Disclaimer: I own none of the recognizable characters in this story—they all belong to JRR Tolkien and New Line.

Wherever the Surge May Sweep

By Jame K.

Chapter Twenty-Three: My Days Go On


The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go sighing round,
My days go on, my days go on.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Estel followed in silence, eyes focused on the broad shoulders of Legolas. He kept wanting to speak – kept opening his mouth – kept reaching out – but each attempt disintegrated into uncomfortable silence.

Legolas turned, eyes brimming with excitement but Estel saw nothing but green bushes and the bright splash of red berries. A tentative smile was smeared over Legolas's face and his hands were a little out from his sides, as if beckoning Estel to come closer – to just break down.

The unintentional bitterness surged up his throat and poured out: "Why are we here – there is nothing."

"Come and see." Legolas reached out and took his hand, leading him through a break in the foliage. "Your mother," he said and Estel started at the word. "Your mother was beautiful and…"

White stone flowed from the grass, gracefully curving into a slim base and then the gentle curves of a woman draped in stone fabric. Her arms were cupped about her chest – as if she were holding a small child, but there was none to be found. Flowing, rock hair hung over her face but did not obscure the gentle sadness etched into the pretty mouth and large eyes.

Estel knew who she was. The seed of kinship bloomed in his heart as soon as he saw her – the instinctive understand that this…

But he asked anyway.

"Who is she?" he murmured, wanting to touch but reluctant to move closer to this nameless specter from his past. He had wanted so badly to meether; but with this statue before him, he was divided. Part of him craved to feel the slight contours of her face – made perfect by elven craftsmanship. And part of him wished to flee. Legolas was… was… A little bit more of his childhood dreams died as Legolas answered.

"She was your mother. Gilraen." Legolas seemed to notice his lack of reaction and faltered just a little. "I met her when she was a little younger than you are now. She was beautiful," he said again."

"I do not look much like her." Estel felt his own nose as he examined the woman's features.

"No – no. Your father gave you your face. Listen to me." Legolas turned, drawing his hands close to his chest. "Listen. I vowed to protect you before you were even born. Your mother… her love for you was beyond all reckoning. She made me swear to guard you as if you were my own. Your father was already…" Legolas seemed lost, gazing at the statue. "Please, Estel. I can tell you all you wish about her. But, please, do not think my vows of protection – nor my secretiveness about your past – were lightly made decisions."

Estel looked at Legolas and saw the quandary in his eyes. The begging eyes – pleading for Estel to understand, to accept, to love. His heart cracked a little, tiny lines running deeply across his emotions, and he firmed his resolve. He blinked, arms crossed about his stomach, hands clutching his hips.

His mother stared down – her sad, noble gaze mourning her son's death. And, Estel was dead. He had been dead since… since the Ring had been put about his neck. He was dead – but his body did not realize it.

If I was brave, Legolas, he thought, I would flee into the woods and take my own life. But I am a coward – and the darkness is already too strong. He bit his tongue, tasting blood and life. His eyes felt swollen and scratchy when he turned to look at Legolas.

Legolas was gazing at him. His lips kept wavering, halfway between a smile and a frown. He was pressing his hands together and his eyes were full of love and forgiveness – and hope and steadfast blind faith.

And Estel knew that he would shatter that faith.

He breathed deeply, hand coming up to clutch at the Ring. Legolas stepped forward, gently probing through the bond, murmuring "Estel," so gently that the young man felt tears spring to his eyes.

"No," he said at last. "No." He choked a little on the deceit and his own need for Legolas's comfort. "No. I cannot… cannot…" The words tripped from his tongue and he stared at the ground, head shaking and tongue numb.

"Estel…" Legolas reached, his fingers brushing his upper arm.

"No."

"I will protect you," Legolas said, face eager and pleading. "I will save you. Do you not see? I have saved you all of these years. I will save you again. I will let no one take you from me. It is destiny."

Estel shook his head and did not look at his mother's grieving eyes. "No one can save me now." And he ran.

He looked back once, feeling as if he would never see Legolas again, and saw the elf standing next to his mother – their expressions matching – as the sun spilled its light one last time upon them.

The bond throbbed in his head, but he pushed it away, closing it tightly, as the Ring bounced against his chest.

And the darkness tore something deep within.

"He has been avoiding me," Legolas said plaintively two days later. "I sought to protect him – and I have driven him from me. He does not open at the bond – I cannot feel him as I normally do."

Glorfindel nodded without his eyes meeting the elf's pained gaze. "He is distressed and confused; but his love for you runs deeper then you know. He dallies with Arwen these days and she speaks of the tumult within his soul."

"I promised him my help." Legolas's eyes were pained as he ran his hand along the smooth wood of the arrow shaft. His words were not bitter – just filled with the deep pain and fear. "And my love. He is my child and yet he turns his back toward me and covers his ears when I call his name."

After that first day, Estel had withdrawn deep within himself, closing his ears to Legolas's words of comfort. He had fled into the depths of Rivendell, Ring pressed to his breast and refused the company of anyone – save Arwen.

"He is afraid of himself – afraid of disappointing you." Glorfindel touched his shoulder but Legolas did not make a sound, hands running ceaselessly over the arrow. "There is much for him to fear now. Times are dark and ominous."

Wandering thoughts circled through his head and the younger elf seemed to drift away. "Is that our end then? To be constantly lost in fear of ourselves – the future – the Valar – our destiny? What is life but confronting our cowardice and overcoming?" His eyes were pained. "I run at the mountain only to slide to the base."

"This is not an easy thing," Glorfindel said and Legolas smarted at the serene wisdom the elf exuded – the heady knowledge resting candidly in the dark eyes.

"What is simply said – taxes the body. It is not so easy for me to look at a task and to fail each attempt to conquer. My days go on and on – I cannot throw myself at an insurmountable obstacle forever. The dreams of Lórien are dark of late and my fear restrains me." Legolas dropped the arrow into his quiver. "I have decided."

He waited expectantly for Glorfindel's response but none came.

"I have decided," he continued, "that Estel is a man." He took a small carving knife from his belt and scraped at imaginary imperfections in another arrow. White shingles fell beneath his fingers – snow drifting to the grass.

Glorfindel hummed wordlessly.

"Time," Legolas said resolutely in an effort to convince himself, "is what he needs. He must come to terms in his own way before he will accept my aid. The Council is to be convened within eight days time to discuss the Ring. There is," he hesitated here, battles raging within, "a scouting party leaving for the outer borders tonight. They will return on the fifth day. I will accompany them and Elladan goes with me."

"You leave Estel?"

"I leave him under your watchful eye and Arwen's capable hands – she loves him, I believe, as truly as she can in this mad world. He must arrive at the resolution in his own mind if I am to successfully help."

Glorfindel was quiet, eyes steadily on him. "I advise against your leaving."

Ire rose up in Legolas's chest. "There is no other way. Estel runs from me – he obviously wishes me gone for at least a short period time. I promised I would help him and if this is what he needs then," he paused, trying desperately not to reveal the pain this caused him, "then I will gladly leave. And if my safety is your concern, Elladan rides beside with the specific intent of seeing that I arrive home hale and hearty. There is no need to fret over that."

When Glorfindel once again withheld his acknowledgement, Legolas bit his lip and the arrow snapped within his hands, as his knife pressed to harshly on the slender wood. Did not the older elf see how much his leaving the man plagued his own heart? So much pain burst within him at even the thought that the child of his heart would wish him gone for any length of time. But, he loved Estel – deeply and truly – and he would give the man anything; even his absence if that was required.

Glorfindel nodded at last and bent to take the pieces of the arrow in his slender hands. "Your intentions are true but the path is deadly – I cannot see the end of the road and I fear for both you and the child." He handed the broken pieces to Legolas. "I will remember you in my prayers."

Legolas's smiled. "The Valar and Ilúvatar have always been with me – they have guided my steps thusly, why should they turn from me now?"

Glorfindel's gaze pierced him until Legolas was forced to turn away. "That, my dear friend," the older elf murmured, "is what I fear. The Valar in their infinite wisdom seem to be leading you down a dark road – a blood sacrifice may be demanded."

White leeched the color from Legolas's face and he shuddered deep within his marrow. "My blood will always be ready to be spilled for Estel," he said at last. "If Ilúvatar require my sacrifice, it will be given." He replaced his knife and pressed his palm to Glorfindel's fingers. "Keep your eye on him, my friend."

"I could do no less."

"And if," Legolas grew morose for a moment. "And if I never pass through the hallowed gate of Imladris again, tell Estel of my great love – and tell him Aragorn is his name – and tell him that he will rule justly."

"Aragorn," Glorfindel repeated. "Arathorn spoke the name in the days before his death. It is a good name."

Legolas smiled with quiet pride. "It is the name of a king."

Estel stood in the enclave, hands loosely grasping the railing and eyes lost in memories. The wind stirred, moving the flowers, his hair, and the white clouds across the sky. Against his chest, the dreadful weight of the ring clanked against his ribs, battering his heart.

Legolas was below him, tall and elegant as always, preparing his horse with the rest of the scouting party. Elladan, son of Elrond, stood beside him speaking gently in words that Estel could not hear as he prepared to depart as well. Legolas nodded slightly and checked his weapons, surreptitiously glancing up at the balcony.

"He is going?" he said quietly, eyes drifting down to the courtyard as Legolas swung onto his horse with Elladan beside him. "He did not tell me." Why should he? His subconscious asked. Estel had closed the bond soon after the day at his mother's memorial – unwilling to feel the weight of Legolas's fear and disappointment. And there were other things occupying his mind now…

Arwen moved behind him, hands slipping about his waist and leaning her face near his left shoulder blade. "He will be back in five days. Legolas felt it best to give you space and time."

He blinked, turning in her arms to gently hold her. "Have I withdrawn from him – pushed him away – forced him to leave?" he asked wonderingly. "I did not mean to – I just did not know what to say to him. My days go on and I need him to guide me. He is my rock."

"He knows. He will be back – he even instructed Glorfindel to watch over you while he was away."

Estel gently moved away from Arwen's arms and returned to the railing, legs spread and hands braced upon the smooth wood. "This burden crushes my spirit. But I cannot give it up." He turned. "You see? I cannot destroy it – but I must somehow conquer. Bilbo laid the task upon my shoulders and I will be the one to see it through. If I allow someone else to take my place – then I will never know if I was worthy – if I can overcome the curse. Legolas think I will be king – but I cannot ever be king without conquering the Ring."

Arwen smiled gently but said nothing. "Legolas has faith in you and he will help you – journeying with you wherever you may go. And, the Ring can be destroyed. The Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn are coming and my Ada will instruct you when the time comes."

Muscles loosened and Estel sagged against the railing, watching as Legolas rode from the gaze, glancing behind him one last time as he passed through elegant arches of Rivendell. "I am afraid I will lead to his death. He would die for me – and I am not worthy." All he had to do was open the bond and his mentor would know how he felt… but he could not. He was not the needy child clinging to the edges of Legolas's shirt any longer. He was a man – he did not run to Legolas every time was afraid or in need of council. He owed that to Legolas and himself.

He felt Arwen's gaze, felt her small, delicate hand slip into his, felt her lead him back into the bedroom that had become theirs in the recent nights. "He loves you," she murmured directly to his ear, "as do I." He breath tingled across his temple and he leaned close to her.

Her hands slid up his shirt, gently working the buttons, smoothing her hands over his chest. She was so beautiful – serene, pale face glimmering in the afternoon sun. Her dark hair was slow, soft furnace against his shoulder. Estel wished he just bask in the sweet aura that surrounded her. But the Ring…

"Do you?" He caught her hands and held them fast. "Do you love me, Undómiel? Truly? We have just met and yet you take me to your bed and speak of your love. That is not the way of the elves, to fling themselves into an affair without years of thought. If we marry, you will be made mortal and pass the way of my people." He searched the soft blue depths of her eyes. "Arwen…"

She kissed him, gently, leaving the lingering taste of spring on his lips. Her eyes stayed on his mouth and she spoke softly so that he strained to hear the words. "I have been destined to love you, Estel, since the moment of my conception, Ilúvatar told me of you and our love."

A bit of fear and sadness crept through Estel's soul and studied the curve of her cheekbones with wide, fearing eyes. "Will we be like Beren and Luthien, then? Doomed to love and lose from the beginning? Will our days go by in a moment – never enough time to explore the depth and width of our love?" Estel brushed his fingers over her face, traced the fragile cheekbones, and closed his eyes, feeling the numbness seep through his veins. He imagined the day when death came for both of them – would they be afraid in that day? "Damned if we do – damned if we do not…" They do not know where the second-born travel after death.

Arwen sighed and a steadiness seemed to come over her eyes. "Perhaps," she murmured, gently pulling her hands away and resting them on his shoulders before slipping down to take his fingers in hers, holding them gently. "Perhaps, in another world, we would have been them… But, in the here and now, I will sail across the Sea one day and leave you alone."

A cold pang darted into Estel's chest. "Arwen…"

"But in this world and at this moment," she continued as his shirt fell from his shoulders. "I give you this breath of time – I give you the gift of my Destiny for whatever time we may have together. I vow to you that we will walk the paths of time together until the Valar lead us apart – just as they led us together." She leaned close, kissing him gently. "My Estel."

Bitterness surged inside of him and Estel cringed back from her touch, hating the thought of her deserting him. His heart thumped and his fingers clenched on hers until the skin turned white. Was this fair? he wondered as his mind jumped around. Was this right that she would leave him for Valinor? If this was truly the love of Beren and Luthien – and the wicked, selfish element in his blood said that the doomed affair was a beautiful thing that he deserved above all – then she should not leave him for any reason. "You would leave me?" he hissed, jerking her closer. "And go to Valinor and leave me here to die?"

She struggled briefly – a butterfly beating its gentle wings against the sides of a glass jar – eyes flaring with panic. "Estel… that it the way of Ilúvatar – can you not see the rightness of my words?"

"You should stay with me," he growled, taking a sick delight in the way her face cringed at his cruelty. He did not want to hurt her, he told the protesting side of his soul, she just needed to understand that love is forever. Morality is not so heavy a price for the gift of true love. "If you loved me, you would stay."

Her face grew gentle, as if she saw past the cruel words to the delicate warping effect the Ring had upon his mind. "Estel, this is not you. Return to me, Estel, and forget the Ring for a time."

Estel shuddered to his very core, staring down at her while his nostrils flared slightly. The heat in his blood cooled, leaving him aching at his previous words and longing to beg her forgiveness. "It comes upon me and I cannot breathe," he murmured instead, "I cannot think beyond the power I could attain. Oh, Arwen, I could make you stay with me forever. Can you not see? If I took the Ring as my own, we could be immortal together forever – you would not have to leave. Our love would never die – we would not have to be doomed. My Undómiel. We could rule together… Our days would go in immortality with the Ring at my chest to keep me hale and hearty."

Arwen stared at him and he shrank beneath her wide eyes. "Estel – I do not want the world at our feet." She moved closer, lips brushing his, sharing breath. "I just want this moment together."

He slumped, once again drawing near the closed-off bond – but withdrawing at the last moment. Estel could now clearly see the fringes of darkness lingering in his mind and he did not know how to banish them from his soul. He could not open the bond and risk Legolas's disappointment over his failings – or worse, Legolas's condemnation. "As always, you are right." He breathed and smiled at her. "Help me to forget and be in the moment."

She smiled and complied.

To be continued.