Part Four

Journey to Nowhere

I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life I've only been pretending
Without me his world will go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known!

I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own.

Les Misérables "On My Own"

Vénea and I kept watch over the sickbed of the fallen prince as he tossed and turned, writhing in his delirium. The power of Sauron although banished, had left the Prince's mind bruised and scattered, plunging him into feverish dreams. He cried out and talked quickly in Elvish, seeming to live out the six thousand years of his life. Vénea was spared much of his misery, due to her poor knowledge of the language, but I received the full force of his distress. It pained me to tears to hear the beautiful prince moaning like a child.

He did not seem to recognise Vénea, and that hurt her immensely. I tried to explain that she was only a recent addition to his life, that he was reliving his childhood and early years, but she could not be consoled, throwing herself weeping on the pallet by his bed while I sat by her side. He seemed to remember me in his fever, yet spoke to me as he would to a young child.

After three days he opened his eyes. I looked into their blue-grey depths and saw that they were lucid and clear at last. He smiled painfully as I brought the candle closer to his face, and it cast lurid shadows over the canvas of the tent and Vénea's restful form.

"How is she?" he asked turning his head towards her. I helped him to sit up and he rested his head against the pillows. "She is still exhausted and really distressed at your illness. You do not recognise her in your delirium, which makes it ten times worse."

"But does she love me?" His words were a dagger in my heart. I wanted so much to tell him no, to separate them, but I couldn't lie to him. I nodded dumbly. He looked at me enquiringly, and seeing my misery, he tactfully changed the subject.

"And the battle?"

"Lord Sauron is vanquished, his city smitten unto dust. Aragorn is to be crowned, only waiting until you are well; and the Hobbits are safe, although Frodo is now nine fingered."

He drew breath for a second and then turned to me, seizing my wrist. "And you?" I smiled sadly

"I exist" I replied. "My shoulder is healed and I am in no physical pain – only here" I rested his hand on my heart, where he let it lie for a moment before withdrawing it slowly. "Only here, it is dead. But I can cope, I can wait and dream."

He sighed bitterly, my words obviously causing him much heartache. "I cannot help my love for her. You have always been so cold, so aloof, resorting to insults and taunts when I thought you were hurt, as if nothing could ever damage your icy heart. I was always half afraid of you. You were so pretty and sweet as a child, I was almost in love with you then, the way you always wanted to join in the games of Elrohir, Elladan and me; never accepting that you were a girl and so different – and then you grew up so quickly, and became cool and remote, using jibes or flying into rages when someone endeavoured to offer sympathy. I thought you hated me! When I saw Vénea she seemed so soft and feminine, so vulnerable, that I couldn't help but fall in love with her. By the time I realised your adoration for me it was too late."

"My parents died. I was made to watch as Orcs slaughtered them – my mother, pregnant, and my father suffering from a broken leg, so unable to defend themselves. After what I saw I had to grow up. And then the cloying sympathy of those people I was entrusted to, those ugly, old seeming Elves who kept pinching my cheeks and clucking over me like broody hens – no wonder I dislike pity. I did not hate you, in fact quite the opposite. I only really knew that I longed so for you after my parent's deaths, and by that time, I considered myself cursed. Everything I had ever loved had been taken from me; I thought if I acknowledged my love for you I would lose you too."

He leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips, and I felt his warm breath on my face. I wanted to reach out and embrace his poor, wounded body, yet something held me back and I pushed him gently away instead. "Remember Vénea," I sighed and moved away from his bed. I felt suddenly completely spent and threw myself on the pallet next to Vénea, falling quickly into unconsciousness.

His health improved quickly after that. He no longer needed someone to watch over him, he no longer kept to his bed; he no longer needed me to nurse him. I felt that my presence was unnecessary. I did not want to see the gradual realisation between him and the human that they were both totally infatuated with each other; I did not want to witness their courtship or inevitable engagement. I especially did not desire to behold their marriage, yet I knew that Vénea would never forgive me if I were absent.

I again made my way to the Great Hall of Minas Tirith with a heavy heart, to seek audience with Aragorn, again conducted there by Pippin and his cousin Meriadoc who was always with him. I found Aragorn alone this time, puzzling over a huge map of Gondor. I entered swiftly as he rose, and I knelt by his chair "Hail King, I crave a boon."

"I am not king yet," he laughed, drawing me to my feet. "What boon do you crave, my fair lady?"

"I feel I have no place in your city" I replied, keeping up the mock formal tone of the conversation to hide my distress in bravado." I beg your leave to quit this place, to return to Rivendell as an envoy of Gondor to hurry your Queen on her way. I will return for your coronation, sire, and the marriage of Legolas and Vénea, than I will probably follow Elrond to the West"

The smile faded from his face, replaced with a look of understanding. "I see. I have seen it ever since I knew you. You are madly, passionately, in love with Legolas; yet you also love Vénea and do not wish to see her hurt. You would rather surrender yourself to a lifetime of misery rather than to give her pain; yet to be a witness of their courtship would drive you insane. Yes it is best that you should go."

I felt violated at being read like this, the deepest secrets of my overburdened heart exposed to public view. I opened my mouth to shout, to lash out, to fall into a storm of tears, yet I shut it quickly and smiled wanly instead. He embraced me and kissed me lightly on the cheek as a brother would. "I can never know how you feel, to suffer from unrequited love, and to be so brave about it. Go, choose any horse you like from my stables, as long as it belongs to no one else, and bring me my bride. Perhaps true love will come to you someday; you have so many millennia ahead of you to find it."

I smiled gratefully and left without a word, making my way down to the stables. I saw Legolas and Vénea leaning, mid kiss, on a balcony above my head. I would not disturb them with my parting, I would creep away as was deserving to such a poor and lonely creature, I would not cast my meagre shadow over their bliss.

I stuffed my few effects into a saddlebag, threw myself on the back of the nearest horse, which, to my distracted gaze, seemed to be black and fiery, just matching my mood. I galloped passed bewildered Hobbits and men, and out of the open gates, losing myself in speed.

I did not know or care where I went, letting the horse carry me where it willed. At last it ceased its mad gallop and relaxed into a trot. I had drawn near the bank of the Anduin the Great. I would make my way down the river and rest in Lothlórien to unburden by heart to my aunt, Galadriel, before continuing on my solitary way.

Following the course of the river, my horse hastened on, while I dazed and perplexed, did nothing to hinder it, letting the steed take me on. I did not bother to eat or sleep; the void inside me absorbed my entire mind. I did not care if I died; in fact I welcomed death as a release, it made no real difference, as I was already dead inside.

The horse stopped where it willed, cropping grass or drinking from the river, yet for three days I never left its back; I knew that once I dismounted I would be unable to regain my saddle.

After three days I saw the many trees of Lórien rise above me, and I spurred the horse on until we were sheltering in its protective shadow. Suddenly, my last reserves of strength gave out and I felt myself falling through the air, my body jolting horribly as I landed, sprawling on the leafy ground.

I regained consciousness with the uncanny feeling that I had been in this situation before. Yet again I was lying on an unfamiliar bed, with no recollection of how I came to be there and with a golden head bending over me "Legolas" I whispered, with the insane thought that he had left Vénea and come after me; but as my eyes focused I realized that it was not Legolas that leaned over me but a woman, my Aunt Galadriel.

"Osellë," she whispered, her soft yet strong voice reverberating through my aching head, "Osellë, how are you feeling?"

"W-where am I?" I gazed groggily into her ice-blue eyes.

"You are safe, in Lórien, your horse is stabled and you will recover." Abruptly, the full force of my grief bore down on me and I wept afresh.

"What is it?" her irritation veiled under a façade of solicitousness.

"Why did you rescue me?" I demanded "Couldn't you see that I wanted to fade away, to die?"

"What has come over you child?" she asked, her tone exactly that which she had used in my distant childhood if I happened to cry, "You have always been quiet and reserved but never so disheartened or desolate."

I did not wish to tell her, so I shut my eyes, feigning sleep. I did not desire her sympathy. That of Aragon had been enough.

"You are in love" She guessed, smoothing my hair gently with a long fingered hand. "I can see that it is eating away your joy and peace, leaving you empty, used, and thrown away." She placed one long finger over my lips to quell denial. "It is that Prince of Mirkwood whom you love; the golden haired warrior has stolen your heart– yet he loves another, who is your friend."

"How do you know? What shall I do?"

"Know, there are many ways of gaining knowledge of others, you have taken no pains to conceal your heartbreak in your rambling. You should continue your task, Arwen and Lord Elrond are here, and they will leave with you for Gondor when you are well. In the meantime, eat, do not starve yourself – it is not yet your time to die." Saying this she took a bowl and spoon and sitting me up, began to feed me as though I were a baby.

She soon left me and I slipped back into the welcoming arms of forgetfulness; the emptiness inside me forgotten, for a moment at least.

I recovered, in spite of myself, in a very short time, my Elven body regenerating itself, although the abyss inside me remained.

I craved solitude, and spent many hours sitting on a platform high among the gold leaves of a silver-barked Mallorn-tree. I was still unsteady on my feet as I made my way to my accustomed tree and shakily scaled the rope ladder. I reached the top only to find that someone was there before me. I caught a glimpse of a red dress and dark hair before I turned to go back the way I had come, but she reached out a slender hand to stop my progress. "Come Osellë, sit by me, you must be tired." Arwen, fiancée of Aragorn beamed. I scowled murderously, while she moved to make room so that I could settle down unwillingly beside her; wishing even more that I could be anywhere but here, preferably in the grave.

"Be happy for me" she smiled "I am to be married to the man that I love." I aimed a slap at her rosebud mouth and moved again to the ladder, but she seized the torn hem of my filthy skirt and held me, I had to go back for I knew that if I pulled to hard the stitching would give way and would be left dressless.

"No, you must accept, for the time being at least, that the man you love is to be married; yet she is only mortal, she will die of old age or before and then your turn will come."

"What makes you think he would choose me, if his wife died? Ilúvatur grant that it will not be for a long time, as she is a dear friend of mine" I snapped, my frown deepening, "He has said himself that he finds me bitter, remote and cold. Anyway, he is so infatuated with her that he may decide to renounce his immortality, just as you did."

She looked at me critically, from the top of my head to the hem of my tattered skirt, as one would look at a horse one wished to buy "He'll choose you because you are beautiful; yours is that haunting, ethereal beauty that would capture a man's soul, preying on his mind. What is more, your beauty will not fade as hers will, but will be eternal."

I sighed again and again made my way to the rope ladder, she did not stop me this time but followed me, her tiny, red-clad feet on the soft silver rope, the red velvet skirts swinging out, revealing the dark blue undergarment. She seemed so happy, so contented with her lot, her joy adding radiance to her clear skin and dancing blue eyes – totally different from Galadriel's icy ones.

Yet I hated her. I hated her for her perfection, her beautiful dresses and doting father and brothers and her true love, whom she was soon to marry and who was such a friend of mine.

I managed to bottle up my feelings, to smile at her, as she took me by the hand and led me to her chambers in the long, low hall that was the home of Galadriel, which was roofed with living Mallorn branches, their golden leaves filtering the light, adding a soft glow to the rooms.

She ordered a bath, and a few servants came in, bearing a large wooden tub, which they filled with sweet, hot water. Arwen left the room and I relaxed into the bath, enjoying the roaring fire and the hot water on my tired limbs. She came back and began washing my hair, rubbing some sort of scented oil into it.

She handed me a sheet and I dried myself by the hearth while she disappeared. She came back, bearing an armful of clothes, which she laid out on the bed. Passing me a shift that I quickly put on, she showed me the garments.

"These are for you; they are dresses that no longer fit me, but would suit you to perfection."

I looked at them, dispassionately, at their fine fabrics and tasteful designs, trying each one on; first a velvet and silk dress with midnight blue bodice, low neck and long red sleeves, a black silk with high collar, a similar, green riding habit and, finally a rich, emerald silk with peacock blue underskirt. The overgarment and undergarment was edged with gold, the sleeves, long, wide skirts and a daringly low neckline. She again looked at me critically, as I stood, alien in the rich garments, passive while she turned me this way and that, playing with my hair. "You need a necklace," she said, reaching over to a gold inlaid casket on the dressing table and drawing out and emerald teardrop on a golden chain.

"This is for you" she remarked, handing it to me

"I cannot take it, it is too precious," I replied, she had given me enough – I found it painful accepting such generosity from someone I disliked.

"No, take it. It was given to me by King Thranduil of Mirkwood as a celebration of my betrothal to his son"

"Legolas, betrothed to you?" I stammered, in astonishment

"Do not worry, the match fell through; I did not love him. But Thranduil told me to keep it and give it to a lady that did, that is you."

I took it in my hand and read the flowing inscriptions engraved in the Quenyan tongue "i heri man col sina mire, selya harya i elwen dei i aryon dei tavas arda. sina melmë selya usta vorima an oirë" "The lady, who wears this jewel, shall have the heart of the heir of the woodland realm. This love will burn constant for eternity"

I smiled, warming to her as she fastened it around my neck "We leave tomorrow for Gondor, you will wear that dress for the wedding and you will outshine even the bride."

I changed into the red velvet dress and she led me, to the dining hall, where, at the head of the table sat Celeborn and Galadriel, Lord and Lady of Lórien, while on her right sat Elrond, his dark hair blending with the shadows around him, his clear, grey eyes gazing at me, the weight of memories upon his brow. He rose as we entered "Osellë, mae govannen, heri dei nyérë. Welcome, lady of sorrows. Rest yourself here; your heart is heavy, yet your beauty great." I smiled at him as Arwen took a seat next to her father, and I found myself between her two brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, handsome and dark, and as like as two stars. The meal passed well as I flirted with the twins, each of them trying to out do the other with compliments on my beauty. I laughed with them, hiding my disgust at the behaviour that was so unlike me. We chatted about out childhood games, but when Legolas was mentioned I fell silent, that hurt was too raw.

The next day we set off along the great river Anduin, the barges beautifully crafted of Mallorn trees. I spent most of the journey sitting in the bow of the boat and staring along the river, as the white tower of Minas Tirith and the mountains of Gondor rose on the horizon. Elrohir sat by me, crooning my name and singing Elvish ballads in a deep, haunting voice, but I was silent, screwing my courage to the sticking point for the role I would have to play.

We arrived and docked in the harbour, where I had gone with Vénea and where I had seen Legolas, his golden hair bright against the ominous clouds. Yet here the day was clear, the sun a golden herald of the arrival of Gondor's future Queen. I saw, standing by the city gates to welcome us, Legolas, perfectly healed, the sun golden on his head and on his fine tunic.

He came up and took Elrond's hand, embraced Arwen and her brothers, then turned to me. His eyes were sad, as he looked at me, unsure how to greet me. I smiled dazzlingly at him, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall, and embraced him, as one would a brother. He moved back and led the way to the city while I breathed a sigh of relief. The hardest part, the initial greeting, was over; I found that my love was still as strong, yet I could control my emotions and greet him.

The great doors opened as Arwen, veiling her face, moved to stand behind Legolas. He winked, as if this had all been carefully choreographed before. I took my place at the back, behind Elrond and his two sons; for them and everyone here it was a time of joy, but for me the events of the next few days could only lead to sorrow.

As I passed through the gates, I gasped at the sheer number of people who lined the streets; all dressed in their best and all praising the new King. The procession moved slowly on and I stared at the floor, feeling totally out of place in this joyful bustle. How I wished that it were over, that I could leave. At last, we arrived on the balcony, the prow of rock that jutted far out from the city walls, off which Lord Denethor had met his fiery death, and which was now covered with people. They made a path for us as we passed, right up to the very end, where Aragorn stood, singing, the crown of Gondor on his head. I felt so happy for him and Arwen, he had got what he had long desired, yet I despaired for it reminded me of the contrast of my lot to his.

He advanced towards us, until he stood directly in front of Legolas. He embraced him, then, looking over the Elf's shoulder, beheld Arwen. Legolas stepped aside, laughing, as Aragorn lifted the veil from her heavenly face and, taking her in his arms, kissed her while everyone cheered; everyone except me that is. I felt the sharp stab of envy pierce my heart as I saw Legolas gaze towards a woman in the crowd, before moving towards her. I followed him at a distance as he advanced. Legolas reached her, and I recognised Vénea, radiant with love, the glow making her face almost beautiful. Small comfort to me that my beauty far surpassed hers, she had got the guy while I was left in the cold. What use was a slender, lithe figure and haunting, ethereal beauty when the person I loved spurned me?

I turned away, suppressing the tears of agony as he took her by the hand and led her away...