- Reunion -

----------------------

His head hurt. The rest of his body did, too, and his leg seemed to be on fire. He heard someone moan. He was lying on something wet, and water seemed to be trickling down on him. Memories awakened slowly. An ambush, falling down a steep slope, a fight, pain…

He opened his eyes. He was looking into a grey sky, and a steady spring rain was wetting his face and the ground he lay on. He welcomed it, wishing that it would wash both the memories and the blood and grime from him. Turning his head slightly, he saw muddy ground, puddles and corpses of orcs lying not far away from him. He looked up at the trees, smiling as he took in the beauty of the spring forest. It had been worth it. Ithilien had been worth it all.

He felt himself drift slowly out of consciousness again. Faintly, he heard voices, seeming to come from far above. “Search everywhere! Find him!” Then there was only darkness.

-------

When he awoke again there were hands on him, touching and probing. Remembering his desperate fight against the orcs and claws trying to take hold of him, he tried weakly to move away from the touch and forced his heavy eyelids to open once more. He could not help moaning at the pain the movement caused.

“Do not move,” a familiar voice said, and gentle hands pressed his shoulder back against the ground. “Let me take care of your wounds first.”

He blinked, and saw a man kneeling beside him. The man had thrown the hood of his cloak back, revealing dark, curly hair that was plastered against his head and dripping from rain now. Stormy grey eyes met his gaze, and he could see worry, fear, and a hint of anger in them.

“Estel…?”

“I am here. Lie still, Legolas.”

Legolas did as he was asked. In the face before him he saw traces of the fright he had caused the man, of a desperate search, and shock and fear at finding him in this state.

“Could you not once find a safe, peaceful forest to dwell in?” Elessar asked, while he pressed down on another wound to stop the blood from flowing.

“There are no spiders here,” Legolas offered weakly.

The king glowered at him. “I will believe that when I know where Shelob is,” he answered tersely. “When I arrived, the first thing I learned from Faramir was that you had not come back from what was meant to be a short excursion into the forest. We left immediately, but still we were nearly too late.”

Recognizing the pain in his friend’s eyes, Legolas mustered enough strength to move one hand and place it over the king’s fingers, which still pressed against his wound. He saw the last traces of anger fade from his friend’s face.

“Just once I want to find you hale and safe, my friend,” the man said softly.

“I promise you will,” the elf answered with a weak smile. “Next time.”

Elessar shook his head, but smiled back at his friend. His eyes softened. “Rest now,” he said, brushing his fingers lightly over the elf’s eyes, causing them to close. “Just rest.”

Knowing that there was no safer place than here, with the mud and the rain and the orc corpses, as long as his friend was by his side, Legolas relaxed and drifted off into welcoming darkness once more.


----------------------------

A small Problem

----------------------------

“We are lost, aren’t we?“ The elf had come to a dead stop, refusing to go any further.

His human friend leaned against a tree next to him. “Yes, we are,” he answered reluctantly.

For a moment they both simply stood there, Aragorn looking at the trees around them, and Legolas looking at Aragorn. Suddenly, the human’s frustration gave way to a grin.

Legolas watched him curiously. “What is so funny about it?”

“Well, I am supposed to be a ranger, and you are supposed to be a wood-elf. We are in a wood not far from my home - and we are lost.”

“I see.” Legolas’ lips twitched. “You are right, it is funny.”

“I think Halbarad will find this very amusing.”

“Not to mention your brothers.”

Aragorn groaned.

“Legolas?” the human began hesitantly after a short silence.

“Hm?”

“Perhaps we should keep this to ourselves? There’s really no need to worry people for nothing.”

The elf seemed to give it serious thought for a moment, then he nodded. “I think that is a very good idea.”

Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief.

“There is only one problem,” the elf went on.

“What problem?”

“We are still lost.”

“Oh.”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

- The Fading Flower -

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“I should have known I would find you here,” Aragorn commented, dragging his weary body up onto the wooden platform, which had been built so high up between the branches of the mighty tree that it almost seemed to be possible to reach out and touch the sky from here. He had not bothered to count the ladders and flets he had had to climb or cross to get here, but judging from the shaking of his legs and the heavy breathing he was trying to hide, it had been too many. “You would always choose the flet farthest away from the ground to climb to.”

Legolas, who was sitting cross-legged on the far end of the small flet, looked back over his shoulder at his friend, amusement in his eyes. The elf did not look surprised, and Aragorn knew Legolas had likely been aware of his ascent for quite some time now. “I did not force you to join me, Estel,” the elf remarked.

Knowing there was not really an answer to that, Aragorn instead crossed the platform and dropped down beside his friend, though he chose to sit a little bit farther away from the edge of the flet than the elf. The view in front of him was breathtaking, and the ranger simply sat in silence for a while, taking in the beauty of his surroundings.

Their flet seemed to be drifting in a sea of pale golden Mallorn leaves, which were swaying and rustling gently in a light breeze, like waves rippling upon the shore. The foliage almost seemed to shine in its own inner golden light, and if Aragorn had not already seen this place in summer, he never would have believed it was winter now. Beyond the Golden Wood, the river Anduin shimmered in the sunlight like a band of silver, and on its far side lay another, darker forest, the edge of which seemed to be shrouded in grey mist even in broad daylight.

Aragorn knew he was looking at the pine trees which constituted the southern border of Mirkwood and held the hill and the dark tower of Dol Guldur in their midst. Even from this distance, shadows clung to the densely growing trees, shadows which could not even be pierced by the light of Anor and seemed to emanate from Dol Guldur like a slowly spreading poison. The hill and the tower themselves could not be seen where they lay hidden in their own darkness, and the ranger did not want to imagine what might be dwelling there, or beneath the boughs of the surrounding trees, these days.

Unwilling to let his gaze linger on the cursed place any longer, Aragorn looked further to the north, where the trees seemed friendlier and less marred by the darkness. He had already been well aware of the vastness of the forest that was now called ‘Mirkwood’ from the many times he had had the opportunity to look down on it when travelling over the Misty Mountains, but he found it was even more impressive when viewed from a lesser height.

From here, the forest seemed to extend as far as the eyes could see, a winter-brown woven tapestry of intertwining boughs and bare treetops. He let his gaze rest on it for a while, easily finding the beauty and the promise there that Legolas had so often tried to convey to him. Suddenly, it was easy to understand why the elf had chosen this of all possible flets to retreat to.

“Your people and your forest have survived for too long to be defeated now,” he finally spoke, his words no louder than the rustling of the leaves around them.

Legolas did not turn his head, but he smiled. “I know,” he said, but his eyes were turned to the east, and there was sorrow in them as well as longing.

Both understanding his friend’s feelings and knowing there were no other assurances he could give, Aragorn decided to voice what had been on his mind for several days now, and what had finally driven him to seek the elf out today. “I have not seen you very often during these last days,” he said. “Are you well?”

Legolas smiled at him warmly, at last tearing his gaze away from the forest he had called ‘home’ for countless years. “Yes, I am, Estel,” he answered. “I just… needed some time for myself.”

Aragorn nodded, understanding perfectly. He knew the elf had likely been overwhelmed, both by his grief for Gandalf and the magical beauty of the place he found himself in. The ranger was glad Legolas had had the chance to spend some time among his own people, who would have been able to understand his grief and share it in a way only elves could ever truly understand. His friend seemed to fare better than the last time he had seen him and Aragorn realized that, for once, his worry had been unfounded.

“I take it you have used the time to revisit sweet memories?” the elf asked, breaking into his thoughts.

Aragorn smiled a bit wistfully. “To me, they will always be rather bittersweet, though they have brought me happiness beyond imagining.” He fell silent, looking at the Mallorn leaves beyond the flet without really seeing them.

Perhaps sensing that his friend did not wish to talk about the subject any more, Legolas did not answer anything to that. “Everything seems to be bittersweet about this place,” he said instead. “I never dreamed there could be so much beauty left in Middle-earth, and yet I also never dreamed I would see my people leave these shores and all that beauty fade away with them. Now it seems even a victory will mean an end of sorts.” He studied the sunlight shining through the leaves around them for a moment, then he added, “It is hard to believe that this place and those who live here will soon be no more than a memory.”

It was a thought Aragorn had found hard to endure from the moment the subject had first been raised at the Council of Elrond, but he knew he could not begin to imagine what it meant to an elf. “Like Gandalf?” he asked quietly.

Legolas looked at him, frowning slightly. “Mithrandir will never be forgotten, for as long as there are elves to remember him. I wonder who will remember the elves, when all of us have finally left these shores, or faded away?”

“There is hope still,” Aragorn reminded him firmly, not willing to go there, and equally unwilling to allow his friend to dwell on such gloomy thoughts. “Perhaps, if we are victorious, the elves will not have to leave. Perhaps the power of the three Rings will not fade.”

“Lord Elrond believes it will, and so does the Lady Galadriel,” Legolas objected. “The Land of the Valley of the Singing Gold has become no more than a dreamflower, and I fear that flower will fade soon. (1) Still, it gladdens my heart that I was allowed to see the Golden Wood before the end. I will never forget the wonders I have seen during our stay here.”

Aragorn did not speak for a while, collecting his thoughts. “If there is one thing I can promise you,” he then began, “it is that the elves will never be forgotten.”

Legolas looked at him questioningly, but did not interrupt, so the ranger continued, “Without the elves, something will always be missing in this world. Even if no one will remember what has been lost, they will still mourn for it.” He met his friend’s gaze. “Besides, the elves will leave, not die. Their realms and deeds will never be forgotten as long as they carry their memories in their heart.”

“Just like Mithrandir,” Legolas whispered.

“Just like Mithrandir,” Aragorn agreed. “If you ask me, the elves got the better part. They will lose neither their past, nor their future, while of men I am not so sure.”

“And still I wish neither elves nor wizards would have to become memories,” Legolas said.

Aragorn smiled a bit sadly. “So do I.”

“This is not how I expected a victory over darkness to be,” the elf added, “but I admit anything is preferable to Middle-earth being ruled by the Dark Lord.”

“Yes, it is.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“I believe there is one good thing about the Galadhrim leaving Middle-earth,” Legolas remarked before the silence could become uncomfortable. “There will be a lot fewer people who remember that I had to be led through the Golden Wood blindfolded because of a dwarf.”

Aragorn laughed, putting one arm lightly around his friend’s shoulders. “I do not think said dwarf will allow you to forget that anytime soon – especially since he seems to be, for some reason, convinced that it was all your fault.”

Legolas sighed.

After a long pause, he said, “I do not know what happens to men when they leave this world. But I know that some of them will never be forgotten.”

There was no answer, but the arm around his shoulders tightened and a warm hand squeezed his shoulder firmly for a fleeting moment.

The End...for now.
You like?

_________________


~A-E twin/father of Vampire Anakin~