Title: Footsteps to Rivendell Author: Ellwyn Phoenix Rating: PG-13 Feedback: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com __________________________________________________________________________ Chapter Six: The Old and the New An eerie melody that only accentuated the fragility of the city was drifting through the trees. The song of the Elves made Legolas want to do nothing but weep. But he held himself in check. This was not the time nor place for him to indulge in his own petty emotions. There was a grander scheme at work and Mithrandir’s passing was the main reason, but not the only, for his secretive mourning. The Elves had taken them in kindly, though it seemed to him that since he had last ventured there the woods had changed drastically. The people were quiet, subdued. They kept aloof and besides offering them rest, food, and clothing, there were no more interactions. They did not sing the merry lilting melodies of old, nor did they hold celebrations of the moon in the grove. The scene had not changed but the very mood of the people made everything foreign. It pained Legolas that such a majestic city had grown so melancholy in so short a time. He knew the reason all too well. The years and years of grief, the gradual wearing away at the peoples’ heart and soul, were what had made Lothlórien what it was now. He saw the resignation in Galadriel’s eyes. The people knew that she had seen terrible things in the future. Things that seemed all too clear now. He sighed. It brought Elessar’s attention to him, and the ranger looked up from the sword he was cleaning. "I have not heard you sigh in much time, nîn mellon, and it is a surprise that it comes from you— what did you say to me about sighing, so long ago in the woods of your home?" "That every sigh is like a thread of your soul unwinding and dissipating into the air." He heard his voice and it sounded dead to him. Legolas trudged to a large tree root where a fountain was discharging clear water. He took up the silver pitcher that rested next to it for drinking in his hands and filled it with water. Legolas relished the feeling of the cold metal in his fingers. It countered the throbbing there that ached in every part of him. "Ah, the adages of the Elves. Their melody breaks something in me that I thought could not be broken. What do they sing, Legolas?" "A lament for Gandalf." Aragorn’s eyes flickered into pain briefly. "What do they say about him?" Legolas noticed his voice was nearly as deadened as his own. So even the ranger was weary. The journey was long and hard and this place was the perfect sanctuary. But for one thing that stood in the way. "I have not the heart to tell you," Legolas managed in a barely audible voice, "for me the grief is still too near." Aragorn lowered his gaze and went back to polishing the sword. Legolas took a deep breath, refrained from sighing (with much effort) and set the pitcher down next to the king wordlessly. He did not look up. ______________________________________________________________________ Legolas was descending the stairs from the treetops. It was obvious that the fellowship was reluctant to move on from this long needed rest. He guessed they would stay here several days, a week at the most. So there was nothing he could do but wander, although the memories that the familiar images brought back were not exactly pleasant. Maybe, he thought, he was subconsciously punishing himself for digging himself into a hole he couldn’t get out of. Or maybe he was just masochistic. Either way, there was something in him that made him want to find her again. But it would be unproductive—he couldn’t allow himself to speak to her. Even looking at her again would be going against everything he vowed not to do. But still… He stared at the step below his feet and with every step it felt as though his heart was quaking and would shatter if he was not cautious. So he took his steps lithely, resting each foot down on the step as gently as he could and then lowering himself down. His eyes cast about slowly, never darting. Finally, his eyes fell on a grove below him and to the side of the staircase a ways. Amidst it he could see several Elves, speaking in low voices. His foot finally hit the forest floor. "Fear…Galadriel has seen…ringbearer…" was all he could hear from the Elves in the grove. He took another step but this time his attention was diverted and the toe of his shoe tripped against the dirt. His foot hit the ground hard. Shivers ran through his body. One of the conversationalists was not taking part in the conversation. The quiet Elf was standing nearly apart from the group. He could not see her face for she was standing with her back to him. The desire to walk around the grove from afar so he could see her face for the last time was burning in his mind. What he wanted to do…but what he knew he should do was turn around and leave. Immediately, so she did not turn around by mischance and see him standing there. But all the same, he hesitated, drinking in every moment, vowing to remember the image forever and then tore his eyes away. He turned around and took a step back the way he had come. He was up to the ninth step when he sensed someone at the foot of the stairs. He didn’t turn around, nor did he want to now. He had made up his mind and it would vex him if he had gone through so much for nothing. So he stood there for a few moments, then, realizing the Elf behind him was not ascending, continued up with his back to her. At this, a voice broke through the loud ringing in his ears. "Legolas." He stopped. No matter how much he told them to, his legs would not move further up the stairs. It was the way she said it. The pain in her voice. Not so much the pain, but the fact that before, all the other times, she had hidden it behind some false mask. And even if he could sense it before, she had never let her guard down. Now it was laid bare, with nothing to conceal it. Legolas bit down on his lip and shut his eyes tightly. I will not be part of your life. He mustered all his strength and took another step. "Wait!" It reached his ears as a hoarse whisper. Desperate. He couldn’t do it anymore. Too much of it welled up and he nearly choked on the tears that threatened to drown him. He turned around. There she was, standing there at the bottom, ten feet below him. The light illuminated the tears that bordered her eyes. "Oh Erlyannil," he whispered. She did not hear him, though. They stood there and the silence screamed at them. Finally, he heard her gasp, a sharp intake of breath. She was crying. What are you doing still standing here? Go! his mind yelled. Legolas yielded against and yet with his will. His cheek was pressed against her cheek, and her ear, and her hair, and he could feel the wetness on her face. "For…me…" he heard her gasping between sobs. The world faded away and left nothing but them and Legolas shut his eyes, wanting the moment to be all he knew. "What? What?" his voice whispered into her ear. "For…give…" At that, Legolas drew back from her so he could look at her face. Her eyes were closed tightly. Finally, she opened them and the feeling that went rampant through him at that look they shared could have shattered the indestructible ring. He smiled. Relief was an understatement. The pain trickled away in his tears and he didn’t do anything to stop it. He felt her lips on his and held her close. The thing he most dreaded at this point was that he would lose her again. Never, he vowed, never. They finally broke apart and Legolas forced himself to let go of her. He stepped backwards and his heel scraped the edge of a stair. He could hear his own breathing: swift and erratic. The tears were gone from her eyes now, but she was just looking at him. Like a stranger. That was what hurt the most. "No…" She was talking to herself, it seemed. "What?" Legolas asked. "Of course not. How silly could I be to think that after all I did to you, you would still love me?" "That never changed. It never does." "No, but from the pain I caused you. Do you think you could actually put it behind you and believe that I would not lie to you again?" Now he understood why she looked so unfamiliar. She was distancing herself from him. "What…" He was at a loss for words. True, she had hurt him. So much that despite all his feelings for her she had caused him to turn away and try to forget her. It would have taken a lot to make him do something like that. And it did. He bit down on his lip. "Even if you said you could forgive me you really wouldn’t, not truly, because nothing can get rid of memories. We both know that too well." Her voice was shaky. Legolas shook his head suddenly, as if snapping out of a reverie. "What are you talking about? What does it matter to me…" "I thought I loved him, you know." Legolas fell silent. The elf she had spoken about when they met in Rivendell. "I convinced myself that I did. But then, after seeing you, it became impossible to live in such a illusory world. I came back home. And now…I do not see how it can be possible for it to be. How can the pain every disappear? Nothing can be built on a foundation of pain." They were silent for far to long then. Legolas’ head swam. His spirits were soaring but it was as if someone had taken a sword to them and sliced off their wings. But then it was all too clear. There was no reason why they should make matters so difficult for themselves. The reason was that they had spent so long away from one another, so used to the way things were, so used to pain, that they could not accept that here was a chance, and it meant they could actually be together. Nothing stood in the way for the first time. And she was afraid of it. Not just her, he realized, but himself. She was using her guilt and her actions as a way of shutting him out again. But he was listening to her, allowing himself to accede to her words… "Erlyannil," he said suddenly. His ears stopped ringing then. She looked up. "There is nothing that stands in the way of what I am about to do now. Nothing, lle rangwa? Everything is built on a foundation of pain. The world is made of sadness, Lyann. If I love you, and you love me, then what reason can you conjure that stands in the way of what bliss we could have?" His legs finally responded to him, and his footsteps as he stepped down the last stairs were quiet and calm, a soft but confident noise. He took her hand and led her around the staircase, away from the city. Away from the place that had caused so much misery. ******************************************************************** And once they were away, into the woods, the golden light streaming down on them miraculously although the sun was long ago set and only moonlight was visible, he led her to a copse. In the center was a large mellyrn tree with a smooth grey trunk. Its golden leaves had fallen off the branches long ago and lay on the ground around it, trampled into the earth, dusty from the soil. Legolas reached down and picked up a small, soiled leaf. It was crumpled around the edges, dried and torn. He handed it to Erlyannil. She was silent, merely staring down at the decrepit leaf in her hand. "It has been withered, by the pain of winter’s biting cold. The life source that flowed to it from the tree’s roots is gone because the soil around the tree is frozen and lifeless. So the leaf dies," Legolas explained quietly. Erlyannil stared down at it, pensive. "But come spring, the soil is restored to life and the tree is brought to life once more." "The leaf remains dead," Erlyannil cut in, "and decays with the rest of the dead leaves." "Yes." Legolas took it from her again and placed it back on the forest floor. "But from the tree sprout new, golden leaves. They are born anew upon sadness that comes once a year. Old things are withered by pain and cannot be mended. But the new can rise where the old have passed." She looked up at him then. Her eyes were black, full and not empty, devoid of any emotion save for the one that he too felt so poignantly. She smiled. ************************************************************************** Disclaimer: This being a work of fanfiction, I never intended any infringement on J.R.R. Tolkien, Tolkien Enterprises, or the Saul Zaentz Co., or whatever else I’m missing… HTML Attachment [ Scan with Norton AntiVirus | Save to my Yahoo! Briefcase | Download Without Scan ] Title: Footsteps to Rivendell Author: Ellwyn Phoenix Rating: PG-13 Feedback: jidai_rinoa@hotmail.com _____________________________________________________________________________ __ Chapter Seven: Transient Bliss *************************** He smiled back at her, and for the first time in a thousand years pure joy lit up his eyes. He took her into his arms and nestled his cheek against her hair, breathing in the scent of leaves. And then, much to his own surprise, he started to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then unbridled laughter, and finally he was laughing so desperately that he wasn’t sure whether he was laughing or sobbing. The mirthful tears coursed rivers down his face, brushing away the remnants of dirt still clinging to his face. He began to wonder if maybe he was smothering her; his embrace was so tight and she was being completely silent. So, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he drew back and searched her face. She wasn’t suffocating. She just stood there, her eyes lambent, the faint luster of moonshine illuminating crooked streams down her cheeks. She was still smiling. "What now?" she asked quietly. Legolas looked down at her and a grin played across his face. Though it was soon overshadowed by an _expression of solemnity, and there was no more laughter. "What luck," he cursed, "O, Elbereth. Happiness is too fleeting. It seems the stars have condemned me to be incessantly heartbroken." "You are part of the Fellowship…to destroy the Ring," she said absent-mindedly. He nodded at the obvious and fought back the urge to sigh heavily. "We sought sanctuary here, and rest. And we have found it. Now…time is short and the time we must depart is nigh. Why am I cursed always? So many years have I waited, and now that the moment has arrived it seems it must perish all too soon." Legolas lifted a hand to caress her cheek and tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear. His breath caught when she leaned into his hand, her lips brushing his hand ever so briefly. "Time passes quickly, Legolas. Moments will perish, but when you return I will not yet have perished. It is not my time yet, and I have not heard the call of Valinor." Erlyannil tried to smile reassuringly. But he shook his head and cast his eyes down. "Time does not pass quickly when your soul lies faraway and all your thoughts are bent on something out of reach. I learned that only too well." "Legolas…if you could wait a thousand years, a hundred more would not matter. It is not time that worries me. It is…what lies in the black lands," she said. And for the first time he saw the desperation he thought only he felt mirrored in her face. Her eyes were starting to water again. "No…do not think of it," he insisted at a whisper, and drew her to him. Her voice was muffled against the cloth of his tunic. "Legolas…" "What?" he asked softly, for the fear that lest he speak too loudly it would shatter this precious moment that seemed so frail it would float away like a wisp of smoke. Leaving Legolas standing there in that clearing, in Lothlórien, with no one in his arms, no one’s lips to kiss, no one to murmur his name softly so that his heart beat like a tempest. She drew away and he realized how cold it was to not be pressed against her. "I will be heartbroken when you leave," she whispered. "More so than the last time, for now I can no longer lie to myself about how much I need you." Her eyes wavered and he drew her to him, thinking she would weep, but instead she abruptly kissed him. Legolas was taken aback for a moment, but the he surrendered to his own passion. Before, he had caressed her with only the lightest of touches, lusting for more but held in check by his honor for her and so that she would not feel threatened. Now, he entangled his fingers in her hair and allowed his passion to pour forth. He felt her mouth part, their tongues warring with each other. He suppressed a moan; never had he kissed someone with so much passion, and yet so much effort into holding himself back. His heart felt as though it would rupture. He dared not let himself do anything without first her consent. When she pulled away he wanted to cry out in protest. But instead, she merely lifted her hands and began to undo the clasps of his tunic. Legolas recoiled a little to stop her. "I love you," he whispered, "and I want you, and there is no reason for’t, save insanity. There is no reason why I put myself through such misery for so many years, save for the reason that I love you, and there is no reason behind that, either." One pale sleeve slid off her shoulder and he kissed her skin there reverently. He could see her breath forming momentary clouds in the twilight air. It felt warm on his neck. "There is never reason behind love," she said, her lips against his ear, "but the knowledge that love creates chaos amidst order and sadness where there was none. Still, for all the world, I would not rather have never fallen in love with you, even if I did not have to learn such grief." Legolas smiled, and, with his face hovering over hers, their lips barely brushing, a faint breeze stirred the air and the dead leaves swirled, caught up in a tiny maelstrom. ******************************************************* "You could always travel lightly on snow, my friend, but you never had the ability to walk below overhanging branches without having to bend down every step to avoid hitting your head! A pity that you are not a dwarf." Legolas grimaced at his companion, the stout Gimli, who was carrying his ax slung over one shoulder, helmet in the other hand. He noticed the dwarf looking about the forest in deference and awe. A great contrast to the first time Gimli had set foot in Lothlórien. But then again, so much had changed in just three months. He admitted to himself that he had been bending low and ducking every few steps under the low- growing branches of the mellryn trees. It seemed that the forest had grown dense and suddenly much darker, although it was May and by nature the woods should have been golden with a carpet of elanor blossoms. That was explainable, however, for they had seen the signs of havoc on the outskirts of the forest. The trees there had been ravaged and Legolas’ mind had been heavy with anticipation. He could only remind himself that the people of Lothlórien were not easily conquered, and the power in the forest impervious to evil. And yet, his spirits were above the treetops. He was returning to the golden wood, and perhaps she would still be there. "True, Gimli, but then you could never do this," he replied whimsically, jumping lithely and leaping onto a branch above him. He remained perched there, grinning down at the scowling dwarf. "No, but I may do this!" Gimli’s gruff counter was accompanied by a swift chop at the tree’s base. It shook the tree slightly but Legolas did not drop off the branch. "You may, if you wish. It is not I that will punish you, but the tree, for that was a harsh blow." Legolas said absent-mindedly. "It was—just a scratch!" Gimli stuttered in apology, looking at the tree with reverence. Legolas leapt to a branch of a neighboring tree and then dropped to the ground. "Come, Gimli, Caras Galadhon awaits." ____________________________________________________________________ They had journeyed for an hour, and the city came into view. The heavy, grey trunks and roots of the trees intertwined amidst translucent staircases that wound around and around endlessly. Yet there was no song nor light any longer. Legolas had felt the melancholy ambience upon setting foot in the woods. He sighed. "Galadriel has passed into the West," he whispered to himself. Legolas saw his own disappointment mirrored in Gimli’s face. The dwarf, too, had sought to set eyes upon the fair Lady once more. But something more weighed on Legolas’ mind. Had Erlyannil, too, gone to the West? An Elf was approaching, clad in silver garb. Blue eyes were ringed by weariness. "Kinsman." The Elf raised his hand in greeting. Then his eyes turned to Gimli, and recognition passed through his face. "Gimli, son of Gloin, friend of Elves. And you…Legolas, prince of Eryn Lasgalen." It was then that Legolas recognized him. One of the Elf archers who had escorted the Fellowship through Lórien to Caras Galadhon when they had first ventured there. But something rang unfamiliar in his ears. "Eryn Lasgalen? Why do you call it so?" "Do you not know? Indeed, you must have not yet returned to your father’s wood," Legolas noticed that the Elf’s voice was tinged with remorse. "For Celeborn and Thranduil have named it so. Wood of Greenleaves." Legolas understood then. The golden wood had been besieged by the forces of Sauron; he had felt the disturbance in the air, the ancient trees’ lament as they were soiled, their branches burned. "Three times they came, and three times they were driven back. Celeborn led a host over the Anduin to be rid of the pestilence. But many left, to sail to Valinor or to Eryn Lasgalen. So few of us remain," the Elf explained. Legolas noticed his eyes casting over the city with sorrow. "And Galadriel…" Gimli began hesitantly. Legolas looked down at his companion with pity. "She has passed into the west," the Elf said what they already knew. One more question weighed heavily on Legolas’ mind. He stepped forward. "Kinsman, tell me, where is Erlyannil Galadh, the maiden whom the Lady harbored?" He was afraid to hear the answer. "Erlyannil? Perhaps she resides in your woods. I cannot recall when she left, nor where she intended to go." The Elf looked at Legolas and his eyes burned with recognition. "Yes…you would be searching for her, son of Thranduil. For I remember, long ago, when there was a breach between our people and yours. Now, indeed, it is no longer so, but I am afraid that our time is over. There is nothing more to see in Caras Galadhon." And it was true, for all Legolas could feel in this city was solemnity and grief. Legolas lowered his gaze, feeling suddenly chagrined. "Come Gimli, I have seen the glittering caves and you have seen Fangorn. But now I must draw you to the forest of my people. Thank you, kinsman. Namarië." He put a fist to his heart and lifted his hand in farewell. The Elf did likewise and turned back to the city. "Who was she?" Gimli suddenly asked. Legolas shook himself out of a stupor. "…A maiden, taken in by Galadriel long ago to grow up amongst her mother’s people. Her father…belonged to my realm. I met her long ago…" his eyes threatened to fill with tears and his throat burned. A bittersweet smile touched his lips. "And again during our brief jaunt to Lórien, what seemed like so long ago." She said the Undying Lands did not yet call for her. The others have gone…but perhaps she remains, he prayed silently. Gimli nodded in understanding and suddenly grinned. "I thought you would never speak of it, my friend, or that you had never fallen in love." Legolas turned to him. "And you, Gimli?" "I fell in love once, yes, but when I came back from a long journey to marry her she had grown a beard, and I could not tell the difference between her and her brothers. I could not take the chance, for fear of marrying the wrong one." Gimli grinned and Legolas’ face briefly lit up with a mirthful smile. Then Legolas and Gimli took one last look at the shimmering remains of what had been the silver city, and turned back to go they way they had come. ***** Disclaimer: I don’t have enough time or imagination to think up a world with its own history and languages of all the people. I leave that to Prof. Tolkien. And the rights to Lord of the Rings belong to…New Line Cinema, Houghton Mifflin, Saul Zaentz & Co., Tolkien Enterprises…whatever else I’m missing… I can’t really claim my original character either, since the basis behind it all is just something I made up, whether or not it’s accurate. I’m sure the Elves of Lothlórien got along very well with the Mirkwood Elves. Oh, well. :)