Chapter Twenty Three: On Female Hormones and Alexander the Great
Author's Note: So, I'm having Estela/Aragorn/Legolas/Gimli/Gandalf all stop for the night on their way to Edoras. I know this doesn't happen in the book or the movie, but oh well! It's not too big of a crime. There are worse things I could do as a fanfiction author ^.^
Brief Recap: Estela and Adonnenniel split up. Estela's going to Rohan; Adonnenniel's with Merry and Pippin.
And just a fair warning: Estela's most definitely on her period in this chapter. I feel comfortable pointing this out, since I would be extremely shocked if any males followed this story.
Random Quote: "I'd rather laugh with the sinner and cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun." ~Billy Joel
As they traveled to Rohan, Estela felt every ache in her body tenfold as the horse jostled her body up and down. She had been able to ignore the pain in her muscles for the past three days because she had been so intent on finding the hobbits and Adonnenniel. Now, starbursts of pain erupted in her back muscles and upper legs. She gritted her teeth, willing herself to ignore it, but it was impossible. The pain consumed all her thoughts.
Sometime while riding into the afternoon, the hours began to blur together into an endless drone. They rode hard all day, and when night fell Estela felt a sudden break in the monotony. They had reached a rocky terrain, and the horses' paces had slowed to accommodate the new territory. The landscape was steep, and had large rocky formations that resembled caves stretching upwards from the ground.
"We stop here for the night," Gandalf declared. He turned toward Estela, Legolas, and Gimli. "You must be weary from having traveled three days with no sleep. Get some rest."
Estela sat alone some distance outside the caves where the others slept. She had been unable to sleep, and had wandered outside until she found a patch of soft grass to sit on amongst the otherwise rocky terrain.
It was a cool and still night. There was no moon, but a spray of stars dotted the sky. In the distance, she could see tumbling fields of grass and sporadic bushes rising from the ground. Behind her, the caves in loomed like strangely shaped, hunchback shadows.
Estela sighed and hugged her knees to her chest. Though she had been awake for three days with no rest, somehow sleep still managed to elude her. Every time she closed her eyes, horrible images flashed in her mind's eye…Adonnenniel's stricken face after she had left her in the forest…Boromir's body, broken and pierced by many arrows...And the visions she had seen in Galadriel's Mirror so long ago in Lothlorien…
Thoughts of the Prophecy suddenly consumed her, and Estela reached into her dress' front pocket where she kept the small sheet of paper. She unfolded it and rubbed her thumb over the last line, as if she could smudge the words out of existence and change fate itself. She thought of Boromir's death, and how she did not prevent it as she had promised herself she would. All these things…the Prophecy, Boromir's death…She could not prevent them from happening.
And yet though all these thoughts raged through her, Estela did not feel the emotions that should have accompanied them. For three long days now, she had focused solely on finding her sister, and had shoved all her feelings away so she could focus more sharply. Now, her emotions refused to rise, and in a way she was grateful for it. She did not want to feel all the guilt and helplessness and grief that was sure to consume her the minute she allowed herself to feel again. For now, numbness meant safety.
Suddenly, she heard soft footsteps behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Only he could walk that quietly.
"The hour is late," Legolas said, approaching her. "It is dark outside."
Estela stared into the distance, nonresponsive.
"And yet you are still awake," he noted.
"Could you try saying something that's not obvious?" Estela snapped.
She looked up at him, and saw that he looked stricken. "Sorry," she said hastily, taken aback by her own vehemence. "I don't feel quite like myself."
"Something has upset you, Estela." He sat down next to her, and saw the paper wedged between her fingers. "The Prophecy," he said quietly. "May I see it?"
Estela nodded, and handed it to him despondently. "Do you agree with Galadriel's interpretation of it?" she asked him after a moment.
"Estela…" he said gently, "I too wish there could be another way to interpret its words, but I see no other."
Estela snatched the Prophecy back from him, and stood up suddenly. "Well, what if she was wrong, Legolas? I've been reading and rereading it lately, and…Well, what if she interpreted it wrong? She said herself that it could be speaking either literally or figuratively, and she admitted that she had no way of knowing for sure." Estela started pacing. "And why should I believe what she says anyway? How could it just mean what she said it did? It's too simple, too straightforward. From what I know from reading fantasy novels, Prophecies don't work like that. What if…"
"Estela." Legolas' sharp voice cut through her shrill and hysterical rambling. He had stood up, and was walking towards her. She nearly flinched away from him, but he placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Calm yourself. Please tell me what it is that troubles you."
"It doesn't take much to figure it out," she grumbled. Her emotions felt strange tonight—taut and diffused at the same time, unpredictable and irrational. The back of her head ached, and her limbs were heavy. Overcome by a sudden wave of tiredness, she sat back down on the ground. The grass was cool and wet against her skin.
After a moment, Legolas sat down beside her again. He grasped her arms lightly, turning her around to face him. He stared at her intently, as if searching her face for any sign of her thoughts. She looked directly back at him, suddenly feeling as if she was about to burst into tears.
"Estela, please. Give me some indication as to what you are thinking."
Without thinking about it, she leaned forward and kissed him.
At first he seemed utterly shocked and was unresponsive. But then something in his expression changed, and then he was kissing her back. He kissed her gently, but it wasn't gentleness she wanted. Not now, not after all this time, not with unrelenting thoughts of the Prophecy and how she might now live much longer, not with these strange and exhilarating and beautiful emotions raging through her like a storm.
She leaned into him and the kiss deepened. Suddenly, all of her depressing emotions seemed to abate as she let herself let go. In that moment, she finally understood that cliché phrase about feeling butterflies in your stomach. Despite her previous negative emotions, Estela found herself smiling slightly.
For one glorious moment, all thoughts of the Prophecy, Boromir's death, and her weariness suddenly dissipated, and Estela let herself simply get lost in the kiss. All of her senses felt electrified…She could smell the grass, a pleasant aroma reminiscent of freshly mowed lawns and the pages of a new book. A faint breeze flitted through the air, dancing nimbly through the tall grass and tickling the back her neck.
And yet, along with the pleasant warmth that filled her suddenly came another wave of emotions, shoving the cheerful feeling away. She hadn't allowed herself to slow down and feel anything for days, and everything she should have been feeling while chasing after her sister began tearing through her without warning. She kissed him deeper, as if she could shunt away all of these horrid emotions with his touch. Anything to end this inexorable onslaught of fear, guilt, anger…
Legolas went still.
It took Estela a moment to realize that he was not responding to her touch. She peered up at him, and then suddenly became aware of something wet on her cheek. She raised a finger to her face, wiping the tears away. What's wrong with me? she thought.
"You are crying," Legolas said, sounding confused.
"Yes, I'm crying. That would explain the tears." Her voice cracked and she furiously rubbed her eyes, trying to make herself stop crying like a hysterical freak.
"I meant no offense," he said once more.
"I know you didn't, sorry. I don't know why I'm acting like this. This is ridiculous. I'm sorry. Let's just go back to bed."
"Estela." Legolas' voice was sharp, demanding her attention. The sharpness of his tone started her. "Please tell me what is wrong," he said again.
A small, sardonic laugh escaped her. "You want to know what's wrong? This Prophecy, Legolas, is what's wrong." Estela walked swiftly towards him, and snatched the paper from his hand. She waved it in front of his face. "This is what's wrong. How can I go on living, knowing that either myself or Adonnenniel might die any moment? It's…it's…just this ridiculous concept of predestination. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to save her, she could still die. And if not her, then me. And if it's fated to happen, if the Prophecy says it will…How can I do anything to change it? I…I just feel so…helpless. I hate feeling helpless."
Legolas made to reach out and touch her, as if to comfort her, but she maneuvered out of his grasp. "Don't," she whispered. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "I don't deserve this."
"What else troubles you, Estela?" he asked gently. Estela was suddenly aware of how soft and gentle his voice was, and how patiently he was reacting to her less than rational behavior. She felt horrible.
She stared at him levelly. "It's Boromir." For a moment she stood in silence, allowing the guilt to wash over her. "I knew that he was going to die, and I had promised myself that I wasn't going to let him. I was going to disobey Gandalf's wishes that I not change the course of events. I was going to save him." Her voice sunk to a mere whisper. "And I failed. I fear that the same thing will happen with the Prophecy. What if I can't save my sister?"
Without saying anything, Legolas embraced her tightly. Estela allowed him to hold her, and allowed her grief and guilt and fear to immerse her. After a while, her crying subsided.
"I…I think I'm fine," she said.
"You should try to sleep," Legolas told her. "We will reach Rohan come morning."
"Alright. And…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you…I was just so…tired and emotional."
"There is no need to apologize," Legolas said.
Estela smiled at him again, and then walked back to the cave. She lay down and closed her eyes tightly. Yet though her body was weary, her mind still refused to succumb to sleep, save for a few meager hours.
The next day dawned early. The sun shone brightly, too brightly; Estela squinted as they mounted their horses after a quick breakfast. Last night seemed like a dream to her, so distorted and strange was it in her mind, and she kept wondering what Legolas thought of it. He was quiet, and she made no attempt to start a conversation given her tiredness. As the day wore on, they soon came to a rocky formation that stretched out into the distance and required delicate navigation to avoid sharply protruding rocks. The horses slowed to a walk, and Estela was grateful. Without thinking about it, she closed her eyes and leaned against Legolas' back, hoping to perhaps sleep. She hadn't had any amount of real sleep in ages.
"Are you quite alright?" asked Legolas softly. "You are uncharacteristically quiet."
Estela allowed herself a small smile. "Are you implying that I normally talk too much?"
"Not at all," Legolas said, sounding amused. "In all honesty, Estela, I would prefer it if you would talk more."
"Oh really? Well, we can fix that easily enough. What do you wish to talk about?"
Legolas answered immediately. "Do you remember those days before we reached Moria? When we would fill the hours with talk about our worlds' histories?"
"Yes," Estela said. "Do you remember when I snapped at you for being sexist?"
Legolas laughed quietly. "Yes. How could one forget such a thing? You told me a story of a human woman who was braver than the men around her."
"Ah, yes. Theodora," Estela smiled. "Did I ever tell you who else I named my horses' after?"
"I do remember you enlightening me about a certain story of men killing themselves for love, and how you used to think such a thing was romantic."
Estela snorted. "Good old Carton. I should have told you about Ghandi, or Alexander the Great."
"Those are very peculiar names," he commented. "Were they human?"
Estela laughed. "As far as I know they were. I don't think there are any other races where I come from save for humans."
"So who were these humans?" asked Legolas.
"Hmm. You realize that if I answer that we'll be talking for at least an hour?"
"Then explain just one for now," he suggested.
"Alright," she grinned. "Alexander the Great, then. He was a prince of the most powerful nation in the world at his time, and son of Philip II of Macedonia. In some ways, Alexander seems more like a character from Greek Mythology than a real human being. For instance, when he was fourteen years old, his father was considering purchasing a magnificent black stallion. However, not even his most trained horsemen could tame it. Then, Alexander stepped up and said that he wished it train it, and somehow he did. He named the horse Bucephalas and rode it for nearly his entire reign."
"When Alexander was twenty, his father was assassinated. Some even say it was a conspiracy arranged by his wife," Estela continued. "It's actually a really bizarre story. Olympias, Alexander's mother, had told him from childbirth that he was a demi-god, a half god, and the son of Zeus, the most powerful god. She claimed that Zeus had come to her in the form of a snake. Personally, I think the woman was schizophrenic," she laughed.
Legolas looked at her confusedly. "Umm…schizophrenia is being mentally insane or unstable," she explained. "It involves hearing voices in your head and imagining things. But anyways, when Alexander took the throne, he then proceeded to conquer a vast area of the world. He even contended with the Persian Empire, a rival nation that had plagued his fathers' realm for years, but had never been confronted in battle before. And then he died in his twenties because of malaria. He conquered the largest area of the world up until that time period, and a mosquito bite brought him down. That's dramatic irony for you."
Estela stopped speaking, and a long pause ensued. Then Legolas spoke. "Yet despite having lived such a short life, he managed to accomplish much." He sounded mystified.
"Not all of us live for thousands of years," she pointed out.
"Yes, but twenty years of life…That is quite untimely."
Estela chuckled, suddenly remembering something. "Well, Alexander was fine with it. He said 'I would rather live a short life of glory than a long one of obscurity.'" A silence followed her words. In the quiet, Estela became aware once more of her aching body and her immense tiredness. She was absolutely exhausted, and as much as she willed herself to remain conscious, she felt her eyelids drooping.
"That is quite a remarkable story," Legolas said.
"Hmmm," she agreed. Without thinking about it, Estela leaned against him, pressing the side of her face against his back. She closed her eyes, and sometime during the afternoon she drifted off to sleep.
Coming Up Next!
-Adonnenniel will have heart to heart with the hobbits about food preferences!
-Someone will get knocked unconscious!
-Eowyn might come into the story, unless said someone gets knocked out first! (TBD)