PART VII

SACRIFICE

Looking at myself

Arun peered into his father's face, as though looking into the sheen of a mirror; the experience was the same. His own dark eyes, dense and knowing, stony in their strength but capable of great loyalty, stared unnervingly, unblinkingly at him. He quivered a little in the shadow. It was several years since they had been together, and yet, as between him and Amandil there seemed an unacknowledged equality. Haran, a little fearful now that he stood in front of his father, unknown and imagined for so many years, stepped back a little, his head hung forward slightly. It was left to the corner of his eye to discover the grim lines and proud bearing of his father's face and body. Legolas felt once more as though he should be responsible for such young ones, and yet found himself once more under their control, slightly helpless. Still anxious to remain undiscovered he feared to say more than was necessary and was thus forced to wait in the background, unnoticed.

Hellian had turned in wonder; this news was the last tidings he had expected to hear. His sons according to his wishes, his prayers, lay safe and protected by a mother's love deep in the country. The focus of Orcs he believed now came upon the white city of men, determined to destroy; draw the remnants of Numenor to submit. Yet he had not heard of the attacks that came in the night, in quiet like the silence of a battlefield before a fight, the evil that came without drums; it plundered and tore.

"Father," spoke a stuttered voice, uncertain as though on a stepping stone gripping to find footing, Arun stood desperate for the approval of his father. He felt that without the support of this figure he should become nothing. He also saw himself responsible for the death of his mother, for drawing his brother into the nucleus of danger. Perhaps had they stayed at home….? Yet in his mind when he struggled for rationality that they must have come, that the journey for better or for worse would lead him to prove his manhood; and he was ready to face the challenge.

Hellian stood, still ice like in his immobility, did not know how to react to the mirror that stood before him, exhaling strength so like his own, desperate in the dread of his features. It had been so long between them, so many years that he felt intimacy to be difficult. Time was like a broken bridge between them, and all would have to relearn the ways of their kin. Eventually he broke the silence. In awkward tones he stumbled as though upon the rocks of sheer mountains; "My sons…" then he broke off, as if emotion or merely the unknown hindered him. " I did not think to see you within the walls of this city so soon. Where is your mother? Have you left her alone?"

Arun seemed stunned at what he sensed was anger in his father's confusion. In fear and respect of such an idolised elder he knew not how to react. He stammered, tried to form and excuse, and fell silent, head heavy as rocks drawn towards the earth. Legolas, sensing such a rift, wished to heal, stepped forward and in a low voice began to explain.

"I am Legolas," he spoke," and hoping to gain the trust from the father of such sons he opened up a little of his own trust, let go of some of his closely guarded identity; so precious to himself, so dangerous in such a land. "I am an elf of the woodland realm of Mirkwood. He noted the look of genuine surprise that, despite his reluctance painted itself across Hellian's features, revealing him to be open as the wind. "I found your sons captured and alone amid the eaves of the forests of Anorien. They were bound together and within the custody of a Corsair. Had I not been there I believe that they would have been carried off to slavery in Mordor." Legolas spat the word as though it made him retch and the taste was foul within his mouth. At the sound of the word his mind, always resting on the fate of his friend would automatically fly to his constant terror for Estel's welfare. He remembered the dreams from which he suffered night after night, always the same, only another slight stain of blood marred the hands that reached.

Within a second Hellian's face had turned from its puzzlement to dark rage and Legolas stopped abruptly, momentarily afraid that he was the cause of such passion. The danger of his son's melted like the blanket of snow at the whisper of spring any anger or confusion the man felt towards his sons, but though he was slow to anger his wrath came as an arrow to the heart, true and piercing. He stood speechless and his eyes looked not upon the elf that wished to share his anguish, nor on his sons uncertain and seeming lost within the city of Kings.

Finally, as always, and proof of his maturity, sprouting like a sapling in spring, Arun once more broke the rage filled silence. Red it seemed and hot like a forge. He reached out even, his hands, to make the first moves of reconciliation, of reassurance to the unmistakable guilt that radiated from his father; so very like his own. "Father," his voice, repeating the word familiar like the morning, was softer but more resolute; he no longer stumbled with his words. "Our mother is dead, for she came to search for me in the darkness, when I would not be found. She was struck by the evil sting of Orcish arrows from which no healing hand could save." His voiced was scored with grief, yet like his duty he continued. "I felt this to me my fault and so led Haran from our home to seek you here, if only for Haran's protection. The village is no longer safe for him."

Legolas felt the steady grace of these words that had accepted whatever end his father chose for him. Hellian's face could no longer register a single expression but his throat was choked with the shock and grief of the words, like thunder on a summer's eve, unexpected and so destructive. He could not speak, but his eyes were locked with those of his son's in disbelief. But it was the turn of Arun to be calm now, for he saw no other way except honesty before him.

"The attack in the woods came as a surprise, I had my arrows and a knife, but they were not enough it seems and we found ourselves outnumbered and taken by cruel hands and hidden faces. They carried us off until there came an ambush by Orcs. These it seems were not the friends that had been expected. We were dragged elsewhere, and powerless, for they drugged us. This elf came upon is in a clearing, or rather we came upon him. Without his help we should be, as he tells, dead or far from here enslaved." He stopped and breathed as though it might be the last he would take, for he feared and expected judgement, and then, softer still, continued, "I ask no pity father, the fault is mine. But for my foolish acts our mother would not lie dead, and we should not have come so near the shadow. I ask only that you judge me as you see fit, and that my brother shall not partake of my shame."

Having finished so noble and diligent a speech and expecting nothing but contempt, unable now to bear the weight of his father's grief contorted features, he chose the ground as his focal point. Arun set his sights on the slight cracks that appeared between the stones of the ancient city. On their irregularity only could he find the strength to avoid breaking down and begging for his father's mercy that he was sure he did not deserve. He heard a movement and flinched, waiting and expecting to be beaten.

Facing It

But the blow expected never came. Instead his father's arms found themselves clinging to the son as though by taking his breath he could somehow take his soul into keeping, protecting it from the harms of the world. The arms Arun felt were fierce and loving and he felt almost stifled in the intensity of embrace. He knew not what to do, so ready had he been for the censure of this man. Tears now flowed freely like cool water on the glass of a window, refreshing rain in the heat of summer, as Hellian struggled to bring his emotions under control.

Finally releasing the overwhelmed boy he stepped towards the elf, but held back from a similar intimacy, unsure of how to address one of the Elder race. Legolas, now more at ease, seeing the relief of the father, his powerful love for his sons, was willing to make the first steps to intimacy. Leaning forward he laid his hand on the shoulder of the stricken man, bending all his hope towards this man's grief, hoping to instil some like tiny rays of sun that peer through the clouds of a storm or rain. He felt the drop of a tear onto the soft skin of his hand, and he wept inside for the grief of such times, proof as it was of the lengthening shadow over Middle Earth.

For the first time Hellian peered into the deep grey eyes, that told of longer years than were even in the memories of his father's generation. He did not know the age of this elf, but though the body was young, the eyes held pain and joy, beyond that which he had experienced and he was at a loss. So many years had it been since men had mixed with the Elder race in Gondor. Yet it had been a wish of his to see the fair beauty of the elves, to seek their wisdom. The encroaching shadow had destroyed all hope of that. And now one stood before him, and he felt almost reverent amid his grief to have seen what so many would never see. The touch of this being sent waves, like flecks of warm water against the skin, through his body, in surprise he felt his grief subside a little and was amazed by the warmth of the touch and the trust the fair being invested in him by such intimacy.

Trying desperately to pulls the shards of his life towards him, forming some sort of sense, Hellian breathed deep then decided to take action. "Come, we must move from here. I shall take you to my lodgings, sir…" he realised he was still unsure of how to treat so noble a guest, "I wish to pay you some token of gratitude for the deliverance of my sons, for without you it seems this day I should have nothing."

"If you would do but one thing for me sir at the moment," Legolas intertwined, "It would be to aid my secrecy. Though I have come among men before, my experiences are such as have made me aware that elves are not always welcome in the world of men." His eyes were once more furtive, like rabbits in the wilderness and he drew his cloak tighter to him as if sensing the danger of distrust even in the air around him.

"If that be the case my Lord," Hellian seemed to apologise as though upon his shoulders rested the guilt of his people. "I shall bring you at once to my quarters and there you shall rest in secret, for none shall know of your existence as long as you remain with me and if there is anything more you would have me do to aid you. You have only to request it and it shall be done; for I am ever in your debt."

"There is much I would speak of," whispered the elf, in a voice slow and wide with sorrow, "I have travelled many miles and many further into more difficult conditions have I yet to go. But I would not speak of that here, for the shadow even now rests upon Minas Tirith and I do not wish to be seen." With that Hellian turned, having uttered not another word, and led them away from the wall, down the steps, eyes ever behind, darting like dragonflies, sensing the danger of the elf's coming. He spoke but a word of thanks to Amandil who stood with expectancy at the gate, nodded at the boys as they walked past. Then the four began to make their way through the gentle rise of the narrow streets of the city of Kings.

An Impossible Journey

"Utterly impossible," spoke the voice; like knives it tore. To Legolas it slashed his hope; he found it in shreds. But what had he thought? How could this end with anything but death. How could one overcome such bitter obstacles?

"There must be a way." He pleaded, voice rocking like a boat in the wind, the pain and fear of capsizing so close. "I shall go with or without your help, but without it shall be harder. But I shall not leave Estel to this fate." The elf's face, unusually flushed, was desperate in its pinkish glow, almost a reflection of the stubborn flame that burned bright within his slate like eyes. Determination seethed through him and he felt ready to face any foe of Mordor. "If there is nothing more to say I must go," words more courageous and cold than any he felt within his anguished mind.

"There is naught in Mordor except death and shadow." Hellian pleaded reason, for he had seen the black gate face to face. Knew the terror of the sharp metal that seemed to keep evil at bay and yet was a rigid reminder of the shadow that lurked, growing stronger. At long last he sighed, a final attempt to dissuade such foolishness. His voice was begging now, like thirst he spoke, and his words were tinged with fear. "I have seen the black gate, stood cowering under the iron hinges, large as the head of a man, hard and cold, dark like shadow. Orcs and fouler beings besides stand atop the gate, like teeth they seem ready to bite the land, and there is ever the knowledge of lurking shadow just metres behind. Grown men of Gondor will n'er even face the gate for it speaks of a danger that most acknowledge still only in dreams."

Legolas looked into the man's eyes, registered the fear for the future that lay deeply embedded; lay anchored in the minds of his kinsmen. The shadow had crept into his mind too, it seemed always there, and he could feel the unmoving glare of the eye of Sauron on the city. Here the shadow concentrated its power. It seemed to Legolas that he saw the shadow of the black gate reflected in the fear of this man, who had stood in the way of Goblins, and had driven Orcs from his land. He was built like the wall of the city; yet this he feared above all else.

Then in a voice quieter yet Hellian spoke again, deeper now, like the failing of a candle in the darkness, "none who have passed the black gate have ere returned. They are lost to us and we know not the evil to which they succumb. Many have been lost to slavery for the Corsairs are cruel and cunning. Now the city bolts her gates at night and none shall enter, nor shall any men go alone beyond these walls as darkness falls. To go thus, is to wish death upon oneself."

"And still I shall go," quivered the voice of Legolas, the embedded fear reached him, shuddered through his spine as he fought to be resolute. "For I know he has not perished, I feel it, and though he is weak, he fights on. If you could but understand the importance of this man…" For a moment he could not speak, there were no words for such a loss, "… without him we shall be lost." Then fearing he had said too much he fell silent, giving way to despair and ruin.

Suddenly, a candle in the dark seemed to be lit, and a voice, cut through the despair. But its sound rand deadly in the ears.

"Father," spoke the voice, small it seemed indeed, compared with the awe of the silence surrounding them. "I will accompany Legolas to Mordor."

Do not go where I cannot follow

Hellian's eyes turned in horror towards his son, and Legolas head fell in dejection. The words were as if the beat of Orc drums had entered the room, or as the creak of the black gate, for they were tinged with dread for all.

Unable to stand at such an offer, Hellian's knees sank beneath him and he was forced to take a seat. Eyes seemed to gain hands, reached out in grief, and hands within his lap shook as his world took yet another tumble. A landslide beneath him, his world seemed to lie shattered and scattered about him once more.

Arun began again, "I know that I have been wrong father, I should not have left mother alone and this would not have come to pass. Furthermore this elf saved myself and Haran from the certain death of Mordor. He was willing to risk his life for us; therefore I shall lay my life and my sword before him. I am young but I have skill with a sword, and I fear the shadow but little."

This stunning offer, bored deep into the heart of the elf, and he wished he had never come across this place, and yet was amazed by the nobility and courage of such an offer in one so young. Truly Arun would grow into a great man, for his loyalty shone like the candle he seemed to offer, warm and inviting it seemed so tempting to accept. He had come to Gondor hoping only for some news of the Corsairs, perhaps to discover their route to the land of shadow, or discover some secret road by which he might enter. But to ensnare in his search the aid of one so young, it was a burden that weighed like lashes upon his back. Tears once more found themselves clogged in the corners of his eyes and he mourned the innocence of the young.

"Nay Arun," (it seemed to him he wept): "I should never allow it. This journey I would willingly undertake alone, but you have no cause. You must remain here with your father and stay young." Sighing into the silence, timeless as the night within forests and deep as the creak of the trees, Legolas began to face the reality of his situation. "Few shall survive the fires of Mordor, which would burn you to the core of your being, until even if you were to return you should be a shell of yourself. I would not have you lose your innocence so soon, for such a price."

As this exchange, like a stage in front of his eyes, played itself out, deliberate and dreadful as the tread of Orcs within forest, Hellian sat; and the tears had never left his cheeks. Instead they painted curious patterns, unknown in the world before, across the skin of his cheeks, grim and lined, and through his beard. Grief and despair it seemed had printed their indelible signature across his face, and he thought that he might not see a darker day than yet. And yet when he heard the voice of his son it seemed to him, as it did to his son that he offered a candle in the darkness, however weak the flame, however it faltered above the wick, this sacrifice spoke of the good left in the world, and he knew that he would have done the same. Torn now, between this new comprehension and the tug of his conscience, the dread rift that seemed to rip itself through him he knew not which evil he should choose. How should he now react? He could not lose his son, and yet he looked into the despair like a hole to the core of the Earth within the elf's eyes, something told him the request for aid should not be ignored. At last, he thought, I know….

End of part VII