20

A DESTINY FULFILLED

Unfinished Tales: P. 389: Cirion and Eorl: "The name Halifirien meant in the language of the Rohirrim 'holy mountain'. Before their coming it was known in Sindarin as Amon Anwar, 'Hill of Awe' -- in the Common Speech it was called 'the Whispering Wood'."

Aragorn reluctantly took his leave of Legolas in the White City. He had tried to talk the Elf out of going to the Grey Havens, feeling that it was still not his friend's time to depart Middle-earth, despite the problematic Silmaril. It was Aragorn's feeling that the jewel could be put for safekeeping in the deep vaults of Minas Tirith, and if any sign of a curse appeared, it could be dealt with at that time. However, Legolas did not wish to subject anyone, least of all his friends, to any possibility of danger. He resolved to make the trip to Valinor, and he would not be swayed from that decision.

"I have thought about it through the night, and have decided that I must go, Aragorn. It is better to do it now, before my relationship with Fingalas grows. I shall go to tell her that we must leave for home as soon as possible. I wish to tell her there, in the place where we found each other, that I will have to leave her."

He went in search of Fingalas, and found her standing on the balcony of her bedroom, looking over the fair lands that spread out below her. The sun was glowing golden, and was reflected in her hair. He noticed how attractively her bright curls cascaded down the back of her neck and shoulders.

"Ah, there you are, Fingalas," he said softly. "I have come looking for you." He stopped to admire her trim figure and its attractive, relaxed posture. "Tell me, did your parents name you 'Fingalas', or did you make up that name yourself? Since it is an Elvish name, I had wondered."

She blushed. "I confess that I gave myself that name. My real one is quite horrible."

"I cannot not believe that," he said. "What was your name?"

"Penelope," she replied.

"Penelope. That is a fine name, if somewhat modern and hard-sounding to an Elf. Did you know what 'Fingalas' meant, in Elvish?"

"I believe it means 'bright hair', or something of that nature."

"You are right," he replied with a smile. "It is a most appropriate name for you, although I would have given you another. I would have called you 'Melyanna'."

"What does that name mean?" She asked.

"It means 'dear gift'," he replied. "And you were my dear gift."

Fingalas appeared not to have caught his meaning in his use of the past tense instead of the present.

"Oh, Legolas," she sighed. "I feel as if I am in a dream, being here with you in this beautiful room. When I used to live in Minas Tirith before, I never would have believed it if anyone had told me that I would some day be sleeping in a room in the palace. I am so sorry that I deceived you in the past about who I was," she said.

"Do not fret, my dear. It does not matter anymore. It is a deed that is done and finished with. I shall not waste any of our precious time together in saying that you should not have done what you did. Of what consequence is it now?"

He turned her around to face him and held her face up toward his, his hand gently holding her chin. Then, he could not resist, and he kissed her tenderly.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, pulling away in surprise, sensing her melancholy.

"Fingalas, I must speak with you regarding a matter of much importance, but I do not want to discuss it here, in Minas Tirith. I know that we have just arrived, but I wish to leave for home later this morning, and I will tell you about it once we are safely home. But before we go, I would like to visit the Houses of Healing, to see if Elspeth and Enna are still there, and to find out if they are well. I would like to see them again and make sure that they are all right," he said.

"You are so kind to others, Legolas," Fingalas remarked. "May I go with you? I should like to see Ioreth, my old teacher. The last time I saw her was a month ago, before you returned home."

"I did not know that you visited her regularly," said Legolas.

"Yes. She is a good friend of mine," said Fingalas. "I often helped her with her sick patients, as she taught me the skills of healing. I am sure that I have seen the Rohan woman, Elspeth, of whom you spoke, and her baby. I was sure from your description that I had met them before, and their names sounded familiar."

Legolas looked at her with some concern. "I do not feel that the Houses of Healing are a safe place for you," he said. "Now that I know you are mortal, I am afraid that you may be in danger of catching a disease from that place. You must be careful of this new plague that has come here from Rohan."

She looked at him lovingly and replied breezily, "Do not worry about me. I am sure that I am not in danger of catching any diseases."

They walked through the streets to the Houses of Healing, hand in hand. There they visited with Ioreth, and Legolas was reunited with Elspeth and Enna. Elspeth was now well, and was working with Ioreth in Fingalas' old nursing position, tending to the comfort of the sick. Enna, now a sturdy child of just over a year, was running about the place, getting in everyone's way in her childish exuberance. Both looked happy and healthy, although Legolas expressed his concern about the people working in the Houses of Healing possibly contracting some of the diseases from the ill people who were being treated there. Ioreth eased his mind by telling him she always made sure that everyone took the proper precautions.

"As you can see, My Lord, we mortals all wear masks and gloves when we are treating the sick people," she said. "And these are washed every night before we use them again the next day. In fact, we wash everything at night before we use it again. Clothing, bed sheets, pans, instruments, everything. Also, can you not smell the Athelas? We use it as a preventative medicine in the form of an infusion. We place it in special vessels around each room. It can ward off most germs. It is infused in hot water, and the mixture is kept heated from below by candles. Look. We have devised the special vessel that holds the infusion on top of the candle, which heats it from below." She indicated several of the devices, placed in every room. "We are constantly breathing in the Athelas fumes, all day long. Breathing it helps keep everyone healthy, and it helps those who are wounded to heal faster."

Legolas was much relieved to hear how meticulous the healers were, and to see that the Houses were so clean and well organized. Ioreth was an old woman now, but she knew a lot about her work, and was an invaluable nurse. He then remembered to ask her if she had any knowledge of a poison that would kill the very large ant lions in Moria. She nodded, and said, "I believe that I may have something that you can use. Wait here, and I shall fetch it."

Ioreth went away and came back presently, holding a large crystal vial containing a greenish liquid.

"This should do the trick," she said. "Be careful with it, as it is very potent. Mix a drop of this in a gallon of water, and give it to the pests to drink. Remember to be careful with it, though," she warned again. "It is lethal, and will kill a man instantly if ingested, even when it is greatly diluted."

Legolas promised that he would be careful with the poison. He and Fingalas then took their leave. They returned to the palace to find Aragorn and Arwen, to bid them both farewell. Arwen was unaware of Legolas' plan to leave Middle-earth and so she hugged him with glee rather than sorrow. Aragorn had not told Arwen, at Legolas' request, about his leaving or about the finding of the Silmaril.

"Oh, Legolas, I am happy for you," she said, "that you should find yourself a woman worthy of you and share your life with her as I have with Aragorn. You have so much to offer, and of all people, you deserve as much happiness as I have found. Will you pursue marriage with her, and thus choose mortality, as I have done?"

He felt his eyes mist with tears. "Arwen," he spoke huskily, "you have always been a good friend to me, and you have now discovered my secret."

Arwen was puzzled to see Legolas crying. "What is this secret? Why do you cry?" she asked. "You must be getting sentimental in your old age!" Then she noticed a look of unusual sorrow in his eyes. "Come, I wish to speak with you privately," she said, and led him away from the others to a secluded alcove.

"You look both happy and sad at the same time," she said, regarding him with her keen Elf-eyes. "Are you happy with Fingalas, or do you not love her? What are you doing, Legolas? I sense a great conflict within you."

"I do not know," replied Legolas, his eyes downcast. He was afraid to look into Arwen's eyes directly again, for fear that she would guess too closely what it really was that was troubling him.

"How can you not know how you feel?" she persisted.

Legolas thought for a moment, and then he said, "Fingalas takes good care of me, Arwen. She always has done so. She is tender, warm and giving. She is sweet and kind. She loves me in spite of my faults. When I finally realized that I needed her, too, I felt the burden of all of my troubles fall away. I felt whole again, and I felt as I did as a young lad, experiencing the joys of life for the first time. I realized that at last I had love to give someone else, that I had been holding inside of me for over three thousand years."

Arwen smiled at him. "That certainly sounds like love to me," she said, "although I admit I had hoped that you would come to love Lindaril. I thought that the two of you were well suited. I will confess that Aragorn and I had purposely brought you two together in hope that you would take to each other. I do not have any ill will toward Fingalas, but she is mortal, Legolas, and I somehow fear for that. Not because you would have to become mortal yourself if you married her, but because of a sense of disquiet that I feel surrounds you both."

"I appreciate that you have told me how you feel, Arwen," said Legolas, "but there was something wrong with Lindaril, something very disturbing. I will not deny that she is intriguing, but I sensed that there was something dangerous about her as well."

"Is that not strange?" asked Arwen. "I feel the presence of danger, too, but it is not associated with Lindaril. I feel more that it surrounds Fingalas." She and Legolas then exchanged worried glances. Both of them understood the significance of Elvish prescience.

"It is no matter," said Legolas finally, feeling the pull of the mission that he had set for himself to complete. He must take the Silmaril away. He then cut the conversation short. "Let us go back and join the others. I thank you, Arwen, for your honesty."

She nodded and smiled, but in her heart there was much concern for him. When they walked back to join the group, Aragorn was saying to Fingalas:

"Elvish farewells are very flowery and always take much longer than ours do, it would seem!"

Aragorn then held his friend in a close but sombre embrace. "Legolas, you know how I feel about this," he said in a whisper. "I wish that you would reconsider your decision to go away. But, if you feel that you must, then go with my blessing and my love, and whatever luck that I can give you."

Legolas felt devastated by the realization that he would never see his friends again, but he did not outwardly show his feelings. It was very clear to him that if he left Middle-earth, he would be saying goodbye to his life on this world.

At length, he and Fingalas took their leave. Legolas was feeling quite shaken. He felt an unsteadiness as they made their way back to Ithilorien, but he was resolute in his desire to take the Silmaril away from Middle-earth. He did not know how he was going to be able to leave Fingalas, and worse, having to tell her that he would be going and not coming back. He wished for a moment that she could make the journey with him, but because she was a mortal woman, that was impossible. He was saddened by the thought that he would have to part with her at this time, when they were just beginning to get to know each other. After leaving her, then he would have to travel back to Moria and tell Gimli his news. That would be another dreadfully difficult task.

He was silent with his thoughts as he and Fingalas stopped for the night. She slept soundly after riding hard all day. Legolas stayed awake in torment through the night, worrying about the road ahead of him. The next morning, when Fingalas awoke, Legolas prepared something for her to eat, and once she was ready, they continued on their way home. The Silmaril was in one of Arod's saddlebags, Legolas having retrieved it from the vaults of Minas Tirith without Fingalas' knowledge.

Her voice brought him out of his silence.

"Legolas, look!" she cried. She was pointing at the river, which was unusually still, and reflected the sky, the greenness of the trees and the grass of the riverbank as they rode past. It was a beautiful sight. Legolas saw the river at that moment, and almost burst into tears. Fingalas noticed how serious he looked, and wondered why.

"Are you thinking sad thoughts about something, my love?" she asked.

"Something intolerably sad," he replied. "But I will try to put it out of my mind." He looked at her and smiled the most radiant smile that he could muster. She smiled back at him, her heart full of love for him.

They were a short distance from home when Legolas pulled Arod to a stop.

"Whoa," he said to Fingalas' horse as well.

"Why do you stop?" she asked.

"A sense of disquiet bothers me," he replied. "It is, I believe, of something burning, and I sense too, the fretting of horses." Alarmed, he set Arod to a gallop. Fingalas' horse followed as fast as it could. As he got closer, Legolas saw smoke rising from the direction of his stables. He smelled it, too, even though the air was still. There was no breeze at all. He and Fingalas rode closer, and they could see that smoke was rising from the stables' roof. There were sounds of commotion coming from inside, from horses panicking.

"Fingalas, stay here!" Legolas shouted in alarm, and sprang down from Arod's back. "You too, Arod!" Arod neighed in concern, as if he understood what was happening to his home and his friends.

Legolas ran toward the stables as fast as a deer in flight from a wolf. As he approached, he could see two men running, being chased by two stable hands. Legolas was neither carrying his bow and arrows, nor any other weapon. "Dunlendings!" he cried. "Help! Help! We are under attack!"

One of the fleeing men tried to run past, and Legolas sprang at him, grabbing his arm. The man was carrying a torch in his other hand, and flung it at Legolas, but he ducked the torch, and threw the man to the ground. He clutched the stranger by the throat in a steely grip, and hissed: "Tell me what you think you are doing here!"

The man was terrified by the Elf's fierce strength.

"We was trying to steal horses, My Lord," he stammered. "Please don't hurt me!" He was too afraid to lie.

Legolas then recognized him as one of the mountain men whom he and Gimli had met on their way into Rohan.

"You! I know you!" he cried. "My friend and I tried to help you! You pretended to be refugees, when you were but fugitives! What other evils have you done?" He was furious. He was just about to strike the man to subdue him, when he heard a piercing cry from Fingalas.

While Legolas was busy with the thief he had captured, the man's companion had run toward Fingalas and the horses. This man had first tried to grab Arod, but the horse kicked at him and would not let him near. Then, the man grabbed Fingalas' horse, and threw her off of it. As she lay on the ground, the thief tried to mount her horse, but she grabbed hold of his foot to try to stop him. The man then turned and kicked her hard in the face, and she cried out in anguish as she fell backward onto the ground. She lay there as limp as a rag doll, her arms and legs stretched out on the grass of Legolas' beloved home.

Legolas, alarmed, dashed back toward their two horses to try to help Fingalas. Seeing her lying on the ground with a grazed mark on her face enraged him. He pulled the thief down as he tried to climb onto her horse and twisted his neck with his bare hands until he could feel the bones snap. As the man fell dead to the ground, Legolas knelt down beside Fingalas and lifted up her head. She was bleeding from her mouth, and was unconscious.

"No, Fingalas, no!" he cried. He was devastated. "Are you hurt?" In his concentration to try to determine how badly injured she was, Legolas' Elvish senses briefly abandoned him.

The Dunlending whom Legolas had first attacked now crept up behind him. He held a pitchfork in his hand. He had used it to fend off the two stable hands, who were now busy trying to rescue the horses from the burning stables, and did not see him approach Legolas.

The man aimed the pitchfork at Legolas' head. At the last split-second before it would have hit him, Legolas' Elf senses returned to warn him, and he ducked aside. He did not have time to think. The pitchfork missed him, but in so doing, it stabbed Fingalas, two of its prongs piercing her throat, and one of them severing her spinal cord. She died instantly.

Most of the Elves from Legolas' household were away attending a nearby event in his absence, and the only one who had remained behind had been in the house when Legolas cried out, and had rushed to the burning stables to help the horses that were trapped inside. It was too late for him to do anything to help his friend.

Feeling an icy rage rise up inside him, Legolas turned and faced the thief and murderer who had killed Fingalas. The man, greatly afraid, looked into Legolas' eyes, which shone with a fierceness as coldly blue as ice. Legolas grabbed the man by the throat.

"So this is how you repay me for helping you," he said with stony calm. He then squeezed the man's neck with one hand, while lifting him up off the ground. He held him there until the man's life ebbed out of him, the whole time staring into his eyes with a deadly cold and furious gaze. When the thief and murderer was dead, Legolas dropped his body to the ground.

There was a terrible commotion coming from the stables. Legolas dashed toward them, running through the flames to get inside. Not sparing any thought for his own safety, he helped his friend to lead out as many horses as he could. As he glanced around, he saw that six fine stallions lay dead in their stalls, having been overcome by the smoke. He then returned to Fingalas. There was nothing more he could do for her. He fell down on the ground beside her, taking her limp hand in his. She was clearly dead.

"Oh, Fingalas," he whimpered, burying his face upon her bosom, and cradling her lifeless form in his arms. "My Melyanna!" He lay beside her, weeping with sorrow. He stayed there a long time. The Elf who had come running at his call tried to coax him into the house, but Legolas preferred to remain where he was, sitting beside the lifeless body of his loved one. Arod, who could sense the calamity that had befallen his beloved master, tried to nudge the Elf to soothe him, but the horse was rebuffed.

Finally, Legolas rose to his feet, and he was much changed in spirit. He resolved to do what he had set out to do. He would remain an Elf, fulfill his destiny and he would never marry. He went into the house, and prepared a resting place for Fingalas' body. When the other Elves returned, he gathered them together and spoke to them of his plans.

"Please have Fingalas entombed in the proper manner as befits a person of importance," he said, "just as they do in Minas Tirith, and please send word to the King and Queen of what has happened here today. I am going away now, and I shall not return."

Once he saw that the fire in the stables was extinguished, and the horses that had been rescued were safe, he then bade farewell to all of his friends, and jumped onto Arod's back. He coaxed the horse to go north. As he left his home, he did not look back.

Legolas kept a steady pace with Arod, moving at a slow trot, headed in the direction of the Grey Havens. They traveled along the same road where they had met the group of five men from Rohan. The memory of that meeting was now bitter for him. He did not think much about anything in his gloomy state of mind as he traveled. He stopped now and then to care for Arod, and to let the horse drink and rest.

At one stop, they were attacked by five starving coyotes. Legolas shot them all easily with bow and arrows. After that, he did not want Arod to carry the Silmaril, blaming it for his own ill luck, that had ended with Fingalas' death. And so he took it out of the saddlebag and strapped it to his own back. It was wrapped in heavy cloth so that its light would not be seen. He and Arod plodded onward.

They passed Nardol, the beacon-hill near the place where they had found Elspeth and Enna. He hardly remembered them now, in his present almost catatonic state of mind. When they eventually approached the Firien Wood on the Great West Road, they were attacked again, but this time it was by a pack of seven wolves. These animals were too much for Legolas to fight off by himself. The attack came too suddenly, and the wolves were very large and much fiercer than normal. They had been starving for far too long. Two of them killed Arod, biting at him furiously, rending the poor horse's flesh until he fell, screaming and pawing the air, and then tearing out his throat with their strong jaws and sharp teeth. They set upon Legolas too, tearing at his arms and legs, and leaving deep wounds in them. He fought ferociously in order to help Arod, but he could not staunch the wolves' attack. One of them had managed to grasp his bow in its teeth, and had cracked it in two, rendering it useless.

"These devilish creatures seem to be possessed," he thought, as he fought them desperately with his knife and his hands. It was not enough. Finally, the wolves tore at the Silmaril on his back, ripping away the covering. The first wolf who got its teeth on it was blinded by the sudden light as the jewel was exposed, and his jaws were scorched by it. The wounded animal fled, howling in pain and terror, running into the open lands, not able to see where it was going. The next wolf, and the next, as they bit at Legolas, all became blinded by the Silmaril.

Some of the starving wolves drank the ant lion poison that spilled from Arod's broken saddlebags. These wolves died instantly, writhing in agony where they fell, beside Arod's body lying lifeless on the hard, cruel road, his strong red blood staining his noble white hair.

After the attack, Legolas lay on the ground for a while, semi-conscious. He was badly wounded. He was bleeding profusely from many bites, and the Silmaril, still strapped to his back, was now exposed, giving off its brilliant light like the brightest star in the night sky. Legolas mustered enough strength to kneel beside Arod, stroking the neck of the poor dead animal. He wept many tears for the loss of his brave and faithful steed, blaming himself for the curse of the Silmaril, which he believed had caused the death of Fingalas and Arod, and now possibly, himself.

Something happened inside his mind at this point. Suffering from too much grief and too many injuries, he arose and walked into the woods, where his mind went blank, and he collapsed upon the forest floor. A few days later he awakened from his deep sleep, still wounded, but no longer near death. He stayed in the wood, believing that something within had saved him, and he wandered to and fro, fruitlessly searching for his benefactor. His grief consumed him and he succumbed to it, letting his memories wash over him in great waves. The spirits that dwelt within the wood had saved his life, enveloping his torn and broken body within their cocoon of sleep, and strengthening his will to live while his wounds healed, untouched by the pall of infection. They did not touch the Silmaril, but left it exposed upon his back, to assist them in warding off scavengers.

He remained in the wood, wandering ever deeper into it when he awoke, having no desire to see another living person. Whenever anyone ventured into the wood and chanced to come upon him, from a distance the stranger thought he was seeing an apparition, perhaps a ghost. Stories about this apparition spread. He became known as the "Star Man" to the local people who lived nearby. He was always seen as a figure in silhouette, with a light upon his back, its brightness obscuring his appearance so that he was as shadow before the light.

Word spread even into Edoras of this strange apparition in the Firien Wood, but the King and the people of his court believed that it was only a ghost tale, and did not bother to go and try to see it for themselves. The Firien Wood was already the source of a legend of old. It had once been the burial place of Elendil, ancient King of Gondor. The hill where Elendil had been buried within the woods was called Amon Anwar, the "Hill of Awe." Whenever anyone approached this sacred burial mound, they became filled with a feeling of dread and could not speak. Long ago, Elendil's corpse had been moved to the Houses of the Dead in Minas Tirith, but Amon Anwar remained a place of legend, and the Firien Wood itself was named the "Whispering Wood" because of the spirits that were thought to dwell within it. On top of the highest part of the hill was the northernmost of the old beacons of war-time, called Halifirien.

As Legolas wandered through the wood, he came within sight of Amon Anwar. He became drawn to it, and felt its special power wash over him. He had suffered grave wounds from the wolves, and would surely have died from them if he had been mortal. As an Elf, he still may have perished but for the forces in the wood, which certainly kept him alive. They shut down the workings of his mind so that he was unable to leave the wood. He stayed within its protective confines, wandering about under the spell of the spirits which occupied the old burial site. He climbed to the top of the beacon-hill, Halifirien, and the light from the Silmaril now shone from it as a beacon of old. No help came, however, as the apparition of the "Star Man" was too frightening a thing for the people of the area to approach. While he wandered, Legolas would occasionally be able to sing a melancholy song, half in his mind, and half out loud in a wailing howl of a voice. Heard by a few lonely travelers on the road, it would send cold fingers of dread to clutch at their spines, and put pangs of fear into their hearts; however, it also managed to keep the wolves away. Those who heard it thought that it came from the ghost in the wood that they had named the "Star Man."

He would sing:

"From the depths of the doomed
She did come
Cruelly she was used
As love's sweet hope
I loved her, a mortal.
She dwelt in dreams of tenderness felt.
We had not a chance
To be as one
She died too young
As I lay
In tears of bitter guilt.
And I shall now
Fulfill my destiny
To be an Elf

Come what may."

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