Chapter Sixty-Eight
(everything is spoken in Elvish)

~ Aragorn ~
I ducked into the tent. "How are they?"

Eldarion looked up, his face wane and haggard. His sister wasn't much better; Haldir had nearly had to carry her off to bed because she had refused to sleep and stop tending to her sister and Frodo and Sam and as a result nearly collapsed from the lack of rest. But thankfully, with Elladan and Elrohir here, we had the reason to tell her to get some sleep and let the sons of Elrond take over.

"There is no change," he answered, his voice even worse than his face.

I resisted the temptation to do anything. It had been almost a full day since we had left Mordor, and in that time Estel had not stirred once. Sam and Frodo, I understood; but Estel . . .

All Legolas had been able to tell us was that she had suddenly fall as though in pain when the Eye of Sauron had exploded, and then the Elessar had started shimmering when she had frozen. Moments later, the Elessar had burned once before flickering out – and Estel hadn't awoken since then.

It was frustrating. Even Mithrandir was at a loss to explain her collapse, except that he felt something wasn't quite normal about it.

Which was an ambiguous description at best.

Legolas too had not left Estel's side either, an immense show of affection that had many of the Men looking at him and beginning to realize that Elves were like Men in some respects. That had me hopeful in terms of mending the relationships between our races.

But I still hoped for Estel's awakening first.

We all did, for we all wanted an explanation about what she had spoken. This was the second time she had called herself Queen of Gondor, Arnor, and Rohan – and the last heir of Isildur – only now everyone had seen it, not just Legolas and me.

Haldir ducked suddenly into the tent. "No change, I presume, then?" he asked, looking from my face to Eldarion's. When we both shook our heads, he sighed. "I wish I could offer comfort to Legolas. . . But he will not take it. He is too proud – and too worried about Estel. She means a great deal to him, a great deal more than I thought."

Eldarion nodded. "Yes, she does," he agreed. "And her devotion to him as just as strong."

"That is surprising?"

"For a girl who has never showed interest in courting or love or marriage, yes," Eldarion informed him. "Estel was too young when . . . well, when everything happened. She had not yet even come out, much less start looking for a prospective husband."

"True," Haldir murmured after a moment. "I forget, sometimes, that you are a Man, Eldarion, and your ways are not ours."

I shrugged. "So do we all. And we all understand Legolas's grief."

Eldarion cast a sharp glance my way. "She will not die, you know," he told me. "Not with the Ring destroyed, and Sauron toppled."

"Die?" I shook my head. "No, she will not. But I think . . . and I agree . . . that she must go to Valinor. I will not force her to remain behind, and wither as the earth dies. . . No, I will find another woman to be Queen."

"But no one will ever take her place, will they?" Haldir interrupted softly.

I glanced at him in surprise; he smiled wanly.

"I love Tinúviel," he reminded me. "She faced the same struggle as you. . . Only she does not have a choice. She will wither, and fade, and die, and with her the beauty of the Elves shall fade as well, for she is the last – and I know that. Even were I to leave right now and let my wounds heal in Valinor, no person would ever again take that place in my heart, and it would be hollow for all eternity until we met again beyond the circles of the world."

There was silence as we digested his words.

Then Eldarion commented, "You have great faith in that day, Haldir."

Haldir laughed suddenly. "I must, Elessarion, I must. How else can I live with the knowledge that she shall die and I shall be forced to continue on – alone?"

The words struck us all, and the laughter faded.

"I hope Legolas has the same view," Eldarion muttered.

It was now Haldir's turn to give Eldarion an odd look at his words.

"You do not believe your sister shall awaken?" he asked, surprise clear in his tone.

Eldarion hesitated before shaking his head very slowly, wearily. He looked like he had gained a century of age within these few minutes as he said quietly, "We have always believed that one day someone would have to pay for how grievously our line had failed the Valar. That debt can only have been increased, now, with the survival of our family. And now my sister has fallen unconscious and has not stirred. What else can I think but that?"

~ Legolas ~
I listened to Eldarion's words, horror striking what was left of my heart that could feel.

I was numb, and cold, and silent.

Estel was the reason I lived now. I could not live if she died – but alas, unlike the Peredhel, I could not chose the path of mortality and follow Estel into the Halls of Mandos and beyond, else I would have in a second.

What was life without the love that made it possible?

I let my gaze sweep over Estel's still figure; even in slumber, her beauty remained untouched. Her long dark hair, her expressive face, her lovely voice, her musical laughter, her closed blue-grey eyes. . . I remembered them as perfectly as anything, but I would traded all of that for her to awake and make new ones.

But still . . . Eldarion's thoughts plagued me.

They made sense.

A lot of sense.

Terrible, horrible, but perfect sense.

There was always a price for a miracle. Always. Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren Barahirion had returned from the dead; but in return, they had been able to suffer a second, mortal death. Idril Celebrindel and Tuor had been able to account themselves among the Elves; but in return, Tuor had lost connection with his son and had not been able to see any other Man since. Eärendil and Elwing had journeyed to Valinor and won for the Peredhel the right to choose; but in return, they had been sundered from Middle-earth, their sons, and the company of Men forevermore.

The miracle was great; the price was high.

The Valar had saved the entire family – Lady Kiria, Tinúviel, Eldarion, their father, and Estel. That was a great miracle. One life seemed almost too poor a price to pay. . .

But it was a price all the same.

I was not part of Estel's family, but they had impacted me more than anything else in this war. Estel had impacted me more than anything.

I couldn't begin to imagine life without her.

Yet it seemed perhaps I might be facing that fate soon enough.

I listened to the shallow, slow breathing of the one I loved, and I knelt beside her, and grasped her cold, still hand, and pressed my lips to her cheek.

"Do not die, Estel," I whispered. "Do not die and leave me alone, meleth-nin."

~ Estel ~
The first thing I became aware of was the sensation of a warm hand stroking my hair, lips pressed to my cheek, and the exhaustion in my body.

I opened my eyes.

Legolas knelt beside me, his face tight with agony and grief and indecision.

I didn't understand.

"Legolas?"

His eyes shot open, and they lit up with the most emotions I'd ever seen in him – except when we had declared our love for each other, of course. But this was very, very, very close to that. Very, very close.

"Estel?" he breathed.

"Who else?" I retorted, almost childishly, as I sat up – but I felt the need to lighten to mood – to do something.

He tenderly wrapped his arms around me, as though I was as delicate as glass, and I let him. I could feel his anxiety and his affection, and I shared it in equal amounts. I wanted to be sure he was safe as well, after I had passed out and probably given them all a . . .

Oh Valar. Legolas would have gone crazy when I had

I pulled back, surprising him as I glanced nervously over him. But he accepted it smoothly, speaking before I could.

"How do you feel?" he asked, brushing his fingers along my forehead as he sat besides me and kept me as close as possible.

I hesitated. I hadn't really done a check of my own condition; my first concern had been him. I had passed out, and surely in protecting me he could have been hurt, perhaps even seriously. And he would be the one too proud to admit it too.

My first realization upon doing this was that I felt perfectly fine – except for the strangest bruise where the Elessar lay upon my neck. . .

The Elessar.

Memories rushed back – the earthquake, the ground crumbling, the Elessar burning, the woman –

"Legolas."

"Hmm?"

"What happened?"

He gazed at me with clear eyes. "I do not know. . . No one knows. We were hoping that you could tell us, meleth."

I sighed. "I don't know either. . . What says Mithrandir?"

"Only that it was not normal, and that there must have been great power behind whatever happened," Legolas answered with a slight shrug.

It wasn't normal, and it was a great deal of power. But the only question now is – why am I still alive? For I could clearly remember pledging to die a thousand times just to save one of them, if that was what I had to do; I had sworn to die so they could live, so my family could live, so Legolas could live. And I could clearly remember the presence of the woman, whoever she was. . .

But try as I might, the harder I attempted to bring an image of her to mind, the more it slipped away.

All I was left with was the sense that this woman had known me, somehow, and in ways no one else had. As though we were . . . related . . . or something.

"Estel?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really recall nothing, meleth?"

I hesitated. I hated to lie to him, especially after he had just called me "meleth" – but how could I possibly begin to describe what had occurred? I could barely begin to wonder how I could justify it to myself, much less him. . .

"Estel."

"I am sorry. . . I just . . . I can't . . ." I cast about for a way, any way, to start. Finally, I asked, "Did you see her?"

"Who?"

Legolas seemed genuinely curious, but also genuinely confused – but I could have sworn I had seen the woman before I passed out. . .

Yet there was no clearer way for me to articulate the description.

"Her."

"Estel! You're awake!"

We both turned, surprised, to see Eldarion, Haldir, and Aragorn enter. My brother's face was filled with joy; Aragorn's, with relief; while Haldir's eyes met Legolas's, and I saw in the silent exchange the bond of comradeship between the two, founded and sealed by their equal love for my sister and me.

That filled me with content, and I reclined against Legolas happily until Aragorn interrupted the silence.

"Who is this 'her'?"

I glanced up, startled, at the question. I had not been aware they had been listening to us; perhaps were even just outside and able to hear every word.

I hesitated, but I could not face lying to Legolas, much less all of them.

"A woman," I began reluctantly. "She appeared in the middle of the army when the ground was shaking, and she spoke to me – "

Eldarion leaned forward. "What did she look like?"

"I . . . I don't know. I can't explain it," I admitted in a rush. "I can barely remember what happened, but I know she was there, I just know it. It's the only thing I remember clearly, she being there. It was like . . . I don't know . . . a dream of a dream. It is all hazy and blurry – but I know I remember it. That's the only thing I am perfectly certain of, and I . . ."

My voice trailed off when I realized that everyone was staring at me. And not in a good way either.

They didn't believe me.

Eldarion moved first. "Estel," he said, his tone almost pitying, "I think you need some more sleep. . . You are still healing."

"You don't believe me."

He scowled.

"Do you or don't you?" I demanded.

He lowered his gaze. "Estel, no one remembers a woman. Everyone who is conscious would have remembered that, if it had existed. I would remember that. Who would not report something as . . . as . . . preposterous as – ?"

"Preposterous?" I interrupted, rising to my feet in one abrupt movement. "Is that all you think of me, brother? That I am preposterous simply because I cannot explain what I feel? For if that is the case, I must remind you that you may be the heir of our line – but I am the leader of the Believers. And you, son of Elessar, are the one who could not sense your own father before you!"

With that, I stormed from their presence – but even the musty, fierce wind was not enough to wipe away the tears that ran unchecked down my cheeks.