Chapter 3
'Yesterday
we shook hands,
My friend,
Today a moonbeam lightens my path,
My guardian.'
Angels
fall first - Nightwish
Gimli
stared around what had once been his room in the palace. It
was hardly recognisable as such now; most of the furniture had
been destroyed, as had anything else within reach. His axe lay
where he had dropped it after his rage had finally given way
to tears. It wasn't right, he thought bitterly. It should never
have been the elf. It should have been him. If only he'd seen
that soldier earlier. It was his fault, all his fault! He knew
it was and nothing would make him believe otherwise. Lord Elrond
had tried to lift the blame from him yesterday, but the dwarf
would have none of it. Legolas had died because of him, and
the guilt would haunt him forever.
Gimli
snarled as he heard a knock on the door. Why couldn't they leave
him alone? "What do you want?!" He yelled through
the closed door. He did not want to have to face anyone, he
felt sure he would start crying again. The terrified voice of
a young servant girl came back in reply.
"Lord
Gimli, King Thranduil has arrived. He has asked to speak with
you." Gimli's rage fled at the words. The bone-deep sorrow
that the rage had hidden returned instantly. If he felt like
this, then what was Legolas' father going through? He did not
wish to, but he knew he had to speak with the Elven-King. Taking
a deep breath, Gimli tried to calm himself. Then, with a shaking
hand, he opened the door of his room and went to face the King
of Mirkwood.
Thranduil stood by a tree in the gardens, leaning on the thick
trunk for support. He had just come from the Room of Waiting
where his son lay. He tried to force the images from his mind.
That was not how he wanted to remember Legolas. His son had
always been so full of life, always ready with a smile and a
joke. Just like his mother. A deep pain filled him. His wife
had died two thousand years ago, when Legolas was very young.
Now Legolas was gone too. Was there anything left to live for?
Gimli slowly approached the Elven-King. Thranduil's back was
facing him and the elf was gripping the trunk of the tree he
stood by. The dwarf went to speak, but Thranduil heard him coming
and turned around.
"Master
Dwarf." He said softly. Gimli's heart almost stopped. He
had never realised before how much Legolas had looked like his
father. When Thranduil had turned, he'd thought, just for a
second, that it was Legolas and not Thranduil who stood before
him. Trying to control his emotions, Gimli bowed low to the
elf.
"Lord
Thranduil." He greeted him in a voice that trembled slightly.
A
period of silence followed as both elf and dwarf tried to figure
out what to say. Eventually, it was Thranduil who spoke.
"My
son died to save your life." It was a statement, not a
question. Fearing what the King would say next, Gimli could
only nod. "He thought highly of you. I had always feared
what would happen when you and Aragorn died and he was left
alone." The King stifled a sob. "I need not have worried."
The
guilt that Gimli already felt intensified as he listened to
his friend's father. He looked away, wishing more than ever
that it had been he, not Legolas, who had died. He was sure
the Elven-King must hate him, so he was unprepared for Thranduil's
next words.
"But
he made the right choice." Gimli stared at the Elven-King
in shock as he continued. "Legolas was always extremely
loyal and protective. He would always put the lives of others
before his own. If he had saved himself, he would have betrayed
everything that he was." Thranduil looked sternly at Gimli.
"So I suggest, Master Dwarf, that you live the remainder
of your days in such a way that my son's death was not in vain."
With
that, the elf-lord turned and walked away, leaving Gimli rooted
to the spot.
The funeral was held the next day. In the customs of the Elves,
Legolas' body was cremated and his ashes were given to Thranduil,
to be scattered among the trees of Mirkwood.
The
eulogy that Aragorn gave moved even those who hardly knew the
elf to tears. He spoke of their long friendship and of some
of the many things that they had been through together. He told
them of the Prince's love for his family and friends and his
great affinity for all living things. Yet it was what he didn't
say that held the most meaning. It was the look in his eyes
and the tone of his voice that said all the things that words
could not.
There
was not a single person in attendance that could not see the
depths of the King's grief.
Over the next few days, the guests that had come to Gondor for
the funeral slowly began to leave, heading back to their homes
and their lives. Thranduil was the first to leave. His son's
funeral had almost broken his heart and he could no longer stay
in the city where he had bid Legolas farewell. He had departed
the morning after the funeral, taking Legolas' ashes with him.
Before
he had left though, he had called both Aragorn and Gimli to
stand before him. Then he had placed Legolas' bow in Aragorn's
hand and his twin knives in Gimli's. At the look of surprise
on their faces the Elven-King had simply told them. "He
would have wanted you to have them."
The
two friends had been touched by Thranduil's gesture and had
vowed to always cherish the gifts. They would be a physical
reminder of their greatest friend.
Elrond
and the twins stayed longer than most, helping and supporting
Aragorn and Arwen, but eventually they could no longer ignore
their duties back in Rivendell. Estel knew though, if ever he
needed them, they would come back.
The last to leave was Gimli. He had to return to the Glittering
Caves, though he did not know how he could rule his people after
all that had happened. Yet Thranduil's words stayed with him
and in them he found strength. He would not let Legolas down.
However hard it may be, he had to keep on living.
~It smiled. This was a most wonderful stroke of luck. The elf's
death had hit the King hard and it would take him many years
to recover - if he ever did. A King weakened by grief was just
what it needed. Now it had the time it needed to put its plan
into action.~
*End
flashback*
Aragorn slowly climbed the stairs to his rooms. Tomorrow it
would be twelve years to the day that Legolas had died. In all
that time the pain of losing his best friend had not lessened,
though he had learned to live with it. Gimli had arrived earlier
that day. It had become a ritual for them over the past twelve
years to meet on that day and remember their friend and his
life.
He
entered the room and saw Arwen sitting up in bed. Wordlessly
he undressed and got into the large bed beside her.
She
waited until he was settled. When he had blown out the candle
and laid down, she moved closer to him, laying her hand on his
heart. "Estel?" She spoke softly, worried that what
she had to say might upset him. He turned his head so that he
could see her face.
"Yes
love?" He said, though he did not really wish to talk.
Arwen took a deep breath.
"It
has been twelve years Estel and still you grieve. I know he
was your best friend, but I am sure he would not want this.
Legolas loved life, he would want you to live it to the full
and not spend your time lingering in the past." Aragorn
closed his eyes. He had known that she would bring this up sooner
or later. The words hurt, but then, the truth often did.
"Oh
Arwen, I know that you are right, but I cannot help it. We went
through so much together over so many years that I still cannot
believe that we will never meet again." He looked at her
closely. "I can see how it upsets you though, so for your
sake and for Legolas' memory, I will try to move past the pain."
He wrapped his arms around her and she smiled.
"I'm
glad my love. Legolas would be too." She moved in his arms
and kissed him tenderly. "Now get some sleep."
~It growled in frustration. It had thought it had longer than
this. Damn that she-elf! She was causing problems. It might
have to take care of her.~
Aragorn and Gimli walked side-by-side in the palace gardens.
They said little, both lost in the memories. As they came to
a large oak tree, Aragorn stopped. A memory pushed its way into
his mind. Suddenly, he smiled and a quiet laugh escaped him.
On
hearing the laugh, Gimli turned and stared at his friend, mouth
open in shock. Surely Aragorn was not laughing? Not on this
of all days! "Aragorn?!" The dwarf gasped.
"Forgive
me Gimli." Aragorn said, still smiling. "I was just
remembering a camping trip Legolas and I went on many years
ago. It started raining and Legolas was afraid I would get ill,
so we took shelter in the hollow of an old oak tree. We thought
we'd be fine, but the rain became a storm and the tree was no
longer safe. I got out fine, but as Legolas went to get out,
a great gust of wind snapped a large branch off the tree opposite
and by sheer bad luck, in fell into the hollow. Legolas just
pinned himself to the back of the trunk in time! I cut him out
eventually, but you should have seen his face when he realised
that he, a wood-elf, was stuck in that tree!" Despite himself,
Gimli laughed.
"Oh,
I can imagine it well enough!" He grinned. Aragorn looked
down at the dwarf. There was a slight sparkle in his eyes.
"We
have lingered on the pain for too long my friend. We had many
good times with Legolas. Let us remember those now." Gimli
nodded in agreement and approval. Aragorn was right. The elf
should be remembered with smiles and laughter, not tears.
For
the rest of the day they told each other stories of the adventures
that they had shared with the Prince of Mirkwood. Often, Laughter
could be heard ringing in the trees. Arwen heard the laughs
and smiled. Perhaps things were finally looking up.
~"No!" It cursed. Things were moving too fast! It
would have to do something and soon, or all it's carefully made
plans would come to nothing!~
END
CHAPTER 3
