Dedication: This one is for chaoticviolin, for beta-ing this chapter, and hopefully future chapters to come. Thank you, mellon!


Four: Gurtha


He knew it was unfair for him to feel as he did, after all, was he not the one who had refused to speak with her? Was he not the one who had stubbornly pushed her away, because of a mistake that had happened years and years ago? Was he not the one who had stalwartly ignored her, even when he had the perfect opportunity to have forgiven her? He gazed at her figure posed at the end of the bridge, standing beside Aegnir.

He looked away, trying to focus on anything else. It was unfair that he was feeling as he did, but that did not mean he could stop his emotions from overtaking him.

When he and Tauriel were in the forest hunting for the hooded entity, he had almost given in. He had almost told her that everything was behind them, that all the wrongs were forgiven. But the moment did not allow him to, as bigger issues came to hand. They had brought the knife to the King, but nobody could pinpoint where it had come from. All the elves from Lothlorien claimed not to have lost any of their weapons, and neither did they know of any of their kin who had travelled to Esgaroth or to the far east. And so the questions remained unanswered, while the King wrote a letter to Lothlorien inquiring after the knife.

The letter was sent and, like wind, the weeks had passed him swiftly unnoticed. Like before, he and the fire haired elf did not speak and he was left pretending as if the short words they had exchanged at the forest were never spoken. But the effect her presence had on him did not wane.

The anger at her abandonment still sat heavily on his chest and the hurt he felt was no easier to bear, but this was Tauriel. He would never have thought she would leave him, especially without saying goodbye. The two sides of himself battled restlessly. One side of him argued that she abandoned him, made him look like a fool and played with his emotons. Even when he had seen her for the first time in ten long years, she had not offered fully explained her reason for her discarding him so frivolously. But the other part of him, the part that he ruthlessly shoved away, just wanted her company again, and he knew her decision was made for a reason, and he needed to respect that. Had she not said so herself?

Though his anger had dissipated somewhat in private, it did not seem to be the case when he would see her together with Aegnir. The weight that sat on his chest turned into crushing at the sight of the two together. He could not detain his confusing thoughts or feelings, so the only thing he could do was distance between himself from the two. Aegnir had seemed to sense the change in him, and they also had not spoken with each other for days.

Still, now Legolas had no choice. He needed to speak with his old friend, as Aegnir knew the forest the best, even better than Legolas himself. There was a messenger from the city of Lothlorien, but he could not come to deliver the message himself, for there were other dwellings he needed to visit. Instead, he had a letter in his keepings and Aegnir was to meet him in the forest by the Elven Road.

"Aegnir," he called out, and both elves turned to look at him. He avoided Tauriel's gaze.

"My Lord," Aegnir greeted in return, his address a sign of the distance that had grown between them.

"There is a letter awaiting you at the Elven Road. The King requests that you deliver it to him immediately."

"Yes, ernil," Aegnir bowed curtly, before turning to speak words with Tauriel. What he told her, Legolas did not know, for already he was walking back to the realm.

The letter worried Legolas greatly, for messengers were not sent but for matters that could not wait. He had first thought it to be an answer to their inquiries about the knife, but the fact that the messenger also had to visit Imladris added to his uncertainties. Whatever was in the letter, it would not only concern the knife.

When he arrived at his father's chambers, Legolas saw the trace of apprehension on Thranduil's face. It furthered all the more his own fears that something was amiss. Thranduil did not speak when he entered, and Legolas simply stood to the side, waiting.

Hours passed and still Aegnir did not arrive. Legolas paced restlessly, thankful that his father was not paying heed to his uneasiness. When the door finally opened and Aegnir stepped in, only then did he stop.

"What news?" he asked, still curt.

Aegnir's face was grim. "The messenger did not want to speak, but he told me that the letter will only bring grief."

Already, his father was down the steps, reaching his hand towards Aegnir. Wordless, Aegnir slipped the corded paper to the king's hand.

Thranduil took it and almost lazily undid the paper. Legolas kept his eyes firmly on his father, waiting to see what lines would etch on his face to betray the words written on the letter. It was almost impermissible, but Legolas knew his father better than any other living creature, and he noticed the downturn of his lips, the slight movement of his eyebrows, the minute widening in his eyes. "This letter brings death," he said.

He did not understand why it was worrying him so. In the centuries of his life, he had listened to lists and names of the dead, he had known and befriended countless who had died in battle. But this time, he was uncharacteristically nervous, and he knew it was because of her.

"Who?" he asked, hoping that it was not someone she knew. Hoping that it was just another name, one of the thousands of elves who inhabited the Golden City. But when Thranduil finally spoke, Legolas knew that everything was going against everything he had hoped. He froze, his eyes wide, not knowing how to react or what to do.

"Tauriel. Call her here, Aegnir."

All thoughts of what had happened between them disappeared as he groped his mind for a way to shield her from this. Her disappearance, his anger, they all seemed insignificant. He only wished that there was a way to protect her like he had done so many times before, and like she had done in the forest for him. But he knew also that this was an unconquerable enemy.

He did not look at her when she arrived. Instead, Legolas kept his eyes on the floor, watching her boots as she walked past him. Her steps were urgent and brisk. "My Lord, what has happened?" she asked, her voice levelled. But there was exigency with how she said it that told him she knew something was amiss, that deep down under her facade was panic.

It took a while for Thranduil to answer. "There has been an attack by the borders of Lothlorien, a dozen trolls—too much for the elves who were making camp there. The elves of Lothlorien were but a few minutes late, and by then, it was too late." He paused, but she did not speak. "Many of your kin have been wounded, and I will inform your other companions later, but there is a casualty I must inform of you first, before anyone else."

"Who?" Tauriel asked, and the desperation in her voice was clear to everyone in the room, but in the moment, it did not matter.

"I am truly sorry," Thranduil said. He frowned, and it was the only indication of melancholy the king permitted himself to show them. "They could not save her—your mother—Lady Malendis."

Finally, Legolas raised his eyes to her. The blood drained from her face and her pale skin glowed all the more in the dank light. Upon hearing the king's words, she did not move, did not react, did not cry. Moments passed when finally, she nodded her head stiffly and murmured, "Thank you, my Lord."

She turned then, and walked towards the door. He watched her walk away, his feet seeming to be rooted to the floor. None of them spoke, and even Aegnir simply watched her with a stupefied expression on his face. Her heavy foot falls sounded like trumpets Legolas' ears.

Only when the door banged after her did he wake from his reverie and run after her. "Tauriel!" he called out as soon as he exited the king's chambers. She was far from the door but she had not yet turned to the next corridor. She did not respond to his call, however, and continued walking on. "Tauriel," he called out again, still jogging after her, knowing that he was speaking to deaf ears and that she at the moment could not hear anything.

Finally, he clutched her arm when he caught up with her, and with a jerk, she turned to face him. Her face surprised him. There was no astonishment there, no sadness, only a blank space of an elf where Tauriel's always animated expressions had been. He said her name again, and yet there was no response. Speechless, he spoke the first words that were on his mind. "Are you well?"

Nothing on her face changed, and she simply nodded her head.

He sighed, wondering how he would break her wall. "I am sorry, Lady Malendis—,"

She pulled her hand away from him, roughly, and she flinched at the mention of her name. "Thank you, but I need a moment for myself," she said.

Wordless, he let her go, watching her back as she turned the corridor.


Five days later, and the laments still echoed through the towering halls of their kingdom. But he never found her until dinner came and they toasted the lives of those who were lost. Malendis was one among four elves who had lost their lives. At the end of the table, he could see that she was seated beside Aegnir, and when Aegnir placed a hand on her shoulder, he clenched his fists.

He knew it was rightfully so, she had just lost her mother after all, and a friend's comfort was much needed in times of loss. But at the same time, he had a burning wish to be the one with her, giving her strength and comfort when she needed it. And he knew that she needed it, although she was trying her best not to let it show.

Most people had assumed that the healing hands of time had already wrapped its bandages on her, or that she simply contained the strength to withhold even the death of her mother, that the news did not affect her as much as it would others. But he knew different, he could see it in the way she was acting. Her eyes were never focused, her laughter forced. Whenever their eyes would meet, he knew that she was not really seeing him. He knew that the casualness with which she acted was merely a facade. She was trying desperately to act like that she was not affected. But Tauriel, he wondered, why do you hide the grief?

He was worried for her, knowing that she was suffocating under the bubble she had trapped herself in. That night, he walked the corridors alone, searching for the room in the corridor of quarters. When finally he saw the familiar door, he knocked.

Aegnir opened it, and upon seeing Legolas, his eyebrows quirked in surprise. In the early years of their friendship, Legolas would often visit his friend, but those visits had grown rarer and rarer, until they all but disappeared.

"May I speak with you?" Legolas asked. Aegnir frowned, and Legolas for a moment suspected the door to be shut in his face, but the elf instead pulled his door open and Legolas stepped in.

"What brings you here?" Aegnir asked, as they both took their seats by the table in the center of the room. They sat across each other.

Legolas leaned on his chair, taking note of the arrows scattered on the bed. "I've come to talk to you about Tauriel," Legolas said. His eyes left the arrows and watched Aegnir.

"What about her?" Aegnir looked at him, his tone civil, but Legolas saw the narrowing of his eyes. "If you came to argue, I will not leave her side. She needs a friend, and I will be there for her."

"No," Legolas said quickly. Aegnir looked at him curiously, and he sighed. "I do not mean that. In all honesty, I am thankful you are there for her."

Aegnir looked at his hands. "She is hurting. And not only when she heard the news of her mother, but even long before that. Whether it was your silence to her, or words that you may have spoken—it hurt her. I could see it. Tauriel was always easy to read." He sighed, "I know you suffered as well, when she left us. I remember it clearly, us waiting by the gates of Imladris ten years ago. But I did not expect that you would gather your hurt and push it to her. Legolas, you are a friend close to my heart, and I care for you. But Tauriel she—," he searched for a word. "...she is, also. And I cannot forgive you for the pain you have caused her. So if you came to thank me for being with her, you never had to. For I would not do to her what you have done."

Legolas could not answer immediately, for he knew that the words Aegnir had spoken were true. He had long suspected it—for had he not seen the tear that fell from her eyes?—but it was painful for him to finally hear them. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "I am worried about her."

"Worried?" Aegnir smiled mockingly. "It does not show, ernil, with the way you have acted. You have only brought her sorrow, and that is the last of what she needs now."

Legolas clenched his hands, trying to level his voice when he next spoke. "I simply want to know how she is faring."

For a moment, he thought Aegnir would yet again admonish him for what he had done. But instead, the dark-haired elf frowned, and lowered his gaze to the ground. "She will not speak about it. I have tried asking her, and convincing her to open up, but her heart has hardened, and she seems to think that indifference would be the key to help her heal. I have tried speaking with her, tried reasoning with her but nothing is working. She continues to hurt."

Legolas stood, his legs heavy. If there was nothing Aegnir could do, then what more could he? "I apologize," he said, when he was finally standing. "Tell her that I am truly sorry."

"Legolas," he called out, as Legolas was walking out. "Do not think I have forgiven you for what you have done to her. But..." he looked down to the floor and clenched his fists, until his knuckles whitened. "It is you that she needs. So there is no need for me to tell her your words."

Legolas turned to look at his friend, but Aegnir's face was half hidden in the dark. His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he simply walked out of the door.

Somehow, he knew where to find her. He knew where she would go. For when he had found the truth of his mother, Legolas had gone to the same place as well. The stairs passed beneath him, until finally he faced the door at the topmost part of the realm.

He closed his eyes as he opened the door, remembering the last time he had visited the platform. It was warmer then, with only the blowing wind to provide counterpoise. Now the night itself was icy. It stung his skin.

He found her where he had before, hidden by a wide platform. This time she was not gazing at the stars, her view was directed ahead of her, where the leaves of the Mirkwood Forest glittered in the night. They were unmoving, except for moments every now and then when the leaves would shake with unknown disturbances from the ground.

"Do you not feel cold?" he asked, as he made his way beside her, touching the icy balustrade with his fingers. He held it tighter, until the numbness warmed his hands.

As he expected, she did not answer. But she turned away from him, an indication that she had at least heard.

He waited before speaking again. The cold seeped to his being, and he swallowed it in, accepting the chill. "The snow will come soon," he commented, noting the way many of the trees looked blood red in the dark light of the crescent moon. "It seems impossible that you have already been here for so long. I would not have paid mind to the time, if not for the change in the trees. Is it not interesting, how the earth seems intent to remind us of its longevity?"

Silence, again.

Legolas smiled, wondering how their positions had so quickly reversed. But a flash of the tear rolling down her skin removed all traces of his smile. He stared at her, wondering how he would make her understand. Was this how she had felt when he left her with cold words and no forgiveness? "Will you not speak with me, Tauriel?"

She faced him, at long last. But there was no antipathy in her face. There was nothing, no emotions. But he saw the weariness in her eyes, he saw the emptiness of what used to be eyes that were filled with life, brighter than even the light of the heavens. "Why, ernil?" he frowned at the title. Even after everything, this was the first time she had addressed him as that. "What would you have of me? If you came to again remind me of what I have done wrong, you need not to. I have thought it over, again and again. I have let the guilt consume me and the regret take my very being. What else will you have of me?"

"No," he said, fiercely. He exhaled heavily, as his hands clenched the cold balustrade, all thoughts of the cold forgotten. He swerved from where he stood, not bearing to look at her after the words she had spoken. When he looked back at her, his eyes had softened, and his stature down. He was the figure of one that had lost. "I had no intention of ever making you suffer. I just wanted to know of how you are faring. Tauriel, I am worried about you."

The blank look on her face returned and again, she removed her gaze from him. "Why? There is no cause for your worry."

"I have watched you," he admitted, walking back to his place beside her. "You act as if nothing has happened, you laugh and you smile and you tell stories, but I see the emptiness behind it all. There is no more joy in the way you speak, you have spent your nights roaming the halls, and you barely eat. You have told no one of what you feel—not even Aegnir."

"That is not true," she said simply, the words rolling out in a careless manner.

He frowned, as he watched her recite the words. Like everything else she had done, they were blank. As if recited from a long memorized page. Slowly, he reached out for her hand, but she pulled it viciously away. She turned her back to him, and he watched as her shoulders rose and fell from each breath she took. She did not speak, and neither did he, and for minutes only the sounds of the forest fell to his ears.

"Why the pretense, Tauriel?"

She whirled to face him. There was fire in her eyes as she glared at him, her lips pressed to a thin line. Her anger was clear, but finally, he thought, finally, there was something there. "I am not pretending, Legolas. Why is it so hard to believe that there is nothing wrong?" her chest heaved with every word. "If this is because of mother—I have accepted it. Death is just another part of this world, is it not?" She stepped closer to him, until but mere inches separated their faces. "There is nothing wrong."

At their distance, he could see her warm breath mist in the coolness of the night. He did not step back, despite the aggressiveness she had directed towards him."Who are you trying to be so strong for?" he asked, frowning at her.

She laughed then, a hollow laugh, one that did not suit her. "No one, ernil-nin," she hissed. "It is merely what I had to do. All my life. I had to be strong because I had to make choices that would hurt people I cared about—like what I have done to you. I had to be strong because I was consistently reminded that I did not belong, not in my own family, not in my own home. I had to be strong to face this life. And I have to be strong now because the only one who had ever been there for me is now gone!"

The wind hissed in the night, and all Legolas could hear was her heavy breathing. Legolas watched as her face transformed from anger to despair, and now, to the emotions she had hidden so deep within her. Her eyes welled with tears, but he knew that she still held them back. He raised his hand, and lightly, tipped her chin to meet her eyes. With a soft voice, he spoke. "That is not true. I was—and am—here for you. And Arwen. And Lord Elrond." He swallowed. "And Aegnir, and so many others."

She lowered her gaze, and her lip trembled. Then, "I know," she whispered.

"Malendis loved you. She loves you. And she raised you to withhold even this dark night."

"I know."

His hand left her chin, and he tucked a stray hair into the back of her ear, like he had done once, many, many years ago. "But she also raised you to know that you do not have to keep it within you. That sometimes, you have to give in to the weakness," he stepped forward, and closed the little gap that remained between them. He wrapped his arms around her lithe figure. For but a moment, he thought that she would push him away, but instead, like a warrior accepting defeat, she slowly settled her head on his shoulder.

He held her in his embrace, and for the first time in many years, she let the tears fall completely.

END OF CHAPTER


Reply to Ah-lex: Thanks for the review! Actually, before the holiday break my update day was set on Tuesday (kinda), and it will probably go back to that by the last week of January. But til then, I plan to update every five days, starting with this chapter! Fingers crossed, of course ;)

A/N: Gurtha is elvish for death. So I was re-reading my Tolkein books and look what I came across:

We have heard tell that Legolas took Gimlio Gloin's son with him because of their great friendship, greater than any that has been between Elf and Dwarf. -Tolkein, Return of the King

Well there you go. Tolkein trumps PJ. Haha. Okay okay. Sorry, but I just really hated that rushed Legolas ending, okay? :) Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, and A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL YOU LOVELIES! Thanks for sticking with me and my endless ramblings.

Love,

Vee