Legolas stood with his hand over his heart as the small, Lorien boat caught the swift current and rocked from side to side. Mist rose from the water, where the river spilled over the long falls. The elf thought that if he pressed his hand hard enough against his chest his heart would not shatter into a million pieces.
His deep blue eyes drifted past the boat, turning to the clear blue sky. Dimly he wondered why the sky was so blue when his whole world had turned so black. The death of Gandalf had been difficult, but not like this. This pain was different. This pain was deeper. Stronger. This pain threatened to consume him alive.
He'd smelled death on Boromir. He'd tasted death in the long, slow kisses. Yet, he thought he had more time. The shadows in his mind did not hint of Boromir's sudden death. Legolas believed what he felt was the natural scent of Boromir's mortality. Or, perhaps, he'd kept that secret, even from himself.
He swallowed and drew a shallow breath. The lump in his throat was tight. Legolas tried not to remember that horrible moment when he skidded into the clearing, with the smell of death in his nostrils and the ringing of death cries in his ears, and saw his lover prone beneath the tree with arrows protruding from his chest. He tried not to remember how Aragorn knelt beside Boromir and gave him the warrior's kiss. He tried not to remember how Aragorn had closed his beloved's eyes. Legolas pursed his lips. The final act should have been his. HE should have been there to close Boromir's eyes and kiss him farewell. He had been too late. He had failed Boromir. Just like he'd failed Gandalf.
Movement on the far bank caught his eye and he turned to stare across the river. He could see two tiny forms moving among the trees. The hobbits. His hand dropped to his side. The space where his heart had been ached, but there was no denying that, as the boat tipped over the falls, his heart had gone with Boromir. He watched the hobbits scramble among the stunted trees and his pain turned and twisted within him. The anguish melted into rage.
Boromir had loved Gondor more than any thing else in all of Middle Earth. He came to the quest to protect the Ring and save his beloved White City. Boromir no longer belonged to Minas Tirith. He no longer belonged to Gondor. He no longer belonged to Legolas. Now the great Captain General belonged to Middle Earth.
The hollow space in Legolas' chest began to fill with hot, white molten anger. Legolas sent a mental vow to the Valar, his thoughts like eagle's wings. He could not save Boromir. And he accepted his failure.
If he could not save Boromir, he would save what Boromir loved most. He would save Gondor or perish. This was his last gift to his lover, his warrior. The White City would stand. Peace filled him for a moment.
Legolas knew the Valar accepted his vow.
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