Thank you for reading! I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter at least as much as they did the first one (and more, if they were displeased ha ha ha).
2. The Break Point
Legolas grabbed Elrohir's shoulder. His eyes went black and his head was spinning.
"Are you all right?" Elrohir asked thickfully. Legolas felt the twin guide him to a sitting position.
"How did he die?" Elladan asked. He sounded like he had swallowed fire, and now his throat was scorched.
Legolas felt the words form on his lips as the messenger said them. "A burning building collapsed on him during a battle. No one was able to get to them in time."
"Them?" Legolas heard Elrohir asked. He was sitting next Legolas, his arm over his friends shoulders. Legolas could feel his heart start beating slower. It was finally sinking in: Estel was dead.
"There was an Elf. He was helping to defend him from-"
"A great man," Legolas croaked.
"He looked like he was a captain of one of the Wild Men's rabbles, or so they say."
"Did any one search for his body?" Elladan asked softly, his voice painfilled.
The Elf shook his head. "We were driven back. No one was able to retrieve..." He didn't finish.
Legolas felt himself shaking. How long had been shaking?
They were all silent for a moment. Legolas felt his vision clearing. He finally found his voice.
"We shouldn't have sent him there," he said softly. "We should have kept him with us, where he wouldn't have seen hardly any action."
"Legolas," Elladan began.
"I could have gone in his stead. If I had, this wouldn't have happened. Estel would be..." He couldn't bring himself to say those words. He was barely keeping tears from springing into his eyes. He balled his hands into fists, trying to distract himself.
"Don't blame yourself." Elrohrir gripped Legolas's shoulder tightly. "There was nothing we could do to prevent it."
"So, Estel fell trying to save someone else." Elladan smiled mirthfully. "Who would have imagined that?"
Legolas tried to stand, but his knees were too weak. Instead, a sob escaped his lips, and tears began to stream down his face.
Just look at him: crying, right there, in front of everyone else.
He looked up at Elrohir. His cheeks were wet.
"Who's going to tell Ada?" Elrohir asked softly, looking up at Elladan.
"I will," Glorfindel spoke up.
Legolas had forgotten that the Balrog-slayer was even there. He looked up at the Elf-lord. He had a greatly saddened expression on his face. His eyebrows were pulled down in concentration, as if thinking.
Legolas felt himself plunge into a wave of hatred. How could Glorfindel feel sad about Estel's death? Hadn't just told him that 'Estel was a mortal, born to die'? Of course, Glorfindel wouldn't understand why Estel was so important to him. He wouldn't what Estel was really like; he'd never known him that well. He hadn't fought alongside him, sat staring up at the sky with him; laughed with him, cried with him. His life hadn't been saved by Estel, and Estel's life hadn't been saved by him. Glorfindel couldn't feel the way he felt about Estel: he'd never formed a friendship with him.
The prince of Mirkwood blinked, trying to dispose of the thoughts in his head. 'Don't think those things,' he thought to himself. 'Remember what your father told you!'
Yes, this was not the first death of a loved one that Legolas had gone through. He was feeling the same things again, just like Elrohir and Elladan probably were. And once again, the same types of thoughts were racing through his mind.
When Legolas had been very young- before he had even met Estel - his mother had died. The very day her funeral, his father had taken him aside.
"Legolas," he had said, "it is very natural for someone to feel...feelings that he has never felt before during this kind of loss."
Legolas had nodded. "You are right, Ada. I think that I will go lay down..."
Thranduil had grabbed his shoulder. "Legolas, you will feel the need to express these emotions. They will be very strong. Please, whenever you feel this way, come talk to me. It is dangerous for an Elf to feel this way."
"Why?"
Thranduil had hesitated in answering him. "There is a dark side to every soul, Legolas. You may have heard of some...darker mortals."
Legolas's nostrils had flared. The mortals...the kind that had killed his mother...
"Mortals...When they are children, all of them have a light soul. The side that they adapt is influenced by those around them. Because this happens so early in their short life, they are less capable of destruction than...we are."
"Ada, what do you mean?" Legolas felt the anger inside of him deminish. It was replaced by a feeling of dread.
"Do not give in to these emotions." Thranduil's voice was firm and steady, his gaze piercing. "If you do, you could cause great destruction. Do you understand me?"
Legolas had nodded. His voice was too tight to speak. He felt his cheek against his father's shoulder.
"Good. You may go lie down now."
"Ada..." Legolas paused. "What if I do accidentally...give in? What would happen? Could I go back?"
Thranduil sighed. Legolas could tell that he had hoped the subject had died. He released his embrace on Legolas.
"Legolas, when you go over, you will not act yourself. It is almost like you are a completely different person. If it ever got to the point that you wanted to come back, you might not be able to."
-
Elrohir felt his friend shiver violently beneath his arm. The messenger was laying down, sleeping. He had been riding for quite some time, trying to find them. The Elf glanced up towards his twin brother.
Elladan was leaning back against the cave wall. His chin was against his head, and he looked like he was deep in thought. Elrohir could tell that he was trying not to weep. He was being strong for his brother, letting him feel his grief for a while. Someone had to stay in controll, and Elladan had taken up the position. Elrohir was greatful.
"Are you okay, mellon-nin?" Elrohir whispered into Legolas's ear. The Elf didn't answer.
"Come on; why don't you go lie down?" Elrohir helped him stand up and led him over to his cot. The Elf laid down, closing his eyes, still shaking. Elrohir stood by him until he stopped moving, falling into sweet slumber.
"What do you think Estel was thinking, before the end?" Elrohir asked, walking up to his brother.
Elladan frowned. "He was probably thinking that he had failed in saving the Elf and killing that captain."
"Do you think that he was thinking about...anything else?" Elrohir felt ashamed and fell silent.
Elladan put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sure that it thought about us, but you have to remember that his thoughts were probably mainly focused on the battle at hand."
"I know. It's just that...I hoped that he thought of something comforting. Maybe he suffered less pain. Maybe he wasn't as afraid."
"Estel had no fear of death." Elladan let out a heavy breath. "He probably felt no fear."
"I know that you're right, my brother, it's just that..." Elrohir stopped, feeling tears slide down his face again. "I am going to miss him so much. I often feared that day of Estel's death, even when he was just a small child. Sometimes, in my darkest and deepest dreams, I would see him die an old withered and gray man. I never imagined that this is how he would end his time. Even when he and Legolas would wander back to Imladris half-dead after one of their adventures...Sometimes, I would fear the darkest, but I still couldn't imagine that it would happen this way." He looked up at Elladan, whose face was hidden in shadows. "It doesn't seem real. I expect him at any moment to walk in, wounded, yet still alive."
Elladan nodded. "I agree. Something just doesn't seem...right about this."
Elrohir looked back at Legolas. The Elf's body was tense, but still, he looked peaceful. "Do you think he senses it too?"
"No." Elladan knew who he was talking about. "It seems like it's just us."
"But, I just don't understand!" Elrohir frowned. "If Estel is truly dead, then why do I feel him with us?"
"Perhaps we only feel the prescence of his lingering spirit," Elladan suggested, his voice heavy.
Elrohir voiced his thoughts, knowing that he already had. "Glorfindel said that he would tell Ada, but I wonder if it is us who should. We are his sons; we are Estel's brothers."
They ARE Estel's brothers.
"I suppose you're right," Elladan replied. "He'll probably hear of it before we go home, anyhow." Elladan paused, smiling. "Arwen would have been there to see Estel. You know how he fancied her."
Elrohir laughed. "He would never admit it though."
They sat silent for a moment.
Elladan stood up from off of the wall. "We should get some rest. We'll have to fight tomorrow."
Elrohir nodded. They walked over to their cots and laid down, closing their eyes.
Elrohir dreamt that he saw Estel, laying on a bed, old and withered. Except his name was Elessar...
-
Legolas could feel Elrohir standing over him for quite some time. He didn't know exactly when, but the Elf had left him. He could hear Elrohir and Elladan talking in whispers for a while before laying down. He guessed that they thought that he had fallen asleep.
Legolas had tried to rest, but he couldn't. As he had laid down, he had had time to think, and each of his thought had led to once conclusion: Estel would not want him laying here, doing nothing. And that was exactly what Legolas was doing, and it irked the Elf to no end. He should be doing something about it!
But what can you do about? a small voice in the back of his head said. He's dead; end of the story.
He had never imagined the day that this would come. He had never thought that it would feel like such a loss. In fact, Legolas even felt like he'd lost a piece of himself.
That feeling was dragging back images from long ago; images of his dead mother, his brothers weeping, his father broken. He felt his soul cry out. He was being tortured.
Legolas sat up, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands, as if trying to push the thoughts out of his mind. Estel would have been able to help.
Yet Estel was now gone, and there was nothing that Legolas could do about it.
The elf felt a swell of anger. '...nothing that he could do about it.' Aragorn's name was sullied: he had died an unglorious death and would be given no proper funeral while those that did not deserve the gift of life still lived, and there was nothing that Legolas could do about.
He was drowning in his anger. His vision was darkening and his head was spinning. The emotions were enough to make him loose conscienceness. He gripped at what still remained of his sight.
If those that still lived among them deserved death, Legolas would bring justice. He would kill them, each and every single one of them. He would avenge Estel's name.
'Legolas, don't do that,' he could hear his father saying. 'Remember what I told you. Once you cross over to the other side, it is hard to return.'
The prince held up one of his knives, watching the moonlight reflecting off of the sharp steel. Yes, he knew that by doing so he would 'connect with his darker side.' He had acknowledged long ago.
'It would be hard to return.'
Perhaps Legolas wouldn't want to return. This was giving him a whole new purpose in life. He liked it.
'You could cause great destruction.'
Legolas had enough control over himself to use these feelings for good, correct? The elf turned the knife over, longing for it to find flesh.
'Don't do it.'
"I already have," he whispered.
Legolas stood. His eyesight was sharper. He could see every single shadow, every single shape in the rocks. He could hear every sound. He could smell the must of the cave. The only scent he longed to smell, however, was the smell of the Wild Men's blood.
And he would; that very night.
Here's the responses to you reviews:
Boonzie: I'd tell you what his dark side was, but it would ruin the story (ha ha ha).
Coolio02: Thanks, I hope you like the rest of it as much as you do the beginning.
Nefhiriel: Thanks!
Freak Goddess of the Crypt: I'll try to update as much as I can, but real life can sometimes get involved with writing (sighs); thanks!
Deana: Here's chapter 2; I hope you enjoyed it!