack wouldn't work, he usually didn't have any other plans.

Peter had started to say something, but stopped. Maybe he'd known how dangerous it would be. Did he know? Now Morgan had no doubt. He'd known then that this was the last adventure, that it would claim his life. If he'd known about the others, he would've said something, but he only knew that he would die. He didn't want anyone else to worry about him, protect him from it.

But he'd gone anyway, even been the one to suggest going. He'd accepted death.

"Well what?" Latano had asked. He didn't care about life-threatening risks, either, as long as they only threatened him. He never said it, but everyone knew he'd rather die a thousand times himself than have a friend die in his place.

"Yeah, tell us," Tandro had said. He'd always been a follower, like Morgan, doing what the rest of the group thought was right. This time was no different.

Noka and Rona had just stood there, waiting for an answer to their friends' questions. Noka would almost always have a strong opinion one way or the other, but in the end would go with whatever most of the group said. Rona was less decisive, though she usually agreed with Noka. They shared the same morals, ideals, opinions. Noka was simply more outspoken about them.

"All right," Peter had finally said. What he had whispered to Morgan was, "How would yo like to see Imladris again?" She hadn't thought twice about the danger. She loved a good adventure . . .

"Morgan, come on," the voice insisted. "Athos needs your help." Those words woke her completely. Her immediate response startled Bergil, but he quickly caught his breath and helped her down the hall.

"Blast! Stupid! This should work!" Athos complained loudly. "Oh, Morgan, good," he added, noticing her and immediately lowering his voice because of the look of pain on her face. "I need help."

"Athos, I'm not a doctor, nurse, healer, medicine man, or anything else. I know nothing."

"That's why I need you. Come here." He tried to explain. "This thing here reacts somehow and helps the body fight off the lethal part of the poison. It was designed for the human body. I didn't think an Elf's would be that different."

"But it is?"

"Right."

"So make it stronger."

Athos, Elrond, Nora, and Ronosa looked at each other. 'Duh,' they all said mentally. "How?" Elrond asked out loud.

"Um . . . couldn't you just use more?"

"It would only increase the effects it's having now," Ronosa said glumly. "It would make the poison even faster."

"Why's it doing that?"

"We don't know," Athos sighed.

"Oh."

"Aragorn said we only have ten minutes."

"I wouldn't doubt him."

"Then we have ten minutes. Bergil, go get Glorfindel, and hurry."

"If you're planning to test something on Glorfindel, I must object," Elrond said firmly as Bergil ran off."

"Relax, Elrond. I only need a very small sample of blood. Yours won't work. You're only half Elf. Now be a good Half-Elf and go fill this with water. And try not to do anything stupid."

Elrond bit his tongue but did as Athos said. Morgan tried hard to smile at her friend's lousy imitation of Captain Jack Sparrow. Bergil arrived with Glorfindel and Elrond shortly.

Glorfindel immediately got the idea. He took out his knife, cut his finger, and let some blood drop into the cup without a word of protest. "Hannon le," Athos nodded.

"Glad to help."

"You and Bergil go see how Legolas is doing. While you're at it, check on Faramir. Elrond, I need some athelas, on the double. Nora, go find me some sassafras and wintergreen, if can find any here. If you can't, get me the next best thing. Ronosa, find me anything very cold, very soft, and preferably dissolvable." They all took off.

"What about me?" Morgan asked.

"Morgan, I need you here. You're the one person in Middle-Earth who can keep me from falling apart now."

"When the others need you the most?"

"Yeah."

"'Tis a task to my liking. I'd be liable to mess up anything else. I'm here for you, Athos."

"Hannon le."

"Tova, this is all my fault."

"Heather, this is no more all your fault than it is all mine."

"Why are you even talking to me? You're an elf! I work with the gleems! We're supposed to be enemies!"

"There's . . . a time when even bitter enemies must work together. I know that now. It's why the two of us are still alive. Tell me, Heather. Why did you start helping Athos in the first place?"

"He . . . he said he could help me, my family. He said he could change things for us, get my dad a better job, help my mom out. And my brother . . . his girlfriend . . . she's got it worse. Her parents are never home, and when they are, she's outta there. He could help them, too."

"And what has he actually done?"

"He's helped the best he could," Heather said defensively. "He comes around and brings us food once in a while. He told me it didn't matter if I didn't fit in at school. He even came by the school and convinced the boys to show me how to play football. He's trying to get my dad a raise, and he even visited my mom–in jail. How many people would do that?"

"What about your brother?"

Heather looked a little embarrassed. "Arthur . . . said he didn't want Athos' help, once he explained what he was doing. I . . . I guess he knew. It would make murderers of us all."

"Sometimes it takes a murderer to understand a murderer. Your brother's wise for his age."

"I guess so. But where's the harm in accepting a little help?"

"Because then you'll see what you did as returning the favor."

"What about you? Why did you join the elves?"

"I am ane elf, silly."

"I know. I'm a human, and I work with the gleems."

Tova put a hand on Heather's. "Maybe it's time for both of us to leave behind the world we knew. Balo asked me to . . . to help out any Woodland Wanderers who might be left. There is one left."

"I'm only ten! I'm just a kid!"

"So that means you can't do anything? From what I'm told, Morgan was eleven when she heard about us, twelve when she joined the Woodland Wanderers. She'll accept our help, believe me."

"Why? We killed all her friends."

"More like all her family," Tova sighed. "They were that close. I just don't know, Heather."

"Well, when all this is over, we'll ask her together."

'Boromir, how's he doing?'

"You don't have long, my king."

'How long is long?'

"Not long."

'There has to be something I can do.'

"Go tell Athos to hurry up unless he wants me to get him, too."

'You're a ghost.'

"Spirit."

'Whatever. You can't kill him.'

"You're sure? Rats."

'Boromir!'

"What? He doesn't know that. I'm just trying to help."

'You won't help the situation by threatening the one person who might be able to make this right.'

Unfortunately, the 'one person who might be able to make this right' was having a bad day as far as inventions were concerned. "Drat! Stupid! Why won't . . . !" he shouted for what seemed to Morgan like the millionth time.

"Athos, mellon nin, take a deep breath. Everything's going to be all right."

"Not if I don't find something."

"Athos, it's been seven minutes," Nora sighed. "If you don't find something in two, I'm outta here. After that, it's no use keeping their hopes up." Ronosa nodded slowly in agreement.

"Elrond?" Athos asked, not looking up from his work. "You, too?"

"Nora . . . is right. Athos, you have to consider the possibility that there may not be a cure."

Athos sighed. "There has to be."

"Why?" Nora shouted. "Or else you'll feel guilty about Legolas' death along with everyone else's? Well, you deserve to feel guilty, Athos! You deserve it!"

"Shut up!" Morgan jumped to her feet, fighting the pain, both physical and emotional. "Shut up, Nora! Maybe he does deserve it, but what about Legolas? Huh? If all the grievances that stand between elves and gleems are to be brought up here, we may as well abandon all our efforts!"

"Then abandon them!" Nora shouted as she stormed out the door. Elrond and Ronosa looked at each other for a moment, startled by Morgan's outburst, and then followed Nora.

"Are you going to leave, too?" Athos asked Morgan.

"No, mellon nin. I'm with you 'til the end, no matter when that may be."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Well, you won't be hearing it too often. I'm the last of the Woodland Wanderers, remember? But for now, we stand together."

Normally, the teenager avoided poetry, but Athos looked so hopeless, she knew she had to do something.

"I think at last I understand
Sometimes it would be easier
To believe there's no good left in the world.
From here, after what's happened, I understand
Why you are where you are now,
Why you are who you are.

Oh, my dear friend, we've chosen our separate paths.
Sometimes I'm not sure mine was right,
Or that yours was wrong,
Or that a combination of the two
Might not have been better.
But we have chosen our paths.

Does it take this to make us see each other?
Or rather to make me see you
As who you really are
And who you can be.
I know you can see me that way, too.
Do you have the same doubts?

This has passed beyond us.
Perhaps we are in the claws of fate
Like Arthur and Sir Lancelot of so long ago.
I used to blame you for choosing
The path you chose.
Now I can see that,
Like the rest of us,
You are only doing what you think is best.

I know how much you prayed about this
I know the nightmares you've had
Because they haunt me, too.
I've prayed hard, too.
We both got our answers.
Such is life.

Remember the southern wind.
I will remember the eastern sun.
May we both find peace
On the paths we have chosen."

"My goodness, Kenobi," Athos smiled. "Poetry. How unlike you."

"Not entirely my work. I got one line from an animated version of The Hobbit. 'Does it take this to make us see each other?'"

"Thorin."

"When he's dying, yes."

"I think I understand."

"Good. I knew you would."

Ki -- Uh-huh, poor everyone.

xWhit3StaRx -- One more chapter, then you won't have to bug me about updating anymore. :) Or my cliffies. One more chapter.