The War of Light and Shadow

By Freddie23

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Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

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Chapter 18 – A Beacon In The Night

For a long time, at least two almost painfully lengthy nights, they walked, Legolas pushing Aragorn ever onwards in spite of the young man's obvious fatigue. The man did not know exactly where Legolas was leading him but he was so lost in thought for most of the time that he didn't really care all that much.

It was only when, on the second miserable day, Aragorn looked around himself and noticed the stripped trunks of the gnarled, deformed trees beginning to thin out.

"We're leaving the forest?" he exclaimed in surprise.

The man's voice breaking through the silence startled Legolas; he had heard it so little in the past days. He looked up in surprise at his young ward.

"I thought you would be pleased," Legolas said in reply once he'd composed himself, recalling how the man had complained when they had been trudging through the muddy ground in the pouring rain chasing after Goblins for days on end.

"Aren't we going to do any more hunting?"

"No," Legolas answered directly.

"Where are we going then?" Aragorn demanded of the once more cagey Elf.

The Elf walked in silence for a while, reluctant to answer the young man's justifiably important question. Knowing, however, that Aragorn was frustratingly persistent when it came to prying the truth from him, eventually Legolas spoke.

"We're going to Rivendell."

"Where?" Aragorn asked in confusion at the unfamiliar place name.

"Rivendell; it is an Elven settlement on the other side of the mountains."

"Elven?" the young man, predictably stunned, repeated dully, halting suddenly in his tracks. "You mean we're going to another place like Lothlorien?" he demanded accusingly.

Sighing at this entirely expected reaction, Legolas also stopped walking and looked back at the man. "No," he answered wearily, "not like Lothlorien. Rivendell is different."

"Hang on, you swore to me that we'd find answers in Lothlorien and we found nothing but death and devastation there. We went out of our way to track down Celeborn and Galadriel, who you'd pinned your hopes on, and it was all for nothing."

"It's not the same."

"How? What is different about this Rivendell place?"

"There is someone there who can help, who will know more about your…lineage."

Exasperated and by no means reassured, Aragorn reminded him loudly, "That's what you said last time!"

"Aragorn, I am not going to debate this with you. We're going to Rivendell. End of discussion," Legolas warned, starting to walk away again.

"No, it's not the end of the discussion," the youth protested, running to catch the Elf up. Again, Legolas sighed heavily but kept his pace up, unwilling to slow at Aragorn's demand. "Is Rivendell a long way to travel?" Aragorn asked from Legolas' side.

"Aragorn…"

"I'll take that as a yes," the boy said coldly. "We're going to travel all that way and for what?" When Legolas still didn't reply, the man's temper began to flare again, as it usually did when he didn't get the answers he wanted. "Legolas, it's a waste of time. We're better off on our own, just doing what we've been doing all along."

"Do you not understand?" Legolas suddenly whirled to face the boy in a burst of anger, effectively startling Aragorn into abrupt silence. "I can't do this alone anymore, Aragorn! That Uruk knew who you were and if it knew then maybe others do too and that thought absolutely terrifies me because I don't know if I can protect you from whatever is coming. We're not simply walking the Old Forest Road anymore, child. Our main enemies are no longer a small bunch of disorganised Orcs scattered here and there. This is bigger than I can handle on my own and Rivendell is the only place left that I can think of to turn to for help!" Breathing heavily, Legolas quickly averted his eyes from Aragorn's now worried ones in the wake of his harsh words.

"Legolas," the young man said in a soft voice trembling in the face of the unfamiliar emotion pouring freely forth from his usually fiercely stoic Elven guardian. "I'm sorry."

Closing his eyes, Legolas shook his head sadly, already regretting his harsh words. He hadn't meant to burden Aragorn with his own insecurities. Swallowing thickly, the Elf looked down at Aragorn then laid his hand on the boy's slumped shoulder in apology.

"We're heading to Rivendell. Honestly, I don't know if we'll find answers there but we have to move toward something and right now I can think of no better place to regroup."

Nodding, Aragorn murmured a soft, "Alright."

"We'll try to reach the edge of the forest by nightfall then we'll pause to take some rest."

Before Aragorn had the chance to apologise again for arguing with his mentor's logic, Legolas had moved off again, effectively ending the awkward conversation for good. So, feeling utterly miserable with himself, Aragorn dragged himself along behind the Elf. He hadn't meant to cause Legolas any pain – he'd never wish for that – but he just got so terribly frustrated sometimes by his guardian's lack of communication with him. He wished that Legolas would confide in him occasionally, even if it did admittedly make them both rather uncomfortable on the rare occasion that it did happen.

He still felt that there was so much that Legolas concealed from him. When he'd been young, Aragorn hadn't thought much on it, he'd merely trusted that Legolas knew what was best for him, that the experienced Elf would always know what to do in any situation that arose and could be always relied upon. But now, he saw the occasional glint of uncertainty in those mysterious blue eyes and that scared him.

True to his word, Legolas allowed Aragorn to rest as night fell, although the Elf himself remained restless, still troubled over his decision to go to Rivendell. As Aragorn slept deeply, exhausted after days of walking, Legolas paced around the area, thinking through his choice to head towards the ancient Elven sanctuary of Imladris.

Despite the reservations and doubt gnawing at the back of his mind, Legolas found that he felt a certain excitement at the prospect of returning to what he had once considered to be his second home. And perhaps the haven would indeed be different to Lorien. He had always found refuge in Rivendell in the past, back when the war between the Mirkwood Elves and the Orcs had first started to darken his homeland and he needed a respite from the influence of the Shadow upon that which he loved.

Convincing Aragorn of the wisdom behind his decision was another matter though. Lately, the boy's confidence in his choices had started to wane once again, something that troubled Legolas greatly. The last time doubt had come between them Aragorn had very nearly wound up getting himself killed as a result of his anger.

Still, Legolas needed time to think, to gather his wits and figure out what course to travel next. Perhaps, looking at it in retrospect, he should have remained in Lothlorien for longer but his first instinct upon not finding what he wanted in the land of the Lady of Light had been to run from what was now the land of death and abandonment. Now he needed somewhere else, somewhere with some small semblance of familiarity to centre himself after the shock of finding out that the armies of Shadow knew somewhat of the young man he was guiding. His heart ached for rest more than it had done in decades. Homesickness, he would probably once have called the sensation.

Yes, his mind and his heart, broken and unpredictable as they may have been, were set on Rivendell.

OIOIOI

The journey to Rivendell, much to Aragorn's chagrin, was a long and miserable one. The way was littered with Orc patrols, which they quickly and efficiently disposed of. Legolas led them confidently over the Misty Mountains, through the snow-capped peaks via little-used tracks and rough terrain, and back down the other side of the great range until the snows lessened and the way become flatter and more bearable.

Aragorn never imagined in his life that he would be so very relieved to see bare, flat, boring plains, but he could have yelled in the sheer joy of escaping from the miserably cold and difficult terrain of the impressively colossal mountain range splitting the earth.

While Aragorn suffered on the journey though, Legolas seemed to gain a new spring to his step as they crossed over mountain and plain and river. Every step brought him closer to the possibility of familiarity, comfort and safety.

To Aragorn, the change in his guardian felt rather more disquieting than heartening because he had seen it once before – as they had approached the doomed lands of Lothlorien. The reckless excitement that had charged the Elf when they had first entered Lorien had been cruelly deflated the moment they had witnessed the ravaged, deserted silver kingdom of the Elves and it had crushed Legolas' spirit far more than he would ever freely admit to the boy in his charge. Aragorn did not want to see that kind of despair and defeat in his guardian's eyes ever again. Yet he feared, as they drew ever closer to Rivendell and Legolas' spirits rose further, that the Elf was setting himself up for disappointment once again.

Whilst Aragorn lagged behind, silently dreading nearing their destination, Legolas marched onwards with renewed confidence. He'd walked these plains so many times before and the paths were so very familiar to him, even if the landscape was rendered different in the aftermath of the War.

It was weeks into their journey when, one cold night as they huddled around the small fire that Aragorn had persuaded Legolas to light, the man gathered enough courage to broach the sore subject between them once more. The last time he'd braved it he had been deeply hurt by Legolas' words but he couldn't ignore it forever.

"Legolas?" Aragorn started, swallowing the tiny mouthful of berries they had gathered to serve as their meagre dinner for that day.

"Yes?" Legolas asked before taking a swig of water from their flask, wincing at how cold it was after being laid on the freezing ground for some time.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"Do you promise to listen and not get angry at me for saying it?"

Legolas placed the flask down on the frozen ground and looked up, rubbing his gloved hands together to restore some feeling to his numb fingers. With a frown, he answered, "I suppose that depends very much on what you're going to say."

"Are you absolutely certain that going to the land of Rivendell is the best idea?"

"We have already discussed this."

"I know we have but…"

"Aragorn, please. We're going to Rivendell; end of story."

Although he nodded, Aragorn could not hold back the scathing words that came from him next, very much against his will though they were. "Why do you have so much faith in the lands of the Elves? Why couldn't we go to a Human land? Maybe they would have put up a better fight than your people and survived the War." Even through the dark, Aragorn felt the force of the Elf's gaze upon him and he startled that the words had spilled so thoughtlessly from his mouth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Go to sleep," Legolas told him simply.

"I'm sorry, Legolas, but…Why do we never talk about this? Don't I have a right to voice my own opinions?"

"Aragorn…"

"I know you're my guardian and I do trust you. I trust you with my life," Aragorn told him softly, genuinely and without hesitation. "I just wish you would trust me once in a while."

When on earth, Legolas wondered, had this clueless young child who'd been dumped into his care with really no idea of anything at all, become so terribly wise? Certainly, Legolas thought that he had not taught him to be so.

Instead of the answer of confidence that Aragorn had hoped for, Legolas merely told him again, "We are going to Rivendell."

Feeling a sense of familiar deflation coming over him, Aragorn sighed deeply, watching his frustrated breath plume in front of him in the freezing air. "Fine," he sulked, wrapping his arms tightly around himself, shoving his hands under his armpits for warmth.

OIOI

As they neared Rivendell, the excitement that had kept Legolas confidently following the familiar paths towards the deep valley of the Elven people became increasingly clouded by doubt. It tugged and nagged at him until his excitement had dwindled and turned instead to dread.

He could much more easily grasp now the concern his young human companion had spoken of several times previously, could understand the man's constant worry. But, truth be known, he'd been so caught up in the idea of seeing the valley home of the lost and exiled again - the light amidst the darkness for the abandoned and hopeless - that he had not considered what he would feel if Rivendell, a relatively non-militarised realm, had fallen along with its people.

Although a ring-bearer himself, Lord Elrond had never possessed the power that Lady Galadriel of Lorien had demonstrated. And perhaps that lack of true, ancient power had saved the Noldor Lord and his people from the fatal cruelty of the Shadow. Rivendell had indeed always been protected by that same ancient magic as its Lothlorien counterpart, but it had never been wholly concealed as the Lady's lands had been, for Rivendell was open to all the dispossessed to enter freely and without fear, providing sanctuary. 'The Haven of the Free' Elrond had always called his homeland. What if the Elven ruler's kind heart had been his kingdom's downfall?

"This is Rivendell?" Aragorn's question broke into Legolas' increasingly gloomy reverie.

"That it is," the Elf confirmed as light-heartedly as he could manage, looking about himself.

Legolas wasn't sure why, but when he had passed over what he remembered to be the borders of Rivendell, he'd expected to feel or see the difference between the cold world they lived in and the ancient Elven refuge. And yet, he felt nothing remotely familiar here. No thrill of subtle magic pricked at his skin, no reassuring rush of warmth and safety washed over him as he'd expected. Everything inside him felt just as cold, just as lost as it ever had.

"Are you alright?" Aragorn asked and Legolas looked to the man to discover that without even realising it they'd come to a halt.

"Yes," Legolas said quietly, flinching even as his voice fractured. Swallowing thickly the lump of disappointment that was forming in the back of his throat, Legolas tried to assure, "Yes, I'm fine."

The boy's eyes roved down the Elf then he suggested, "We could stop here to rest if you wish."

"No, it's yet early. We should make the most of the daylight."

Before Aragorn had the chance to pose the suggestion again, Legolas had moved off, seemingly still deep in thought and once more unheeding of his charge. "Alright then," the man muttered to himself, walking briskly after his distracted guardian.

This land that once sang with untold beauty was, as with the rest of Middle Earth, now reduced to a dead and barren landscape. No sound of softly rushing waterfalls echoed around the valley, no variety of brightly coloured flowers blossomed, no ancient trees hummed with joy at the presence of one of the Blessed Firstborn wandering amongst them. The once green and bountiful sanctuary to all Free Peoples was now brown and dry and ultimately dead. No life blossomed brilliantly here any longer and the truth of this hit Legolas like a most tangible, physical force.

For some reason, Legolas found the abandonment of Rivendell harder to bear in his heart than all the horrors he had witnessed in Lothlorien, perhaps because he had so loved this land growing up. It had always been the perfect antidote for the soul to the thick essence of Darkness that permeated the very air of his homeland of the aptly named Mirkwood. Rivendell was the light in contrast. Always so filled with joy and life and music, it was no wonder that the lonely and hurting had flocked to Imladris to regroup and rest, to ease their troubles of mind and spirit. Of all the places, Legolas felt that this land of joy did not deserve to be touched and sullied by the Shadow.

Despite the fact that both were weary from the long journey over the mountains, Legolas continued onwards without pause and, seeing the determination set on the Elf's features, Aragorn followed, matching his rapid pace without further protest.

Little over a day after passing over the borders to this land, they reached the first town. They did not linger. Exploration would only uncover the dead and they had already seen enough of that.

This new, squeamish Legolas felt odd to Aragorn but he did not argue with his guardian as he himself did not wish to see any further horrors that may have been hidden in the town if at all avoidable. Legolas skirted around the town, so they saw only the few buildings on the very borders of the small settlement. It was not an encouraging sight to start out with. The Elven homes appeared all long abandoned, their once beautiful structures cracked and charred as if fire had at some point blown its way through the town leaving devastation in its wake. Too much like Lothlorien to be a good omen, Legolas considered, although he dared not give voice to his thoughts.

"Look at that," Aragorn breathed in wonderment as an enormous, high waterfall came into sight.

It was not a surprise to Legolas. He had been to this very place so many times before. But Aragorn had never seen anything quite like it in his life. Towering up the face of a sheer cliff, the water, brown and muddy, cascaded down the jagged rock-face, smashing into the vast volume of filthy water pooled below. The roar was nearly deafening to even the human.

"That is beautiful," the awed man said as they got closer.

"Hmm. Beautiful." To the Elf, this served as yet another reminder of the pollution of Shadow that had tainted his people's lands. "Once this waterfall glistened blue and silver, bathed in glorious sunlight. Then it was beautiful," the Elf sighed sadly. "No longer."

Going to the edge of the brown-coloured body of water, Aragorn tried to peer into the depths. The water was too murky to see through though; he could not even catch a glimpse of the bottom.

"Do you think it's safe to drink?" the man asked as he crouched down on the muddy bank beside the pool.

"I wouldn't risk it," Legolas answered, squinting sceptically up at the rushing water.

Aragorn had always been accustomed to drinking filthy water from wherever they could find an unpolluted source – the trick was in finding one that wouldn't end up poisoning them. To him, this was as good a source as any but even so Legolas did not like the look of this particular lake for drinking and the boy would not second guess him.

"Alright. We should move on then." The boy sounded almost disappointed to be leaving. Compared to other places they'd recently travelled, so far Rivendell had proven surprisingly peaceful.

Legolas, however, was definitely not sorry to leave. Now that the initial excitement of returning to a place beloved had worn off, these dead lands and deserted settlements were making him increasingly uneasy over what else waited for him.

Another day's walking without further pause brought them in sight of something entirely unfamiliar to Legolas. A vast, sturdy metal fence, so disgustingly out of place given that Rivendell had been purposefully built around the natural form of the landscape using only natural raw materials, rose out of the ground, reaching at least twenty feet up into the air.

After many years the cold metal was entwined with thick, solid vines that, despite the lack of other vegetation, seemed to thrive in the barren soil.

"What's behind it?" Aragorn asked, looking up to the top of the structure.

Their location was obvious to Legolas and it did not inspire confidence. "Just down the slope lies the House of Elrond," he answered quietly, fearfully.

"Maybe there are people still in there and this is protecting them." Trying to remain hopeful was even more difficult than Aragorn imagined it would be, for by now they both knew the truth of the matter.

Legolas looked to either side of him. "It is not guarded."

"We're going to climb over the top, aren't we?" Aragorn sighed, not looking forward to the prospect.

The Elf merely smiled at him and reached up to grab at one of the strong vines, tugging hard to check its sturdiness before daring to put even his slight weight upon it. When it didn't give under the pressure he applied, Legolas pulled himself up the scratchy vine, using both the overgrown plants and the cold, dirty metal of the fence to aid in his ascent.

Behind him, Aragorn moved upwards at a much slower pace, far more nervous of the height than his Elven guardian. Still, they made it all the way to the other side without incident.

"Perhaps it is abandoned after all," Aragorn mused idly, looking up and down the length of the bleak structure to find that they had openly crossed into the protected land unchallenged. When he looked back to Legolas and saw the increased disappointment on the Elf's face, his voice softened and he said, "I'm sorry, Legolas."

"Let's just keep moving."

Legolas led the winding way down through the valley, once more continuing on through the night without rest when darkness fell. The road down was actually relatively clear, not often used, but not completely overgrown either. Hope was no longer a reasonable thing to indulge in though, so Legolas kept his mind focused instead on the way ahead and leading Aragorn safely along the path.

By the time the world lightened with the dawn, the rain had started again, drizzling from the grey sky in hard, cold drops, but even through the haze of water they could see, as the day grew lighter, in the distance a large and magnificent house appear.

As Legolas kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, avoiding looking at the familiar place before him, Aragorn stared ahead in undisguised astonishment. The place was massive, certainly bigger than anything they'd seen while staying in Lothlorien.

Climbing up high in between impossibly tall and ancient trees, the great house remained dark, unlit even though the day at its height was almost dull enough to be mistaken for evening.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked their guardian of the place when they paused in their walk to take in the view around them.

"The House of Elrond."

Aragorn scoffed in disbelief and said, "That is not a house, it's a palace."

"It is," Legolas smiled, still not looking directly at the house. He was afraid, as they drew closer, of what he might see should he focus too hard. Watching Mirkwood become defiled by Shadow had very nearly broken his heart; he was afraid to see what had become of his second home. And yet still he felt compelled to continue onwards in spite of his reservations.

"Did you know this place very well?" Aragorn asked to break the silence that had fallen between them.

A small smile touched Legolas' lips at the memory. "Yes, very well indeed." At first, Aragorn thought that that was all the information he would get from his notoriously taciturn guardian but after a moment, Legolas continued, "I used to spend my summers here as a youth and when I grew older, whenever I could be spared from my home that is. This was once a place of great happiness and peace for me."

"You liked it here?" Aragorn smiled broadly.

"Yes, I did. But when the war started," Legolas' voice became grimmer, "I never came back. We all became so involved in protecting our own lands and people that there was no longer any time to worry about the fates of the other realms, even our allies became insignificant."

"I'm sure they would have held out for as long as possible." It was an empty reassurance, Aragorn knew it, but he tried nevertheless.

"I would like to think so," Legolas smiled thinly, for surely the warriors of Imladris had indeed put up a fight in the face of war and they were, after all, led by some of the best, most respected commanders in the Elven race. The twin sons of Rivendell's Lord would have defended their father's beloved sanctuary and perhaps they would have succeeded, survived the onslaught of evil that would have undoubtedly washed over their lands as it had every other of significance. And to the forces of Shadow, the mighty Glorfindel, leader of the Lord's army, would surely have made for a formidable opponent. Maybe they had won through in the end. Perhaps they had even escaped Rivendell with the other survivors of the war. Maybe they had fled to the Undying Lands before the final ships sailed, beyond the reach of Sauron, the place where Shadow would never be able to dampen the Light.

That latter possibility was especially comforting to Legolas. There was no escaping this world now – the last of the Ships to the Blessed Realm had sailed long ago before the Grey Havens had been completely destroyed by the Orc armies. Legolas, along with however many Elves yet survived on Arda, was trapped here on Middle Earth until their deaths. But maybe there was still hope out there across the Sea; his kin could have found paradise. That had to be worth something.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked and the Elf realised that he had once more become lost inside his own head.

"Let's just keep moving," the guardian said, quickening his pace. "We should reach the house before nightfall."

The rest of the walk passed in silence. Legolas was too lost in his own thoughts to bother with conversation and Aragorn couldn't think of a way to break through the quiet.

As the light began to fade into another night, the path before them levelled out. The road became wider, the lodgings around them fewer. Only one more corner then they stood before the Last Homely House.

Up close, Aragorn became even more awed by its size and grandeur. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

"It's beautiful," the boy breathed to the Elf stood frozen at his side.

Legolas though did not see the beauty. He saw nothing but ruination. Death clung to the ancient structure like a mist and it chilled him to the bone, making his already fragile heart ache once again, for the House of Elrond was not left untouched by the ravages of war as he had hoped.

The once ethereal and splendid tall facia of Elrond's home, secluded and hidden amongst towering, centuries-old trees, was now barely recognisable. It appeared that it had been left untended for years and had been left to crumble in its neglect.

The balconies with their beautifully carved railings had long ago fallen into total disrepair and been gradually broken down by the elements over the decades so they had completely rotted through, for the most part leaving great gaps in the once exquisitely carved walls. White wood, lovingly carved by the Elves who had first settled in the valley millennia before, had become warped and covered in thick moss making it look dark and strange to Legolas.

This once magnificent edifice was now little more than a sorrowful ruin. And now Legolas was absolutely certain of one thing: Lord Elrond no longer resided here, for the fastidious Lord would never have allowed his beloved realm to fall into ruin whilst he remained standing.

Stood before the tragic, defiled ghost of the sanctuary he had grown up loving so very dearly, Legolas quietly mourned the downfall of this once magical realm and her kindly guardian.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's voice echoed through Legolas' thoughts and, swallowing the bitter taste of disappointment in his throat, he glanced over at the boy. "Should we go back inside?" Slightly concerned by the sudden paling of his Elf at his side when he suggested this, Aragorn pointed out softly, looking up at the tall house, "I mean, we came all this way. We should at least take a look inside, don't you think?"

For a long moment, Legolas stood in silence, his jaw clamped shut tightly, letting the fear and pain wash over him before he attempted to speak.

Eventually, he looked back to Aragorn and nodded. "Let's find another entrance." The big front doors, in the past open to all Men and Elves with good intentions, were bolted and chained shut and clearly had been for so long that they could probably no longer even be opened.

Slowly, they made their way along the front of the house towards the side, where Legolas recalled there being another, smaller entrance.

Whilst Aragorn's continued amazement kept his gaze focused firmly on the vast house as they walked around it, Legolas kept his eyes firmly averted. He didn't want to see any more than he absolutely had to. Too much pain permeated the air around the house; there was no point in adding to his own discomfort unnecessarily.

"Look at that," Aragorn sharply said, nudging Legolas' elbow to gain his attention.

When Legolas looked up, following Aragorn's line of sight, he saw a dim orange light shining from behind a grimy window. Feeling his breath catch in his throat, the Elf squinted up at the soft glow. Firelight, perhaps, or a lamp or candle; he wasn't sure which. But the only thing that really mattered was what this meant: life. There was life in Rivendell after all.

To Be Continued…