In this next chapter, I am going by Orlando Bloom's commentary as to what exactly Legolas was experiencing after Gandalf's death. It was interesting, and I thought I could weave it in somehow. Thank you.

Active Mind of a Quiet Elf

Chapter 8

Grief

Sam fell, his face in his hands, tears making paths through the grim clinging to his round and usually rosy cheeks. They were pale now, and haunted. Legolas turned away, only to find more grief…for that could be the only word. Gimli was screaming, held tight against Boromir as he tried to get back to the cave. Legolas could barely hear what he said, his gruff voice choked by unshed tears. Boromir simply held him. Pipin was laying down, sobbing as Merry held him close, staring off into the abyss that only he could see.

Legolas walked over the uneven ground, stepping lightly and carefully through the tear filled masses, trying to fathom what he was seeing and feeling. It was a new sensation, so foreign and pervading that it filled every sense he had until the thoughts jumbled and spilled over like water from a broken jug.

Legolas had seen everything, witnessed so many horrible things and yet this was something new. He couldn't put into words the mass of invisible pain pinching every inch of his body. The shock, the numbness. Over and over he tried to tell himself that Gandalf was gone, that he was no longer there, that he was dead and yet his brain wouldn't soak in the fact. A wall had been erected inside his head, one Gandalf's demise would not be able to jump or get around.

Everyone around him was crying, which confused him. He felt no need to cry, it was something he just…he…Legolas looked to Aragorn for help but the man was standing there, watching those around him as well. He was no help. He had seen death, seen what it had done. Gandalf was gone, he was dead and he was never coming back. That was impossible. Gandalf had always come, with words of wisdom and a smile and now…how? He'd been with them a few minutes ago. He had been standing there! How could he not be coming back?

Confusion stole over the Elf again and strange thoughts came to him, one of which was the thought that he was incredibly sheltered.

"Legolas." Aragorn called. Legolas was so busy consumed in this new feeling of overwhelming, world crushing emotion that he couldn't bring himself to look up. "Get them up."

Get them up? Was Aragorn crazy? Couldn't he feel the gravity beneath him? The sudden tilting pull of the world as it tried to swallow all whole? The gapping chasm between Legolas and the world, so mockingly bright and cheery?

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake." Boromir pleaded, his voice strained. Legolas watched the Hobbits and suddenly imagined them getting smaller, shrinking in on themselves as he himself must, even now, be shrinking. The feeling scared him and brought with it a pang of other unpleasant sensations, like a swoop in his stomach when he thought of Gandalf. The raw clench of muscles in his body as he pictured that old face. It was like ripping open a fresh wound and making it bleed all the worse.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn reasoned. He cleaned off his blade and Legolas' eyes caught on the steel. With that glint he moved, one pain filled step and then another, towards Merry and Pippin. "We must reach the Woods of Lothlorien. Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up." Legolas took hold on Merry's cold hand and squeezed it, mesmerized by the soft cold skin beneath his hand. "On your feet Sam." Aragorn drug Sam to his feet and then turned, looking for the last of their party. "Frodo?" The Hobbit was moving away. Legolas pulled Merry up and then gripped Pippin beneath the arms. With one strong swing, the little creature was on his feet, swaying. His eyes were pouched and red, his nose running. There were rivers down his face and with a fair hand, Legolas wiped them away. "Frodo!"

Aragorn's call made Legolas turn, still in a daze. The Hobbit was far off down the rocks, moving slowly and hunched. The gravity seemed the most on him, it's pull so strong he could barely move his feet. The look he gave Aragorn as he turned made Legolas' skin grow cold and all welled up thoughts erased into one, strong blast of wind that knocked his breath away. The haunted, deadened look so many old souls carry marred the young features and a lone tear slipped down a dirty cheek.

They walked on again, passing steep, cracked rocks and yellow grass hills. Legolas walked slowly, keeping pace with Sam's dragging, logged steps. Aragorn fell back, coming up beside him. He looked tired and older then Legolas had ever seen him.

"I don't understand." Legolas whispered, watching Sam's hunched shoulders. "It is…I just want to…" He struggled to find the words but it was impossible. Aragorn nodded and gave him an encouraging smile.

"The feeling will never go away." He whispered back, his voice choked slightly. Legolas felt his heart skip. Never? "It will ease."

"I don't want it to ease." Legolas answered. Suddenly the world seemed different, smaller, more wondrous. Gandalf would have loved to see some of these rock formations, if he hadn't already. "I want it to go away."

"We will be in Lothlorien soon." He whispered back, his face soft. Legolas nodded and watched the glistening, shallow water nearby. Aragorn ran ahead, splashing through the glistening water until he stopped on a small ridge. Legolas saw his shoulders visibly relax. Lothlorien was over there, so close yet…

Actual Orlando Bloom Quote:

"I remember I was saying to Pete, for the first time Legolas witness's death, or what death does to the beings around him. He doesn't understand that, it's not part of his comprehension. He's an elf, elves don't die, their immortal. And so he sort of…I wanted to try and portray in that…that moment this kind of utter confusion and bewilderment at Gandalf not being with us and where could he have gone? This is what death means. You know?"