Chapter Eighty

100 Years Later . . .

~ Haldir Círdanion ~
"Your Majesty is waiting for you," the guard told me.

"Thank you."

I passed through the gold and silver doors, held wide open despite the fact that the sun was setting and court was officially over. The symbol of Isildur glimmered softly on the banners hung in the throne room, but other symbols were there too – the old symbol of Arnor, for example, and Rohan, throwbacks to when both kingdoms had existed on their own with their own lines of Kings.

But the biggest banner, woven of the finest silver and gold filigree and decorated with the utmost care and most expensive jewels, was of the symbol of the United Kingdom, and was draped carefully around the throne where Her Majesty, Queen Estel Elessariel, sat.

I knelt in front of the throne, bowing my head. "You called for me, Your Majesty?"

There was silence.

But I did not break it, or twitch, or make any sign of annoyance.

Queen Estel was much respected all across Middle-earth where Men dwelt, for it was she who had managed to finally unite all three of the ancient kingdoms and had ruled for over a century with a firm yet just hand. She had brought back many of the old methods as well, and we lived in harmony now with the sea and the forest and the mines, as agile and healthy at sea among the waves as on land among the trees. Our lands prospered, and we had nothing to fear. At the last few campaigns, she had proved to all that she was willing to do anything to protect the kingdom – but of course, that had been many years ago. No one questioned her power now. No one even remarked on the fact that she refused to become married or bear children; such was the respect she held.

Even the clothes she wore bespoke such. She dressed simply, yet elegantly and with great care – the flowing creation of blue said that much, as did the headdress of mithril and the crown upon her head. The scepter of the royal line was in her right hand, and I caught a glimpse of the Elessar upon her neck.

I felt a shiver.

So my father had spoken truly. The Queen bore the Elessar, just as the legends said.

Finally, the Queen spoke. "Haldir, son of Círdan. Welcome to Minas Tirith. I am glad that you came so quickly."

I raised my head, confused. I had hidden my lineage for so long. . .

The Queen smiled. "~Stand, Círdanion,~" she said softly.

I stood. "~How do you know who I am?~" I asked, trying to be as polite as possible but extremely curious as to how she knew.

She did not speak, but I saw a flash of triumph in her eyes. Something had changed.

Then I realized –

"You speak it?" I exclaimed.

The Queen's smile widened and she laughed. "~Certainly, Círdanion, I speak it,~" she replied, her voice still ringing with the musical power of her laughter. "~I may be old in your eyes, but you are young in mine, but that does me that I am ignorant. I am glad to see that your father taught you of what he knew. Have you finished your initiation?~"

"~Three years ago.~"

My voice was calm, but instead, I was trembling. My father had told me that ones who knew of the rites of the Believers were long dead, if they even remained, and I knew that almost no one knew Elvish as I did.

The Queen nodded slowly. "~That is good. . . For my time is ending, son of Círdan, and I fear the kingdom will need you more than ever when I am gone.~"

Her words didn't sink in at first.

"~How do you know who I am?~" I asked instead.

"~I met your father once,~" she answered simply, rising from her throne with scepter in hand, "~It was a very long time ago, and I do not think he recalls me. . . But he offered me aid then, and people – especially a Queen – ought not to forget their debts to another. . . However, do not think that I make this offer because I wish to pay a debt back. I am perfectly serious, and perfectly willing if you are, for I have no children, and I will not surrender the scepter and the crown and the throne of my forefathers into the hands of a stranger to the line of Kings.~"

The Queen was walking towards one of the giant windows as she spoke; I followed, the strangest feeling quivering in my chest.

She gestured out the window. "~Tell me, Haldir, son of Círdan – what do you see?~"

"~I see . . . Minas Tirith.~"

The Queen made an impatient gesture.

Reluctantly, I looked harder.

"~I see . . . people. Ordinary people – traders, bakers, healers, and the sort. Your subjects. I see Rohan to the west, and Arnor to the north, and the battle stations in between. I see the signal fires, unlit, but ready in case of war. I see the ever-changing sea from whence our line came to Middle-earth, and I see the silent forests where the Elves once dwelt, and I see the ash-charred plains of Mordor where the final battle was fought. I see . . . the United Kingdom. Your Kingdom,~" I finished quickly.

The Queen was studying me now, and it made me nervous. I had spoken much – perhaps too much – about what I saw, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"~You sound like your father,~" was all she said.

There was silence between us then.

I got the strangest feeling of sadness emanating from the Queen. I wasn't sure why. She had ruled long yet well – none of her people regarded her with hatred or fear, and even her enemies held respect for her.

"~Why have you called me here?~" I asked finally.

The Queen sighed, and finally turned from the window. For the first time in the entire audience, I felt like I had her full attention.

"You are right – it is my Kingdom. But it will not be so forever.~" Her eyes flickered. "~What has your father told you about the gift of Kings?~"

I blinked. "~But that gift is long dead,~" I protested.

"~Hmm. Not so. . . I have that gift.~"

Everything suddenly clicked.

I took a step back. "~You wish me to take up the scepter of the King?~" I exclaimed. "~But – Your Majesty – that is highly . . . I have not been trained for this! Nor am I one of the royal line!~"

The Queen smiled wearily. "~My time has come, Haldir, and I must give back the gift that was given to me. . . I have not the time to quarrel over the legitimacy or illegitimacy of your birth or bloodline. But you are Círdan's son, and thus a son of the Believers, and thus carry within you the blood of the royal line. Like it or not, you are the heir I have chosen. As to training – what training do you think I received?~"

"~But . . . Your Majesty . . .~"

"~No 'buts', Haldir,~" she interrupted softly. "~I shall formally transfer the scepter in to your possession in three days' time. From then on, it will be your Kingdom.~"

I stared at her, my jaw agape. Queen Estel had made it very clear that of all her possessions she valued the Kingdom first and most – to give to me, willingly, was therefore the greatest indicator of her trust I could ever receive.

"~I . . . I am honored to accept, my Queen.~"

Three Days Later . . .

~ Estel ~
I opened my eyes, confused. But only darkness greeted that attempt, so that only confused me more. I had given back the gift; I had accepted death, and taken it upon myself, had closed my eyes, and breathed my last breath. I had set my affairs in order in the United Kingdom, and found a worthy heir, and trained him as much as possible before surrendering my life, and thus allowed the line of Kings to continue and my Kingdom to continue. I had done everything Queen Melian had demanded.

So why was I not passing into the Halls of Mandos and thence into the Void?

Estel Elessariel.

The voice shook through my entire spirit, or body, or mind, or whichever I was using to hear it. It was ageless, powerful, flowing – a hundred, thousand, a million more times so than Melian's.

A bright star flashed on the horizon of my consciousness, like a meteor.

"Who are you?" I dared to ask.

One you know.

Another meteor.

Irritation flashed through me. I wanted death and peace, not . . . this, whatever it was.

"Well, I am sorry to bother you, but as I would like to move on. . ."

Not yet, child.

The voice kept shifting, which bothered me. At one moment, it was an old man, harmless yet wise; another, a young woman, sweet and maternal; the next, an ageless Elf, musical and impassive. It was like it couldn't settle.

"Why not? I've lived over a century now; I've given back the gift. You can't possibly expect that there is anything else I could give to Men – they saw me die," I added firmly.

It is not on the behalf of Men that I have stopped your crossing into the Void, daughter of Elessar, but for the sake of Elves.

"Elves?" I blinked, useless yet habitual motion as it was. "But . . . I haven't seen Elves in . . . well, over a century. They bid farewell to me many years ago . . . at . . . Well, it doesn't matter."

The voice seemed to go still, as though focusing on that single pause.

At whose bidding, child?

I did not answer.

The voice seemed to go stern, or perhaps it was playful, or perhaps testing – I couldn't decide.

Do you resent the Valar for tearing you from the side of your beloved, perhaps?

I drew in a sharp breath and immediately coughed; I had not been expecting that I could still breathe, for one thing, and this was an unexpected revelation to come across. But funny how it seemed to unlock the gates I had sealed so long ago, when I thought I had come to terms with my fate, made peace with it, moved on. . .

"I . . . Sometimes."

Something told me that lying to this . . . whatever or whoever it was would not go down well.

An honest answer. A refreshing quality when one reflects back on the ills of Men.

I dared to counter, "They are not lost yet. There is still goodness to be found in them – all of them. When given time, and opportunity, they can – "

The meteors danced, streaking back and forth, and I got the sense of impatience.

All your life, you have defended Men, child – but I know Men far better than you ever will. You need not defend them to me. Besides, I know that in your heart, the music of the Elves has always been a greater call than any power of Men could exert over you. Is that not so?

My throat went dry. I swallowed hard. "Yes."

A third star flared on the horizon, joining the spiraling dance to become a triple set that danced and danced and danced. . .

I have watched you all your life, daughter of Elessar. You have done well.

"Thank you?"

A rumbling laugh, both gentle and condescending somehow at the same time, rippled through me.

You cannot guess who I am?

"No."

Try again, child.

I closed my eyes. The multi-colored stars dancing and streaking and soaring; the sense that time itself was stopped, or turning back, or rushing forward; the power, all-encompassing, ageless in this voice; the fact that whoever it was, they had prevented me from crossing to the Halls of Mandos and into the Void, no mere feat indeed; and I could not see them, per se, or really actually hear them either. . .

The name came easily.

"Eru Ilúvatar," I breathed suddenly.

Well done, child. I am pleased with the labors you have done, with little aid from the Valar or even me. . . Fate has dealt you a cruel hand, in family, in life, in love – but you have never faltered to give what has been asked of you. Well done, indeed. . .

"Why have you brought me here?"

Once, the Valar denied you the Choice, because your deeds were not enough.

"I remember."

But I am not the Valar. What must be done, must be done. And you have done it.

The voice was changing now, and rapidly, tumbling towards a majestic voice that had me feeling like I should be kneeling.

Therefore, Estel Elessariel, I will give you the Choice that was gifted to all in your family, and so now I ask you – What will you choose, child? Does your heart still lie with the Eldar, or has it turned to the Men you have dwelt with? Choose carefully, for you cannot change your choice.

I hesitated.

Once, my answer would have been clear, and swift, and certain – I would stand with Men, for immortality was not a gift I wished for.

Then, my answer would have been passionate, and relieved, and immediate – I would stand with the Elves, for my beloved . . . for my Legolas.

Now . . . Now, I had neither passion nor certainty.

I had seen my share of immortals, yes, but then I had seen my share of mortals as well. Was it truly that imperative for me to scorn death merely for Legolas's sake, assuming he even remembered or wanted me after all this time had passed? Was it for my sake that I was choosing that, or for his? And was it right?

Silence passed as the stars danced and time flowed. There was no impatience now.

Finally, I opened my eyes again.

"I will stand with my heart," I said simply.

One second later, the stars exploded in light and time sped up and everything filled with light and speed.

Well chosen, my child. . .

You would have been proud of me, Father, I thought briefly.

I fell towards the gate, and it enveloped me with gentle darkness, Ilúvatar's voice still ringing in my ears, as I knew it would for many more moments to come.

And yet . . . And yet I felt excitement.

I could not wait for this.

My Choice was made, finally.

The first thing I noticed was a salty taste in my mouth.

So, naturally, the first thing I did was sit up, scrape at my eyes to rub away any residual salt, and then proceed to spit out whatever salt was in my mouth.

That was nasty.

Then I looked around. The waters were warm, and gentle, and almost golden with the setting sun as they lapped at the shores. The sunlight brushed over me as well, and it made me feel warm and invigorated. The beach I was sitting on was clean and natural, with grains of white sand. The skies were the clearest blue I'd ever seen, with a puff of cloud here or there. And further up in the distance I could see green pastures and forests and groves. The entire landscape was clear, and sharp, and defined, as if the world was somehow better, like it was painted or seen through a glass that made each and every detail seem fresher, cleaner, more real.

Valinor.

The Undying Lands.

So Mithrandir had spoken true when he had described them. . .

I stood, noticing only then that I was dressed in the same silver gown that I had been wearing when I had left Legolas . . . one hundred years ago.

And noticing that when I glanced in the water, my reflection was nothing like what it should be.

I dropped to my knees, to study it further.

But then my hair fell over my shoulder. At first, it was strand by strand, but soon half of it was falling in a wave over my shoulder to drag in the water, causing ripples to spread through my reflection and ruin my makeshift mirror.

Impatiently, I started to push it back –

But then stopped.

My hair wasn't this dark, and lush, and long. Nor was my face so young and clean and pretty. . .

I wasn't vain. Believers, and especially those of the royal line, weren't raised to be vain. Especially those who became involved in the study of the arts of war.

But that didn't stop me from noticing that I was somehow decades younger than I had been when I parted from the world and returned the gift. I was perhaps only one or two years older than when I had been crowned and started by reign as Queen Estel Elessariel of the United Kingdom, and that was stretching my guesstimate.

I suddenly became aware of the sensation that I was being watched.

Very slowly, I gathered my hair and threw it back over my shoulder, as I had been doing moments earlier. Then I carefully started to stand, making my movements slow and cautious, yet ignorant and clumsy. Hopefully, that would be enough to deter –

"Do not move."

I froze. Oh, this does not bode well at all. . .

Carefully, I lowered my hands so that they were visible and away from any possible weapon-concealing places, keeping my muscles loose and free. The voice that spoke was the voice of a battle-hardened warrior; no need to make them any more jumpy by proving that I had a warrior's training as well and was considering using it right about now.

"May I turn around?" I asked.

Even my voice was different, still infused with the sweetness with youth – but also now empowered with the decades of power I had built in whilst Queen.

"You may."

Carefully, I pivoted in one smooth movement –

And gasped.

"Legolas?"

The speaker started, blonde hair rippling in the light breeze, blue eyes originally narrowed in suspicion now widening in surprise, hand raised to hold back the archers aiming for me, mouth slightly open to deliver the next command, stance wide and steady in preparation for attack – it was Legolas; there was no way I could have mistaken him.

He took a step forward, surprise now dominating his face. "Who are you?" he demanded, wariness in his tone.

"~Legolas, I . . .~"

I stopped short as the archers started exchanging surprised glances; I had given away my ability to speak Elvish, perhaps foolishly, perhaps wisely.

I chose to ignore them.

"~Legolas, it is me. Estel. Estel Elessariel.~"

He jerked as though I had slapped him with my words, eyes widening and losing all semblance of control. The wariness was slipping away no – my words were starting to sink into his mind, and – and then something clicked in his mind as his eyes swept over me one last time –

"Estel!"

Legolas leaped forward, arms already outstretched, his face shining with joy –

And then I was in his arms, and throwing my own arms around his neck, and burying my face in his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of my head and spun me in a circle off the ground.

"Estel," he whispered again, the wariness completely gone, wiped out by affection and joy and love.

I lifted my head. "~I've missed you,~" I said simply.

His smile was blinding as he kissed my forehead, and his embrace was so tight I feared I would soon lose the capacity to breathe.

But I wasn't complaining.

Why would I?

I was back with him, where I belonged, with no regrets and no more separation.

"~How?~"

"~Eru sent me back. He gave me the Choice. And I chose you.~"

His embrace tightened tenfold.

"~I barely recognized you. You've the bearing of a Queen, now,~" he said quietly. "~And you've grown – in spirit, in heart. I can sense it. I barely recognize you now. . .~"

I met his eyes and tugged his head closer to mine. "~Do you recognize this?~"

And then I kissed him.

For a second, he stiffened and seemed on the verge of pushing me away.

But then he relaxed, and drew me closer, and kissed me back . . . And I was away, floating in heaven and bliss and love, feeling the bonds of love sharpening between the both of us, binding our hearts and minds and souls together, finally, for eternity, because immortality was settling in my blood now, and with every second that passed I was becoming more and more an Elf in every way, and with every passing moment my bond with Legolas was strengthening and sealing –

Legolas broke the kiss.

"~Yes. I do.~"

His eyes were shining with a fierce, powerful, adoring light as he gazed at me, as though seeing me for the first time – which, in retrospect, he was, in a way.

"~I love you.~"

"~And I you,~" I whispered, nearly shivering as the full power of his love for me finally reached me.

Then we kissed again, this time slow and sweet and somehow still as potent and powerful and loving, and for the first time in my life I finally realized what it meant to truly feel like I belonged somewhere.

Because I was Estel Elessariel, and now, finally, I was home, because now I had my Legolas, and with him I would finally begin to live my real life - my fairytale.

The End

AN: And that's the end of My Fairytale. . . So, what did you think? Any last comments, reviews, anything?

I do not know when I shall next decide to post a story in this fandom, so until then good-bye! Keep your eyes open for whenever I finally decide to return with whatever story I select! And thanks to everyone who's been following My Fairytale and reviewing and all – it really made my day with each review! Thanks again, to all!