Middle Earth; Third Age 2002

Detached, I fell through the darkness... No, fell was not the word. I was encased by it, for it was all around, holding clarity just out of reach. It had nearly latched onto me, but I would have to take its hand. Tentatively, I reached out, for it seemed so welcoming, so peaceful; however, something held me back. I was incognizant to understand what, all that existed was the dark--but then I remembered. The light. The light dawdled around me, my back being turned turned to it. I severed my tie to the shadow realm and drifted towards light, if even for a moment, for I felt that something--someone?--needed me.

My eyes slowly opened as I teetered on the edge of consciousness. There was light, but it was an imitation, nothing like the one I had walked towards. I knew the source of the light had been in this direction... It was not long until my confusion was brought to an end. My blurry gaze managed to focus in brief intervals and I saw an elf that looked strikingly like myself. His eyes were more icy, like a frost laced sky that the sun was only barely glimpsed beneath. I knew there was compassion just under the surface of the ice, for this elf was familiar to me. He was Thranduil, son of Oropher, king of what our people called Greenwood the Great. Adar. My father.

I was Legolas, his only son and heir and I had been following his orders, away on patrol... My own thoughts contradicted me. Mostly following orders, for had I not forced the Captain into allowing me to go on patrol of the more dangerous southern border of Greenwood?--Mirkwood, as it was better known in days since the shadow fell. My impotence. It was on patrol that I had sustained the wound that had rendered me here, helpless, but this time I knew I might not get another chance.

This time I could die... yet still I would not have chosen differently.

My adar did not see my eyes flutter open, one hand resting upon my brow, a finger caressing my cheek whilst his other hand clasped mine. His eyes were down, our gazes not connecting, though I wished they had just so I could offer him some small comfort. Despite this reservation I saw something wet on my adar's cheek and his eyes glistened. I knew not why, for there appeared to be no cause--then I realized: they were tears.

For me.

Again, my eyes became heavy and darkness encompassed me as my eyes drifted shut. I struggled to sort through my thoughts as they assaulted me, all concerning what I had only just witnessed: my adar--a stoic king, known in other lands as hard and cruel, but to me loving and kind--crying. It was an unfamiliar sight, rarely if ever having been witnessed by myself.

But what did it matter? Darkness had come back and it fought to smother the light. I began to slip into peaceful oblivion, my last thought being how I wished my adar could know how much I loved him, but I had no reason to stay. I breathed out--and did not inhale again.

Darkness as I had never known crept upon me whilst I did not attempt to breathe. This time I truly was falling, falling, falling, away from light and into dark, to the Halls of Mandos, towards death--but someone squeezed my hand

And

I

Stopped.

There was an essence in that touch that conveyed something. It was through a haze that the emotions reached me and as I felt them a question arose in my mind: Should I stay?

Whoever it was that squeezed my hand spoke, and I ignored the pain that full awareness brought, just managing to listen. The words were echoey and distant, but they fell on ears that were not yet deaf. "Saes, little leaf, stay. I cannot lose you as I lost your naneth... You are all I have left. The healers tell me you will leave soon, but I am begging you--don't! You are too precious... Saes, little leaf... I need you here... I love you... Stay."

Sensations swelled inside me as I listened. Should I stay? Nana was waiting in Mandos' Halls but Ada was here. He said he needed me.

Should I stay, all would be as it was. The Shadow would continue to rise and we would continue to drive it back. At some point, we might lose...

It hurt so much to try to come back... the pain lying on the edge of wakefulness was so fierce, it encroached upon me and should I stay I would be forced to embrace it.

I heard quiet sobs from my adar. He thinks I have left him--and have I? I could choose to steal his hope, and he would die as well, for grief would assault him and he would not fight back, leaving our people without a king. To go or to stay--I believe I have a choice; I also believe I have a destiny.

Should I stay?...

I took in a shuddering breath. My oxygen starved lungs screamed for more and I began to cough, injuries thence making themselves known. Joyous exclamations surrounded me and I felt Ada's strong embrace gently encasing me. Yes, light had won and I had stayed.

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Middle Earth; Third Age: 2952

The battle was over but I had been hit. The injury was one thing I could recount for certain. Little else was relevant in my thought process as I lay collapsed on the leafy ground, my own blood staining the greenery surrounding.

I was acutely aware of that around me, as shouts were lifted up announcing the dead or wounded, but still thoughts relating to it were vague and I could not concentrate. It was as if glass walls surrounded me, muting all noise and even the peaceful murmur of the trees.

The silence was deafening.

I saw feet pounding across the terrain but no sound accompanied the steps; lips moved with no vocal exclamation; rain fell with no patter. Suddenly a shadow passed over me, but it was a shadow I knew all too well. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, to me Estel, but to the people around us: Strider. We were among his people--the Dunedain, Rangers of the North. I had agreed to accompany him on this journey, a decision that placed me here.

Estel's lips continued to move, but for some reason, even his words could not be heard. I wished with all my heart that the glass was thinner or that they would understand that they spoke to ears that did not hear. Estel looked to be explaining something, but what struck me was the look in his eyes every time he glanced at the blood seeping from my abdomen.

I believe he called more Rangers over, and my suspicion was proved correct when other shadows joined his, one being Halbarad and another being a novice I had met some time earlier. A stretcher was laid out beside me, and I wanted to tell them that I could stand but my voice would not project any sort of sound. Now that my mind allowed the thought, I realized none of me would respond. The three began to move me

And

The

Glass

Shattered.

The pain ignited and fire burned everywhere. I screamed and heard my own voice resounding in my ears. Clenching my jaw, I willed my back to stop arching and after what seemed to be hours I won the small battle, falling back upon the stretcher I had been transferred to. Seconds later, blessed unawareness arrived to claim me.

The last words I heard were whispered by Estel in my own tongue, "Goheno-nin, Legolas, saes, goheno-nin..." Forgive me, Legolas, please, forgive me...

When I awoke, it was with a sort of numbness. There was still a constant sting where the orc had thrust his blade into my abdomen, but it was a sweet relief from the previous agony. Through narrowed eyes I observed that around me. I found myself in a rare position where the tent was empty but I was awake--something Estel rarely allowed to occur. Somehow, considering the circumstances, I was not surprised. Estel likely had many of his men to care for and others to hear reports from.

The longer I allowed myself to greet wakefulness the stronger each wave of pain grew, and soon sweat was beading itself along my brow. I gasped and clenched and unclenched my fists struggling to ignore the heat induced by both the said pain and newly raging fever I undoubtedly was experiencing. I fought against every attack, but it nearly felt like a losing battle.

I had always fought. I had always thought the fight for the right thing... But now? Maybe it was time to stop fighting. Perhaps I should just... cease.

Voices came near, slowly fading to a soft undertone. Estel walked in and guilt crept upon me. The friend I would leave behind... His hair was wet and some renegade strands fell in his eyes. Upon closer inspection I found his entire cloak to be covered in what I assumed to be rain. There was a haggard look on his face, one that I could recognize almost too easily. It was the look of his mortality, displaying the ways that life could weigh upon him.

Should I stay?

What sort of a friend would I be if I left Arda for the simple reason of weariness when remaining would be thousands experiencing the same circumstance? Selfish, ignorant, cruel... But the question lurked: Should I stay?

Estel saw my eyes staring intently at him and he allowed a brief smile to flit across his face before his worries were aroused. Swiftly I found him kneeling by my side. "Legolas? How are you feeling?"

I knew the question was unneeded as he already had one hand pressed against my forehead, the other lifting the blanket away from where it covered my wound. I spotted blood already marring the white fabric. "Fine," I lied, knowing he would not believe me.

The speculative look in his eye immediately reassured any doubts I may have had in my preexisting synopsis. Estel smiled again, squeezed my hand, then arose and began to put herbs in one of his many teas. I suddenly found it too hard to stay awake and felt myself drifting away, but before my eyes could shut, Estel had placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Legolas, saes, drink this."

Obediently, I allowed him to press the cup to my lips, momentarily forgetting what healer I was dealing with. As soon as the draught had been swallowed, sense returned. "You drugged me." I said, not caring that I had been on a similar path without it.

"You need the rest," was Estel's simple answer. "Besides, as soon as you wake, you will be begging to hunt or climb or whatever your kind does instead of following a healer's instructions."

"Filthy human." It was a pathetic and rather irrelevant response, but my fogging mind would not allow for elaboration.

"Stubborn elf."

There was something I had wanted to say. Sifting through my knotted thoughts, I at long last found the simple phrase. "Thank you." I did not give a reason for my thanks, but I knew my gwador would understand.

And my eyes closed.

It was in the void of unconsciousness that I allowed myself to think back again. Should I stay, I would likely find myself in this very position again, or perhaps even with Estel in this state, and there would be little that could be done. Worse: one day I would find Aragorn--Estel, my brother in all but blood--dying not of a wound but rather of age and I would look the same as I had since my hundredth year. Should I stay it would transpire and I would be forced to bear it. I would watch him die.

Words that slithered their way into oblivion made a choice all but nonexistent.

"I suppose we should have expected this, mellon-nin--one of us being injured again... I just don't understand why it must be you. You who takes a charge in place of my stand; you who throws yourself to the front whilst I then am shielded behind; you who must face the consequences for my actions... Why? Could you not let it be me. Let me help you... You're too selfless and one day..."

There was a pause, or perhaps my shock created a lull of its own. Me? Selfless? If only Estel knew. I was about to abandon him for my own vain comfort. The hush suddenly vanished and I again heard what Estel was saying.

"The wound is infected and your fever's risen again. Just thought I would tell you. I've heard you call for me in the fevered delirium you're trapped in... You said thank you before. I don't deserve your thanks. It's a gift I can't accept. I only ask one thing and I hope it's not too much, because... because I can't lose you. If you leave, I'll-I'll have no one. Yes, there are those in Rivendell, but you're different. I feel like... I don't know, gwador-nin, but I only ask--ask?--I beg of you to stay. Please don't leave..." Estel's voice had become thick. "Stay here..."

And what was there to reject in that simple request? Should I stay? I knew I would. For a very long time to come, I would stay.

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Middle Earth; Third Age: 3019

As soon as the soft, melodious notes reached my ears I froze. I had heard the legends, the facts, the warnings, but never had I thought they would affect me. Now, though: now my entire existence revolved around that one sound.

The cry of the gulls.

And

My

Heart

Yearned.

It yearned for Valinor, the Undying Lands. It thirsted to sail and with every part of my being I wished to give way to the desire.

I watched the rolling waves, my gaze fixated on that single image. One on top of the other, they made their journey, for a purpose only they knew of. One step forward and, at times, another back. They wandered. Never giving up, but always moving forward they would complete their task 'til the very end, no matter how tiring it might become. They were determined.

As I stood on the shores of Pelargir I forgot those around--my oldest and newest friends, comrades, my brothers in arms and in heart. Instead, I longed. I felt the Sea-longing that I had so heard about and now my feelings towards it completely overtook me. As I was transfixed, I began to sing, but it was a song sung with words of another:

To the Sea! To the Sea! The White gulls are crying!

The wind is blowing and the white foam is flying...

The song flowed through me in a pleasant melancholy. The past, present and possible future swirled inside me until I fell silent, the song lingering in the air. I felt it flowing into my very soul, making a residence to dwell in for a very long time to come. It pulled me to the Sea and I began to give in.

But should I stay? What of the waves? Was I not just like one? I was rolling, rolling, tumbling forth with a purpose, one that I must complete before all else... But what was it? Something from the past came to the surface of one of the many waves that roared in my thoughts.

The Lady Galadriel; she had warned me of this as we passed through the golden woods of Lothlorien. Her musical voice had spoken to me and words of both promise and forewarning had been embedded in my mind. At the time, I had completely doubted her, believing that I could never grow tired of the woods of my home.

Valar, how I was wrong.

Estel had tried to stop me from passing by the Sea, listing alternative paths I could deviate to. He knew what the consequences may be.

There were still so many I would leave behind.

Should I stay though, I would watch as my newfound and some old-found friends took on the burdens of mortality... Did my heart truly rest with the Sea?

Somewhere--somewhere far, far way--a hand touched my shoulder. My eyes were still stricken by the sight before me, but I knew who it was. Others were there as well, for I could feel the weight of their hopes. Their were hushed voices and pleas... Pleas for what though? The voices sounded sad, and I found myself wondering what they lamented. In my transfixed state, my mind found lucidity and I realized who they were. They were those that I knew, some standing with me and others not.

Few were memories, saying the Havens were not ready for me yet. Few were my brethren, leagues away, who had lamented my joining the Fellowships who waited for my return. Most important was my company, including the hobbits who were lightly tugging on my tunic. In the same way that a wave journeyed, so did I need to.

True, my heart now rested with the Sea, but it had yet to completely forsake the forest.

I blinked and my vision cleared. I blinked again and the Sea's hold lessened slightly. I turned and looked into Aragorn's grey eyes and saw what he refused to beg. 'Stay...' He knew what I felt, but he would not request that which was his own heart's desire. He would let me leave but... did I want to? Should I stay?

I put my hand upon his shoulder and smiled. My journey was not done yet.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Middle Earth; Fourth Age: 120

The years were gone. Passed by as swiftly as a quiet wind so I hardly noticed they were moving. Now I felt every breath of air, every passing second seemed an eternity all its own. I was ready to forsake it all.

I would never forget him. He had told me it would happen soon. Warned me, in fact. So I had stayed near for months, in the earlier ones traveling to Ithilien only under dire circumstances and in closer times refusing to leave no matter what the reason. I wanted to be there when it happened. When my heart was shattered.

I had watched friend after friend pass away, shrivel like a flower in the shade. The final blow had finally been dealt.

The king.

A friend.

My brother...

Every day since we met he had been the same.

I had said goodbye many times and he had done likewise. It was the end we had been dreading but no matter our defiance it had arrived. I had few precious tears left to cry, for Estel was dead

And

I

Was

Alone.

True as it be, Gimli, the ever stubborn rock-skulled dwarf I that had found to be a friend, had not lost resilience against death and he lived. But, ai, Aragorn... Strider... Elessar... the flame of hope had finally been snuffed out and with it went my own small candle. Was there truly anything left for me in this land?

My father had sailed. The hobbits--the innocent, naïve halflings--had forsaken life and greeted their graves, and Arwen would soon pass herself. At the time I chose to, Gimli would sail with me across the Sea on the boat that had been crafted for just such purpose. The Fellowship had been broken for the last time.

So long had I forsaken the Sea-longing, promising myself and Estel that I would wait until he was gone, and now, evidenced by the grief in my heart, he was. With all of my being, I could finally question: Should I stay?

He would always be Estel, I knew. Through the years I had formed a bond with him-more accurately strengthened one, for I believe from our first conversation we had begun to tie it.

I will always remember the moment when Estel had told me he thought Eldarion was ready to receive the crown. I knew what that meant--he was ready to leave. I had tried to remain stoic, struggled against the emotions waging in my heart, but eventually I had lost. We both wept as brothers and embraced as if it was the last time we would ever meet, for it very well could be. It was unknown if mortals were allowed any passage to Valinor, the truth being one of the great mysteries to be solved in death.

All too soon the day had come when Estel had said it was time. I stayed with him for some of the passing, then left to allow Arwen and Eldarion their privacy with the man who was so prominent in their lives. With a heavy heart I had dazedly entered again to utter a final farewell and dear last words, weeping as his last breath escaped his lips.

So now I gazed back at the forests and cities I had grown to love with my whole heart. There were people there, once having been great friends, but they were gone as I soon would be. For a final time I spoke with the trees; they understood the reasons for my departure, mourning but not begrudging my choice. I hid their voices in the vaults of memory, knowing I would not hear them again. Across the Sea, trees would be different but also the same. Bearing a sad smile, I came to the shore and again the gull's cry reached my ears. My weight left soft indentations on the white sands, and perhaps one day the footprints would be unknowingly followed. I would never know. But... I believed they would be--in the same way that I was following the path of my kinsmen before me... I could feel it, somewhere inside, in the depths that are strong enough to push through the sorrowing pounds that have resonance.

This journey was finished. I had weathered the path, defeated many a foe, and stood by my friends. So then, should I stay?

No. I believe I may leave. No cause called me to stay. Goodbye, mellyn-nin. Namárië. We will meet again. At that place where we are together... There, should I stay.

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Note: to read more like this, see In the End, a Legolas one-shot.