He stood on the dunes watching the crowds below. Wind whipped his hair across his face as the sea breeze floated round him lifting his spirits as it did tendrils of golden hair. He was a lonely figure, silent and still, hidden in the sands, apart from the tense gathering of those he knew. Acquaintances, he didn't think he would call any of them friends, who waited with growing excitement. He could hear snippets of conversation now brought to him on the wind but he was excluded.
Legolas didn't mind, it was an exclusion of his own making. He could just as easily stroll down and be welcomed into the throng. He would rather be alone as he waited. He was often alone.
In truth the smell of the sea, the salt in the breeze and the cries from the gulls exhilarated him. Even now when the dragging intensity of the sea longing had deserted him the smell of it, the feel of it, the taste of the ocean made his heart thud and his spirits lift. Perhaps he should be a Teleri he mused and live his life upon the sea? It was a comforting thought. The ache, that dreadful ache from the need to cross the sea had gone leaving a thrill, a lightness inside him at the sight of it. Today however he was unsure if the thrill was from the sea or because of who he waited for.
The last ship. They had said his and Gimli's was the last but he had known it wasn't true. He knew there would be another although he could not say how he knew. But this one would definitely be last. There was no one left to follow. He had waited years for this, waited when it had seemed in the depths of his despair the waiting was all that sustained him. Things would be different now. He was sure of it.
It seemed forever until they appeared on the horizon, a shadow emerging from the sea and at the sight of those sails his heart leapt and his spirit danced for soon they would be here.
And then they were.
Clambering off the ship until they stood tense and strong together, so alike as always. He looked just the same, just as he had imagined him in his heart all these years and he longed to rush down from his self imposed exile and greet him with joy. He needed to say all those things he had neglected to say before when his heart and mind were burdened with grief and the longing to depart. He saw clearly now.
But he held back, he did not rush but stood silent in the dunes and watched, for their family encircled them and bathed them in the joy of a reunion long hoped for but never truly believed in. He would not intervene he thought, it was not his place. He would watch and wait some more...just a little more. And while he watched he hoped.
'Look at me.' He thought, 'I am here. Look up, let me know you remember my promise.' He tried to will him with his very mind to lift his head and see him. He thought he did...just for a second, he thought he saw a smile on that face, a connection of their eyes but he could not be sure. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.
He stayed there long after the crowds had departed, after they had gone with their family to what he had no doubt was a feast and celebration. He stayed until darkness fell then he descended to the sea, pulled his boots off and strode in, water lapping at his feet then his knees. The spray from the waves flew up into his face, his hair was damp but oh he was alive. How he loved this, he felt wild and free. A voice cut into his thoughts of freedom. A voice he had not heard for years save in his memories and imaginings.
"What are you doing Legolas? Come out of the sea."
How his spirit sang when he turned and saw him there. He had come to find him.
"Come and join me Elrohir! Come and feel its power."
"I will not! I had hoped when I found you here you would be free of the sea."
"I will never be free of it," he said "and I do not want to be. But I will join you on the shores just this once." and reluctantly he waded ashore. He was not ready to leave the water yet.
"My Father asks you to come inside. You are welcome there and he wishes you to join us."
His face fell,
"That is why you are here? Your father sent you?"
"No, of course not. I wished to see you, why did you not greet me when we arrived?"
He had not seen him then, though he had been sure that he had.
"I was here." He said defensively, "Do you not remember the promise I made you when I sailed? I said I would be here to welcome you."
Elrohir laughed at that.
"You were rather distracted as I remember it! It was hard to know if you would remember that promise yourself."
He frowned with disapproval, he always kept his promises.
"Of course I remember it!" He had thought of little else for some years. "I was here to see you arrive as I said I would be. Do not blame me if you did not see me."
"I did see you. I was looking for you. But you stood apart, you did not come to welcome us."
There was tension between them now and awkwardness. This was not how he had imagined it nor how he remembered, perhaps he had remembered wrong, perhaps this was not what he had thought? But that could not be. It was all he had.
"It was not my place. Your family..."
"Of course it was your place. Is that the only reason you are here? A promise made years ago. I would not have held you to it if you did not wish to be here."
"I did! I did wish to be here." He felt he should change the subject for this was going nowhere except towards dissension.
"You were right I was distracted when we last met. I could hear nothing but the sea and it was joyous. Was it not like that for you when you left? The pure joy of it?"
"There was no joy in my leaving." Elrohir said sadly, "relief, yes, but no joy."
"Relief?"
"That we had to stay no longer." Elrohir looked away as he said the next.
"Eldarion is dead."
It hit him like a physical blow, that news. He knew the years had been long but it could not be.
"Dead?" Perhaps he had heard that wrong?
"He lived a long life Legolas, It was as it was with Aragorn...his choice."
"Dead..." For a moment he thought he might be ill, it was too much, too sudden and brought it all back to the forefront of his mind as if it was yesterday. That pain, that terrible day.
"He cannot be dead." Why had he not thought of this when he heard they were returning. What else would have encouraged them to sail?
"He has written you a letter." Elrohir pushed it into his hands, "Just for you. He wanted to speak to you just once more."
And he gazed numbly down at the paper in his hands, a letter from Eldarion, Eldarion the child, the young man, who now was dead as his father had died long ago. He would not cry, not again, not in front of Elrohir. He wanted things to be different, he needed no pity.
"Come inside with me Legolas. Into the warmth." Elrohir held out his hand. "There are those who care for you there. My father says he is worried for you."
"Well he need not be." It was enough to snap him out of his memories. "I am well."
"He says you isolate yourself. Since Gimli..."
He did not want to think of Gimli and his loss. He would not spend a second of his time on that for it would be his undoing. Since Gimli had gone nothing was the same. Since Gimli was gone he was lost.
"I am well!" He reiterated, "and to prove it I will come with you as you wish to this party though I am sure it will be tedious." And he flashed him a smile.
He did not want Elrohir to know the depths of his despair. He did not want him to know how much he had yearned for him to arrive. How it had become the only thing that kept him upright and functioning. He wanted Elrohir to think he was strong as he had not been that one night they had been together so long ago.
Being inside the house was, as he had expected, an ordeal. Elrond and Galadriel watched him far to closely and he knew he could not fool them. Elrohir disappeared into the crowd but he did not follow. He had been right, he was out of place here and did not fit in. He wished he had not left the sanctuary of the sea and briefly thought about returning to the waves. Instead he retreated, found himself an alcove down a quiet, empty corridor where he could be alone and there he sat and read the letter Elrohir gave him.
It was a letter full of love and memory and it tore at his heart. As he read tears flowed and he wept for the loss of that bright curious child, that confident young man, and the young man's father. The friend who was like a brother who had gone before, who he would never see again.
...
Elrohir lost sight of Legolas almost as soon as they entered the building. He slipped away like a ghost as soon as his eyes drifted from him. He was confused, Legolas was not as he had thought he would be. He remembered the laughing, joyous Legolas he had last seen on the shores of Arda. All these years he had imagined him thus, happy and finally relieved of his grief and the sea longing.
Instead the reality was the sober, still Legolas who had been in the dunes when he arrived. He had searched for him the instant they landed his heart in his mouth, please let him be here...and he was, up there on his own. He did not come down to greet him.
Then he lost sight of him in the swirl of excited relatives around him but when all had calmed at the first opportunity he asked his father,
"How is Legolas?"
"I had hoped he might be here to see you," he replied.
"He was. I saw him in the dunes but he did not come down."
At that Elrond frowned, his forehead creased with concern.
"I fear all is not well with him but he will not let me near enough to even begin to guess. Since Gimli's death he has not been the same. Go find him Elrohir, see if you can entice him in."
And so he went, his head crowded with worry for what could be wrong? Valinor was a place of healing. They had believed all their burdens would be lifted here. Had Legolas's not been?
He found him wandering in the waves, a wild, fey creature with salt spray in his hair. What was he doing in the sea? Surely the sea longing had gone? And when he called him out their conversation was stilted, everything he said was wrong. He had waited for so long to right the wrong he had done him but it was obviously going to be harder than he thought. Still he got Legolas inside only to lose him the instant they stepped through the door.
Finding him again was a mission but he did and his heart stopped at the sight. Legolas sat weeping, the letter Eldarion had sent in his hand. It was as if he had stepped through a door back in time, back to when he found him a crumpled mess on the floor of the study the night Estel died and it broke his heart.
"Legolas," he sat beside him and gently prised the letter from numb fingers. "I will take this."
"Give it back." Legolas leapt into life with a flash of rage. "It is mine!"
But he stood firm.
"I think not. I will keep it safe for you, We will read it tomorrow...together I think, I will tell you of him then if you like."
He watched as Legolas attempted to regain control of himself, engaged in an internal struggle with his emotions,
"Forgive me." He said to Elrohir at last when he could trust his voice, "It is still so raw, I try not to think of it but this..." He trailed off sadly gazing at the letter in Elrohir's hand.
He was shocked. How could this be? His own grief for the loss of his brother was still with him. He would always miss him but time, watching Eldarion flourish and his children grow, new moments of joy had blurred the sharp edges of the hole in his heart where Estel had once been. Why was it still so fresh for Legolas? It had been years. Had he really come nowhere with this?
"It is not true then." he murmured,
"What? I do not lie!" Legolas looked at him defensively.
"It is not true then," he repeated, "that Valinor heals all."
"That is a lie!" Legolas's reply was a bitter one. "Valinor heals nothing."
"That is upsetting to hear."
And it was. He and Elladan had both hoped their burdens could be eased here. Perhaps they would not and it was all a cruel trick. And more than that he had hoped to find a Legolas who was well and healed so they could begin again. For years he had carried his guilt at what he had done that night. He had taken advantage of a broken man for his own end, to fulfil his own desire for comfort. No wonder Legolas had been angry the next morning and had fled for Ithilien.
How could they start again now with Legolas still as weighed down by grief as he was in Arda?
"How did you stand it?" The unexpected question surprised him. "Staying there?"
"We could not stand it in the end." He confessed quietly, "That is why we are here. After Eldarion we could not watch another..."
They sat in silence then. He could think of nothing to say, after years of planning a hundred versions of this conversation his mind was suddenly devoid of any of them. He laughed the absurdity of that.
"You think this is funny?" Legolas's voice was laden with hurt.
"No." Yet he still smiled when he looked at him. "It is just, I have thought of you often...planned what I would say, and now I am here I cannot remember any of it. It is foolish to say the least."
"You have thought of me?" Legolas's face lifted and his voice softened. "I have thought of you also."
And their eyes locked, he could not look away, it was if something was drawing him in. Then, before he knew what was happening Legolas's lips were on his, firm and demanding. Oh it was bliss, he had dreamed of this and it was just as glorious as he remembered it had been that night.
But thoughts of the night so long gone bought him back to his senses. He could not do this. It was wrong last time and it was wrong now. Legolas was not himself.
He pulled back.
"I do not want this" he gasped.
He meant to continue, to explain the guilt, his determination to fix it, for them to start anew as equals but Legolas gave him no time for that. He leapt to his feet, eyes flashing, his face drained of colour, fists clenched by his side.
"Forgive me." His words were tight and tense as he spat them out.
"I have misread things. I apologise, it will not happen again."
"Wait Legolas, you do not understand, let me finish."
"You were quite clear Elrohir. There was no misunderstanding you. I will not inflict further embarrassment upon us both."
And he turned, back ramrod straight and strode down the corridor, deaf to Elrohir's pleading and as he vanished around the corner Elrohir wondered just how things had gone so wrong.
TBC
