In the Ruins//Legolas

Chapter 29; Fool

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!" King Theoden raised his goblet high, the men and women in the Main Hall copying him. Durion himself lifted his goblet, though he only took a small sip of the mead he was given.

"Hail!" They all yelled and the music started playing loudly. For a while, Durion wandered around the tables full of laughing Rohirrim before he settled near Mithrandir and Aragorn. It was strange, ever since seeing him in the white robes, Durion couldn't bring himself to call him Gandalf. That name now felt... too small for the great wizard.

"Oh you can search far and wide, you can drink the whole town dry, but you'll never find a beer so brown... But you'll never find a beer so brown, as the one we drink in our hometown. You can drink your fancy ales, you can drink them by the flagon, but the only brew for the brave and true..." A smile slipped onto his lips as he saw the two hobbits dancing on one of the tables, singing loudly, entertaining everyone around like a couple of carefree bards. As Pippin spun around, he caught Mithrandir's eye. The hobbit stopped, grin momentarily slipping away from that young face.

"Pippin!" Merry's call broke his trance and they finished the song.

"...Comes from the Green Dragon!"

"No news of Frodo?" Aragorn's voice had Durion's head turning in their direction.

"No word. Nothing." Mithrandir quietly replied.

"We have time. Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor." Aragorn nodded and Durion couldn't keep his worry at bay.

"Do we know that?" The elf asked, eyes clouded.

"What does your heart tell you?" Aragorn asked the wizard. Mithrandir looked at them both for a long time before answering with a glint in his eye.

"That Frodo is alive. Yes, yes he's alive."

***

Three weeks ago, Durion would gladly spend his night celebrating the victory with the others. Now, he finds himself seeking out a less crowded space. And so he found himself outside the Main Hall in Edoras, sky only illuminated by the light of the thousands of stars and the full moon. Cold breeze cradled his face and Durion closed his eyes and exhaled in contentment.

"What has you out here alone?" A voice spoke behind him and for once, Durion didn't flinch.

"Just enjoying this beautiful night sky and its stars. Aren't wood elves known for their admiration of them?"

"I suppose so. But ever since I saw you, their light dimmed ever so slightly." Legolas stepped next to him and Durion chuckled and then he sniffed the air.

"Are you drunk?" Durion asked with a laugh.

"Barely tipsy. This mead has nothing on my father's favorite wine." Legolas laughed too.

"And yet you speak nonsense."

"No, this makes perfect sense to me." Legolas hummed and slowly reached for Durion's hand. Durion met him half-way.

"Before... everything in my life made sense. Everything was set in stone for me. I was an orphan thief, I stole from the rich and gave to the poor. I occasionally used one of the six runes I knew to get out of a tricky situation, and the only thing that confused me was this." He vaguely gestured to the space between them. "Now, my life is upside down, the cursed line of Fëanor is breathing down my neck and the supply of runes I have yet to learn is growing thinner each month. Now, the only thing that is for certain is our bond. And it is keeping me from sinking under." Durion confessed, taking a small step closer to the other.