Chapter Twenty-One: Awaiting The End

It seemed as if everything she had ever heard or felt was whirling within her mind as she struggled to surface through the darkness that had overtaken her. Glimpses of things of the past seemed to loom before her in no particular order, leaving her struggling to survive the barrage of emotions that pounded against her. There was the ship as she boarded and sailed from the shores of Valinor. Maeve as she bent over her, smiling broadly, her eyes wet with tears of joy, "A child." The woman's words echoed in darkness for a moment before she saw the shady shores of Middle Earth before the treacherous sea destroyed their ship. Then the face of Elrond as he welcomed her to his home with open arms.

There was Legolas, then Eowyn and Ilterrin, Cirdan and Frodo, Faramir and Elrohir, Eomer and Elladan. Then without warning came the harsh face of her master, looming from the darkness as he held a brutal whip, poised to come crashing down against her broken body. She trembled; she was running now, the trees seemed familiar and at the same time strange and she came to a small stream in the middle of a clearing. She felt her heart leap at the sight of him and called out his name. He turned but it was not the face of her beloved but the cold and callous expression he had worn when first she met him. She stopped short for a moment, daring not to go any further and just as suddenly as she had found herself in this place she was gone. She opened her eyes and looked out, her sight stretching nearly to the sea as she stood at the pinnacle of Minas Tirith, hearing the wind whisper softly through the White Tree of Arnor as tears slipped down her pale cheeks.

She woke suddenly and abruptly, torn from the sorrows of her dreams to the horrors of reality. She had woken once before but only for a short time while Maeve spoke to her before she slipped back into the darkness of her dreams. She sat slowly, resting against the headboard as true tears dropped onto the velvet blankets that covered her. She was safe within the palace, the blood of her lover had been washed away and her skin was white once more as early dawn peaked through the massive windows surrounding the doors to their balcony. Frost covered the windowpanes although she knew they were far enough south they would see little snow. For a moment she wished that it would snow, just to glimpse its pureness before the reality of her husband's condition blackened the day.

The soft light cast strange and bitter shadows as she sat, staring out the window as if expecting the snow to fall at her silent bidding. She hugged herself tightly and found that she was weeping, unsure of when she began, only sure of how her heart pained her as she sat shivering in the early dawn. Not even the fire that blazed in the hearth across the room could force any warmth into her body. There was a soft knock on the door and she held her breath, unsure of what she feared as someone entered silently. She waited until they stepped from the shadow and felt relief wash over her as she saw his fair elven features, deeply etched with concern. She felt the tears falling again and silent sobs tore her from the inside as he moved quickly and took her in his arms, holding her while she cried, knowing that it was not his arms she longed to feel so carefully wrapped around her shaking form.


Faramir stood looking out at the cold wintry day and wishing for some sign of spring that might bring light and warmth to this, the darkest of days. He sat at his desk, just off the throne room and although the room was small compared to that of the king, it suited his purposes as he was gone from Gondor most of the year anyway. He stood, unable to sit still as he paced back and forth in front of the windows, looking out at the dreary sky above for it seemed even the earth itself mourned this day. He looked out, thankful that Ilterrin had offered to oversee the soldiers this day as they continued to bring the fallen back to Gondor. He had not the strength.

He had not slept last night, and little the night before as they waited for word as to the condition of the king. Late in the night, Eowyn had come to him and told him that Eomer was awake. Immediately, he had gone to his soon to be brother, wonderfully thankful for some sign of hope, some sign that all would not be lost. Eomer looked weary and had lost much blood but the healers assured him that by the late days of summer, the young Rohirric king would be as robust and strong as ever, no doubt leading the Rohirrim on some errand or another. It would take time, but word that Eomer would live had brought him hope that word might soon be brought to him of Elessar as well. It had not come.

He paused and looked out the window at the city below. There was no distant sound of laughter, no bustling merchants in the streets; the streets were empty. The announcement of the king's state had been given less than one hour ago. He had stood atop the stairs to the palace, Eowyn at his side and watched as the people of Gondor broke with grief. Many of the women left crying; the children were silent, many remembering the man and elleth who had become their most valued storytellers and beloved playmates. The men remained stone faced, but he could see the pain behind their tight masks as they took their grieving families home.

He watched as four soldiers came through the city, bearing one of the fallen, as his grieving family followed silently. Though Gondor's losses had not been great in numbers, to some they had meant the entire world. He only prayed that one lady might be spared this grief for she had known so much already he feared that the king's death would destroy her. He had gone to speak with Maeve after telling the citizens of the king and found she had gone to rest. Legolas was there however and although the elf seemed a master of hiding his emotions, Faramir could sense the aching pain within the elf for his friend. More than ninety years had the elven prince and mortal king known each other, Faramir found it hard to fathom the bond between them. They were not friends; they were brothers.

He ran his hand through his unkempt hair and sighed deeply, dreading the days that were to come when he as Steward and Prince of Ithilien, must take the place of the king. He did not wish to be king and would have given anything to see the rightful king wandering the streets of the city below and bringing joy to his broken people once more. The city that had once rejoiced and looked to the palace with thoughts of kindness and hope, now was eerily still as if all were holding their breath and waiting for the final blow to be dealt.

A knock on the door made him jump and his heart constricted with fear as he wondered what news would be brought him. The past two days since he had laid the queen to rest in her chambers had made him feel beyond his years and he was well of aware of this as he wearily bid the person to enter. They did and his heart paused when he saw that it was Maeve, her cheeks were wet with tears that she tried quickly to wipe away, but to no avail.

"Maeve, what news do you bring me? It is better you speak it for the known, however terrible, is worse than the unknown."

"It is the king, your majesty, he grows worse with every hour and we have nothing more that we can do for him. It is beyond mortal skill I fear, to save him now."

He felt his shoulders slump as he turned from her so that she would not see the tears that escaped from the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat and nodded, but did not turn to face her.

"Thank you, Maeve."

Without another word, she left him alone and he let one quiet sob break free before he bit his lip, refusing to let any more tears fall until the man was dead. He leaned against the window, feeling the coolness of its thick panes against his bare forearms where he had long ago rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. He stood still for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to control the emotions roiling within him but could not. He struck out, pounding his fist against the stone until he had no more strength before he fell to his knees and wept as he had not since the news of his mother's death was brought to him as a child.

He heard the door behind him open soundlessly and knew that only one would be so bold but he did not turn to her as she entered, nor did he hide the fresh tears on his face as she came to kneel beside him. Finally, after many moments of silence, he looked up at her and saw that her eyes were red with tears; her face streaked with salt as she bit her lip and tried to stifle her weeping. He reached out and tenderly pulled her close to him as they dried each other's tears and waited for the end.


"Take me to him," her soft request had startled him after they had sat together for nearly two hours without a word between them. He looked up at her.

"You are weak, Saeorii, you need rest."

"I have slept for two days, Legolas. I thank you for your concern, but I must see him," she pleaded, looking up from his arms where he held her close, fearing if he let go she would fade before his very eyes.

The dark depths that looked up at him imploringly melted his heart and he knew that a strong bond had been forged between them that would never be broken. She was now his sister, perhaps not by blood, but by ties that were even stronger. Never would he allow her to be hurt by men again as her eyes told him she had been. Never.

He pulled away from her slightly and stood, moving towards the end of the bed and reaching for a thick velvet robe as he saw her slide her legs out over the edge of the bed and carefully slip her feet into the soft slippers that waited at the bedside. He returned to her side and carefully wrapped the robe around her frail shoulders, pausing to tie her long dark tresses back from her face before moving to stand in front of her. He held out both arms to her and she clasped them firmly, with more strength than he would have guessed her to possess. For a moment she did not move, seeming to be summoning her strength from some secret place that he did not know about before she stood unsteadily to her feet.

She stood motionless for a moment and he knew that even the slightest breeze would have taken her feet from under her. As it was she only took one step before trembling and falling to her knees. Immediately, he knelt and examined her to be sure that nothing was bruised or broken before looking at her once more.

"You are too weak, Saeorii, please, just rest a little longer," he implored, fearing he would lose his sister almost as soon as he found her.

"Help me get up," she whispered, and her voice told him she was in pain.

"Please," but the words that were to follow died on his lips as he saw a flash of the newfound determination in her that he had first been witness to mere days ago just before she rode out with Elessar to face the Haradrim.

"I have spent decades as a prisoner of men, please do not you imprison me as well, gwador nin," she whispered as she rested her head against his shoulder.

He sighed deeply and kissed the top of her dark head before moving to stand with her. Again she wavered, but this time she did not fall as she took steps, gradually through the door to the outer rooms. The dull grey clouds cast strange light upon them as they walked slowly towards the massive doors that would lead them into the King's Hall where only the most privileged were given entrance. He paused, his left arm supporting her as he knocked sharply on the door and it was opened before them. The guards stood straight and watched with slight wonder on their face as their timid queen walked with resolve past them. The hall was lined with guards and each stood to attention as they passed and Legolas knew that it was not the elven crown he wore that caused them to do so.

The doors were opened before them and they were led into the outer part of the King's Hall where his closest friends were given massive rooms of fine silk and beautiful white stone. These rooms were better than any others in the castle save the King's and perhaps those reserved for the Steward in the second most well guarded hall in the castle where the Councillors dwelt. Their progress was slow and they stopped often so that Saeorii could catch her breath but never did the desire to reach her husband diminish.

They paused longest before the doors that would lead from the silent safety of the King's Hall into the halls were servants and messengers, courtiers and lords, would walk without thought to the fear he sensed welling up within her. She had felt no fear riding out towards an army, but shook at the thought of those she would meet in the halls of her own home. Legolas felt a sudden burning anger to know that such a great creature had been so marred. He wished there were something he could do to lessen her fear but knew that only time would heal the wounds that could not be seen. At last she nodded and he motioned for the doors to be opened.

They continued through the halls, but to his relief they found them nearly empty. The servants they passed looked at the beautiful creature at his side with mournful pity, knowing well how much she loved the one who now lay dying in some other part of the castle. They took the less used hallways that, though less guarded, would see them to the Healing Hall with greater speed. This was important for two reasons: that it would limit the number of people they met in passing, and that the elleth beside him could go no further than was absolutely necessary.

They had nearly reached the Hall when he heard slow footsteps ahead of them and knew that Saeorii had heard them as well as she stiffened slightly beside him and held his arm a little tighter. He hoped for a moment that the person might turn off into another hall but found that instead they came closer and closer. With each step the elleth at his side trembled and he sensed that the imminent death of Estel had made her fear of men even stronger. Her protector had fallen, who now would protect her from the foul words and even fouler deeds that men were capable of?

Legolas looked up as they turned the last corner and saw that it was one who he recognized as a member of the new council that Estel had formed shortly before his departure from Gondor. The man, his sable hair streaked with silver, paused in surprise at their approach. He inclined his head and Legolas returned the gesture.

"Your Majesties, forgive me, I did not mean to intrude upon your solitude. I only sought some measure of solace for myself before I go to my wife and children. They are most grieved to have heard news of the King. We all are," he finished softly, his gaze coming to rest upon the fragile queen.

"Most gracious thanks," Saeorii answered quietly from his side, but he noticed that her eyes would not meet those of the kind man who stood before them.

"By your leave," the man requested quietly and wordlessly, Legolas thanked him for he knew the man had noticed Saeorii's fear.

"Of course," he answered politely as the man bent slightly before walking away from them as the doors to the Healing Hall were opened for them.

He knew which room it was; he had borne the man here after he had fallen. He could still remember well the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and the great weight of his friend's wilted body in his arms as his tunic grew wet with red blood. He could still remember the smell of the herbs that had been given to the man as soon as he arrived. He could still remember, standing and watching soundlessly as the healers tended to the man's wounds, his body numb with the realization that this might be the end.


She stood, mere steps from where he lay, fighting for his every breath and nearly losing this most important battle. Legolas' arm was strong around her waist and she allowed herself to lean against him as he led her towards the large bed where Elessar lay. She shook as she saw him for the first time since she had held him upon the battlefield. His face was whiter than her own, dark hair pulled back so that she could see his noble features well as she moved towards him. Finally, she sank slowly onto the edge of his bed, simply watching the uneven rise and fall of his broad chest as time stopped around them.

She stood watching the swirling white while she waited for his return. She had stayed for some time after he went to Faramir, with Eowyn and Eomer before at last finding her way back here to the room that had been given to them for their stay in Rohan. Her spirits were heavy and she sensed that the howling wind brought bitter tidings this night as the candles behind her burned low, reflecting strangely against the glass.

She sighed and then moved to their bed, knowing she would not find rest until he was beside her despite the two Dunedain who stood guard just outside their door. She blew out the candles next to their bed and slid between the soft sheets, soothed by the sound of the wind as it smoothed the rough castle of stone. Finally, she heard his steps, and relaxed as the echoes grew closer.

He entered, and obviously guessing her to be asleep, began to undress silently before he sat on the far edge of the bed. For a moment he did not move and she could sense him watching in the darkness. He sighed mournfully and she turned, his worry weighing heavy on her heart and looked at his strong silhouette against the stormy darkness. She sat up and slowly slid towards him, resting her chin in his shoulder and gently stroking his arm as he chuckled softly.

"I thought you were sleeping, Melleth."

"Nay, I waited for you," she answered quietly before asking the question that burned within her. "What troubles you this night?"

"Ilterrin has sent word, King Reyson of the Haradrim has declared war."

His words seemed to make the walls grow closer and for a moment her hand stilled before she brought it to rest upon his large hand.

"When do we leave?"

"At dawn," he answered tightly and she knew he feared not for himself but for her and for his kingdom, still so weak from the rampage of Sauron.

She sighed softly and moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck before moving to kneel on the bed behind him. She moved her hands to rest upon his broad shoulders and wordlessly began to kneed the tight muscles in his neck. She smiled as she felt them loosen beneath her gentle touch as her hands moved up his neck and then back down to his shoulders, trailing lower and lower down his back as he bent so that she could reach him more easily. He rested his arms on his legs, his head bowed forward and sighed with pleasure as she worked the tight muscles of his shoulders until they were nearly limp and he moaned softly with pleasure. She laughed lightly, pleased that she could bring him some comfort.

"What of Eomer and Eowyn," she asked at last, her hands never ceasing their movement as he answered languidly.

"They will come with us. Eomer says he wishes to repay the debt he owes for my fighting in the battle for Helm's Deep. I told him no repayment was necessary, but he insists. He is nearly as stubborn as Gimli."

"You are glad he is going," she spoke softly as her hands moved up towards his neck again.

"Aye, though I do not wish him to ride into danger, it does my spirit good to know that he shall be at my side."

"That is well," she answered and he moaned softly as she unwound yet another knot.

"Faramir has ridden ahead to ready the Rangers of Ithilien. He promised to bring as many as Osgilioth can spare."

"That is good." For moments they were silent again as she continued until at last she broke the silence. "All will be well, my love," she whispered softly, sensing his uneasy thoughts. "Gondor shall not fall."

She was startled when he sat straighter suddenly and ceased her hands, pulling her forward so that she rested against his back, her chin resting on her shoulder once more.

"No more talk of wars and battles this night," he instructed, his voice husky as he kissed her hand tenderly and rested his head against her own.

"Tis morning, my lord," she answered teasingly and gasped softly as he swiftly moved and lay back on the bed, laying her gently against him.

She cradled her head in her arms and looked up at his face as he watched her, lovingly brushing his rough hand against her face. She smiled and felt his hand pause before it moved and ran down her arm slowly. At last it returned to her face, but only for a moment before he pulled her to him and grazed her lips gently before moving slowly deeper and deeper. He reached up and ran his hand through her long hair as she answered him and he moved further onto the bed, his lips never leaving hers as the wind wailed without the walls of the castle.

That night, nearly three months past had been the last night they had been together; she felt a tear slip from beneath her closed lids as she wondered if it would be the last. She shuddered from deep within and laid her hand gently against her stomach as she opened her eyes at last. Legolas sat nearby in a chair, his watch over her never ceasing. Fearfully, she looked to her beloved, her hands shaking like a frightened child's as she stroked the side of his face tenderly. Tears streamed down her face and she could taste bitter salt as she sat watching as his ever breath drew him farther from her and nearer to death.

To be continued…