Echoes Beyond

To be broken

I felt her absence. It was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. You wouldn't need to run to the mirror to know they were gone

Legolas sat beneath the sprawling canopy of a towering tree in the tranquil backyard of the Elvenking's palace. The gentle melody of water cascading from the palace fountain filled the air, its soothing rhythm a stark contrast to the turmoil within Legolas's heart. Leaning against the sturdy trunk, he traced the gnarled patterns of its bark with his fingertips, a somber smile tugging at his lips.

One hundred years had passed since the conclusion of the Battle of the Five Armies. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet the memories remained as vivid as ever. Legolas's gaze wandered across the lush expanse of the palace grounds, taking in the vibrant hues of spring blossoms and the verdant tapestry of foliage. Life thrived around him, bursting forth with vitality and promise, yet he felt disconnected from its ebullient embrace.

With a heavy sigh, Legolas reflected on the passage of time. A century had come and gone, yet Middle Earth remained ensnared in a timeless dance of light and shadow. In Mirkwood, the pulse of nature beat with a familiar cadence, unchanged by the relentless march of years. Yet, beneath the surface, subtle shifts had occurred, imperceptible to all but those attuned to the ebb and flow of the world.

A pang of sorrow pierced his heart as he recalled the loss of Aestiria, his companion who had departed from this world forty-seven years prior. The memory of her passing lingered like a bittersweet refrain, haunting his thoughts with regret and longing. He clenched his fingers into the earth, the cool soil grounding him amidst the tumult of emotions that surged within.

     "It was my fault," Legolas whispered, the words carried away on the gentle breeze. He bore the weight of his mistakes like a burden upon his soul, the specter of guilt casting a shadow over his weary heart.

Legolas's mind drifted back to the day of their argument, the memory etched with painful clarity in his thoughts. They had walked along the tranquil border of Lothlórien, their footsteps echoing softly amidst the verdant canopy of trees. Aestiria's anger had simmered beneath the surface, her frustration palpable in the tense silence that hung between them.

He remembered the way she had stormed off, her fiery spirit unyielding as she disappeared into the shadows of the forest. In hindsight, he knew he should have followed her, should have bridged the chasm that had opened between them. But pride and stubbornness had held him back, anchoring him to his own sense of righteousness.

It was the blood-curdling scream that shattered the fragile peace of the woods, wrenching Legolas from his reverie. His heart clenched with a sickening dread as he sprinted towards the source of the sound, the forest blurring into a blur of motion around him.

And then he found her.

Aestiria lay motionless upon the forest floor, her once vibrant spirit extinguished in an instant. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld the sight before him. Her left arm, crushed where she had clutched her bow, bore silent testament to the violence of her demise. But it was the gaping hole where her heart should have been that seared itself into his memory, a silent cry frozen upon her pale face.

Legolas knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out to brush a lock of hair from her lifeless visage. His mind reeled with unanswered questions, the weight of his grief pressing down upon him like a leaden shroud. Who had done this to her? What force had dared to snuff out the light of her existence? How could this happen so fast? 

But the forest offered no answers, only an eerie silence that echoed with the hollow ache of loss. 

Then, there was another memory of his that replayed now in the back of his mind as if it happened only yesterday, not 47 years ago.