Title: Until We Reach Valinor

Chapter 34: The Spaces between Us

...

She had not let Rilian out of her sight since she had lost her daughter; he had become her entire world. Legolas was avoiding her. He had not spoken one word to her, or looked at her since Miriel's death. In the first hours after Miriel's death she had repeatedly and with increasing desperation asked after him- but Arwen and Aragorn had only given her vague non-answers about how he was busy dealing with the political fallout of what had happened. She had known at once that they were lying, and when he didn't come to their bedchamber that night, or any of the nights that followed, she had been certain of it. She had felt cold and sad, but not surprised.

Of course he was avoiding her; of course he didn't want to look at her. He blamed her for Miriel's death, just as she blamed herself. Miriel had been her charge, and she hadn't been able to do anything to protect her. She hadn't even tried to run, and she hadn't shouted for help until Aradhel was swinging a sword at her head. If she had, maybe Elano would have gotten there in time. Maybe Legolas would have.

But she hadn't had any idea that Aradhel had wanted to kill her daughter. She hadn't known he had that much hatred, that much violence him...You should have, a voice whispered in her mind, condemning her. You saw it in his eyes, the day of the wedding. The wedding, another disaster for which she was to blame. If only she had been able to control her laughter, if only she hadn't choked. Perhaps then her beautiful daughter would still be alive. It had been her idea; too, to name her son after Rilian...she shuddered with guilt and self-loathing. She had all but invited Aradhel onto the palace grounds to seek revenge.

And now here she was, dressed in black- as all of Greenwood would be for months to come- attending her daughter's funeral, clinging to her son as though he was the only thing keeping her alive, unable to keep in her sobs. Legolas sat beside her, back straight as a ramrod, looking blankly in front of him; even now, every inch a King. Cold, stiff, he refused to acknowledge her presence.

She ached to take his hand, ached to hold him and grieve with him. But she was terrified that he would pull away from her. And the last thing she wanted was confirmation of what she already feared- that she had lost not just her daughter, but her husband, too.

...

"Legolas." His friend took a second longer than normal to look up in acknowledgement, something he was doing more and more often since Mirel's death. The distance, along with the careful blankness in his friend's eyes reminded Aragorn disturbingly of Elano in the months following his mother's death.

"What is it, Estel?"

Aragorn sighed, wishing his friend could be spared this. "It is Aradhel's mother, mellonamin," he said very quietly. "She is here to...collect his body."

Legolas's back seemed to grow impossibly stiff. Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before Aragorn could read it. "Where?"

"The entrance hall."

Legolas nodded, and started to rise, but Aragorn stopped him. "Legolas, you don't need to do this," he said. "Send someone else, send me. You don't need to see her."

"Yes, I do," Legolas stated tonelessly, and rose. Aragorn hurried after him, grimacing a little at the startled looks from Legolas's guards. No one had expected him to actually meet Aradhel's mother in did his friend always have to do everything the hard way?

As Legolas walked into the entrance hall people scrambled to their feet, bowing and dropping curtsies as he passed. More people than usual; clearly the news that Aradhel's mother was here had spread quickly. He walked towards his usual chair, turned, dipped his head to the room at large, and then sat down, indicating that everyone else should also do the same. His eyes swept over the room, coming to rest on an all too familiar blonde head. The woman looked up, met his gaze for a moment, and then dropped it. Her blue eyes were the same shade as Aradhel's, but red-rimmed and filled with a wealth of grief. "You may approach, Lady Amalasia." he said.

She looked startled at his form of address, but came forward and knelt before him. "Your Highness, I..." she began in a low, shaky voice, "I can offer no excuses for him. My husband sailed when he was still a child, and he came into his inheritance and title too young. His arrogance was inexcusable, as were his...actions. I should have...I know I failed, and you have every right to keep his b-body from me, if you wish to. You have every right to exile or put to death our entire family. But I had to try...I had to ask." She met his eyes and held them. "He is still my son."

"You may rise," he said coldly, and she did. He stared at her for a long, wordless moment. "Aradhel's title transferred to you when I stripped them from him, and that will continue to be so," he said expressionlessly. "His lands are also now yours. You may take his... body...on condition that he will not be buried within two leagues of any other grave. The taint of his actions should not touch those who lie in the ground."

"Thank you, Your Highness," she said fervently. "You have been most generous." The surprised murmurs around the hall indicated that she was not the only one who thought so.

"I have been just," he responded, his voice hard. "As your King, l have done my duty. Nothing more, nothing less."

And then he swept out of the room, his face as blank and cold as when he had entered it.

...

"I heard that Aradhel's mother was here today," Alanna's voice, soft as it was, made Arwen start, as she had been silent for the last two hours She set down the silver gray scarf she had been embroidering, and studied the woman before her. Alanna's brown eyes were red-rimmed and shadowed with dark circles, and her son was nestled close beside her- as he always was, these days- clutching his mother's finger tightly in his tiny fist.

"Yes, she was," Arwen said carefully.

"She wished to collect Aradhel's body?" Alanna asked, a tremor in her voice.

"Yes."

"And Legolas let her take him."

"He is the King, Alanna," Arwen reminded her gently, though inwardly she wondered how Legolas had found the strength to do that, king or no. "It was his duty to grant it to her." Not for the first time, she almost wished Aradhel had not died from the wound Elano had inflicted on him. Perhaps if Legolas and Alanna had had a chance to blame him and hate him, to give a trial and sentence him to death, they would not have been avoiding each other; perhaps they'd be blaming him and not themselves. She and Aragorn were both sure that was what was causing the rift between them.

"I'm not-" Alanna inhaled deeply, pain in her eyes. "I know he was only doing his duty, I don't blame. I just wish...I just wish he'd summoned me, too. I am the Queen, am I not? I should have been there too!" Her voice rose on the last words, a touch of hysteria in them.

"He was probably trying to spare you pain," Arwen said cautiously. "No one expected either of you to actually meet with her, but Legolas did, stubborn as he is." she shrugged. "I suppose he thought he was protecting you."

"Or maybe he just wanted to avoid speaking to me or looking at me," Alanna said bitterly. "After all, if he had summoned me, he would actually have had to endure my presence."

Arwen stared at her, unsure what to say. She had known that things were strained between them but hadn't realized that Legolas's avoidance had reached such an extreme. "I'm sure-"

"He blames me," Alanna whispered, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands, and this time she didn't sound bitter, only weary and heartsick. "For...for Miriel. For naming Rilian, the wedding; that's why he won't-"

A chill ran down Arwen's spine. "Alanna, no," she said, "Of course he doesn't blame you. The only person to blame for this is Arahdel. He's just being Legolas. Ruthlessly suppressing on all emotion, pushing away his friends- this isn't the first time he's done this." She remembered what had happened the previous year, when Legolas had been willing to kill himself rather than turn to anyone for help. "It's how he deals with grief," she said, "it's how Thranduil raised him, to never show weakness, even to those closest to him. You haven't known each other very long, but I've seen how close you both have become. I've seen how much he loves you." For some reason, she flinched at that. "He'll try, but he won't be able to deal with this alone. He does need you, Alanna."

But Alanna didn't raise her head, for she had heard what Arwen hadn't said...that Legolas might be too proud, too stubborn, to admit to needing anyone.

...

"Legolas," Aragorn hesitated, hating himself for the duty that was taking him away from his friend at a time like this. "I'm so sorry, mellonamin, but I'm going to have to leave soon. I've already been away from Gondor for more than a year, and I can't delay my return any longer..."

"It's alright, Estel," Legolas said, his friend's guilt making him look more present than he had in days, for which Aragorn was grateful. "I doubt there's very much you can do to help, anyway. This...this isn't something that..." He looked away, swallowing hard.

"Legolas..." He sighed, feeling helpless. "You have to talk to her." Their avoidance of each other had been going on for more than a week now; enough was enough.

The hint of emotion in his friend's eyes instantly disappeared, replaced again with that horrible, empty blankness. "No."

"Legolas, she's your wife..."

"I know," he responded tonelessly, "And I failed her." A flicker of pain spasmed across his pain, but it was gone again almost before Aragorn saw it. "I can't bring myself to face her, and I doubt she'd want to see me even if I did."

"On the contrary, your avoidance is hurting her," Aragorn told him bluntly. "Far from blaming you, she thinks you blame her."

"That's ridiculous," the Elf countered, clearly disbelieving. "She hasn't exactly been seeking me out, either. She probably wants nothing to do with me, and with good reason."

"Legolas," he said, knowing he had to try, although he knew it was probably a lost cause. "She's your wife, the mother of your son. Haven't you both already lost enough?"

Legolas flinched, but remained stubbornly silent.

Aragorn took a deep breath, fighting another wave of frustrated helplessness. "I know I can't begin to understand what you're going through, and as you said, there's little I can do to help you...deal with this." If that was even possible. "But Alanna can. She's Mirel's mother- the only other person who knows exactly what you're going through. I've seen how much you've opened up to her in such a short time, and I know how unlike you that is. If anyone can get you through this, it's her, Legolas, so for the love of Eru, don't push her away."

Legolas was silent for a long moment, and then he turned empty, expressionless eyes upon his friend. "I don't think anyone can get me through this," he whispered, and then he rose to his feet and walked silently out of the room.

Aragorn stared after him. You're wrong, he thought fiercely, desperately, you have to be.

His eyes stung. Please, be wrong...

...

TBC...

Well, this is a bit shorter than usual, but it seemed a logical place to end the chapter. And this much angst is probably better only in small doses.

The title of the chapter is taken from the lyrics of the Titanic theme song by Celin Dion, you know, "far across the distance, and spaces between us..." Of course, I've used it in a very different sense here. I thought the phrase fit the current situation.

Please review and tell me what you think of all the angstiness.