Chapter Sixty-Two

~ Estel ~
"Frodo has passed beyond my sight."

Mithrandir opened the council as gravely and as bluntly as he always did. Conversation around us stilled, and I felt Legolas's arm slip around my waist in gentle support. It had been a few days since Legolas had called me and I had finally thrown off the darkness, and in that time, I had started regaining my strength and my bearings. For the first day, Legolas had watched me like a mother hawk, worrying and defending, as if he had thought something was going to suddenly pop up and fry me.

As it was, I knew others had been giving me weird looks for days until Legolas had finally told them off and that had been the end.

I didn't know what he had told them and I didn't even know why they had been giving me the weird looks, but I was still grateful that he had told them off.

"The darkness is deepening," Mithrandir explained further, his tone darkening.

That worried me somewhat. Mithrandir was a Maia; if he could not see through the darkness, how could the rest of us attempt to try and decipher what was going on?

"If Sauron had the Ring we would know it," Aragorn countered sharply.

Mithrandir swung around, but instead of the challenging glare I had expected, I only saw sadness and resignation. Whatever bothered him bothered him greatly, for I had never known him to lose hope.

His words confirmed it.

"It's only a matter of time," he said. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

Gimli snorted, puffing even more vigorously on his pipe. "Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom."

The announcement stunned the whole room into silence. Despair seeped slightly in me as I reminded of how enormous this task was – and how vital it was to the future . . . to my future. As if he understood, Legolas drew me closer to him. I rested my head against his shoulder, hoping for the cold of despair to leave.

"I've sent him to his death," Mithrandir murmured, his voice tortured.

"No," Aragorn said suddenly, his gaze lighting up with a solution of some sort. "There's still hope for Frodo. He needs time, and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli grumbled.

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

Éomer stepped forward, his face revealing his wariness of Aragorn's suggestion. "We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," he pointed out, sadness washing across his face as he recalled all those who had died when Rohan had come to the aid of Minas Tirith.

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn agreed, "but we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." He looked directly at me, and I knew at once what he planned to do. "Keep him blind to all else that moves."

Legolas smiled, the tension lifting slightly from him. "A diversion."

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success." Gimli paused, and then exclaimed, "What are we waiting for?"

Mithrandir pulled on Aragorn's sleeve. "Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait," he warned Aragorn in a low voice.

Aragorn wasn't fazed. "Oh, I think he will," he said softly back.

"Don't do it, my lord."

Eldarion spoke suddenly from where he stood near Éomer. His face too was troubled, both my memories and by the imaginings of what the future battle would bring. But here was an element of sternness too, and pleading. The Battle of Pelennor Fields had changed my brother.

It had changed all of us.

Everyone looked at him, with varying expressions of confusion and surprise.

I merely watched Aragorn's face, seeking confirmation of his mental clash with the Eye of Sauron.

"Eldarion?" Aragorn prompted.

"Don't do it," he repeated, emphasizing each word as much as possible. "I know what you're going to do. But I know also that it will cause a greater impact then you think."

"Then that is what I will do."

Aragorn spoke gently, but firmly. He would not be swayed, even though he knew that our knowledge of the causes and effects was far greater than his own. He could merely speculate. We really actually knew.

I cleared my throat, stepping into the conversation before it deteriorated into a shouting match or too much was given away. What was said now was meant for Aragorn and Aragorn alone. "What my brother means, my lord, is that this action could do greater harm to you than walking right into Mordor and declaring yourself," I explained, calming my brother with a quelling look.

My brother was too passionate about and too focused on his loyalty to Aragorn than I was. But Aragorn needed to be convinced by impassionate, impersonal logic.

Aragorn looked at me. "It is the only way, Estel."

"It is the only way it has happened before," I corrected in a hard tone. "Not the only way it can."

"Does history not repeat itself?"

"It does not have to. You must choose for it to."

He didn't bat an eye.

So I sighed. "We can't order you, but we can advise you, my lord," I reminded him. "We haven't let you down yet."

Aragorn smiled slightly, but the sadness in his eyes was a strong contrast. "It is not a matter of you letting me down," he reassured me gently. "It is a matter that there are some things only a King can do."

"You aren't King yet," Eldarion cut in tightly.

"Eldarion," Aragorn sighed. "Please trust me. I do not wish to invoke an order."

Eldarion stiffened and whirled away, stalking irritably out the door. I sighed and leaned against Legolas, feeling him draw me closer.

"~Your brother is angry,~" he observed.

"~He is worried,~" I said with a sigh. "~It is more than Aragorn's life at stake in this.~"

Legolas started. "~Your own?~"

I smiled slightly. Legolas had forgotten yet again that I was descended from Aragorn. It wasn't the first time, I supposed, but how he kept forgetting was beyond me. "~Have you forgotten that I am of Aragorn's bloodline?~"

I turned to Aragorn. "~Do not take undue risks, my lord,~" I warned. "~And do not forget that it is more than simply your own fate at risk here.~"

There was silence. Then –

"On that cheery thought, I guess this council is now adjourned," Mithrandir said cheerfully, striding for the door. Gimli puffed one last time on his pipe before hopping off the steward's throne and following. Aragorn met my eyes once, worry in his eyes, but I merely smiled sadly at him; now was not the time for doubt. If he doubted now, he would falter, and if he faltered, he would fail.

Legolas spoke in my ear. "~Are you hungry, meleth? We should probably get some lunch now.~"

I was about to answer when I spotted Éomer. He was standing to the side, a sad expression on his face.

I twisted out of Legolas's arms. "~I'll meet you there, okay?~"

He frowned slightly before his eyes followed mine. "~Be careful,~" he told me. "~I'll wait outside for you.~"

I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him gently. "~I'll be fine. Now go.~"

~ Éomer ~
"You seem . . . happy with him," I said reluctantly.

I had just watched how it all played out – how Legolas had wrapped his arm around her, how he had so easily displayed his concern for her, how she had kissed him on the cheek. But I knew there was more than that. I knew it had been Legolas who had called her back, just as I had called my sister back. And I had seen them riding together, especially how he had carefully helped her dismount – an action I distinctly remembered her telling me she would allow only her future husband to carry out.

So. She truly had fallen in love with Legolas.

Estel didn't blink, but there was sadness in her eyes. "Yes. And I am so sorry, Éomer. . . What I did was . . . completely irresponsible, and it is completely my fault for what happened."

Surprise filled me. "What?"

She sighed, the sound full of regret. "What I did to you, misleading you like that . . . That was completely irresponsible of me. I should never have done that to you. . . But I fear apologies will not be enough. . . I have already inflicted so much damage. . ."

Part of me wanted to agree, to lash out, to destroy her in anger. But . . . at the same time, I couldn't bear to. She truly regretted it – she wasn't lying now. And truth be told, even now as I looked back, she had never once ever told me that she cared for me that way. Never. We had never spoken of it in all the time we had spent together.

"You didn't mislead me. I fooled myself. . . I should have known. . . Well, I guess I always knew," I amended.

"You . . . What?"

"I think . . . I think, deep down, we both knew it wasn't real," I said finally.

Estel flinched, her pale, wan face growing even paler. "How can I even begin to make reparations for this?" she whispered.

Perhaps it was the hurt, guilty look in her eyes, always so expressive and honest. Perhaps it was how her face, already pale from her coma, was the palest I'd ever seen on her. But perhaps it was the sense of total self-reproach that emanated so strongly from her entire being, as though she was quite ready to throw herself into the worst punishment possible even if just to earn the opportunity to beg for forgiveness at my feet.

In any case, without thinking, I reached out and took her hands.

They were cold, ice cold.

"Estel. . . You need not worry yourself to death over this," I told her. "Truly, you need not to. I think it's time we both accepted that this is past, and that we have different paths to travel for the future."

She still wasn't convinced, I saw, so I sighed.

"Estel . . . I told you – already, deep down, we knew it wasn't going to work. I knew. I just . . . didn't want to admit it," I confessed quickly. "But . . . I think Legolas is better for you. He can understand you in ways I won't ever be able to. He makes you happy."

"You made me happy," Estel argued.

"As a friend, yes," I agreed.

Estel sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I am really sorry, Éomer," she said again.

"You should be," I agreed casually. When her eyes widened, I added teasingly, "because I'm starving and you're keeping me from eating. Let's go, shall we?" Then I stretched my arm, formally, like an escort, and said, "Will her ladyship allow me the honor of escorting her to the hall?"

And Estel laughed, and took my arm, and smiled, and I knew things were all resolved.

Well . . . until she deliberately left me in charge of Lothíriel, the daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth.

When she darted off, her eyes glinting with amusement as she ran to Legolas's side, I glared at her and swore revenge for making me so embarrassed and speechless in front of the Princess of Dol Amroth.

Thankfully, the princess didn't comment.

"So, Lord Éomer," she began, "I understand you've been here longer than I have. Would you care to show me around, since the Lady Estel cannot?"

A/N: Yeah . . . anyone recognize the princess? Yes, no, maybe so? Ah well. Reviews are extremely welcome! Oh, and on a side note – this story will continue past the ending displayed in The Return of the King movie, as I have some unfinished ends to clean up. Just a heads up in case anyone was confused.