When The Trees Sang: Part IX
by Nicole
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Legolas fell to the ground beside Garania, his knees resting beside her. He carefully lifted her to him, sobbing quietly. Aragorn, and the rest watched in horror as the life slowly drained from her body. Suddenly, the Elf snapped his head up, and lifted his wife, rushing over to a nearby horse.

"Come, she can still be saved." They stood, unmoving. He turned back to them impatiently. "Did you not hear what I just said? I am taking her to Lothlorien. You may come with me, or remain here, I care not."

With that, he gently laid Garania over the horse, and hoisted himself up behind her with ease. He kneed the horse in its side and raced off in the direction of Lorien.

The others stood for awhile, watching him disappear into the distance, before mounting their own horses, and galloping off behind him.

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Aragorn, Gimli, and the hobbits stood in the opening of a large gazebo-like room in Lothlorien. Garania lay on a small "bed", covered in silk sheets, and flowers. Her body was covered with a long, billowing white gown that just barely allowed her toes to be visible, and her hair was situated around her, small flowers placed strategically throughout.

Legolas sat, kneeled, in the floor beside the marble bed on which she had been laid upon, his head resting upon it, sobbing. Aragorn looked in, shaking his head sadly. Legolas had arrived too late. The wound had already left her with a severe loss of blood, and there was nothing that even Galadriel could do to save her. All hope was gone. When Legolas had ridden up into Lothlorien two days before, Garania had been taken from him, to allow Galadriel to attempt to help her. He had fought against their taking her, wanting to remain at her side, but they won out in the end, and he was left alone with only Halidir and Celeborn to comfort him. Nearly an hour after they had taken her away, one of the Elves assisting Galadriel had approached them, a look of pure sadness on her face. Before she had even gotten the words from her mouth, Legolas had crumbled to the ground sobbing at her feet. It had taken the strength of both Halidir and Celeborn to bring him again to his feet, supporting him, as they led him to the large room where she had been placed as the healers tried to save her. He had stayed by her side for every waking moment since then, even as they took her into the large, open garden where she was now placed. Aragorn was certain that Legolas would not survive this pain, as he had not the strength left to fight it.

He walked farther into the garden, taking in the sight of Garania. She still retained every ounce of her beauty, and she now possessed a serene look of peacefulness upon her face. The gown that she had been dressed in reflected the light shining through the trees and brought a gentle glow around her. Her hair and face shone light stars, and a small smile was upon her lips. This confused him slightly, but he shook it off, placing a hand on Legolas' shoulder.

"My friend, have strength."

Legolas looked up at him, his face we and stained with tears.

"Have strength? How am I to have strength when all that I retained was held within her? She was my light, my hope, my love....my princess. How am I to go on without her face by my side? What have I done, Aragorn? How could I have done this?"

Aragorn stared sympathetically at the Elf. He knew what pain he must be feeling, even more so since it was his own hand and sword that had slain her. He could not imagine the grief that he must be feeling at that moment.

"Legolas, come, you cannot lie here like this forever. You must go on. Remain here in Lothlorien for a while, with Galadriel, and perhaps, soon, you shall overcome your grief and be able to move on from this."

Legolas looked back up at him once again.

"I would rather die than live one more day without the warmth of her touch. I have done this to her, Aragorn. I have destroyed her. I wish nothing more than to lie here with her forever."

Aragorn sighed deeply, and turned away from him, walking back towards the path leading out of the garden. He knew that he must go to speak with Galadriel. He could not watch his friend crumble before him anymore. Something had to be done.

He approached the palace steps with some trepidation. The queen could be very intimidating at times, and since the death of Garania, she had been somewhat distraught from the world around her. He saw her, a few feet away, with her back to him. He approached, knowing that she sensed him there.

"Aragorn, I know what you come here for. I can hear it in your thoughts. Legolas is slowly slipping away, and there is little that we can do for him. There are only three things that can destroy an Elf, and grief is one of them. It will surely be the end of him."

Aragorn nodded, as the queen turned around to face him.

"But is there nothing we can do? Perhaps getting him away from Lothlorien would so him some good."

"That would only cause him more harm than he is already in now. Separating him from her would surely put him over the edge," spoke Galadriel quietly.

Aragorn shook his head in frustration, desperate to find an answer.

"But is there no one who can help?"

Galadriel looked deep into his eyes, reading his thoughts.

"I will tell you something that I had never intended to reveal until the moment had come, but I shall do so now, as I feel it could only bring you resolve. Gandalf will arrive here soon. He is, as we speak, making the long journey here to Lorien, to see the fallen princess. I believe that he knows more than he speaks, even to me. He may hold the answer."

Aragorn smiled a bit, a wave of happiness settling over him. He had not seen the wizard since Rivendell, when he had arrived to greet them on their homecoming. Deep down, he knew that the wizard would be able to solve the problems that were plaguing them the most. He thanked Galadriel, bowed slightly, and turned to leave the palace. As he walked back up the path towards the garden where Garania lay, he say five figures standing at the edge, looking sadly in at the sight before them.

They had not yet been to see Garania, as it was much to painful a burden for them to bear just yet. This was the first attempt that he had seen them make to even come near the garden. He walked up behind them, as they watched Legolas, still sobbing on the ground. Never before had they seen the Elf so uncomposed, much less even cry. It was almost too much for them to bear, and they nearly had to turn back. Had they not seen the Ranger heading towards them, they may have done just that.

"We....we wanted to come and see her. I'm afraid to go any closer. Legolas looks as though he's lost his mind," whispered Merry quietly to Aragorn, the Man leaning in close to hear.

He gave a kind smile at the hobbit, and rubbed the top of his head gently.

"Do not fear, little one, he will be alright. I promise you that."

With those words, he took the hobbit's hand, and led him and the other four into the small garden behind him. Legolas raised his head a little as he heard them approach, but did not turn to face him. Pippin walked up beside him, standing on the tips of his toes to see Garania. He gasped at the beautiful Elf laying before him. He reached his hand up to gently brush a stray strand of hair away from her face, but Legolas noticed this, and swiped his hand away harshly. He turned to look at him, his eyes blazing.

"Do not touch her. She is the beautiful the way she is. Leave her as she is."

The halfling backed away, both frightened and hurt at the Elf's reaction. He moved quickly over behind Aragorn and watched Legolas from behind his legs. Aragorn stepped forward and tried to calm the Elf.

"Legolas, please, do not take your hurt and anger out on him. He did nothing. He only wished to see her," he said, raising his hands in defense.

Legolas jumped from his place beside Garania.

"Do not tell me who to take my anger and hurt out on! You do not know what I feel! The one that you love still lives, still walks this earth for you to touch and feel her soft skin in the morning! Do not presume to tell me this Aragorn, for you DO NOT KNOW!"

He stood staring at them, fire dancing in his eyes, his breathing uneven. Aragorn stood a bit shocked at what he had said, trying to take it all in. Perhaps he was right, perhaps he did not understand. Arwen was still back in Rivendell, waiting for his return. He knew nothing of the pain in which he spoke, for he had thankfully never had the chance to experience it. He gave Legolas a comforting look and backed away a bit.

"I am sorry, my friend. You are right, I do not know. I can only imagine what you must be feeling right now, as I have never myself experienced the feel of loss that you have suffered. I can only grieve with you, and hope that the wounds will mend themselves with time."

Legolas stood still, looking at him, until suddenly, his face contorted, and a fresh stream of tears began to fall down his face. Aragorn barely made it over to him in time to catch him as he fell. He turned back and spoke to his friends.

"Go, get Haldir and Celeborn. I cannot carry him alone."

They ran off, quickly, to go find the Elves. Aragorn stood, holding Legolas, and trying to keep his composure. In a few moments, they returned, and Haldir ran to Aragorn's side.

"We must find him a place to rest, he cannot stay here any longer," said Celeborn, walking slowly behind them.

Haldir helped Aragorn to lift Legolas, who was struggling against them with what little strength he had left, barely even aware of what he was doing. They managed to carry him back to the place where Galadriel had made their beds, beneath a large tree. They laid him down on the soft pile of leaves and flowers, trying to make him comfortable. Aragorn turned to Celeborn.

"Do you know when Gandalf will arrive?"

He looked at him shocked.

"How did you know of this?"

"Galadriel informed me of it earlier today. I fear he may be Legolas' only hope."

Celeborn nodded, thinking the same.

"He should arrive sometime tonight, we have his bed ready for him. He is our only hope."

Aragorn looked from him, back down to Legolas, and watched as he lay there, drifting slowly off into a fitful sleep.

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