Fading Legends: Part V
I am a fool.
I wanted so desperately to become a legend I did not realise it is not something to set out to be. You do not make your choices because you think of the reaction of others. You make your choices there and then, because you have to.
I will never be a legend because I want to be one.
My mother and father became legends because they did not think of such things. They made the choices they had to.
Legolas and Gimli helped Frodo the Ringbearer not because they sought fame, but because they wanted to help him carry a great burden.
I have been a fool. I thought more about defeating this dark creature than protecting these two remarkable beings; the dwarf and the elf. Because of it, Gimli could lose his best friend.
Foolish, foolish pride. But if I can realise this, perhaps there is hope for humanity and Middle-earth.
And I will chase after Legolas together with Gimli until every bone in my body hurts – and even then will I press on. There are some things that make us greater than we are.
There was darkness, and there was pain. Legolas had no idea if he was standing or not, he knew only that his whole body cried out as flames and ice both touched his skin.
"Legolasssss…" the voice said by his ear. "She will come, yes… Mine. You will all be mine."
The elf tried to protest, but new pain was assaulting him and he could only cry out in anguish.
He was not sure how long the pain went on or how many times he passed out, but after a while he felt cold stone against his cheek. He was lying on a cave floor, his body tired. To even move the slightest hurt. He could feel tears on his face, and something else, something warm.
His mind felt heavy, and to his horror he realised something else was there, trying to gain control.
Legolas came a sweet voice suddenly, the last voice he would ever expect to hear in Middle-earth.
"Galadriel," he whispered. Warmth began to spread through his veins, but it was a comfortable warmth now.
Be strong, Legolas. They will come. You are not alone.
They ran as the wind, deeper into darkness. A few orcs came at them, but in their great need Aneana and Gimli barely stop to deal with them.
Gimli still clutched Legolas’s bow and knives. It would have looked slightly ridiculous, the small dwarf and the great bow, had it not been for the statement on Gimli’s face. Somehow, Aneana knew the dwarf would have charged even Sauron to save his friend.
The night was cold even without any wind. And the way the dwarf regarded her, made Aneana’s heart even colder.
Light broke over the horizon, and with the first rays of sun came a music. It had no words, yet it was filled with feeling. It gathered in strength as the sun rose, until Aneana thought she could nearly see it.
She could see it. It was gathering shape and light and becoming…
"Lady Galadriel," Gimli said in reverence, bowing low. The great lady of Lothlórien smiled at him, and the light around her seemed to grow stronger. She seemed not fully substantial though, because the light shone through her.
"Gimli, son of Glòin, Lockbearer and mightiest of the dwarves," she greeted him, and fondness radiated from her voice. The dwarf smiled at her, no longer seeming old or weary. He seemed perfectly happy for a second, his face so beautiful Aneana felt her heart flutter.
"You have done well. Do not despair. A great gift will be given you when you have walked through darkness."
Aneana lowered her eyes as Galadriel turned and looked at her.
"Aneana, daughter of Aragorn and Arwen, my grand-daughter."
Shivering, Aneana felt something enter her mind, reading her thoughts and emotions, seeing everything. She felt foolish and small, knowing her petty reasons for coming to Mordor. Shame filled her, and she nearly wept.
You may save Legolas yet, child, but it may cost you your life. Will you risk it? Galadriel’s voice whispered in her mind.
Yes thought Aneana.
No one would know. You would die alone, forgotten. Would you still give your life?
Her mind was crystal-clear now, filled with images of the elf, his gentle but sad eyes, his long, blonde hair moving in the wind.
"Yes," she said aloud. "Yes, I would."
Soft hands touched his face, and he could feel a warm body next to his. Something pushed through all pain, fighting with the other presence in his mind.
Legolas, listen to my voice.
His eyelids felt heavy, and he nearly passed out from the pain to open them. There was a light in the cave now, like starlight, radiating from the person kneeling by his side.
"Undómiel," he whispered in awe. "Arwen…"
Her fingers stroked his cheek gently, and he could see tears form in her eyes.
"No. It’s only me," she whispered, and the light faded slightly. Her face came into focus now, and he realised it was Aneana. She looked different, sadder, but the starlight in her eyes was brighter than ever.
"Gimli…" he muttered, trying to form the question, but his voice managed only a few coughs.
"I do not know where Galadriel brought him," she replied. "He will come though, with men from Minas Tirith. He has your bow… I…"
Her voice faltered, and a single tear fell to the floor. He could feel her mind connected with his own still, and felt her desperate wish for her father and mother and her terrible shame that she was not like them.
He tried to speak, to tell her she had the same courage as her father, but his mind felt so heavy and tired.
Against his will, his eyes closed.
The last thing he felt, was her hand on his forehead, easing away the pain, and he slept.
| Part VI | Index