Apologies for the delay in posting, but we're almost there folks… Welcome to part V.

Additional notes are at the end. My thanks for reading!

The Days of the King

Part V – The Future we Bring

Legolas watched the third sunrise after Elessar's coronation balanced on the southern wall of Arwen's hidden garden, overlooking the plains towards the Sea. It lay, as always, just beyond his sight. Gull cries carried faintly on the breeze.

A flaming dawn licked the sky, and the sun rose full and red from behind the Ephel Dúath. Wisps of cloud curled high above the mountains, ablaze with morning sun-fire. The Anduin snaked as a ribbon of molten silver across the rolling plains of the Pelennor, and the forests of Ithilien lay shadowed and silent in the distance. Minas Tirith slept.

It was easy to lose track of time here, sat in the hush of predawn beneath lingering stars and waiting for the sun to lift. Daylight hours brought a constant stream of people and duties awaiting his attention, but here the sky was dim, and the world was still, and Legolas seemed the only person in Arda.

He watched as red light filled the sky and the harbour of Pelargir became visible as a faint haze upon the river. He watched the world unfold below him, gaze half-lidded, and turned his fae to the soft brush of the Sea. Its call had grown stronger over the past few days, and there was rarely a moment Legolas did not think of it. Even the dream-paths ebbed and flowed with tidal currents. He could only distantly remember a time before he had heard the gull's cry.

A soft hum behind him startled Legolas from his musings. He threw out an arm to rebalance himself and turned towards the noise, jumping lightly from the wall when he saw the Lord Elrond stood by the tower door. The lord was clad in a long robe of burnt orange, his loose sleeves embroidered with golden eight-pointed stars. The front pieces of his twilit hair were looped in elaborate healer's knots, but he wore no circlet.

"Hîr nin Elrond," said Legolas, twisting his palm over his heart and inclining his head.

Lord Elrond repeated the gesture, smiling faintly. The golden ring twisted on his right hand flashed with the movement, but the blue stone set into it was dim and pale. He joined Legolas at the wall.

"Forgive this old elf for intruding," he said, tone mild, as he looked out over the plains. "At times I find I must remind myself a new day still dawns."

Legolas watched sun-lit clouds thread high across a sun-fire sky. "It is a red dawn," he said.

Elrond hummed. "But a dawn, nonetheless," he replied, his gaze still over the plains.

Legolas plucked a strand of dark ivy from the wall and twisted it between his fingers as they watched the daybreak. The leaves were thick and smooth, and they fell to the floor in little pieces as he shredded them. For a time, they did not speak.

When the sun had fully crested the Ephel Dúath, and their shadows cast long and black upon the plains, Elrond turned to Legolas. His eyes shone grey as a clear evening, deep and kind and searching.

"Do you fear the future?" Elrond asked, and his voice was weighted with six thousand years of wisdom and memory. "Or do you fear the present?"

Legolas twisted the vine between his fingers and looked down at the pile of shredded leaves at his feet. He thought of Elessar kneeling in front of his white tree, and twirling Arwen at the feast, and pledging his death to Gondor. He thought of waves cresting his fae, salt-foam breaking and swirling cold, and he thought of Gimli's laugh and Aragorn's crooked smile and his father who he had not seen in a year and did not plan to sail. He did not answer.

"Legolas," said Elrond, his voice gentle but firm. "The world is changed, and it changes swiftly. For men, who burn their lives sun-bright-fast, this is normal. For those of us who linger in starlight whilst those we love pass, it is hard. It is okay, penneth, to fear what may come, but we must not lose sight of the present as we do."

Legolas met his eyes. They shone with starlight, though there were no stars in the sky.

"We must keep courage," said Elrond, "To make the most of our eternal time. Abandoning those we love to their fates is not the answer. They were my reason for choosing an elven life; are they not your reason for staying this side of the Sea?"

Legolas cocked his head, startled. He had not realised Elrond had known of his Sealonging, though in hindsight he should have suspected it; the lord was, after all, the finest healer in Arda, and a ringbearer, no less. He was also a father.

Elrond smiled at him with only a trace of sadness. "Elladan told me you heard the gulls at Pelargir," he said. "I understand you wish to stay, for Estel."

Legolas looked back into the rising sun until a bright hole lingered in his vision, then rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes so the darkness there sparked. When he opened them Elrond was watching him closely. He self-consciously lowered his hands and took a deep breath.

"I thought I feared the future, my lord… I still do, I think. I am not sure." He huffed in frustration and twisted the remains of the ivy between his fingers. "There are lots of things I am not sure of, now. But mostly, I fear I am tied too strongly to the past, that I am no longer myself and Estel is no longer Estel."

Elrond studied him another moment. "He will always be Estel to me," he said, after a length. "As he will always be Aragorn to you, and Thorongil and Strider to those who knew him as such. Now, he has his crown, and he will be Elessar also.

"You are a warrior, penneth, and a prince, as I am a healer and lord. Arwen has chosen a mortal life, but she will always be my daughter, and Estel will always be both ranger and King. Change need not always be the death of the past, but a new sapling growing from its ashes."

Legolas had long been divided by his duties to his Realm, but he had struck a balance and managed. Now the world had changed, and those divisions had deepened, and his balance had eroded from under him. In his place lived a war-less soldier, an absent prince, and a hollow Sea.

His love for Arda, Gimli, and Aragorn had bridged that gap, strengthened his will, and given him reason to stay. Legolas wondered if he could come to love the King as he had loved the ranger, and if one truly was the sapling growing from the other's ashes.

A gull's cry carried piercing on the wind, and the taste of salt flooded Legolas' mouth, his fae tugging sharply for the Sea. He titled, disorientated, and closed his eyes to turn so his back was to the wall, sinking to the dewy grass and resting his head on bent knees. Elrond followed, gracefully folding his legs as he sat, and caught Legolas as he listed slightly to the side, pulling him close. He rested a cool hand upon Legolas' head and smoothed his braided hair. They stayed like that as the sun rose.

When Legolas had regained some of his equilibrium, he took a deep breath and released it slowly. "You sent Lord Glorfindel over, at the feast," he said, voice slightly muffled by his knees. He felt Elrond hum from where he leaned against him.

"I did."

"Thank you," said Legolas quietly, then: "And the other times… yesterday, with Arwen?"

"Arwen would not do anything I asked of her unless she already wished to do it," said Elrond. He sounded as if he was smiling. "But no, I do not dictate every action of every elf in my household; indeed, I fear they all run quite amok. I have spoken with Glorfindel, but his company is his own to choose. If you think he is seeking you out, penneth, that is for you to ask him."

Legolas hummed, and Elrond smoothed his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle and his tone serious. "The White Shores have called me too, these past few weeks," he said. "But ends are also beginnings, and all things come back around, eventually."

Legolas traced the droplets of water beading the grass and imagined they were fallen stars. Elrond stayed next to him, a cool hand on his head, and they waited out the red dawn together.

o-O-o

Legolas excused himself from the Lord Elrond's company as soon as the sun had fully risen and made for the stables with the intention of seeing to Arod, who he had quite neglected in the rush of helping reinstate a foreign monarchy whilst simultaneously serving his own. He had barely entered the Tower of Ecthelion when he bumped (quite literally) into Faramir, who had rounded the corner from the opposite direction.

Legolas shook his head slightly and waited for the ringing in his ears to fade. "My apologies," he said, when he had regained his senses somewhat. A flush of embarrassment lingered on his cheeks. "You are well?"

Faramir rubbed his head. "I would be better for a few more hours sleep," he said, with a faint smile. "But do not apologise, please. The fault is equally mine." He yawned into his elbow, and Legolas half reached out as the papers balanced in the man's arms tilted alarmingly. Faramir steadied them with the expertise of a scholar familiar with large stacks of books, and smiled as Legolas eyed the paperwork with distrust. "It is not so bad," he said, then yawned again. "Would that my King sleep in a little longer."

Legolas considered Faramir. The man still looked slightly pale, though whether it was from tiredness or lingering illness, Legolas could not say. "Aragorn has always been an early riser," he said, then smiled slightly. "He is cranky for the first few hours of the day, irrespective. If your duties have you up this early, I would avoid interacting with him at least until he has broken his fast."

Faramir laughed and shifted the books in his arms. "Aye, that sounds familiar," he said. "Rangers are all much the same, in some regards. Still, I do not have to worry this morn – my King left early for a trip."

Legolas tilted his head. "A trip?"

"He is climbing Mount Mindolluin," said Faramir with a smile, "to fetch a tree."

Legolas blinked. He was both pleasantly surprised at the implication that Aragorn harboured some previously unknown passion for vegetation, and faintly confused at the relevance of the excursion to the man's Kingly duties. Aragorn had never been one for gardening; though he held what he described as a 'healthy respect' for nature, he had resisted all of Legolas and Samwise's numerous attempts to get him to fully appreciate the wonders of growing things. Though the man had been known to disappear for undetermined periods of time on the odd perilous hiking jaunt, it was unlike him to skive responsibility. The excursion must therefore be in some official capacity, Legolas decided with a nod, then frowned as he realised his conclusion had led him back to his initial question of how trees were in any way relevant to Gondor's ruling.

He had more important matters to dedicate mind space to than Aragorn's vegetational whims. He shook his head slightly and smiled again at Faramir.

"Of course," he said. "A tree."

The Steward yawned again and excused himself. Legolas spent the remainder of his walk to the stables wondering what Aragorn was doing transporting trees through the citadel, and trying not to acknowledge the thankfulness at his temporary absence that fluttered uncomfortably between his ribs. He needed some time to think.

o-O-o

Legolas pushed open the stable doors to the sound of nickering and the crunch of an apple. It seemed, in his absence, Arod had gone and found himself a new master.

"Aye, there you go, no need for haste. No, this one is not for you. There you go. You are a handsome beast, are you not?"

Legolas rounded the corner to see the King of Rohan rubbing his horse's forehead.

The stable was well lit; rays of sunlight streamed through open doors and high windows, and torches blazed where they hung on wooden posts between the stalls. It was airy enough, for a building of men, and with every curl of breeze the flames flickered and jumped. A torch popped next to him, and a spark glowed bright and red as it drifted to the floor. Legolas tried not to think about the potential fire hazard.

Apart from Éomer and a lone stablehand shovelling hay in the corner, the place was empty. Legolas raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and waited for them to notice his presence. It did not take long. At Arod's nicker of greeting they both glanced up, Éomer's eyes widening slightly as he registered the elf leant against the doorframe watching him slip treats to his horse. The stablehand looked between his two companions, mumbled a hasty "My Lords," and left at what could almost be described as a run.

Éomer cleared his throat with a faint air of sheepishness and continued to pat Arod, who huffed and leaned into the touch. He seemed quite taken with all the attention, the traitorous animal.

"He is of good stock," said Éomer, as if by explanation. "You have yourself a fine horse, Master Elf."

Legolas raised his other eyebrow. "You gifted him to me."

Éomer gave Arod a pat and then stepped away. "Aye, I did," he said. His eyes took on a glint then that had nothing to do with the light from the sun or flickering torches. He quirked the corner of his lips. "I could not tempt you to part ways?"

Legolas returned the gesture and uncrossed his arms to tap his chin as if in thought. "He is dear to Gimli, and Gimli him, I am afraid," he decided. "I fear they would protest fiercely should they be separated for any great length of time… No, it will take more than an apple to break such bonds of loyalty."

Arod snorted, and Éomer laughed with him. "Aye, and who else should carry the dwarf through battle, if not this noble steed?"

At this comment, Arod huffed smugly, and Legolas walked over to swat at his neck. "One less arrogant than him, for sure."

The cry of a gull curled through the window above them, and the combination of bright spring sunbeams and flickering torchlight seemed then to twist into queer, liquid shadows. Éomer's face was partially hidden at the angle he stood. "I do not know how many more battles I will fight," said Legolas. The thought was unexpected. He was not sure why he voiced it.

Éomer frowned. "We have won this war, aye," he said, voice grim. "But there will be more battles to come, Master Elf, mark my word. Even on our ride yesterday we dispatched two straggling groups of orc scum. There will be plenty more where that came from."

Legolas rubbed at Arod's neck and absent-mindedly twisted his fingers through his mane. Arod nosed at his tunic in search of treats, and Legolas gave him a piece of celery.

"You asked how I took injury," he said, after a length. Éomer raised an eyebrow but did not reply, and Legolas swallowed thickly before continuing. "My mind… wandered, and I was distracted," he confessed. "If Gimli had not shouted…" The cry of a gull echoed again through the window high above them, and he twisted his fingers tighter though Arod's mane. "I have been fighting for my home and my people for nearly three thousand years, Éomer-King. Never has my concentration slipped as it did at the Morannon, there at the end of all things. I could have cost the lives of those I care most dearly about."

"But you did not," said Éomer. He was a young King, and a warrior at heart, but in that moment he had the bearings of an old, wise man. "We are warriors, Master Elf, not Gods. We make mistakes. It does not seem to me your error was a grave one."

Legolas licked his lips but did not reply.

"Two nights ago, you sparred against me with the sword," said Éomer. His tone held an air of finality. "You planned for the future then. It seems to me as if you have already made your decision."

He waited a moment longer for Legolas to reply, then patted Arod and took a step back. "I will take my leave," he said. "I have little free time these days, and there are other horses I would see before I am hunted for endless meetings. If you wish to spar, Master Elf, you know where to find me." The door swung shut behind him.

Above Legolas, a gull cried. He suppressed a shudder and untwisted his fingers from Arod's mane and studiously did not look up.

The Sea was a strange thing; he had never felt so whole as when he heard that first gull at Pelargir, and he had never felt so empty as stood here, discussing its potential debilitation of three thousand years of fighting skills and the inevitable parting of his friends.

"Do not sacrifice more than you already have," the Lord Glorfindel had said. Legolas would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat; he had already done so, in part, at Pelargir. He was not, however, prepared to sacrifice those he loved. He was divided, but did not have the strength to see those he loved divided by him.

The Lord Elrond was correct; the duty of friendship changed with time, but it would not disappear. Éomer was correct; Legolas was a warrior. He could fight for what he believed in. Time passed as running water over rolling plains, and Legolas could see clearly where his river flowed out to the open Sea. Fate could not be fought forever, he knew, but for now but he was willing to try.

A gull cried again, and Legolas looked up to where it wheeled above the Tower of Ecthelion, just visible through the window. The sky was cloudless, and very blue. It stretched like glass over the city.

The gull cried, and Legolas leant into Arod's side and closed his eyes and sung with it, softly, lilting notes and curling melodies in the lyrical tones of his Silvan mother tongue. He sung of forests and running rivers over rolling plains, of starlit nights and red dawns and the sun upon his back. He sung of his love for Arda and her people, and he sung of the Sea, all cresting waves and salt-white foam and rocking tides, and he knew he would one day sail those lonely waters, but for how he sat amongst Kings of Men in a city of towering stone.

By the time he stopped singing, the gull had disappeared. Legolas stood, bid Arod farewell, and went in search of Aragorn.

He had all the days of Arda, and longer. The Sea could wait for him.

Notes:

Elrond's robes are a pretty political nod to two of his father figures (from the silm), given they kidnapped him and his twin as kids and had an impressive track record of killing other elves and all that. More on Elrond's bold fashion statements at 6.00pm