Then and Now (Prequel to Friendship Carries Us Through)
By Gwenneth (aka Kate (
Summary: Legolas goes away with a war party long before Aragorn is born and when his party finds his father’s under attack, the young prince makes the ultimate sacrifice. Years later, Aragorn finds himself in the prince’s shoes. *though it takes a while, I do eventually fast forward in time!!*
Disclaimers: I own none of the recognizable characters and make no money from the writing of this story. The characters and places etc etc are all Mr. Tolkien’s.
Rating: PG-13 for bloody violence and death
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Chapter One: Father and Son divided
The early morning sun filtered through the thick tree cover, barely gracing the courtyard within the palace gates. Still, despite the early hour, the Elves of Mirkwood were out in force. Today, the war parties would leave to scour the forest for Orcs and other such beasts of the enemy. And their King and youngest Prince would be going with them.
“My dearest Ithilwen, take good care of our people in my absence,” Thranduil remarked, lightly planting a kiss on his wife’s brow. “I leave Mirkwood’s rule in the best hands.”
After his parents embraced, Legolas, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, stepped forward to bid his own farewell. “Naneth,” he began, but was quickly cut off when Ithilwen swept him into her embrace and held on for dear life. “Nana…please, not in front of the warriors!” Legolas begged.
He felt his mother chuckle. “Dear Greenleaf, you will always be my little elfling, no matter how much of a warrior you have become.”
A small smile crossed the Prince’s lips. “Yes, Nana. This I know. I will look after Father for you. We will be all right, the warriors will protect their King and Prince before themselves, I assure you of that.”
Ithilwen nodded. “Yes, I know and it seems to trouble you, Legolas.”
Darn, he chided himself. She can read right through me! He never could lie to his mother. “I do not feel my own life is better then that of any of our warriors, Naneth. It pains me to think that they might die for me.”
Thranduil, who had returned to hurry his son up, heard the last remark and spoke quietly. “In a war party, Legolas, no one owes another any debts for saving their lives. It is simply the way of things. You would die for any of them, just as they would for you.”
Legolas, momentarily surprised by his father’s appearance quickly regained his composure and countered. “Yes, but they risk their necks far more for royalty.”
“As it should be, ion nin, as it should be. I don’t like it myself, but you and I can not change the way things have been since the beginning.” Thranduil sighed. “But it is time; the parties are to be assembled now.”
Nodding, Legolas kissed his mother farewell and turned to leave. She watched, with barely restrained worry, as her only son and husband joined the warriors. Legolas had grown much in the last two hundred years or so, but he was still very young and had only just earned his warrior status.
She watched him mingle with others near his own age, though there were none that were actually of his generation. Legolas was the youngest Elf in Mirkwood. She sighed, taking in the sight of her son, with his bow and quiver strapped to his back and the long, white twin knives he always carried fitted into their harness on his back as well.
He looked every bit the warrior. But to her, he looked every bit the child.
“Warriors of Mirkwood. Today we
embark on a task that will rid our
The was an uproar of cheering from the assembled warriors and Legolas smiled despite the gravity of the situation. He had always admired his father’s commanding voice and ability to instill patriotism in the warriors.
As he father continued, breaking the warriors into parties and assigning locations to each group, Legolas felt a nagging worry in the back of his mind. Neither of his parents had the gift of foresight, but his grandmother had had it and sometimes he felt like he might have inherited some of it, if only a latent power he had no control over.
He was only shaken from his thoughts when Thranduil turned to him and said quietly, “Now, ion nin, we part ways.”
Legolas’ head snapped up. “Part ways, Adar? What do you mean?”
Thranduil rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You and I shall not be with the same war party. It is too risky to send the Prince and King together, should the party fall at the hands of the enemy, both would be lost.”
Alone? No, I can not do this alone! He
thought. Well, not alone really, just
without Adar. But still, that is not what I was expecting.
“But…” he began, than cut himself off. His father had a point. “You are right, I am sorry to have questioned you, Adar.” He bowed his head, breaking eye contact with his father.
Thranduil lifted his son’s chin until they locked eyes again. “I know you are young, Legolas. But you are an accomplished warrior. As much as it pains me to send you into danger without me by your side, I know you will be well cared for with the warriors. See to yourself and your fellow Elves and we will meet again, ion nin.”
Legolas drew himself to his full height and nodded. “Yes, hir nin, we will not fail in our endeavor and will meet again either on the field, or back here.”
Thranduil smiled and embraced his son, then scooted him off toward one of the larger war parties that would be nearer to his own. He was willing to let Legolas be apart from him, but not so far just yet.
Ithilwen looked on with growing anxiety. She, too, had not
expected the two royals to be separated, but knew not to question Thranduil’s decisions in the matter of war parties. He knows what he is doing and Legolas is a
talented warrior, the best archer of Mirkwood. They will be fine.
But as the war parties rode out the gates, Ithilwen wasn’t so sure about this mission.
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Chapter Two: Reunion in
“Oh, Celronen, please stop hovering, I’m just fine!” Legolas chided, smacking the overprotective warrior away from his as he hauled himself to his feet and brushed off his clothing, casting about for his knives.
Dead Orcs lay strewn across the ground, their blood mingling with the ground, Elven arrows protruding from many of them. Legolas’ own quiver was empty. Seeing his knives, Legolas gathered them up and wiped them clean in the grass before sheathing them.
He turned to survey the damage, thankful when he saw no fatalities and no grave injuries among his party. Though he was younger then all the other warriors in the party, Legolas and Celronen, commanded the mission. Something he wasn’t keen on but knew was proper.
“Are you wounded, my Lord?” Celronen asked, careful to stay out of range of his liege’s arms.
When Legolas glared daggers at the Elf, he smiled and laughed. “All right, Warrior Prince, I shall leave you alone then and see to the others.”
Legolas nodded; slightly embarrassed by the title he had been given against his will. But the title had stuck and many of the party had taken to calling him the Warrior Prince. Ai, if only Adar could see me know…he would no doubt be laughing hysterically at that name! the Prince thought. It was true though, he fired more arrows and took down more Orcs and spiders then most of the others, but he still felt like a novice.
Sighing, he fingered a cut in his tunic and was relieved to
find no sign of blood. He had escaped this fight with nothing other then cuts
and bruises. My luck has held out thus
far, I wonder when it will no longer do so.
He cast the thought aside when his keen hearing picked up the sounds of shrieking Orcs. Glancing around, he found Celronen was also looking up with his eyes narrowed. They locked gazes and Legolas picked up his bow and began to quickly gather arrows.
“Retrieve your arrows, there is fighting nearby and we are to go to their aide,” the Prince announced, not bothering to stop his task to see if they had heard. The sound of scrambling Elves and the unmistakable squelch of arrows ripped from flesh told him they had heard perfectly fine.
Celronen approached him. “You have better hearing then I, my Lord. Do you hear many? Are they attacking a party?”
Legolas looked up, his quiver now as full as it would be. “I hear many, Celronen and yes I have heard the calls of wounded Elves. We must make haste; I fear they are losing this battle.”
Within minutes the whole party was mounted and racing toward the sounds of battle, the clashing and screaming growing louder as they flew across the forest floor, weaving in and out of trees and ducking under low branches.
Legolas and Celronen, in the lead, saw the party first and gasped. It was one of the smaller war parties and nearly half their number lay grievously wounded or dead. Those remaining had long since ran out of arrows and were fighting valiantly hand-to-hand. But the Orcs just kept coming over the rise beyond.
“Quickly! Dismount and form a firing line!” Celronen called, taking control in this because he knew Legolas had no experience with a large scale battle. The Prince looked relieved he had done so.
Stringing their bows, the party crept forward swiftly and at the dropping of Celronen’s hand, let loose a deadly volley, striking the exposed Orcs and taking many down. Still, it would not be enough to turn the tide just yet, there were too many Orcs.
Seeing the newcomers, Orcs began to break off and stream toward the Prince’s party. Celronen called for them to fire at will and when the Orcs were close enough, he yelled, “Charge!”
Within seconds the two war parties of Mirkwood would fighting side by side, trying to turn the tide against the Orcs. Legolas, deftly slashing and stabbing with his knives now, was covered in Orc blood, as well as some of his own. He did not slow or lose strength, he knew this was a desperate battle and he could not afford to slow up for a second.
Then, someone caught his eye. A tall, blond Elf was battling three Orcs, valiantly holding his own but obviously tiring and losing the battle.
“Father!” Legolas whispered, unable to breath for a second. He watched the Elvenking weave a deadly pattern with his sword, but he could also see the numerous cuts and bloody patches on the Elf’s tunic.
He needed help. And he needed it now.
Cutting his way toward the King, Legolas knew better then to call out to him. It would only distract his father. He would never call to a warrior unless there was danger behind him and then he would only shout, ‘Beware’.
As he battled another Orc with a broadsword, Legolas saw his father stumble and just barely parry a blow. Now or never, he thought. Quickly dispatching the nearest Orcs, Legolas whipped his bow from his back, a rather foolish act in the midst of a battle, but he was on the outskirts near the tree line and felt he had to.
Stripping a fletching from one arrow, Legolas strung two of them and fired, watching tensely as they soared to his father’s aide, impacting the two orcs that remained. By now the battle had begun to die down and the Elves had the upper hand.
Legolas breathed in relief. Thranduil, seeing the familiar fletchings, turned toward his benefactor. Seeing Legolas along the tree line he smiled lightly. The smile was returned, but then the King saw the threat behind his son.
A particularly large Orc with a sword in hand was stalking up behind the Prince. “Legolas! Beware!” he shouted.
Thranduil watched in horror as Legolas’ eyes widened and he spun on his heel, discarding his bow as he did and moving to grab a knife. But not quick enough, the call had come too late.
Legolas grunted as the sword was thrust into his side. Fire tore through him and he jerked, looking up at the Orc and swaying a little. He vaguely heard his father’s anguished scream.
The Orc, unhappy that Legolas still stood, pushed forward more, drawing a screech from the Elf, but nothing more. He spun him around by pulling on the blade and Legolas was now facing the dwindling fight and his father’s running figure.
His view of his father was momentarily blocked as the Orc maneuvered him backwards. Legolas struggled now, painful cries escaping his lips as he tried to hold the Orc back.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, an ugly, black arrow flew toward them and hit Legolas in the left shoulder. He jerked and fell back against a tree, where the Orc had been trying to push him.
Looking up once more, he saw a wicked smile on the Orcs hideous face as it leaned forward quickly, forcing the sword through his side into the tree behind him until the hilt and six inches of blade was all that was left in front of him. And this time, Legolas’ scream rang out.
He was panting, breath coming in hitching sobs as wave after wave of pain wracked his body. Then, the Orc crumbled, his body cleaved in two. Thranduil appeared where he had been, his bow broken in two and his sword in one hand.
“LEGOLAS!” he screamed, reaching out for his son. “No…not my son…not my son.” He chanted, tears pouring unbidden from his eyes.
Celronen hurried over with some of the remaining warriors and they gasped in horror. “Valar, it’s the Prince!” he cried, unable to believe that his young liege was pinned to a tree by a disgusting Orc blade.
Being an accomplished healer, he pushed Thranduil aside a step and tipped Legolas head up, frowning when the young Elf’s glazed eyes opened and he groaned. Thranduil balked at his son’s consciousness. He could see the pain in those fathomless blue-grey eyes.
Celronen knew that the only reason the Prince still stood was the blade pinning him up. He looked at the sword, realizing that it was deeply buried in the tree behind the young Prince. He didn’t think any of them had the strength to pull it from the tree.
Now they had a dilemma. They needed to get Legolas down and treat his wounds, but they couldn’t pull the sword from the tree, it was buried too deeply. Thranduil must have realized this as well and he looked with imploring eyes to Celronen.
“What do we do? How do we get him down?”
The assembled warriors could not have been more surprised when their Prince answered them in a shaky, barely perceptible voice. “Break it…break off the part in the tree.”
He turned pain-filled eyes on Thranduil, silently begging him to do as he asked. Nodding once, Thranduil moved in front of his son and reached a hand behind him to grab the blade in front and behind the Prince.
Then, holding Legolas tightly and bracing himself, the Elvenking gathered all his strength and flung himself and Legolas to the left, hearing a loud snap and the scream of his son. Legolas slumped into him, the blade still within him, but now he was no longer against the tree.
Thranduil lowered the Prince down, looking on in worry as blood trickled from his son’s mouth and the young Elf gasped more and more frequently. His eyes were dark with pain and had taken on a lackluster glaze.
Blood covered the front of the tunic from both the ugly arrow and the sword. Celronen knew both had to be removed. Though he was loath to do it when the Prince was conscious; he knew it was best to keep him that way lest he never wake again.
“My lord, I will need you and another warrior to hold him down. This isn’t going to be pleasant,” Celronen said with worry as he cut away the tunic from the arrow wound first. “The sooner we get them out the better, I worry about poison.”
Thranduil’s head snapped up and he locked eyes with Celronen. Then, he looked back down and gently, but firmly gathered his son’s head and shoulders against his chest, grabbing both the Elf’s arms and pinning them. Another warrior, shaking as the Prince watched him with weary eyes, sat aside the Elf’s legs and effectively held them down as well.
Legolas was shaking now, his body fighting against his will as it tried to shut down. “Hold on, ion nin,” Thranduil whispered, resting his chin on Legolas head. “All will be well. Celronen is a good healer, he will help you.”
The Prince did not relax exactly, but Thranduil heard the change in his breathing as he tried to control it. Looking to Celronen, he and the other warrior nodded their readiness and the other Elves went to look to the wounded and dead, leaving the four alone.
Seeing Celronen grasp the arrow in his left shoulder, Legolas looked up and caught his father’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze until Celronen yanked and Legolas’ snapped shut as he jerked and cried out.
Thranduil’s tears let loose then, dropping into the golden hair of his son. “Please hurry, Celronen. I can not bear this much longer,” the Elvenking whispered before he began to speak soothing Elvish words to his son.
Celronen again frowned as he asked Thranduil to help staunch the bleeding in the shoulder. Nodding, the King locked Legolas’ left arm under his leg and held the wound with his now free hand. Legolas jerked at the pressure, but did not struggle.
“Now for the hard part,” Celronen mumbled as he moved to the Prince’s right side where the sword hilt protruded. Eying the ugly handle with disgust, he grabbed hold and steeled himself for the pain he was about to cause the Prince.
Looking into Thranduil’s eyes he saw only acceptance at the pain he was causing. The King was wise and even in his distress he knew this was best for Legolas. “Go ahead. We have him,” he whispered, encouraging the distraught healer to go on.
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, knowing this would hurt. Then, it came and he screamed, thrashing against the pain and nearly dislodging his father and the warrior holding him.
Celronen leaned in, holding him down and putting pressure on the wound at the same time. He knew that the Prince had precious little time. Grabbing athelas that another warrior had prepared, Celronen gently but firmly pressed it to the gaping sword wound as he had done with the arrow; withdrawing a hiss from Legolas.
The other warrior stood from his place on the Prince’s legs and helped Thranduil sit Legolas up so Celronen could reach the exit wound. By now Legolas could barely breathe and his head was swimming. He had grown rather numb, which surprised him, barely feeling any pain. But he was freezing and shivering.
Celronen, seeing the shaking Elf, took a deep breath. “We must get him to a real healer, My Lord. I fear I can not save him from these wounds. I would advise Lothlorien, it is closest and the Lady is a gifted healer.”
Thranduil nodded, willing to do anything to save his only son. “Legolas, hold on, ion nin. We will get you to Lady Galadriel. Just stay awake.”
Legolas moaned at that, wishing nothing more then to go to sleep. He felt his father light him and stifled a cry. Soon, he was atop his father’s horse and they were making as fast as possible for the Golden Wood, the warriors not making a sound as they saw the Prince’s condition.
“I hope he makes it…this will kill the King and Queen if he does not,” one commented as the bloodied father and son, now reunited, hurried toward Lothlorien.
Thranduil cried out in anger and anguish as they breached the borders of Lothlorien. “No, wake up!”
But Legolas was far from there and did not hear his father’s pleas.
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Chapter Three: The touch of the Lady
Thranduil slowed his horse to a walk and frantically checked Legolas for a pulse. Relieved to find one, albeit slow, he glanced over at Celronen. “We must hurry, Cel, he is in need of the Lady.”
Nodding in understanding, Celronen urged the warriors on, pushing the horses into a swift gallop. The King leaned as much forward as he could with Legolas perched in front of him and whispered to his mount, “Noro lim!”
Hearing the desperation in the Elf’s voice, the horse surged forward with renewed strength, passing beneath the great trees of the Golden Wood toward the heart of the realm of Lothlorien.
Soon, they would encounter the Galadrim border guards and the King hoped they would not stall him long. Legolas’ breathing was shallow and labored and his weak heartbeat worried the Elvenking to no end.
“Daro! {Stop!}” Came a loud cry from ahead and a tall, blonde Elf leapt from a tree to the ground in front of Thranduil. Reining his horse in, the King held tightly to his son.
Seeing the bleeding, unconscious Prince, the blonde archer gasped. “My Lord, King Thranduil!? What evil has befallen the warriors of Mirkwood?”
“Haldir, Marchwarden of Lorien, my son, Prince Legolas, is gravely injured and in desperate need of the Lady’s aide. Please take us to her!” His voice held barely restrained panic and Haldir wasted no time.
“Rumil, see to it that the other warriors are taken care of, we will ride ahead of you to seek the Lord and Lady,” he gestured for Thranduil to dismount and whistled to his left. Two beautiful horses emerged from the woods and Haldir now addressed Thranduil. “Take a new steed, My Lord. I will take you with all haste to the Lady.”
Taking Legolas from the King, Haldir waited until Thranduil was mounted then handed the Elf Prince back up to his father. Vaulting onto his own mount, Haldir urged her into an all out gallop, followed closely by Thranduil.
They raced wordlessly through the wood until Haldir remarked, smiling. “The Lady informs me she is aware of your imminent arrival, my Lord.”
Thranduil, knowing the power of the Lady, nodded in relief. “I will be glad to see the Lady, Haldir. I fear for Legolas.”
Haldir, not slowing in the least, turned his head to glance at the Prince’s listless body. He was pale, far more then was normal for an Elf, and his wounds had begun to bleed through the bandages.
“Prince Legolas is strong, my Lord. He will survive this.” Haldir said, no doubt evident in his voice.
He received no answer as they hurried to the large tree that marked the dwelling of the Lord and Lady of Lorien. At the foot of the winding staircase was a she-Elf beyond the beauty of most.
Her flowing silver/gold hair reached just past her waist, the wavy tresses swaying in the light breeze. Her pale skin set off her startling blue eyes and she moved with a grace that belied her many years.
“Lady Galadriel, King Thranduil and Prince Legolas are in need of your assistance!” Haldir called, taking Legolas from the King and bringing him to the lady who was fast approaching.
“Lay him down, Haldir.” She commanded, looking for a moment toward the Elf’s father. His eyes were red-rimmed and he himself was not without injury. “See to the King’s injury, but keep him here. Legolas will need him when he wakes.”
Thranduil nodded his thanks to the Lady, knowing not to argue. He watched, barely noticing Haldir’s ministrations, as the Lady began to examine the two wounds that marred his son’s body.
She began to speak in Quenya, the High-Tongue, calling for the young Prince to leave the darkness and return to them. He was far gone, wandering perilously close to the Halls of Mandos, and she frowned.
Dropping instantly into a trance, Galadriel worked to bring him back. She knew that now was not his time and was confident she could revive him.
In a few minutes, after the rest of the warriors of Mirkwood and the Lorien border guards had arrived, Legolas stirred. His groan of pain brought Thranduil swiftly to his side. “Legolas, can you hear me, ion nin?”
To his immense relief, Legolas opened his eyes and starred up at his father in confusion. He blinked, trying to focus on the faces above him, when his eyes came to rest on Galadriel.
“Milady!” he exclaimed, instantly regretting the action when he was overcome with a coughing fit.
Smiling lightly, Galadriel responded, touching his brow. “Welcome to Lothlorien, Prince Legolas, Thranduilion. You are safe now.”
There were audible sighs of relief from the warriors assembled and Celronen moved forward smiling. “Looks like our Warrior Prince will be staying in the land of the living after all!”
Legolas rolled his eyes and Thranduil cocked his head to the side. “Warrior Prince?”
Everyone laughed as Legolas snorted. “Not my idea, Adar!” Then, he allowed himself to be lifted and taken to a bed to rest.
Thranduil trailed beyond Haldir, who was again carrying Legolas because the Elvenking was unbelievably weary from his wounds. Seeing that the Prince was comfortable, Haldir left the father and son alone.
“Legolas,” Thranduil began, unsure if now was the time to speak, but he was itching to get the words out. Waiting until Legolas was facing him, he continued. “I have yet to thank you for saving my life, ion nin.” His voice cracked. “I only wish I could have saved you this pain. I am so very sorry, Legolas.”
He would have continued, pouring out blame on himself for his son’s predicament, but Legolas’ hand grasping his own stopped him. “You have no reason to apologize, Adar. As you said, it is the way of the warrior. I only did what any other would and this misfortune could have happening to you as easily as it did to me.”
The Prince would have liked to continue the conversation, assure his father that he was well, but the fact of the matter was, he was bone tired. His eyelids felt like steel and he was struggling to stay awake.
Seeing the turmoil in the blue-grey eyes, Thranduil smiled and brushed the golden hair from his son’s face. “Rest, Legolas, my young Greenleaf. There will be plenty of time for talk later.”
Legolas started to frown, but it quickly turned into a yawn. “Adar, I’m not so young anymore, you can stop calling me that!”
Thranduil laughed. “Compared to me, ion nin, you ARE young, therefore I shall always call you my *young* Greenleaf!”
“Yes,
“You haven’t called me *
In complete seriousness, but with mirth in his eyes, Legolas
answered him. “Well, since you insist on calling me young, I insist on acting
young! Therefore, I will call you
Thranduil smirked. “Well then, I’ll leave it up to you to explain to your fellow warriors why you refer to me as Daddy still.”
Legolas rolled his eyes and groaned. “I’m going to sleep!”
And sleep he did. The King, Prince and their Mirkwood entourage remained in the Golden Wood until Legolas was fully healed. No scar remained to mar his body, as was the way with the Elves. Soon, all he had as reminders of that terrible battle were the memories.
And they would come back to haunt him some day, far in the future, when he traveled with a friend who had yet to be born.
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A/N: In this chapter I take the liberty of making
Estel a novice horseback rider…I know by the age of 20 he was likely very good,
being raised in the house of Elrond, but for the sake of this story we are
going to forget that…THANKS. -Gwenneth
Chapter Four: Fast Forward
“Legolas, I swear one of these days I am going to knock you off that pedestal you seem to always stand on! You are an impossibly cheeky…ELF!” Estel, knowing his words would garner the wrath of the Elf Prince, scooted out of his range and high-tailed it toward the Last Homely House.
Legolas, hot on his tail, but deliberately slowing his pace to give the young man a chance of escape, laughed. “Being immortal I shall live to that day, if it should ever come, which I highly doubt, Human!”
They skidded around a corner, not paying any mind to who might be coming around it, and slammed right into Elladan and Elrohir, who had been carrying papers to their father’s study.
Cries of dismay mingled with cries of surprise erupted as papers flew in every direction. Legolas, picking himself up from the ground and tugging his tunic back down, reddened slightly at the situation he found himself in.
“Beg parden, Elladan…Elrohir. We did not see nor hear your approach.”
“Obviously,” Elrohir snorted as he stooped to pick up papers. Legolas immediately bent to help him, fighting back the smile that was threatening to grace his face. He met Elrohir’s eyes and knew that the twin was not angry, merely amused.
Estel had picked himself up in the meantime and was now facing a fuming Elladan. “How many times does Adar have to tell you not to run in the halls, Estel? One of these days you are going to seriously injure yourself or someone else.” The exasperated twin turned on Legolas, who had just stood up again with a pile of papers in his hands. “And you, Legolas…just how old are you?”
Legolas, suppressing a laugh, answered politely. “Younger then you, Elladan. Now, where were you taking these? I think Estel and I should help you with them, it is the least we can do.”
Elladan frowned. “
He turned on his heel, leaving Estel to gather his own dropped papers. As he walked away, Legolas, whose ears were the best of the four, heard a snigger. He smiled and glanced at Elrohir.
Estel, oblivious to the laugh of his quickly vanishing brother, sighed. “Well, guess I’ve pissed ‘Dan off again. It was only a matter of time, but it is earlier then usual today.”
Elrohir and Legolas couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing. “Come, we must get these to the study,” Elrohir said, pushing Estel down the hall.
Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris, was standing with his arms across his chest, glaring, as the three Elves entered. Elladan, apparently, had already told him what had happened in the hallway.
“I see Estel, that yourself and the Prince managed to make quite a mess of my papers. What have you to say for that?”
Estel, gulping, placed his messy pile of gathered papers in
his father’s arms. He grimaced when Legolas handed the Elf Lord a neatly arranged
pile. “Well, Legolas was going to kill me,
Elrond eyed Legolas who shrugged. “I highly doubt the Prince would kill you, Estel. There is no reason to run in the house. If I had my way I would ground you and give you extra chores to do.”
Estel’s head popped up at that. “You’re not going to punish me?”
“Don’t interrupt me, Estel,” the Elf chided. “If I had my way, I would have. However, it appears you were saved by the wizard, so to speak. Mithrandir has asked that I send you and Legolas to Lorien with a message for the Lady Galadriel.”
“Oh boy,
The blonde Elf’s eyes clouded and Estel immediately quieted. “Is something wrong? Is it something I said?”
Elrond, seeing the Prince’s distress, took the man by the shoulder. “Legolas has been to Lorien, Estel, and I’d wager he does not wish to speak of it at present. Go prepare for the journey, you leave in an hour.”
Legolas was about to follow Estel and the twins from the room when Elrond stopped him. “A word, your Highness?”
Nodding, the Elf stayed. “You needn’t call me that, Lord Elrond.”
Smiling, the Elder nodded. “I know your last visit to Lothlorien was not under good conditions. I must warn you, there are Orcs about, a good many. I would have sent the twins with you, but I need them to go to the Beorlings. Please use extra caution.”
He moved to the window, troubled.
“My Lord? There is more.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I have had troubling dreams of late, Legolas. Of pain and suffering. Watch Estel. He is reckless and young. I had thought to send you alone, but it is too dangerous. If you should be injured you would be vulnerable.”
Legolas breathed deeply. “You foresaw Estel being injured then?”
“Aye,” Elrond said, looking back at him. “He will need you if it comes to pass, though the future I saw may not be certain. He will need your guidance and strength.”
The Prince sensed there was more to the vision then Elrond was letting on. “What else did you see?”
Elrond smiled lightly. “A repetition of the distant past; nothing more.”
His words were cryptic and Legolas could not make heads or tails of them. So he bowed and promised to keep an eye on Estel. “I will do all I can to avoid harm coming to him.”
Elrond nodded. “It is all I can ask of you, young Prince.”
“There we go again, why does everyone call me young!” Legolas muttered under his breath.
“Because you are young, Legolas.”
The Prince had not expected an answer, but then again, he was not with Estel, Elrond was an Elf Lord of formidable skill…obviously he had heard the whispered words.
“Yes, Lord Elrond. I’m sorry.”
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Bouncing. All he could think of was the infernal bouncing. A small bounce, a big bounce, a series of quick bounces. “I used to enjoy riding, but I can’t stand the bouncing!” Estel grumbled, shifting in his saddle for the hundredth time.
Legolas laughed. “Then learn to ride as the Elves, Estel. Without that saddle I assure you it would be much less painful!”
Grumbling under his breath, something about know-it-all Elves, Estel finally cried out. “It’s no use! I’ll never be comfortable. This dratted saddle should be fed to Orcs.”
At the mention of Orcs, Legolas sobered. His reaction was not missed by Estel. “Why do you always act so odd when Orcs are mentioned, Legolas? I know you do not fear them, but something bothers you nonetheless.”
Legolas, realizing his human companion had noticed his distress, sighed. “Long years ago I had a bad encounter with the Orcs, Estel.”
“Were you kidnapped? Like the Lady Celebrian?”
“No.”
“What then?”
Legolas frowned. “I really do not wish to speak of it, Estel. Let us ride in silence until we find a camp. I should not like to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves with talk of the past.”
Estel frowned. “You will tell me, if it’s the last thing I do,” he whispered.
Legolas chuckled. “Perhaps, Estel. But I’m not sure you want to hear it.”
“And why not?”
“Because, it might lower your perceptions of me. You might not idolize me as you do now if you heard the story,” Legolas answered, knowing full-well that he was egging the man on.
“I do NOT idolize you!”
Laughing, Legolas conceded. “All right, I was jesting.”
Estel, however, was undeterred. “So, what could possibly make me lower my perceptions of the infalliable warrior prince.”
Legolas faltered, nearly allowing a low hanging branch to hit his head. “What did you call me?”
“Warrior prince…I thought it was funny. After all, you are ALWAYS getting into battles and such on your way between our homes,” Estel answered, uncertain why the little name would affect his friend so much. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Legolas regained his rigid composure and shook his head. “Just something the warriors called me a long time ago.”
“Really? That makes me want to hear this story of yours all the more, Legolas.”
The Elf Prince glared at the 20-year-old man. “Fine. But not until we camp.”
“Deal.”
“Good. Now shut up.” Not waiting for a response, Legolas urged his mount to run.
*************************************************************************************************************************
Chapter Five: The Past Relived
Estel slumped down beside the small fire, staring listlessly at the flames as they danced in the dark. He was weary; they had rode hard today and though he traveled with his brothers, he wasn’t used to travel with Legolas who never seemed to tire.
“Are you all right, mellon nin?” Legolas ventured, settling himself gracefully down on the ground across from Estel.
Sighing, the human nodded. “Bit tired. Aching all over.”
Legolas laughed. “You should have said something, Estel. We could have set camp earlier. The message isn’t urgent and I do not think Lord Elrond would want me to overburden his son with this pace if it was too much for him.”
Estel’s eyes narrowed. “Hrmph, very funny, Legolas. You are centuries older then me and have much experience in this journeying. You should have recognized I was tiring if you are so smart!”
“So you admit you were tiring long before we stopped then, Human?”
“You…well,” Estel frowned. True, he had just admitted that. “That’s not the point!” he was about to continue arguing when his eyes darted to Legolas and a feral grin crossed his face. “You said when we reached camp you would tell me your story!”
Legolas groaned. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did!” Estel laughed, making himself comfortable. “Go on, you can’t get out of it now.”
“What if I refuse?”
Estel feigned shock. “An Elf would lie!? How dishonorable!”
“Oh all right,” Legolas muttered. If there was anything Legolas would not do, it was be dishonorable. Honor was very important to him and his people. “It happened many long years ago when I was part of a war party, trying to rid the woods of my home of Orcs and other vile creatures. My father’s party was set upon by Orcs and greatly outnumbered and my party went to their res…”
He stopped short, head snapping up and eyes penetrating the darkness. Estel frowned. “You can’t get out of the story that easily, Legolas…I want to kno…” he too stopped when Legolas put up his hand and did not move.
“There is something approaching,” Legolas said. “The ground shakes and the trees groan at the passing. I fear it is orcs that approach.”
Surging to his feet, Legolas doused the fire and tugged Estel to his feet. “We must break camp; make for the safety of the trees. Perhaps we can hide in their branches.”
Estel didn’t wait for any more prompting, recognizing the tone of the Elf’s voice as completely serious. He grabbed his sword and pack, thrusting the latter over his shoulder and moving to follow Legolas.
Both stopped dead in their tracks.
Orcs are not quiet creatures. How they managed to get so
close to the camp without Legolas knowing, the Elf had only to ponder for a
moment. I was lost in the past when Estel
asked me to recount my story. I should have been paying more attention to the
surroundings!
Drawing his bow and notching an arrow, Legolas waited with the calm of an Elf for the orcs to advance. Estel, seeing no way past the Orcs to reach the trees, drew his sword and held it out in front of him, fully intending to stand by his friend’s side until the fight was over, or he was dead.
Legolas heard the sword leaving the sheath and frowned. Estel was not as battle-hardened as the Elf would have liked, but he knew he couldn’t do this on his own so he said nothing. But in the back of his mind he remembered Elrond’s words.
He didn’t have any more time to think before the Orcs charged forward. Releasing the notched arrow, he took down the foremost of the advancing creatures and quickly notched a second arrow, letting it fly in quick succession.
Estel shifted his weight uneasily as the creatures approached, having difficulty waiting in patience for the attack to come to him. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Legolas firing arrow after arrow without any hesitation. I’ll never make fun of his archery again! Estel mused. I don’t think even Elladan can shoot that fast!
Then the Orcs were upon them and Legolas abandoned his bow for his twin knives. The two fought back to back, wreaking havoc on the attacking horde. Estel had never fought so hard in his life. Usually he had both his brothers with him, this time it was just he and Legolas.
Still, the two were formidable foes, slashing and thrusting, parrying and blocking blows from all directions.
To his dismay, Legolas realized they were being pushed back toward the trees and he had a funny feeling there was a reason why. “Estel, don’t let them get us against the trees!”
Estel could hear an odd fear in his friend’s voice. Wonder where that came from? Legolas isn’t afraid of anything! He thought as he thrust his sword into an advancing Orc. Instead of debating the words, he did as Legolas told him and tried hard to avoid the trees.
Unfortunately, neither Elf nor Man was aware of the approaching Orc archers. Legolas heard rather then saw the arrow that hit his shoulder. Memories flooded through him, it was the same shoulder he had taken an arrow in all those years ago. The memories caused him to falter and Estel found his back exposed.
Struggling to compensate for Legolas’ sudden lack of attention, Estel nearly missed a thrust aimed for his chest. Searching quickly, he eyes fell on his friend, renewing the battle with an arrow protruding from his body.
“Legolas!” he called, seeing the Orc approaching the Elf from behind. But the Elf couldn’t do anything. Estel saw this immediately and didn’t hesitate for a moment to grab a dagger from his belt and throw it toward his friend.
Legolas felt the blade rush past him, a hair’s width from his head, and heard the grunt of the Orc. Spinning on his heel, he saw the creature fall; an Elven blade lodged in it’s throat.
Turning back to Estel, his eyes widened. The man had neglected his own situation to save his friend’s life and was now backed up against a large tree. Legolas’ mind raced. A repetition of the distant past; nothing more, Elrond had said. The distant past…my past!
He raced toward Estel, pushing through the remaining Orcs, desperately trying to reach his friend. An Orc loomed up in front of him and halted his advance. Legolas made quick work of him, but not quick enough.
Estel saw the blade coming, but he couldn’t maneuver with the tree behind him and was unable to block or parry it. The cold steel of the Orc blade thrust through his side and imbedded in the tree behind him.
Estel cried out in pain and dropped his sword, gripping the blade with both hands and tugging uselessly with his waning strength. He saw Legolas defeat the Orc he had been blocked by and stop dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with some emotion.
Then, the Elf’s eyes clouded with pain and fury and he surged forward destroying the remaining Orcs with a ferocity that scared Estel. As soon as they were dead, the Elf cried out, “Not again! Not you!”
The man didn’t know what his friend meant, only knew that it hurt; and it hurt bad. Legolas reached his side in an instant and tilted his head up. “Estel? Mellon nin? Are you with me still?”
Estel looked up, locking painfilled eyes with the Elf. “It hurts, Legolas!” he whispered, refusing to allow the pain to infiltrate his voice.
To his surprise, Legolas hung his head and said quietly, “Trust me, I know it does. I will explain all later, we must get you down.”
Nodding lightly, Estel waited to see what Legolas would do. To his surprise, the Elf made no attempt to remove the blade from the tree. Instead, he grabbed the weapon in front of and behind Estel and suddenly jerked them both to the side; breaking the weapon.
Estel screeched at the movement, slumping into Legolas’ waiting arms. As the Elf lowered him to the ground, Estel muttered. “Have you…done this…before?”
Looking into Estel’s eyes, Legolas nodded as he examined his friend. “Not quite.”
“Legolas, tell me…I fear I’ll not be able to stay conscious.”
Sighing, Legolas nodded, taking hold of the weapon’s hilt before speaking. “Let me remove this, I will tell you everything.”
Estel didn’t reply. He braced himself as the Elf straddled him. Then, the pain came on in waves and he arched off the ground as Legolas pulled the blade from his side. Panting, Estel struggled to regain his breath.
“Stay with me, Estel. I will get you to Lord Elrond in Rivendell, we are still closest to there. Do not give in to the darkness.”
Estel grabbed Legolas hand, stilling his movements. “Tell me.”
A small sob escaped Legolas’ lips. “I am so sorry, mellon nin. I should have realized what Lord Elrond meant; I should have spared you this pain. I didn’t know what he meant and I should have.”
“This…is not your…fault,” Estel said, desperately clinging to consciousness. “You couldn’t know.”
Legolas shook his head as he worked on the wound. “Lord Elrond said…he had seen a repetition of the distant past. I didn’t put it together. I could have saved you.”
“Distant past?” Estel said; his mind wandering.
Legolas grabbed his head and turned Estel so he was looking him in the eyes. “This happened to me long ago, when I was part of those war parties. My father was where I now am, and I, I was where you are now.”
Estel nodded, too weak to speak. Legolas called for his horse and soon had the man up in front of him. He urged the mount on as fast as he dared toward Rivendell. Then, a few moments later, Legolas cried out.
“No, wake up!”
**************************************************************************************************************************
Chapter Six: Life or death
This can’t be
happening…it’s just a dream, I’m going to wake up soon having fallen asleep on
watch or something…Estel will be right beside me, hovering near the fire for
warmth…this is just a dream!
But it wasn’t a dream. It was the harshness of reality and Estel, his dear friend, really was dying in his arms. His life’s blood seeping from the ghastly wound in the man’s torso, slowly pouring through the bandage and the cloth Legolas held against it as they rode, covering the Elf’s hand with the crimson liquid.
“Estel, I don’t know if you can hear me, mellon nin, but I am here and we are going to get you to Lord Elrond. You are not going to die like this. It didn’t kill me and it won’t kill you! I won’t let it.” His voice trailed off as he urged the horse a little faster, strengthening his grip on Estel’s lifeless body.
He was nearing the border of Imladris, inwardly hoping that he could find a border guard to send ahead with word of Estel’s condition. As he rode, he was vaguely aware of the insistent pain in his own shoulder, though he had long forgotten why it was there. He was too focused on Estel.
“Daro!” Came a command from up ahead. Legolas reined in the horse and didn’t even wait for the Elf to show him or herself.
“Estel is bad off, I need to get him to Lord Elrond!” the Prince begged, his voice edged with intense worry. “Please, take Estel’s horse and ride ahead!”
Emerging from the woods, a dark-haired Noldor Elf looked up at Legolas in awe, quickly taking in the condition of the man in the Prince’s arms. Then, the Elf nodded wordlessly, approached Estel’s horse and was soon off at a fast gallop.
Breathing in relief, Legolas nudged his mount forward again, making haste to Rivendell.
**************************************************************************************************************************
“My Lord!”
Elrond broke from his reading and looked up at the strangled cry. Surging to his feet, he swept from the room, fear in his eyes and heart. Somehow he knew. What he feared must have come to pass.
“My Lord,” Nerelan, a border guard, vaulted from atop a familiar horse. Estel’s horse. The Elf lord realized with a pang of anguish. “Lord Elrond, Prince Legolas is on his way. Estel is injured, it doesn’t look good, My Lord. They should be here shortly.”
Almost as if on cue, Legolas burst into the courtyard, his horse covered in lather from the hard ride, a listless and unconscious Estel perched in front of the Elf.
It didn’t escape Elrond’s eyes that Legolas had an arrow protruding from his chest, nearly where he had taken his old wound years ago. The shaft was buried deeply and it was a wonder that the Elf was still conscious, let alone coherent and able to ride.
He frowned, hurrying to the Prince’s side and taking his foster son down from the horse, worried when the man made no noise at the action. He was far gone by this time and Elrond knew he would have a time of calling the man back.
As soon as Estel was no longer touching Legolas, Elrond felt the man start to convulse and his breathing and heart rate skyrocketed. The Elder looked up at the weary Prince and it dawned on him that without that contact, Estel would die.
“Legolas, you are all that is keeping him alive right now, can you manage to bring him in?” Elrond said, hating to cause the Elf more pain, but knowing it was necessary all the same.
As he expected, Legolas took Estel from him and grunted under the man’s weight. But as soon as the contact was back, Estel quieted and his breathing evened out a bit. Elrond’s eyes narrowed. He had a feeling Legolas had inadvertently opened a bond between the two when he desperately channeled his strength to the dying human.
They hurried as fast as possible into the Healing Chambers and Legolas gently placed his precious cargo onto the nearest bed, not taking his hand from Estel’s as he collapsed into a chair beside the bed.
Elrond hurried to the man’s side and cleared away the bandages to get a look at the wound. He cringed, not wanting to imagine the pain it would cause if Estel was still conscious.
They had gotten there in time though and Elrond had no doubts he could save his son’s life. The door to the chambers burst open and a disgruntled pair of Elven twins rushed in, tripping over each other in their haste.
“We just got back…” panted Elrohir, “and we heard about Estel,” finished Elladan.
Elrond didn’t respond; he was too busy working on saving Estel’s life. Seeing this and quieting, Elladan looked at Legolas who was shaking in his chair. Then the twin’s eyes found the arrow.
“By the Valar, Legolas, you have that still in you! And you are shaking like a leaf!” hurrying forward, immediately taking on the air of a healer, Elladan knelt in front of the Elf Prince.
“I’m fine,” Legolas protested, feebly trying to push the Elf’s hands away from him, his voice slurred and his head swimming.
Elladan would not take no for an answer and pressed his hand to Legolas’ forehead, pulling it back quickly. “You are burning up! You were attacked by Orcs, there is a good chance this is poisoned!”
With a wordless glance at his father, Elladan motioned for Elrohir. “Hold him.”
Legolas, only now realizing what the twins were talking about, looked up quickly. His hand tightened on Estel’s arm and he shook his head. “I can’t let go of him, he’ll die.”
Elrond nodded in agreement, but spoke. “Aye you can not let go, Legolas. But Elladan and Elrohir must remove that, I fear they are correct and it is poisoned. You would not do either of you any good by succumbing to the poison now.”
Legolas did not answer, but nodded lightly, readjusting his grip on Estel. “All right,” he muttered, looking up with imploring eyes, “just do it quickly, mellyn nin.”
Elrohir wasted no time in coming around behind Legolas in the chair and wrapping his arms around the Prince and the chair back in a tight bearhug. Elladan, trapping Legolas’ legs between his own, leaned forward and grasped the arrow. Then he stopped.
“
Elrond frowned, now noticing this as well. “You must push it through then,” he said solemnly, locking eyes with Legolas.
The Prince groaned lightly, than felt a squeeze on his hand. Eyes snapped toward the bed and found Estel’s eyes open, though not all the way. He was looking at the Prince, focusing all his attention on his best friend.
“I’m here,” he whispered. Then he sighed and waited, struggling to stay conscious.
Legolas nodded and tensed as Elladan pulled him forward and Elrohir repositioned himself to keep Legolas from pushing backward. Then, Elladan pushed forward hard on the arrow and sobbed when he heard his friend cry out.
But it wasn’t finished yet. Elrohir hurriedly cut the arrowhead off the shaft and Elladan pushed Legolas back, while his brother pulled the Prince, and the shaft slide from Legolas’ body.
For a moment, he lost his grip on Estel and Elrond jumped in surprise as the man jerked and convulsed.
“What the…” Elrohir said, seeing the sudden and rapid
deterioration of the human. “
Elrond’s eyes narrowed. “Legolas? Just how much strength did you give him?”
The Elf Prince didn’t answer, just looked down a little. He was still trembling and his hand shook as he grasped Estel again. “Too much…” the Elf finally muttered.
Elrond nodded. “I do believe that Legolas is so deeply connected to Estel that if he lets him go for an instant, we might still lose your brother.”
As he spoke, he saw Legolas sway. Then, suddenly, to the horror of the Elves and the semi-conscious Estel, Legolas tipped forward and passed out, caught in the nick of time by Elladan.
Quickly, Elrond held the Elf’s hand on Estel and thought for a moment. What they did here and now would determine if Mando’s Halls would gain an Elf and if Estel would live to fulfill his destiny. “Estel. Can you hear me? Do you understand me?”
Estel nodded lightly, tired beyond belief. “Yes.”
“If Legolas continues to connect with you, he will kill himself, Estel. You must use your own strength and my strength to stay alive now. You have to sever the connection from your end, he will not do it.”
Estel blinked and closed his eyes. In seconds, he started to convulse. Elrond grasped his hand and poured healing strength into his son as the twins disconnected Legolas and Estel.
Estel continued to convulse for a few minutes while Legolas was taken care of by the twins. Then, three sets of Elven eyes turned to the man in the bed.
He arched off the bed once.
Then, he was still.
**************************************************************************************************************************
Chapter Seven: Saving both
“Father! Is he?” Elladan was laying Legolas in a nearby bed, gently depositing his friend and turning back to his father with worry. He had seen Estel convulse and then stop moving.
Elrond didn’t answer. His eyes were closed and he was locked in a deep trance, desperately trying to tether the Man to this world. If Estel had been an Elf, his body would have had better chances of dealing with this injury. But as it were, he was losing his battle.
Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. Both knew the gravity of the situation and prayed that their brother would survive this. The elder twin looked back to Legolas, seeing the pale face and uneven breathing.
“We can do nothing for Estel, El,” he said quietly. “But we can help Legolas.”
Nodding, the brothers set to work, each taking hold of their dear friend and attempting to call him back from wherever he was.
The room was silent as the Elves fought to save them both.
************************************************************************************************************************
The lake shimmered in the early morning sun, a light layer of mist still shrouded the far side but the mist was neither heavy nor dark. Nothing here was dark and Estel felt no pain, only happiness.
He settled himself along side the glistening water and smiled lightly. Such peace wasn’t found anywhere in Middle-Earth these days. How he wished Legolas and his family could see this.
Legolas? The twins, Adar!? He suddenly thought, surging to his feet. Where am I? I remember them being there…then Legolas passed out…LEGOLAS!? Turning, he frantically sought out his friend. But no one was there. He was utterly alone in this paradise.
Or so he thought.
“Estel?”
Spinning on his heel, Estel faced the direction the voice had come from and gasped. A beautiful, dark-haired Elf stood in front of him, her white, flowing gown bright as the sun’s rays.
“Who…who are you?” he asked, surprised by the appearance of an Elf he didn’t know in his dream world.
A small, wane smile crossed the she-Elf’s face. “I am Ithilwen,” she answered. “Have you not heard of me?”
Estel’s eyes widened. “Legolas’ mother.” He couldn’t believe he stood before his best friend’s mother. The Prince rarely spoke of Ithilwen, for what reason Estel didn’t know. He only knew that the King and Prince had lost this lovely Elf during an attack on a travel party many long years ago.
Ithilwen smiled again. “Yes, I am Legolas’ mother, Estel. Might I ask what you are doing here, young Human?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Estel sighed. “I’m dying I would expect. Legolas tried to save me, but I don’t think he could even if he died trying.”
Now the smile left her face. “Legolas is dying, Estel. He poured too much into you in his desire to save his best friend,” she was frowning now. “You must go back, because if you do not, not only will Legolas join me here where he is not meant to tread, but the world of Men will one day fall as well.”
The young man knew he was being given an inkling of the future and it was a future that he did not want to think about. “But I am happy here, Queen Ithilwen. I do not wish to hurt and suffer anymore.”
“Then you shall doom Legolas to a fate he is not to have,” she answered, shaking her head in sorrow.
Estel chewed his lip. He couldn’t let this happen to Legolas. He loved his friend like a brother and would do anything to help him. “I do not wish this fate upon my friend, if it is not his to bear.” He answered slowly, looking up and locking eyes with Ithilwen. “How do I get back?”
Smiling again, she pointed behind her. “Follow him.”
Turning, Estel gasped. “
Moving to take a step forward, Estel found himself unable to do so. He could only step in the direction of the Elf Lord and could do nothing to reach Legolas.
Elrond, sorrow in his eyes, waited until his son reached
him. “
His father shook his head. “You can only do that by leaving here and calling to him from the outside, Estel. His life depends on you now, ion nin.”
Nodding, Estel followed Elrond.
************************************************************************************************************************
“Naneth!?” Legolas gasped, not believing his eyes. He had been in Middle-Earth, watching Estel die only moments before and now he was standing in a beautiful glade, looking at a form he hasn’t seen in centuries. “How?”
Laughing, the Elf brushed the hair from her son’s eyes. “You are dying, my little Greenleaf.”
For a moment, neither said anything. Legolas stared at his mother in shock. “Dying? But I was all right a few moments ago, Naneth, how can I now be dying?”
His mother smiled wanly. “Your heart is too big, ion nin. You gave all your strength to Estel. He will live now. But you…you I am not so sure of.” She grasped his arm, frowning. “You are deeply inside this realm, Legolas. You do not belong here, but if Estel has not the strength to call you back…”
“Then I will remain here…and the fates will have changed…” Legolas finished for her. Somehow, he knew he wasn’t meant to be here, as wonderful as it was to see his mother. He knew he would see her again someday…in Valinor when he sailed there. This was wrong.
“What can we do?” he asked.
“Wait.” Ithilwen sat on the grass. “All we can do is wait, Legolas.”
*************************************************************************************************************************
“
“NO!” Elrohir yelled, standing quickly. “Legolas…don’t you dare do this to us…not now!” Elladan’s eyes were full of anguish as he looked at his father and Estel.
Elrond rushed to the second bed, feeling for a pulse, knowing what he would find before reaching the blonde Elf. His head fell. “Legolas is fading, Estel. His body no longer functions; he is far into the other realm. You must call him back!”
Estel nodded. “Get me to him!”
Elladan and Elrohir hauled their ailing brother over to the Elf’s bed. Estel cringed, seeing the bloody mess of Legolas’ tunic and the unmoving chest of his best friend. Tears threatened, but he knew he had work to do.
Reaching out, he took hold of Legolas’ hand and closed his
eyes. Legolas? Mellon nin? Can
you hear me? I need you to return to us. Lasto beth nin, tolo
dan, Legolas. (Hear my voice, come back, Legolas.)
Inwardly, Estel knew that his thoughts would not be enough. He would need to do as Elrond had done, travel to the other realm and bring Legolas back. He only hoped that he would have the strength to return them both to the land of the living.
“
The twins exchanged nervous glances. But Elrond did not hesitate. “You have one, Estel. Go quickly and may the Valar bring you both back to us.”
Estel nodded, turned back to Legolas and settled back, falling into a deep trance, lost to the real world. His father and brothers looked on anxiously, glancing between the unmoving Prince and the Human sitting beside him.
“Please…Legolas…come back to us,” Elrohir sobbed lightly. “I promise I’ll never play pranks on you again.”
His brother stole a hidden glance at his brother and smiled
wearily at the promise. I promise the
same…
**************************************************************************************************************************
Chapter Eight: Return
“Naneth?” Legolas sighed, shifting from his back to his side on the silky grass beside the pond. “Do you think Estel will come? He was badly wounded, what if he doesn’t have the strength to bring me back? Do you know what will happen to Arda?”
His mother nodded lightly. “I do know, Legolas. But it is not something I can tell you. Estel will come and he will bring you back. I feel sure of it. Do you not feel so sure of it yourself?” she looked at him now, her eyes light and questioning.
A small smile crossed Legolas’ face. “Aye, I do feel sure of
it. I don’t know why I even asked you that question. Estel has never let me
down before, he won’t start now. I risked my life to save him and I’ve no doubt
he will do the same for
Ithilwen stole a glance at her son’s form. He had become increasingly solid and she worried about this. The thought dawned on her that perhaps her presence with her son was speeding the process. He had longed to see her for so long after her death that perhaps now that he was with her, subconsciously he was allowing his body to die.
“Legolas, ion nin, I must leave you now. Wait here, Estel will come for you. Be strong my Greenleaf.” It was the hardest thing for her to do, but the Queen stood up and turned to walk away.
“Will I ever see you again?”
Stopping, Ithilwen turned. “Yes, Legolas. Long from now once you have sailed. There will be a day when the Elves of Valinor and those who dwell in the Halls of Mandos will be reunited. Until that day, remember I am always with you, here…” she placed a hand on her heart and then, she faded away.
Legolas hadn’t felt so unbelievably alone as he did now. Birds chirped in the trees, but the Prince didn’t feel a connection to this world yet. He couldn’t hear the song of the trees or the earth. He was here, but he was not.
Then, he was no longer alone.
**************************************************************************************************************************
“
Elrond’s eyes opened and his son saw the sorrow there. “I know, Elladan. He is fading quickly. I do not know how close Estel is, but he must hurry or we will lose the Prince.”
Elladan nodded solemnly, then went back to Legolas’ side and stood with Elrohir. The twins exchanged glances and then decided to lend what strength they could to their father and brother. Taking positions on each side of the Human, they laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed their own formidable strength to him as their father was doing.
A small smile crossed Estel’s face at the added surge of energy. He felt no fear now, knowing his father and brothers were there, and he fell into the deepest trance he had ever mustered.
**************************************************************************************************************************
“Legolas! Where are you? Please, mellon nin, help me find you!” Estel called, wandering through a grove of trees, back in the realm he had only just escaped from himself. He could feel the strength of his family, but knew he had to act quickly.
He could barely perceive a shimmering in the distance, it looked to be a body of water, and he remembered that he had spoken with Ithilwen beside a pond. He must be there! She would have told him not to have wandered; she knew it was not his time!
Excitement ran through the man and he broke into a run. In this realm he held no grievous injuries and he was immensely grateful for it now as he hurried to find his ailing friend.
It was only a few minutes before the lake came into view. Estel saw Legolas lying on his back beside the beautiful waters and he skidded to a halt ten feet from the Elf. Legolas pushed himself into a sitting position and turned to face his friend, smiling brightly.
“I knew you would come for me,” he whispered, standing. “I hope it is not too late.”
Estel looked at Legolas in awe. The Elf was normally bright, but here, here he was shining with an inner glow that rivaled any Elf he had ever met. “Legolas, you are deeply connected here…” he muttered.
The Prince’s eyes fell and he nodded. “I can hear the songs of this realm. My body has already lost its battle in yours, but I know I can not remain here. We must try; you must bring me back, Estel.”
Nodding, the Human reached forward, taking his friends arm in his hand. “I will lead you, but you must walk with me.”
Legolas nodded and followed. Soon, the two were entering the trees; following the path Lord Elrond had led Estel along a short while ago.
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“Legolas…”
Estel shook his head, his eyes opening and he groaned. The pain came crashing back to him now that he was back in the realm of Middle-Earth. But he pushed it aside and focused on his friend.
Elladan reached forward, feeling for a pulse. “Thank the Valar, Estel! You did it! He is no longer treading the Halls of Mandos. We thought for a minute there he was not going to make it, we should not have underestimated you.”
Elrohir was smiling now and he gripped his father’s shoulder. “Will he be all right now? The athelas seem to have worked well; his body no longer shows signs of poison from the arrow.”
“I think he will be all right now,” Elrond whispered, looking toward the Prince who began to stir.
Blue eyes fluttered open and locked on Estel. Blinking, Legolas forced himself to speak, despite the dryness of his throat. “You should be lying down, Estel.”
There was a flutter of laughter and Estel nodded wearily. “I think I should.”
Once both patients were comfortably resting, Legolas smiled and turned to Elrohir. “I do believe you have a promise to keep now.”
Elrohir looked at the Prince in confusion. “What do you mean, Legolas?”
“You said if we came back you would never play another prank on us again.”
The twin’s eyes widened. “No! You didn’t hear that!? You were unconscious, practically dead, how?”
“Elrohir, a promise is a promise,” his brother chided, laughing at the look in his twin’s eyes. But his smile faded when he saw the look on Legolas’ face. “What…”
“Do not think I didn’t hear your ‘I promise the same…’ Elladan,” the Prince laughed. “Being almost dead as I was, I had what you might call an out-of-body experience and heard the both of you. I fully plan on holding you to your promises!”
All eyes snapped to Lord Elrond when the Elf Lord let out a hardy laugh. “I should like to live to see the day when Elladan and Elrohir no longer play pranks on you Legolas! But something tells me that they will argue that this promise was made under duress and should not be honored.”
Elrohir smiled. “YES, that is it! See, no promise made under duress need be held up!”
“Yeah right, you made that rule up on the spot. And I say no rule made up to aide oneself in reneging on a promise is to be accepted as a rule,” Estel grunted, trying to hide a small smile.
“Yeah, uhm…whatever he said,” Legolas agreed.
Peals of laughter were heard in the corridor outside the Healing Chambers, though they quickly changed to orders of rest for the injured.
Then, Estel’s voice piped up. “Speaking of promises…” he muttered, looking to Legolas, “You have a story to finish.”
The Prince groaned at that and buried his head under his good arm.
THE END
(Continued in Friendship Carries Us Through)