Forever Afternoon
Chapter Fifteen
Word Count: 3,522
Rating/Disclaimer/Summary: Same as chapter 1, really
Author's Note: I told myself that I had to just keep plowing through, that there were still pieces that I had in mind that I would like to have in the story (though they are action scenes, what is with that?) and reminded myself that I do not like leaving stories incomplete, so I continued writing, hoping that I can make my way through this even with my faults.

Speaking of faults... I have a possible replacement for the dying laptop, but it is a very different thing trying to use a tablet to post. There may be more typos than usual. l tried to catch them, but it is difficult on this screen.

The Choice of Paths

"You have not said much since we started out, mellon-nín."

"We have an audience," Legolas said, unable to bring himself to discuss the things still weighing upon his mind when he knew that all the others could hear them. This was not like traveling with Estel in the past. He did not feel free to speak of all his fears in front of the hobbits, to admit to weakness before the dwarf, and some of the thoughts he was having, he would rather not have in front of Mithrandir.

"Is that all?" Estel asked, sitting down beside him while Boromir trained the hobbits to fight. Legolas knew his friend was the better swordsman, and that should have been his role, but Estel had allowed it to be Boromir's this time.

"Many things weigh upon me at present, Estel, but I would not say that I feel ready to speak of them," Legolas began, and the ranger nodded.

"I do not think it is right for you to blame yourself for Gollum's escape."

Legolas frowned. "How can you say that? You did not sound like you felt that way when I revealed those events to the council. You sounded as though—"

"If I made you feel at all that I blamed you, it was not my intention. What I reacted to was the fact that you did not tell me. We had said our friendship was mended, but you did not tell me that you were attacked and that the creature escaped." Estel touched his shoulder. "I was both worried for you and angry because I was not told."

"I tried to, but you must admit the nights were full and there always seemed to be someone present to interrupt us."

"I know, and I am not judging you, Legolas. I know that must have been a hard time to speak of, especially before such an audience. I do not envy you speaking of such things. It was difficult enough to hear the story retold of Isildur's folly, even though it was not my own," Estel said. He let out a breath. "I do not know what to think of Gollum's escape."

"I think it is a danger to us, and I wish I had been able to ask Nostalion to track him down—I think he could have since he was at the palace at the same time as Gollum was a prisoner there—but something always seemed to prevent me from asking. First Ada did not want us to leave to find him, and then he was not here when Ehtyarion, Beridhren, and I arrived, and then he was unavailable before we left on this quest."

"I think Mithrandir would say that he had other tasks to accomplish."

Legolas nodded, not looking over at the Istari. "I know he would, and most times I would tell myself to be content with that, but I am not content. I cannot continue feeling as though he knows more than he tells us. I do not like it. His words before that last day of the council bother me."

"You are the one that was willing to trust a friend that you had not seen in centuries," Estel reminded him. "You must hold to that faith and trust to sustain you through this journey. You can accept the others into your company, even if you would distrust them under other circumstances."

"It was different with Firyavaryar," Legolas said. "I knew him before, and I knew even at his worst, he would still protect his family. Whatever else had changed, that had not. These ones—they are strangers to me."

"That does not mean that you cannot work with them."

"Arwen agreed to marry you, then."

Estel frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you seem to be in that delirious sort of mood that comes from believing anything is possible and nothing is impossible, and that means that you have gotten something you did not think you could have—therefore she has reaffirmed her devotion to you and you are still feeling that delirium of love."

Estel glared at him, and Legolas laughed.

"You are in no state to travel."

Firyavaryar closed his eyes, leaning against the wall of the chamber. Sérëdhiel looked at him, aware of how weak her brother was and how much he struggled. She did not want to see that, but she knew that it was not much that kept his body from being overwhelmed by the sickness within it. She knew that he could not sustain himself forever.

"I have to go. As much as I do not want to be manipulated by Mithrandir, if this Saruman is Ogol, only I would know of it. I cannot even—when I try to think of Ogol's face, it confuses itself in my mind, blurring with the hood and the eyes and even Draugminaion," Varyar said, shaking his head in frustration. He combed his fingers through his hair and stopped, frowning. "Impossible."

"I told you it was growing longer," Eruaistaniel said, and then she flushed and lowered her head with a wince. He glanced at her, but she would not look up to meet his gaze.

"We must go to Isengard," Nostalion said. "I think that some of us might prefer if our foolish task was to follow that fellowship along its way, but it is not. Our task is to learn if Saruman is Ogol and if Ogol survived."

"And to kill him," Idhrenion said. He put his arm around his wife's waist and sighed. "I do not know that I like either idea, Varyar. I also do not like what I know is coming next. It is time for us to leave Imladris."

Alassë cursed. "Not again."

"I have come to say that you are not supposed to leave."

Sérëdhiel was not the only one who whirled to see the open door and Ehtyarion standing there. She frowned. They all should have heard it opening, and Nostalion generally knew when someone approached them even if the others did not.

She swallowed. "Ehtyarion—"

"I believe I now have enough leverage to make you acquiesce to both of my requests," he said, glancing toward Firyavaryar, who glared back at him. "It is not the way I prefer to accomplish my duties, but I have taken oaths I would not turn away from, and protecting Thranduil's son is only one of them. My loyalty was once to family—"

"I told you—I am not your family," Nostalion said. "I do not believe my mother was the same Vinyafaeniel that you knew. The coincidence is strong, but it is not proof."

Ehtyarion shook his head. "You do not know how much you resemble her, not just in looks but in certain mannerisms that I could never forget. She had a certain sense of determination to her that you also possess—and that glare is very much hers."

Firyavaryar studied him. "You think knowledge of my survival is leverage. What for?"

"The first is that both King Thranduil and Lord Elrond have expressed desires for your family to remain in either elven realm, a place where they will be safe rather than follow you on your task. I do not know if the king has been made aware of it, but I do believe Lord Elrond knows that you are to seek Saruman, who might be Ogol." Ehtyarion glanced toward the baby. "Taking that child anywhere near there is a risk."

"You act as though Varyar and Nostalion are the only ones here capable of defending her," Idhrenion said, annoyed. "I know I was still very much a child when you knew me, but I have grown in those centuries since. That is my daughter, and I will fight for her until I am gone. The same goes for Alassë and Sérëdhiel. We chose not to be warriors, but that does not make us defenseless."

"Nor is Eruaistaniel completely incapable of defending herself," Varyar said, not looking at her. He kept his eyes on the guard captain. "If they feel they need to leave, they will. You cannot hold them here with knowledge of my existence. Legolas is the only one to whom such news would be welcome, but that does not mean that it is so great a threat as to hold them in place."

"If it is not, why did you not come forward and say you were alive?"

"I am not certain this existence qualifies as living," Varyar answered. "And even if it does, I see no reason to inflict myself upon anyone. There are some that would consider me a traitor, yes, and because of them, we would all avoid the elven realms. With Thenidriel, we had little choice, but that does not make us welcome or comfortable. It was always their intention to leave when Nostalion and I found Gollum, but that did not happen. We crossed paths with the wraiths and lost him."

"You were tracking him," Ehtyarion said, looking at Nostalion, who grunted. "You know where he is now?"

Nostalion looked at his uncle. "I could learn, but our path is set on a different course."

"Except," Varyar said, turning toward him. "If that thing evaded the wraiths, then it would continue on the course it was on before. Gollum would be following the ringbearer. He would be close to Legolas again. You heard what happened when he escaped."

Nostalion nodded. "What is more important to you—carrying through on the threat you made to that creature or finding Ogol? I do not think we can do both."

"Mithrandir was the one to suggest going for Saruman."

"Fine. We go after Gollum."

Sérëdhiel frowned. "I know that you think redemption is tied in what you can do for Legolas—and it is not that I wish him harm or want Gollum to find him, not from what you told me of what he did to Legolas when he and the ranger captured the creature, but Ogol must be considered the greater threat to everyone. Even if he is not, Saruman is. Legolas is your friend, but you must think of more."

"This from you, of all people, Sérëdhiel? You have never wanted yours injured in the pursuit of the greater good."

"And I do not want that to be Legolas, no, but I fear more what Ogol would do to all of us than Legolas' fate. I fear I am more selfish than I want to be," she admitted, and Nostalion pulled her close to him.

"Family first, again. As always," Varyar said. She was almost relieved to hear it, though she knew that choosing them over Legolas would delay his redemption. He deserved that redemption, that peace, but he would not obtain it with any kind of ease. She pitied him as much as she loved him.

"Here," Ehtyarion said, bringing forward the knife set he had offered Nostalion before. "The king wanted you to have these."

"Even were I worthy of them, I would not take them," Varyar said, shaking his head. "My skin would ruin these fine blades, and I will not do that to something of such value and—Wait. The king cannot have meant me."

"Do not think him a fool. I do not know if the wizard told him or not, but he figured that you lived. They are yours. My duty was to see them into your hands. You must take them or risk displeasing King Thranduil. Again. He believes the prince must be protected with these blades."

"You take them," Varyar told Nostalion. Her husband grimaced, but he stopped forward to receive the knives. "Now we go."

"Meet us in Rohan," Nostalion told her in the dark tongue, adding the knives to the weapons on his back. She thought he carried too many as it was, but Varyar carried none, so they were almost balanced by it.

She nodded. "Be careful. Come back alive."

"And?"

She laughed. "And I love you."

"Frodo is feeling the weight of the ring."

Aragorn looked up at the Istari's words. He did not care for their possible implications. If Frodo was already feeling the ring's influence, they might never see this quest to its end. They could not expect someone else to be able to bear that burden. Frodo had courage and spirit unlike any Aragorn had ever known. He had shown it already on this journey, and Aragorn knew that the hobbit's nature was what they needed for a ringbearer. They could not rely on one of the "older" members of their party. He, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, and Gandalf were all too full of the weight of their world. They were all warriors of some kind, ones that had fought all their lives. They carried too much bitterness, too much death and despair. They had grown hard and weary—easily manipulated by the ring.

Frodo was not so old, not so scarred. the maintained the innocence necessary to counter the ring. Yet if it was already heavy...

"What are you thinking?"

"I do not know," Mithrandir admitted, sitting down next to him. "There are many things at work, and I fear I have extended myself too far in too many directions."

Aragorn frowned. "I thought your only goal at present was to lead us to Mordor, to Mount Doom, to destroy the ring."

"It is—or rather, it should be. Unfortunately, with our enemies growing, I have been occupied with thoughts of them as well." Mithrandir sighed. "I do not know that I will always be able to lead this expedition. Someone may have to take over in my place should my distraction prove too great."

"Why would you think it would? You believe they could have some kind of hold over you here? What, through Saruman?"

"Saruman's betrayal concerns me greatly. I have been wondering how I did not see it, and I cannot help but fear that my ignorance will cause many great pain. It may already have done so."

Aragorn frowned. He knew that Saruman was now a threat, but as far as they knew, he had not yet taken action against anyone other than Mithrandir. Saruman was still building his army. They had time yet, didn't they? And yet if someone had already come to harm, then— "Are you saying that you believe Saruman is Ogol?"

"I believe it may be possible."

"Ogol is supposed to be dead. Firyavaryar killed him, didn't he?"

"I cannot say for certain. We found no remains, not of him or Gildin," Mithrandir said, and Aragorn felt himself growing uneasy with this conversation.

"From what I saw of what Firyavaryar did when he used that plague of his, he destroyed what he touched. The corpses decayed so fast as to not need to be burned. There would be nothing of him to find," Aragorn said, thinking back to when he'd been witness to Firyavaryar's unique method of fighting. The orcs that day had died in a mix of brutal efficiency and corrosion leaving behind little. "Perhaps not of Ogol, either."

"That is what is so troubling about this. We cannot know Ogol's fate."

Aragorn frowned. "Are you thinking—"

"Strider!" Merry cried, rushing over to them. "I knocked Boromir's sword out of his hand. You should have seen it."

"I am sorry to have missed it, Merry," Aragorn assured him quickly. He would have thought there would have been more noise if such a feat had occurred, but he had missed that as well. Looking up, he saw Legolas frowning at both of them, and he was almost grateful for the interruption. His latest thought was out that bothered him, trying to rob him of what little confidence he had left. Their quest was one of foolish hope. They would likely all die before any of them saw Mordor. This would lead them all to their deaths.

Aragorn forced a smile, looking at Boromir. "Would you call it beginner's luck?"

"No, indeed, it was a fair battle, graciously won. They may need to practice against both of us from now on," Boromir said, reaching over to ruffle Merry's hair.

"Hey! I helped," Pippin cried. "He wouldn't have been able to do anything without me."

"Or a certain axe," Legolas said, getting a glare from the dwarf. He did not seem to notice, much to the dwarf's annoyance. "Short people need more assistance, I suppose."

"Why, you pointy-eared—"

"It would seem, then that it was a team effort, and that is to be commended." Mithrandir smiled, covering over the tension. "This is good. We will need such efforts to sustain us in the future. And leadership."

Aragorn grimaced. If anything happened to the wizard, they would look to him to guide them.

"The advantage now is that our paths are parallel for a time," Nostalion said, taking a breath and extending his senses. Firyavaryar stood next to him, eyes half-closed. He coped poorly with the last few weeks, and though the waking dreams had not come yet, not since they left Imladris, he knew that he would dream again. "We will be able to attend to all of your tasks for a time. You can protect that prince, track Gollum, and go toward Isengard."

Firyavaryar looked at his gwador. "Why do you stay with me? l am trouble. l am a plague. I barely remain lucid for more than an hour at a time, and yet you never leave me."

"We had this conversation before."

"Did we? I do not recall."

"Do you remember what you said to me in Draugminaion's lair?"

Varyar almost laughed. "No. I cannot focus and in Draugminaion's lair, I was too feverish to know much at all. There were orcs, lots of filthy orcs, and I think I vomited on one of them. Were you there?"

"'I vowed to protect my family.'" Nostalion looked at him. The assassin was displeased, and Varyar knew not to provoke the other elf, but he also knew that none of them had to follow him. They were all fools for doing so. They could be safe somewhere, well and truly safe, not discomforted in the elven realms because of their connection to him. "You called me gwador first. You took me on as family. You are a fool to forget that."

"I am not capable of protecting anyone like this. I am sick, my memory has too many holes in it, and I am so weak that you almost need to carry me. You do not want to protect Legolas. You do not want to track Gollum. Why are you doing this?"

"We both have vows. We both have family."

"I got you to betray yours."

Nostalion shook his head. "You and Sérëdhiel are my family. You are not allowed to die when she is threatened. We will know who Ogol is. I do not care if the prince is saved. I do not care if Gollum is found. I will keep you alive for her."

Varyar nodded. He understood that. If he were stronger, he would have sent Nostalion away a long time ago. He knew himself to be too weak to go on alone. He could not hope to learn of Ogol on his own, could not protect his family this way. "You are the true protector, mellon-nín, not me. I cannot hope to do this without you, and were we more fortunate, l think we would want our own group of nine."

Nostalion snorted. "Too many clutter the road. They question decisions and lock us in debate. The faster path will not be taken, or the means understood. You and I know the darkness. You would not tell me not to kill, not now. The ones who would ask us, those we leave behind to do what must be done."

"What prompts this speech?"

"They argue again. I believe it is over their path. They changed it again. They may be moving toward Moria."

Varyar grimaced. "I do not know that even were we determined to follow them that we can take that path. We are not ones for the depths and darkness. I do not know how Legolas will manage it. After Ogol, after that torture..."

"Do not go into that dream. You must remain here."

"I am here," Varyar said, nodding as he moved forward. "Gollum follows them still?"

"Yes."

"We can follow them to the door. If we can catch the creature before then, we kill it. If not, we move south. We are not going into the mines." Varyar knew that their assistance might well be needed within Moria's depths, but he did not think that he would be of any assistance within that realm. Draugminaion had broken him in such a place, and he would remember too much, dream too much if he returned to any area that gave him that feeling. Ogol had known that. He had used that against him and against Legolas. "Our path cannot take us through there. I will be lost."

Nostalion looked at him. "We are already lost."