Day 4 of my final finale! During this chapter, we see if the power of the Elessar is enough to save Haldir from the Halls of Mandos. . .

Chapter Thirty-Five

~ Eldarion ~
My sister looked grey.

No, worse than that. Much, much worse.

My sister looked as though she was standing at doors to the Halls of Mandos right that every moment.

I ran to her side without thinking, but the second I touched her shoulder, a flash of white-hot heat flew through my body like lightning flashes to the ground. Startled, I nearly fell over.

Aragorn skidded to a halt, staring. "The Elessar," he breathed.

Estel was kneeling by Haldir's side, her head bowed over his still body and her hands placed over his heart. But cupped in her hands was the Elessar. The green gem was glowing gently but strongly, casting emerald flecks of light that seemed even brighter than the sunlight all over the room.

And Haldir . . . was . . . alive.

Well, breathing, at least. And breathing steadily, on his own. His eyes were closed, but . . . at least he was breathing.

I felt like laughing out loud. I felt like dancing. I felt like cavorting around like a very drunk troubadour and shouting to the whole world that Haldir was alive, that he had survived, that he would live. The worst was over; now that Aragorn was here, it was more than a sure bet that Haldir would live.

But Legolas was touching Estel's shoulder, his beautiful face marred with concern. "Estel. Estel!"

She didn't respond, and for a second cold fear stirred within the depths of my heart. She had saved Haldir. But what had it cost her?

But then Estel's eyes fluttered open and a cough rattled her body. "Legolas . . . I . . ." With those few words, she seemed to lose strength; her eyes rolled back and she nearly collapsed on the floor.

Legolas caught her, firmly but gently. "Estel, what did you . . . do?" he asked, his voice amazed.

"I tried . . ." Then she remembered Haldir, and concern flared in her grey-blue eyes. "Haldir!" she exclaimed, weakly struggling against Legolas's hold. "Is he . . . Has he . . ."

Aragorn shook his head as he moved so she could see him. "He is safe. For now." His eyes softened as he reached out to touch her cheek. "~You did well, Estel. You have well-earned your name.~"

But she didn't seem to hear him. "Aragorn . . . Please don't . . ." She struggled to get the words out, and it seemed to me that she grew weaker with every word.

Legolas seemed to sense it too. "That's enough," he said sharply. "Aragorn, Eldarion; tend to Haldir. He'll need you. But you, Estel – you've done more than enough. You need rest before you fall dead on your feet."

"But – "

"No buts," Legolas interrupted. Leaning down, he slipped an arm under her legs and carefully lifted her.

I stood as well, picking up the Elessar and pressing it into my sister's hand.

It was well that I did that earlier, for moments later her eyes slid shut and she went limp in Legolas's arms. The Elf immediately cradled her closer, shifting so her head rested on his shoulder rather than lolling limply without support.

"I'll make sure she rests," he said. "She needs it."

Aragorn clasped his shoulder briefly before turning to Haldir. I prepared myself as well; this was going to be a long night.

Then Aragorn smiled suddenly. "She channeled her life force into him; he should make it." He looked at Estel, smiling. "He definitely should make it."

I stared. "I had heard of such things from those who came before us, but . . ."

"It's a miracle," Legolas said simply. "But then, what else could we expect from those brought to us by a miracle?"

Then he turned and left.

As he did, I got the funny feeling that he wasn't just speaking those words to us, but to himself. That, of course, set me wondering: What did they really mean?

~ Estel ~
I struggled against the dark, heavy weight of whatever smothered me. I was in the state somewhere between being awake and alive and being asleep and dead. It wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling.

There was a fierce battle being fought.

On one hand, one voice chanted for me to give up, to let go, to just . . . leave. What was there left for me? I had done what was needed. Eldarion would live and be fine without me. The Valar had saved me for a reason, and surely I had fulfilled that.

But there was another voice, a strong one, one that argued that I had to wake up, I had to live, I just had to. For my brother, for myself, and for . . . Legolas.

Wait, the other voice said, why the Elf?

But for some reason, Legolas remained in my thoughts.

And then the veil suddenly lifted, and a warm, musical voice was calling my name. I followed it, and then –

I pried open my eyes and beheld the speaker. For a second, I couldn't believe my eyes. Then I managed to croak out, "Legolas?"

His face broke into a wide smile. "Estel. Thank the Valar. We were beginning to think that we'd lost you."

"And Haldir?"

The smile faded a tiny bit. "He's resting right now. He'll require many more days of care before we can be certain of how he'll turn out."

"But he'll live?"

Legolas smiled again. "There is no doubt anymore of that."

I sighed and sank back into the pillows, closing my eyes. The fight had been worth it. He's alive. He'll live. Then I opened my eyes and slowly sat up. "Where am I exactly?" I didn't recognize this room, this place at all.

"In another part of the healer's halls," Legolas replied. "Other healers take their rest here when they've done enough."

"And how did I get here?"

He didn't blink. "I . . . carried you here. Don't you remember?"

I wanted to say yes. But my recollection – the warmth, the protection, the comfort – was a bit too personal and a more than touch hazy, as if I had consumed too much ale. It called somewhere deep inside of me, and I was almost afraid of it. I didn't want things to change. It was childish, but technically I was still a child in Legolas's eyes.

So I shook my head. "No."

"It doesn't matter. At least you're awake now."

He hesitated, and I frowned. Was something wrong? Legolas never was at a loss for words. He said what he meant and he meant what he said. He wasn't one to hide behind polite tones and honeyed words. And as a prince, he had all the reason to, but he did not.

"What's wrong?" I asked finally.

"Nothing," was the automatic response.

"You're lying," I said, amused when his blue eyes widened slightly in surprise. "What, you think I can't tell?"

He laughed then, and the tension in him eased somewhat. "If you're well enough to argue with me, then I'd say you're well enough to eat. Hungry?"

"Starving," I admitted reluctantly.

He laughed again and stood. "I'll be right back."

~ Legolas ~
Estel looked a lot healthier when she was done eating. She was smiling and her skin had returned to its healthy color and her grey-blue eyes were shining again. Food and rest had worked its usual magic.

"Legolas?"

I looked up. "Yes?"

Her grey-blue eyes locked on to mine, and I suppressed a shiver. She was more like Lord Elrond than she realized. Including excluding the feeling that she was gazing at your very soul just by simply looking at you.

"Something's bothering you," she stated, turning to face me completely.

I leaned back, lowering my eyes a bit. "~It's nothing, little one,~" I said, accidentally slipping into Elvish.

Her eyes narrowed. Yep, Estel knew an evasion when she saw – or, in this case, heard – one. "Legolas, what is bothering you?"

"Nothing."

She touched my shoulder lightly, startling me so much that I stared at her. We had become much closer during our journey, but still. . . There was still a distance between us, a distance casual touching had not yet closed. We were still separated by the thin barrier of race and gender.

"~Is it the torch-bearer?~" Estel asked quietly. "~The one we failed to bring down?~"

Misery flooded me. So she knew. Like all the others she knew.

And she probably despised me for my weakness, which had cost us even more lives when the bomb went off and the Uruk-hai got in.

"Why do you say 'we'?" I asked bitterly.

Estel stared. "Because we both shot at it, and we both failed," she said quietly.

"The fault is mine alone," I snapped, standing and turning away. But I couldn't speak to her that way. In the end, my voice had softened when I finished. "Do not attempt to bear it."

"Fault? What fault?" Estel sounded genuinely confused, but . . .

I whirled around, suddenly angry and not quite sure why. "It was my fault, Estel! Do not expect me to believe that you were so blinded by the rain, so confused by the heat of battle that you failed to see that I failed to bring him down! It is my fault – the children who have lost their fathers, the widows who had lost their husbands, the sisters who have lost their brothers! If they seek who is to blame, here he stands!"

Estel stared, stunned surprise in every line of her face. Then she stood. "~Oh, Legolas – this is what eats at you so?~"

"What?"

She walked up to me, looking up at me, her grey-blue eyes soft and full of compassion. "Legolas, listen to me. It was not your fault, not in any way. Don't tell me you have forgotten that I shot at the torch-bearer as well and that he still managed to get past us."

"But – "

Estel startled me yet again by placing her fingers on my lips, silencing me. "No buts, Legolas," she said, smiling at my startled look.

I pushed away her hand, but gently. "How can you look at me and not despise me?" I whispered. "How can you, when my mistake nearly cost you and Aragorn and your brother your lives?"

"They didn't die," she said quietly. "I am quite alive, thank you."

"But – "

With that, Estel seemed to lose patience. She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the window. "Look, Legolas. What do you see?"

"People. Horses. Smoke."

"Yes." She touched my shoulder. "Alive people. People you helped save."

I turned to her and she was smiling, her eyes almost watery in the light. "How can I ever despise you after the aid you have rendered to me and my brother, Legolas?" she whispered. "How could I ever?"

Without thinking, I gathered her into my arms. For a long moment, there was silence. And in that silence, I realized the truth in her words – she did not despite, hate, or blame me in the least. In fact, she was just as likely to blame me as she would blame Aragorn; that is, she would never. Actually, more likely she was blaming herself. . .

At that thought, I drew back and studied her face. "I'll give you a deal, all right?"

Estel tilted her head, confused. "What – "

"If I promise to stop blaming myself, will you promise in return stop blaming yourself for what happened?"

Estel blinked, surprise flooding her young face. "How – "

I smiled. "You're not the only one who can guess correctly, you know. You're hard to read, but not with things like this."

She stuck her tongue out childishly.

"Well? Do we have a deal?"

Estel muttered something sullenly under her breath.

"Estel . . ."

"Fine! Yes, whatever," she muttered.

I was about to reply to that when a strong voice emanated from the doorway. "Estel! You're awake!"

She ran from me, then, straight for Eldarion and they embraced. Only relief shone in his face as he beheld his younger sister, and I knew then that the bond between them was stronger than anything else I had ever known.

It almost made me wish that I had had a sibling.

Then Eldarion spoke again, and the thoughts were banished as I took in the sight of Estel smiling so contentedly.

"We're going out for a ride with Mithrandir and Théoden," he announced. "Coming?"