Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

When One Must Go

In the previous chapter: Miredhel binds Legolas' shoulder wound at the village of Rilmost. The prince tries to convince the people there that they must evacuate for their own safety, and Farothin finally returns, badly beaten and clinging to life. Miredhel asked if she might escort him to Minas Tirith, but Legolas refused.

Outside the sun shone brightly, and the entire day seemed to be fashioned in the praise of joy. The elves at Rilmost had little to rejoice in, however, for one of their youngest had suffered dearly at the hands of the enemy. They had brought him in haste to the nearest building, a tavern called The Black Dragon. The room was dark and cool, faintly lined with shadows born of candle light. Miredhel patiently tended Farothin's wounds. For the moment she was alone with him. Colmaethor had left the tavern to see about building a makeshift stretcher to ease the transportation of the wounded elf.

The longer Miredhel stayed nursing Farothin's many injuries, the more reservations she had about her plan to steal away to Minas Tirith. The adventurous part of her wanted very much to make the trip and face tremendous forms of peril, all of which she would then triumphantly overcome. She saw herself racing through rapids on the Anduin, skillfully guiding her charge to the walls of the white city, where the king himself would praise her bravery. Farothin would be saved, and those who doubted her would be made to see her merit, her true abilities.

She was no young girl. She had watched thousands of summers burn and fade, had felt the sting of winter on her cheek, and had gloried in the rites of spring with the rest of her kind. She had known love and laughter, the simple pleasures of friendship, but had also endured the many trials and hardships bought through countless centuries. Despite all of her long years, this last year seemed to outweigh them all. Grief had become a constant shadow in all her doings. Miredhel had learned to hate, but also to love and with a passion and intensity that was frightening in itself. So many things in her life had come so easily, so freely, but there had been little in the past months that could be considered easy or free. She had witnessed violence and malice inconceivable. She had felt the piercing gleam of a dragon's slick yellow eyes as Anglachur plunged deep into the Anduin. She had escaped death's own grip from black-souled orcs, more than once! She had faced certain doom in the canyons of Emyn Muil, but did not retreat so she might stay with Legolas. Legolas!

The prince did not think she possessed the fortitude to make such a journey to Minas Tirith. Legolas had made himself very clear on the issue: You've had Grief and have been given a second chance at life, but you're still so fragile. I see it in your eyes, and I can feel it when I hold you. Now is not the time for proving yourself, Miredhel!

And as much as his words stung her, a quiet voice inside the maiden told her that the prince was right. Look what had happened to Farothin, and he was so much more skilled than she. It would be sheer folly to take such a risk, leaving the protection of the group, especially when she had been implicitly warned against it.