The Return

i 80 years later… /i

Legolas sighed, gazing about the streets of Gondor with curious eyes. Everything had changed so much since he was last here. All was hustle and bustle, people rushing to and fro. Many shops lined the street, and shopkeepers stood out the front, calling their advertisements over the noise of the crowd.

He carefully led his horse through the throng of villagers lining the road. He could see the palace now, just ahead. When he reached the gates, a man came out to meet him. After a few brief questions, he was allowed to pass. A young boy immediately rushed over to take his horse, gazing at him expectantly. Idly flipping the boy a coin, he walked briskly up the steps and into the white halls. He encountered several guards along the way, but they did not question him. The guards were new since the last time he had been here, but they all recognised him as an elf, and knew better than to interfere in his business.

He remembered the halls and passageways as though it had only been yesterday that he last walked here. He found the throne room with ease. Entering, he had barely time to register the man sitting on the throne, before he was hit hard in the gut by something small and heavy.

"Legolas!" Cried Gimli, hugging the elven prince so hard it knocked the wind out of him. "Where have you been, you miserable excuse for an elf?" He suddenly pulled away and stood facing Legolas, trying to regain some of his dignity.

"I am glad to see you too, Gimli," Legolas laughed. Eyeing the dwarf critically, he added, "You have aged."

Gimli chuckled. "And you have not. How typical. You look not a day older since our last meeting."

Passing the dwarf, Legolas made his way across the room, until he was standing in front of the throne. Sinking to his knees, he stared up at the face of his old friend. The ranger was still strong, yet he had aged greatly since their last meeting. Faint wrinkles lined his proud face, and his hair was steel grey, flecked here and there with remnants of its former colour.

"Legolas, mellon nin." Aragorn greeted the elf, smiling. Rising, he pulled Legolas to his feet and embraced him like a brother.

After the initial joy of seeing his old friends again wore off, Legolas found his heart growing heavy. All the years of his absence, he had not forgotten Camille. He had made his promise, and he intended to keep it. Yet, something held him back. Fear.

He had known all along that she, as a mortal, was doomed to fade with the passing of time. However, he simply could not imagine her as an old woman. Seeing Aragorn again had brutally reminded him just how much she must have changed. If Aragorn, with the blood of Numenor running in his veins, had aged so, what would time have done to a regular mortal like her? Legolas tried to conceal his mood from his friends. There was no need, he reasoned, to trouble them at what should have been a happy hour. In fact, he was not sure he wanted to confide this in them at all. However, Aragorn knew his friend too well, and noticed his dark mood almost immediately.

"Out with it, mellon nin." He said abruptly. "What is troubling you?" He gently laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

Legolas started. "Nothing, do not fuss so much!" He replied hastily. Aragorn quirked an eyebrow.

"Do you take me for a fool? You can't pretend you are alright, and I know you are not, so you may as well tell me what troubles you. Perhaps I can help."

"It is nothing." He sighed in frustration. "Mellon nin, I am sorry, but there is someone I need to talk to. I shall return soon." Legolas turned on his heel and hurried out the door, before his friends could speak another word.

Once free of the throne room, he walked swiftly through the halls. He couldn't stand it any longer. He had to see her. He had to know. Unfortunately, he had no idea where to start looking for her. Impatiently, he made his way to the library. Maybe, just maybe she would be there.

He saw her the moment he entered the library. There was no question as to who it was. She was sitting by the window, staring out over the city. Just how she was at their first meeting.

Yet she was different. Her once silky golden hair was grey and straggly, and looked like it had not been combed in weeks. It hung limp, unrestrained and matted down her back. He shoulders were slightly stooped, and she looked unhealthily thin and scrawny. She wore a threadbare grey gown. Her face was carved and disfigured with deep wrinkles.

The soft fall of his feet alerted her to his presence, and she spun around. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognised him. That face had haunted her dreams and memories all her life. Now, finally, he was standing before her. She hardly dared believe it.

"Legolas?" she questioned, not sure if this was merely some hallucination created by her subconscious to torment her.

"Camille." His voice sounded the same as it always had, albeit filled with a sorrow she could not identify.

Rising slowly to her feet, she hobbled over towards him. When she reached him, she threw her bony arms around him and held him close.

"I always knew you would come," she breathed into his shoulder.

Legolas stared in horror at her, fighting the urge to pull away. What had happened to her? This could not be the same woman he had met here so many years ago. There had to be a mistake.

Another voice rose in his mind, interrupting his thoughts. What was wrong with him? Were his feelings for her so shallow that they would disappear because she was no longer beautiful? Was he going to turn his back on her now?

He didn't know what to do. Nothing in all his long years had prepared him for this. He had lived his life, for the most part, surrounded by other elves, and had always taken immortality for granted. Seeing this woman now, he felt like someone he knew had died. This wasn't Camille. It couldn't be Camille.

Eventually Camille pulled away, and looked up at his face.

"You came." She sighed again. "All my life I have waited, and now you have come."

Sorrow welled up in him at her words. Pushing it aside, he forced a smile. "I have come."

She led him over to the window and sat down. There was so much she wanted to say to him. She told him of the changes that had happened in Gondor since he left. She told him of her life, of all that she had done in his absence, which did not turn out to be much. It seemed she had waited her whole life, dreaming of this one day. She had spent her time wandering in the gardens, or sitting in the library reading and thinking. When he left, her heart had been broken. From that day on, all she had thought about was him. Now he was here, and everything was right again. She felt whole.

In turn, Legolas spoke a little of his doings back at home, which were apparently far more eventful. When all their tales were told, she grew tired of the library, and longed to be out in the fresh air.

"Come," she said. "Let us walk in the gardens once more."

The elf stood up, and held out his hand to help her. He gave her his arm, and she clung to it for balance as she hobbled down the hall. However, she quickly began to grow tired. It frustrated her greatly, but the truth simply could not be ignored. She was not as young as she once was.

Legolas noticed her weariness. "You are tired, Camille. You should rest." Ignoring her faint protests, he led her to her room. "Sleep now. We can meet again later." A sudden longing to be alone overcame him. He took his leave, and made his way up to the roof. He climbed up on the surrounding wall and sat atop it with perfect balance, his legs dangling carelessly over the side into thin air. A cool breeze blew through his hair, soothing him. He tried to steady his reeling mind, to think properly.

He still couldn't understand it. As Camille had talked, he could see remnants of her old self still within her. Yet she did not seem the same person. She was old and tired. She lacked energy. Meanwhile, he was still young of body and light of spirit.

What should he do? He could not, in good conscience, just abandon her, nor did he want to. He knew he loved her still, yet in a different way. He felt for her now as he would perhaps a grandmother or nurse, but not a lover. Where once the thought of making love to her had caused him to ache with desire, now the thought left him feeling cold and sick.

He had given his word. He had promised to come back, and he knew what she had interpreted that as, for at the time it had been his desire as well. She would want to marry him. She would expect him to ignore her old age, would expect his feelings to be the same as ever. He already knew that he could not do it.

He knew that in reality, he was many times older than she. The irony of it was not lost on him. However, while she, at an age that any elf would consider to be merely the beginning of adulthood, was already nearing death, he still was as youthful in body as any young human.

He could not do it. He simply couldn't bear to. To be forced to stay around and watch her fade would be too much for him. He knew what he had to do, though it pained him greatly.

The next day, she came to him as he sat on the steps of the palace, looking forlornly out at the crowd. Already he had begun to doubt his decision.

Camille felt invigorated after a good night's rest. She came and sat beside the elf, looking at him fondly but with an element of insecurity. She had not missed the look he had given her last night, and even one so innocent as herself could not mistake that gaze for desire. She could tell that he was horrified by the changes that had taken place on her body over the years. Yet she still clung desperately to the hope that it wouldn't matter to him. After all, he had lived longer than her by far.

When he turned to face her, however, her hope evaporated. She saw the expression of determination and sorrow on his fair face, and she knew what he was going to say. She stared at him, at a loss for words. No. It could not be. She had waited her whole life for him, he could not turn his back on her now.

"Camille," he began cautiously. His voice was heavy, reflecting his own misery. No matter what she thought, this was hard for him as well. He longed desperately for the woman he had met all those years ago in Gondor. That woman, however, was far beyond his reach now.

Her eyes began to brim with tears, wrenching his heart. Trying to hide his feelings from her, he continued. "Camille, I know that you…"

She cut him off, her voice shaking. "No. Legolas, please." She was pleading with him.

"It will be easier for us both." He could not keep his own voice steady any more.

"It will not!" she cried, finally losing control. "That is but an excuse, and you know it! You are not doing this for me, you are doing it for yourself! I have spent my entire life, waiting for you, and now you are to abandon me!" As quickly as it had come, her fury vanished. She looked into his eyes. "Please? Legolas?"

He could not speak. For a minute, his whole body felt paralysed. Then, he shook his head slowly. "I am sorry." He got up and hurried back inside. He could not face her any longer. He could feel the tears brimming behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.