Hi everyone! This is my second fanfiction in English (I'm French), so I hope the writing style is okay and that spelling and grammar mistakes are few. I wrote this story some months ago in French, just a character study about Legolas and his friendship with Aragorn (no slash). I hope this short OS will bring you some peace and help you relax, even if it is a bit sad.
Please enjoy!
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R Tolkien
Stars
Legolas Greenleaf from the Woodland Realm had lived through thousand lifetimes of Men, and knew he could live through another thousand more if he wished so. Men and Dwarves lived and died as Ages passed, and only the Elves remained. They were like ageless sentinels, friends first to the father then to his son, comrade to the ancestor and their offspring alike. To their wise eyes, Mortal lives seemed terribly short and frail, beginning and ending within a heartbeat. However, Legolas knew deep down that this still young new era would be different from all the other Ages he had known.
Since the beginning of the Age of Men, his people were leaving Middle-Earth. Hearing the sea calling them, they all could not help but answer to it. They all sailed west, going back to the Undying Lands where they awoke long before the Men came to the world. Legolas could hear it too. The sea voice was more pressing each year, but he had ignored it a long time. As the brave little Master Baggins would have said, his role was not quite over in this story, which was now written by the hand of Men.
A few days ago, the elven prince and Gimli came to Minas Tirith, the beautiful white city of Gondor. Their friend Elessar Telcontar had given them a warm welcome. He who was now King of Men in Gondor and Arnor, had a long time denied his birthright and led the homeless life of a ranger of the North. He still seemed to miss these days he lived as a ranger, as he never grew tired of hearing his two friend telling tales of their journeys. All three of them would sit in front of a pleasant meal and smoke some good pipe weed, with Aragorn listening to his friends with delight and curiosity. In the first years of his reign, he had often run from his royal occupations to go hunt and sleep with Legolas and Gimli in the woods.
Now, even these days were over. Legolas knew it by looking at his friend. While Elves never aged, Men too quickly reached the end of their already so short life. Aragorn belonged to the Nùmenor line, and like all his ancestors had been gifted with a lifetime longer than any of the other Men of Middle-Earth. Yet, time had been doing its work and the King now looked like an old man. His black, long hair had turned snow white and he had tired features onto his still smooth face, which had miraculously been spared by wrinkles. His clear, water blue eyes, though still sharp and cheerful, now held a tinge of weariness most of the time.
Legolas waited for the night to fall before he soundlessly left his assigned room in the Citadel. He silently opened the door to Gimli's room next to his own, glancing fondly at his sleeping friend. Then he went down the stairs and straight toward the main door. He met a few guards on his quiet journey through the Citadel, each one of them wordlessly bowing slightly to the prince. Legolas went out into the Fountain Court, where the White Tree of Minas Tirith was standing.
He looked up at the countless stars shining onto the dark sky of the night, smiling as they reminded him of his home. Even from beneath the protecting canopy of Greenwood, the elves liked to raise their eyes and admire the stars. Their light reminded them of old dreams from days gone a long time ago. The moon hung high among them and bathed the White City and the Great Tree into its pale glow. Flowers that blossomed each spring since Elessar's coronation hung from its white branches.
As a matter of fact, the King sat in front of the Tree, clothed with a linen tunic beneath his crimson coat to protect him from the cold breeze. He seemed alone, but Legolas could easily detect the dark figure of a guard, watching over his King a few feet away. As if any threat could endanger Elessar's life from within the fortress, even now in a time of peace. The elven prince stepped around the Tree and quietly sat next to the King of Men.
For a while, the two of them just sat next side to side silently. As Legolas lost himself by admiring the stars, Aragorn was looking thoughtfully at the flowers-covered Tree. Legolas could not quite tell why he had woken up from a restful sleep. Somehow, he knew his presence was required, here and now, at the side of his human friend. As on a cue, Aragorn spoke up, his eyes still resting upon the White Tree. For a while, the two of them just sat next side to side silently. As Legolas lost himself by admiring the stars, Aragorn was looking thoughtfully at the flowers-covered Tree. Legolas could not quite tell why he had woken up from a restful sleep. Somehow, he knew his presence was required, here and now, at the side of his human friend. As on a cue, Aragorn spoke up, his eyes still resting upon the White Tree.
"I have been admiring these flowers for one hundred and twenty years now. Never once have I got bored with this spectacle."
"They blossom because you brought peace and light into this world, my friend," Legolas replied in a soft voice.
A smile stretched the King's lips from beneath his snow-white beard and for a short while, his eyes twinkled with happiness and joy. Legolas knew that, despite his stern features Aragorn still had the heart of a child, full of wonder for the beauty of the world.
"Faramir used to say exactly the same words," he revealed. "Each time he came back from Ithilien to stay in the City, he could not help himself from seating here and looking at the Tree for hours."
Legolas smiled. "Surely, he took this habit from his King."
"I believe it is rather the King who took it from his Steward," Aragorn laughed warmly. "Oh, dear Faramir..."
Legolas could not help but hear the deep sadness in the King's voice. Faramir had passed away almost forty years ago, and to an Elf's eyes, he had died just like – or maybe more peacefully – his ancestors before him. Aragorn had served a long time ago under Faramir's grand sire Echtelion, and had known his father the unfortunate Denethor. Still, he seemed deeply moved by his friend's death. It maybe was because Faramir had been his first Steward, the first man of Gondor to kneel in front of him and pledge allegiance to him. Or it may be because Elboron was now older that his father had been when Aragorn met him for the first time.
The King sighed deeply, his shoulders going down before he tipped his chin up to look at the dark sky. His eyes, Legolas thought as he observed his friend, were no more gloomy and weary, but shining just like the stars above them. He had noticed that it has been a few years since the King did not look at the Tree anymore, but rather drew his eyes up toward the stars-filled sky.
"I prefer now to look up at the sky instead of resting my gaze upon the earth," Elessar said, as if he just read Legolas's mind. "There is something, up there. Something that, somehow..."
His words hang in the air, his eyes fixed to the stars. Legolas followed his gaze and looked at the sky thoughtfully.
"Do you feel that something is perhaps calling you?" the elf suggested quietly.
He sympathized, as he too could now hear the sea calling him insistently. He yet had to reveal it to his friends. At the beginning, the call was hesitant and quiet, easy to ignore and easy to forget. However, as time flowed past, the call grew more restless. Often now, his gaze would rest upon the far away line of the sea toward the west instead of up to the beloved stars of his people. He could stare at the horizon for hours, lost in his thought that took him far from the Middle-Earth.
Aragorn nodded his head.
"The Sea calls to the Elves," he said, once again reading his friend's thoughts. "It seems that the Stars call to the Men. I feel it, deep inside me. My heart grows tired."
Legolas remained as still as a statue, but something broke inside him as Aragorn's words rung to his ears. Suddenly, the constant whisper from the sea in his heart turned into a shout and the need to answer it became urgent, like a wound needs healing. He now could hear the roaring from the waves, smelt the salty air in his nose and felt like he was flying far away from the Middle-Earth. Aragorn kept speaking, unaware of his friend's troubles.
"My love for this earth and for my dear family and friends who still walk beside men, it remains strong. Though I am afrai I cannot stay here much longer."
He sighed again, more tired that sorrowful. Grief had deserted his heart a long time ago. Meanwhile, Legolas felt his own breaking in two pieces. He was lost in turmoil, hearing the waves crashing against the beach. He longed for the sea, for the Undying Lands that were calling him away from the only world he knew. With great difficulty, he tore away his eyes from the stars. Forcing himself to ignore the western shores not so far away from the White City, he looked at his old friend.
He had known Aragorn first as young Estel, a twenty-year-old lad who just had discovered his heritage. He saw this lad grow into a strong warrior, ranger of the North who preferred to call himself Rider rather than Aragorn. And he sat now beside Elessar, great king of the Men. To the Elves who never aged, Men's life was ridiculously short, and Legolas could already feel deep grief thinking about his dear friend's death. Maybe fate had always linked the two of them together, from their first meeting, until the time came Aragorn had to leave this world. This was the gift of the Second-Born folks.
Aragorn looked at Legolas. Their eyes locked and they did not need word to express how they both felt.
"I do not dare to confess it to Arwen," the king sighed. "Though I am certain that she already knows. She reads me like an open book."
"The Queen loves you," Legolas answered, his voice as soft as violent was the strange turmoil inside him. "She will understand. Nothing in this world is eternal. Not even us, the undying folks with never-ending lives."
His words felt like ash on his tongue. For the very first time of his life, Legolas felt like he reached to the end. He felt like not just turning a page, but closing the whole book. His still youngish heart, usually filled with joy and cheerfulness, was now turning as dry as leaves in fall. He thought about poor Arwen, knowing that she who was now Queen of the Men could not outlive her husband nor she would be able to reach the Undying lands. She will wander in Middle-Earth until she too faded away toward the unknown fate of the mortal folks.
That was the fate of all Elves who had chosen to bind their fate to the one of the Men. Legolas wondered what would happen to Elladan and Elrohir, lords of Rivendell since their father Elrond sailed away a long time ago. Just like the Prince of the Woodland Realm, the twin sons of Elrond were very fond of Aragorn. They took care of him, watched over him since his childhood. Would they stay in Middle-Earth after their human brother's imminent death? Or would they finally decide to leave this world like all their ancestors eventually did thousands years ago?
Legolas had no answer, yet he already knew what his own future held for him from now. He pondered about it, as he sat quietly beneath the dark sky filled with stars, side to side with his dear friend in the proud City of Minas Tirith. This world, where he was born and was the only one he only knew, had no place for him anymore. He felt it in his heart and sighed deeply, lowering his head and staring at his hands clasped around his knees.
"Legolas?" Aragorn called with a soft voice. "What is the matter?"
"I cannot think about your departure without deep grief, Estel, Hope of the Men," Legolas confessed. "It reminds me of those dreadful days at Helm, when we all thought you dead."
It had been dark hours then, when Legolas had believed as everyone else that Aragorn had been killed. His heart had cried with pain and misery. He had been unable to sing or to simply face what he thought as the truth:that Aragorn would never come back. He could only hold a furious, grieving Gimli in his arms as they were travelling toward Helm. The world had been gray and dull during these days, and the future only promised pain and grief. Hope had come back with Aragorn, back from death itself a few days later.
How this simple mortal man could be so dear to him, Legolas wondered as his heart was already mourning. Aragorn was not only Isildur's heir. He was not only the king from a prophecy. Aragorn had been and still was the hope of the Men and the Elves and the Dwarves all alike. He was the hope that light and freedom would never bend to Sauron's darkness. Aragorn had a light inside him, a light he had brought upon Middle-Earth, a light that would stay in this world even when King Elessar would eventually pass away.
Yet, Legolas couldn't contemplate his future after Aragorn's passing without feeling empty and numb. He had lived through thousand lifetimes of Men, he had known thousand of fathers and thousand of sons without blinking an eye. Still he felt now more than ever the need to sail west. As his eyes shining with tears once again fell upon the shores, a heavy, warm hand suddenly rested upon his shoulder. It anchored him here and now, inside the White City with the last King of the Old Times. Legolas turned his head and looked at Aragorn, whose eyes were as bright as the stars above them.
Elessar smiled faintly beneath his snow-white beard, shining under the silver light from the moon. "Legolas, my friend. Do not let sorrow darken your mind. Look upon the sea. Hear its call. Do not you feel joy and peace each time your eyes wander west?"
"I do," Legolas answered with a small smile. "And I also feel curiosity and wonder, like would a small child. When I look at the sea, the world lights up and my heart cries with joy and loneliness disappears."
He could already feel his grief fading away thanks to the wise words form Elessar. The king tightened his fingers around his shoulder and held his gaze.
"Then do not grieve," he ordered. "Do not grieve for me who has no place in this world anymore. I have accomplished what I had to do."
"If it is indeed the case, my own role is done," Legolas answered.
He could have feared that Aragorn would be upset with his decision, as would not be able to watch over both his kingdom and his son who would take the throne after him. However, Legolas knew his friend well. There was no sign of reproach of the King's face, not even surprise. Only kindness gleamed in his grey eyes, reflecting their bound forged along decades of friendship.
He removed his hand from Legolas's shoulder and looked up once more toward the stars. "Everything in this world moves and changes. Time eats away mountains, seas rise and recede, Men and Dwarves come and go. Hobbits know the same fate," he added with a soft smile.
The two friends were instantly reminded of the dear little masters of their Community. Frodo had been gone a long time ago now, sailing along with Elrond and Gandalf to the Undying Lands. Sam had died from old age in the Shire, seventy years ago. As for Master Took and Master Brandybook, they had been buried here within the walls of the White City, with the kings of the old times.
"I will rest aside with Merry and Pippin," Aragorn said. "May this world recall of the Little Folk and their great courage."
"And their good beer, and their famous pipe-weed," Legolas added, repeating the last words of Pippin a short while before his death.
A laugh escaped Aragorn's lips and rose into the night, among stars and moon that eternally watched over the never-ending changing world. The king's eyes were like jewels, twinkling as they looked at the immensity of the night.
Legolas still heard the sea calling him restlessly. For the first time, he felt that he could finally answer it.
The end
Thank you for reading! Please tell me if you noticed any spelling or grammar mistake. I hope the text was fluent enough. Feel free to leave a comment!