Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

When All Lights Pass

Later that evening when Aragorn found Legolas in Thranduil's tent, the elf was propped up against the divan where Miredhel rested, with his long legs stretched across the floor. His arms were folded across his chest, and the elf's eyes were closed. His skin still showed remnants of the orcs' cruelty from when they had captured him, but nothing could diminish the sheer beauty of Legolas' face.

Aragorn had spent much of his life in the company of elves, growing up in Rivendell, not to mention his long friendship with Legolas—elves had been his family, his friends. But familiarity would never ease the secret wonder that Aragorn felt when he looked upon them. Their natural grace and flawless appearances still held the power to make him pause.

"I would like to know why you felt it necessary to enlighten my father concerning my relationship with Miredhel," Legolas said softly and then opened his eyes to lock with Aragorn's.

"You do not think he could have guessed it for himself, after the way you brought her back in your arms, half-crazed?" Aragorn countered. "Your father is extremely perceptive, my friend."

Legolas closed his eyes and leaned back against the divan. "You know how he is about me, Aragorn. You know how he worries... has always worried..." he said tiredly.

Aragorn sank down across from his friend on the floor in the tent. "I am sorry, Legolas. I did what I thought was necessary—I saw Adrendil making his rounds, and I thought that it would be better if your father heard it from me than him."

"Does not matter now," Legolas murmured and fixed his gaze on Aragorn, "and saves me the bother of it all. Is that wrong? To want to be left alone, just let somebody else take the lead for a while?" He picked at the end of one of his braids.

"No, Legolas," Aragorn answered slowly, "You've never been one to forgo duty."

"She's dying," he whispered. "And I only have myself to blame."

"Legolas, you cannot..." his friend started, but the elf cut him off.

His elvish words, so soft to human ears that Aragorn strained to catch them all, tumbled out, "I pursued her. I pushed her. I wanted her—and even as she warned me that the healers said her heart was weak, I did not stop. I just went ahead and took what I wanted. Selfish."

"Do not blame yourself this way, my friend." Aragorn said sternly, the edge in his voice causing Legolas to look up. "Do you think things would be any different if Eledhel had died, and you and Miredhel had not bonded? I think the Grief would have already killed her."

"I think," Aragorn said deliberately, "that your bond is the only thing holding her here. You give her strength, Legolas."

"If it were Arwen," the elf said, with a long look at Aragorn, "what would you do?"

"I would try to save her, heal her," the man answered slowly. "If I could not, then I would send her to the Undying Lands to find healing and peace there."

Legolas angled his head to glimpse Miredhel still sleeping on the divan behind him and swallowed hard. He then nodded and was silent for a moment. "If you could, would you go with her? Forsake your duty to Gondor?"

Aragorn rubbed his long fingers across his temples, and then stood. "I would try saving her first," he countered. "I know you went to the healers' tent earlier. Did they give you any reason to hope?"

"None, save Colmaethor, one of the Lorien elves. He said Lady Galadriel called Miredhel out of her dark dreams even as she was fading, but she has left these shores by now. Elrond has sailed as well. None of my father's people have skill enough to save her. They are all of the mind that she should sail as soon as possible."