Chapter 16
Aragorn fell crashing to his knees when the shield that he had been pressed up against so unexpectedly vanished. Heat blasted his face and burned his lungs as he hit the ground. The image of his lover sliding over the edge of that fiery pit burned into his numbed mind. Move! His brain told him. It might not be too late!
He pushed up from the hot rubble around him, aware of Mithrandir and Elrond on the ground next to him. Get moving! His brain screamed at him.
He climbed to his feet and made himself run to where Arwen and Legolas had gone over the edge. He had been distantly aware of heavy bodies rushing past him when the invisible barrier disappeared and he had collapsed. He did not know if it was the monsters, or those others. Now he made himself move and look. But his brain seemed frozen. ‘Legolas was dead!’ It screamed. No, it could not be!
He ran through the rubble and dust. The earth under his feet seemed alive as chunks of ground slipped this way and that. And then he saw them. Emerging out of the shimmering heat and dust laden air. Two large metal covered space warriors. The Predators stopped in front of him.
Aragorn walked slowly up to the leader. It was the one he had seen when Legolas first emerged from the transformation vortex as the Hunter. The fair-haired one. Its armored face-plate was gone. The huge Predator surveyed Aragorn with strangely piercing green eyes and flared its spider fangs at him. Aragorn looked down at the bundle in the Predator’s arms and swallowed.
He slowly held out his arms as the limp form of the beautiful Hunter was placed into them. The Elf moaned as Aragorn took Legolas into his arms.
Movement next to him told him that Gandalf and Elrond had caught up to him. Elrond carefully held out his arms as another tall warrior handed over the unconscious form of Gondor’s Queen.
The fair-haired Predator turned to Aragorn and pulled a small hooked fang from his belt. He silently approached the fair form of the Elf in Aragorn’s arms. Before the Man could react, the Predator marked the Elf with the sacrificial scar. Their Hunter had once again emerged victorious.
After a moment’s hesitation, the warrior turned his hoary head toward the She-Elf. Elrond pursed his lips as Arwen too was marked.
The Elves and Men of Gondor watched, as the last of the black menace was defeated. None of the creatures were left alive and the Predators vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared.
Aragorn clutched his Elf to him through out the long climb back up to the surface. He permitted the Mirkwood healers to tend to their King under his careful scrutiny. Now, two days later he sat in the healing room where the young Elf King and the Queen of Gondor still slept.
“Aragorn, go get some rest. There is nothing here for you to do.”
He looked up at Gandalf and shook his head. Elrond sat beside Arwen’s bedside, equally unwilling to move from his vigil. The Istari sighed and sat down next to Gondor’s King.
“Why won’t they wake up, Gandalf?” he asked for the thousand time.
The Mage’s response was as before. Gandalf shook his head.
“It is the link,” said Elrond, unexpectedly. “She took them with her. She died in the fire and she would not release them from that damnable link.”
“But they are alive!” said Aragorn, clutching Legolas’s limp hand in both of his own.
“I fear my dear friend, Lord Elrond, is correct. If that link is not severed they may stay in this perpetual sleep for ever…alive but not alive,” intoned Gandalf, solemnly.
“But the Queen is dead, Gandalf,” said Aragorn despairingly. “How can there still be a link if she no longer exists? We saw her fall into the fire.”
Aragorn turned back to gaze into the placid face of his beloved. Sleeping Beauty. A myth he had heard of long ago among the rangers, of a beauty that was locked for eternity in a magical sleep. Only the kiss of true love could break the spell. Could such a thing work, Aragorn wondered?
The King of Gondor stood up suddenly and walked to the bed side table between Legolas’s and Arwen’s sleeping forms. He stared at the small black object, which sat between them, seemingly dormant.
“What are you doing?” asked Elrond, as he watched Aragorn pick up the space stone. It lay flat and dull in the Man’s palm.
“I have a hunch,” whispered Aragorn.
He reached out to Arwen and, after a moment’s hesitation, picked up her hand and drew it over towards Legolas. Aragorn sat on his lover’s bed and took Legolas’s hand as well. Holding their two hands together, Aragorn carefully placed the space stone in Legolas’ palm.
Both Elrond and Gandalf raised alarmed voices when the thing suddenly glowed to life. Blue light erupted from the small dark stone that now seemed to slither as if a living thing against the Elf’s skin.
Before anyone could protest further, Aragorn placed his own palm over his lover’s and locked their three hands together. At first nothing happened. Aragorn closed his eyes and concentrated.
‘Legolas,’ he pleaded silently. ‘Hear me, my love. Arwen, Legolas, please come back to me, …both of you.’
Suddenly he was in the cavern. Fire made the walls glow red. He was alone. He walked around the strangely silent stadium. Evidence of the great battle littered the ground but nothing stirred in the darkness. It was as if it all happened long ago. But why was he here?
He walked over to the edge of the volcano. The fiery pit was as he remembered it. But now it was silent. The river of fire below meandered lazily under the earth. It might have been a peaceful scene had it not been so desolate. So barren.
Aragorn turned around slowly. Movement somewhere behind him signaled he was not alone after all. He walked slowly in the direction of the darkening shadows. There he saw her. Her black hooded head was bowed as if in mourning. The crown of black thorns stood as a silhouette against her white skin.
Aragorn swallowed nervously.
“Arwen?” he asked, lips suddenly dry.
The thing that turned to him was not Arwen. Yet it was. She bared silver needle like teeth at him in a low hiss. Then turned away, head bowed in quiet grief.
Aragorn stood frozen. Where was he? Where was his Legolas?
He swallowed again and took a hesitant step forward. “Arwen? Please…please s-speak to me. Wh-what are you ….doing here? Where is Legolas?”
The thing hissed again in growing warning. Aragorn stopped his forward movement instantly. Fear trickled down his back.
“She will not speak to you,” said a quiet voice from the shadows behind him.
Aragorn whirled around, relief and awe flooding him at once, as his eyes took in the glorious glowing form of his lover. Legolas stood in the archway bathed in white. His hair hung almost to his waist and swung gently with an unseen breeze.
Legolas moved past Aragorn, without pausing, to kneel by Arwen’s side. He took her black, clawed hands in his and held them to his chest.
“Why have you come here, Aragorn?” asked the glowing Mirkwood Elf without looking up from Arwen’s tear stained face.
Aragorn stammered. He stepped forward until he was standing over the two figures.
“To …to find you, of course. To bring you both back!” What else would he be doing here? What was going on here anyway?
“To find us and bring us back…back where?” asked Legolas. “To Gondor? To Mirkwood? To our …world of …of…”
Before the Sindar could finish, his voice faltering with sudden emotion, Arwen interjected: “Our world of living death?”
Aragorn gasped. She stood suddenly and turned to face him. The black cowl fell back from her face. He stared at her black insectoid eyes, and sharp metal teeth. She smiled at him.
“What is the matter, my husband? Don’t you like what you see? This is what you made me into …This is how you see me, is it not?” She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breath reeked of death. “This is how you have seen me for a long…long time. Eventually I turned into what you wanted me to be.”
Aragorn screamed and tried to push her away. She released him and laughed.
Legolas stood up and watched them sadly. “You did it, Elessar. You did it to her…to me…and to yourself. You did this to us all.”
“No! No…I … I am sorry, Legolas!” Aragorn cried. He turned to Arwen. “I am sorry, Arwen…Please, please…don’t stay here…like this!”
Arwen stopped laughing and stared at him. Suddenly they were both gone. Aragorn stood in the cavern alone. The only sound was that of his own harsh breathing. He whirled around. Then, again in the other direction.
“Where are you?” he shouted into the silence. “Please! Please hear me!”
He ran to the edge of the pit but even the river of fire now stood frozen and unmoving. He turned around again and stared with wide panicked eyes at the darkening cavern. He was alone.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” he shouted in despair.
Slowly he sank to his knees, by the silent frozen pit of fire. He was alone. A sob broke free from his constricted throat. He did not see the long black tentacle-like appendage that slithered out of the pit until it suddenly wrapped around him and pulled him over the edge.
Aragorn screamed as he fell and fell. But he did not fall into the river of fire. He fell on grass.
Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes to be greeted by the familiar blue summer sky of Imladris. The smell of dew and wild flowers instantly told him he was in Rivendell. It was the hill where he used to play as a child, with Arwen and the twins. Over to his left was the bridge where he proposed to Arwen. And below was the courtyard where he first laid eyes on the most beautiful Elf he had ever seen. The Mirkwood Prince, who came to Elrond’s counsel, joined the Fellowship, and became the great love of his life.
Aragorn sat up and looked around. The falls splashed and sparkled in the bright sun. He stood up and began to walk towards the glade by the water. He squinted against the noonday sun and saw them. They were lying in the grass. Like two beautiful wildflowers native only to these lands, the Elves slept.
Aragorn walked silently on the grass until he stood over the two beings. Arwen’s blue-black midnight hair shone like Yule tide jewels against her pale luminescent skin. Her lips were pink and full. A rosy hue gave her the fresh look of a sweet maid, barely out of her minority.
Next to her rested the golden Prince of Mirkwood. His wheat colored hair fanned out to mingle with the ebony strands of the She-Elf. His skin glowed with an inner light and his sharp sculpted beauty was softened by sleep to make him appear heart achingly innocent.
Sleeping Beauty.
Aragorn bent over the sleeping Elf and with a slight hesitation bent to brush his fingers across the pale smooth cheek. The Elf sighed but did not awaken.
Tears sprang to the Man’s eyes. He had done this. They were right. He should be the one lying in a coma somewhere. Not Legolas. Not Arwen. They were in this state of living death because of him. For years, in fact, if he told himself the truth.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly to the two sleeping figures. “You were right, Arwen. You were right, Legolas.”
Aragorn sat on the grass, and perused the two who loved him most. What fate did that love bring them to?
“I …I was afraid,” Aragorn said quietly. He looked away, down to the glade where he used to play as a child. Somewhere past the bushes and around some trees he would find his mother’s grave. He used to visit there often and contemplate his fate.
“I was afraid,” he said again. “I was afraid to really love someone and give myself completely…I …I didn’t want to risk losing the one I loved, if …if I wasn’t good enough…I knew I was cursed, and so too would any who dared to love me. And I was right.”
He stopped, frustrated with his own babbling. He turned back to the still forms, both so beautiful, so lovely, so worthy of much more than anything he could ever give. What could these two magnificent creatures want with someone like him?
The tears that had been threatening to fall now slid down his cheeks. He took up the Elf’s hand. “I am sorry Legolas that I did not declare our love to all right from the start. You are the one I truly love and wish to be with for all of my human days.”
He looked over at the cold beauty of his Queen. “I am sorry Arwen. I loved you, once, …as a sister and a friend. I love you still, but not as a lover. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Unable to stop the tears from flowing any longer, Aragorn bowed his head and freely sobbed. He could not hold back any longer. It poured out of him from depths he did not know he had. Eventually it slowed and as the heaves lessened, he felt a cool touch on his head. Gentle fingers brushed at his tears and soft lips grazed his brow.
He looked up into two pairs of bright eyes. Aragorn stared speechlessly at the twin looks of love and gentleness in the faces of his dearest Elven loves.
Silently they all stood and enfolded each other in a tender embrace.
Gandalf and Elrond smiled at each other, as the three beings cradled each other.
“They are waking now. You did it, Aragorn,” said Gandalf.
Aragorn opened his eyes. Gandalf and Elrond were standing over him. He was stretched out on the bed next to his lover. Legolas and Arwen were both slowly waking from their slumber. Aragorn looked up at his step-father.
“Yes, Elessar. Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me,” Elrond whispered.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Elrond said again, as the misty sails of the Elven ship billowed gently in the breeze.
She turned her dark eyes up to her Ada. “Yes, I am ready to see my mother. You know I love you, Ada. But I am ready to go.”
The Elven Lord nodded, lips pursed to hold back further entreaties that she reconsider. Arwen knew her own mind.
As he helped her embark, she paused and looked out over the bright blue sky and green of the woods. She would miss everything but a new world waited for her. As if reading the thought, a large hand patted her gently on the shoulder and she turned to look into the most brilliant pair of green eyes she had ever seen.
The handsome Elf winked at her, rakishly, and she laughed. “It is beautiful. Yet Valinor will know true beauty when you, dear Lady, step onto her shores. All will be well. Trust me.”
The power of his smile hit her and she blushed. His eyes sparkled with the many colors of the sea and his long brown locks fell forward as he bent to kiss her hand. Arwen’s blush deepened and she smiled. Her spirit suddenly felt much lighter.
Thranduil turned then to face Elrond. “Do not be concerned. She will heal on the shores of Valinor.”
The legendary King of Mirkwood stepped off the ship and turned his flawless face to the sun. With arms spread wide he beamed at the sun as if greeting a brother. His heavy mane of brown dread locks glistened in the light and his tanned muscled chest rippled as he inhaled deeply. Even Elrond had to smile at this devilishly handsome Elf King.
“Ada!”
The great King turned from the sun and beamed even wider to behold his most precious child. Legolas ran, much as he did when he was only an Elfling, then stopped as if realizing what he had done, and approached more sedately.
Thranduil laughed, a booming mirthful sound that drew the birds out of the trees to flock in the sky above him. Legolas laughed too and broke into a run again. He landed in his Ada’s arms just as if he was a small pup again and he didn’t care who saw it.
“My son! My son. You are alive. And you have defeated the worst and most foul Creature to ever enter our land. I thank you and …I am proud of you.”
Legolas bent his head, a rosy hue staining his cheeks.
“I am glad you are back, Ada,” said the young Elf when he looked up again.
“Are you eager then to relinquish the throne, my Son?” asked Thranduil with a raised brow.
Legolas hesitated. “I am honored, my Father that you have given me a choice. But I …I would wish to…explore other possibilities…”
Thranduil stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You served your Kingdom well. News of your victories spread to the Gray Havens and …beyond. You have earned the right to choose. But,” Thranduil paused and tilted his son’s face up to him with a finger under the pointed chin. “Are you sure, my son, that this is what you want?” The King of Mirkwood looked over at Elessar with narrowed eyes.
Gondor’s Sovereign was bidding farewell to his former Queen. Aragorn turned to the two Wood Elves and squared his shoulders. He approached slowly, his white Horse walking behind him.
He stepped before the King of Mirkwood and bowed. It was a gesture of respect and Thranduil knew it. Aragorn was dressed in full regalia, every inch the King of Men. The White Tree of Gondor emblazoned on the flag above their heads flapped in the breeze. The Gondorian army waited at a short distance.
“Your Majesty, I assure you, your son will be happy,” Aragorn said simply, holding out his gloved hand to the beautiful Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas smiled and placed his white hand gently in the hand of his betrothed.
Thranduil appraised him with a charming smile and stood tall as he stepped to the Man’s shoulder. “I have no doubt, King Elessar,” he said smoothly. “I have no doubt at all. Mirkwood would have it no other way.” His green eyes glinted dangerously before turning his back on the couple.
The King of Mirkwood turned to his entourage of Wood Elves and opened his arms magnanimously. With a signal from their Liege they leapt effortlessly into the waiting trees to lead the procession safely through the woods. Galadhrim, Archers, visiting Elves from Imladris, and Men of Gondor all prepared to make their way to the Grand Palace of the Green Wood for feasting and celebration. For their Sovereign Lord had returned to them from the Gray Havens, and their precious Hunter Prince no longer walked as though one dead among the living.
The Mallorns swayed their heavy bows in jubilation. The vines parted for their King to pass. The creatures of Mirkwood all stopped to pay homage to the Royal Family. The birds danced gleefully in the air, the spiders shivered in their webs, and the trees sang of order restored. Harmony bathed the forest of the Green Wood in its gently song and the land of the mysterious Wood Elves prospered once more. Even deep within the cavernous, darkly secret, and most hidden places of the earth, nature’s symmetry was eagerly received. And Darkness bared its teeth in a metallic grin. For in the land of the Wood Elves timing really was everything.
The End
He pushed up from the hot rubble around him, aware of Mithrandir and Elrond on the ground next to him. Get moving! His brain screamed at him.
He climbed to his feet and made himself run to where Arwen and Legolas had gone over the edge. He had been distantly aware of heavy bodies rushing past him when the invisible barrier disappeared and he had collapsed. He did not know if it was the monsters, or those others. Now he made himself move and look. But his brain seemed frozen. ‘Legolas was dead!’ It screamed. No, it could not be!
He ran through the rubble and dust. The earth under his feet seemed alive as chunks of ground slipped this way and that. And then he saw them. Emerging out of the shimmering heat and dust laden air. Two large metal covered space warriors. The Predators stopped in front of him.
Aragorn walked slowly up to the leader. It was the one he had seen when Legolas first emerged from the transformation vortex as the Hunter. The fair-haired one. Its armored face-plate was gone. The huge Predator surveyed Aragorn with strangely piercing green eyes and flared its spider fangs at him. Aragorn looked down at the bundle in the Predator’s arms and swallowed.
He slowly held out his arms as the limp form of the beautiful Hunter was placed into them. The Elf moaned as Aragorn took Legolas into his arms.
Movement next to him told him that Gandalf and Elrond had caught up to him. Elrond carefully held out his arms as another tall warrior handed over the unconscious form of Gondor’s Queen.
The fair-haired Predator turned to Aragorn and pulled a small hooked fang from his belt. He silently approached the fair form of the Elf in Aragorn’s arms. Before the Man could react, the Predator marked the Elf with the sacrificial scar. Their Hunter had once again emerged victorious.
After a moment’s hesitation, the warrior turned his hoary head toward the She-Elf. Elrond pursed his lips as Arwen too was marked.
The Elves and Men of Gondor watched, as the last of the black menace was defeated. None of the creatures were left alive and the Predators vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared.
Aragorn clutched his Elf to him through out the long climb back up to the surface. He permitted the Mirkwood healers to tend to their King under his careful scrutiny. Now, two days later he sat in the healing room where the young Elf King and the Queen of Gondor still slept.
“Aragorn, go get some rest. There is nothing here for you to do.”
He looked up at Gandalf and shook his head. Elrond sat beside Arwen’s bedside, equally unwilling to move from his vigil. The Istari sighed and sat down next to Gondor’s King.
“Why won’t they wake up, Gandalf?” he asked for the thousand time.
The Mage’s response was as before. Gandalf shook his head.
“It is the link,” said Elrond, unexpectedly. “She took them with her. She died in the fire and she would not release them from that damnable link.”
“But they are alive!” said Aragorn, clutching Legolas’s limp hand in both of his own.
“I fear my dear friend, Lord Elrond, is correct. If that link is not severed they may stay in this perpetual sleep for ever…alive but not alive,” intoned Gandalf, solemnly.
“But the Queen is dead, Gandalf,” said Aragorn despairingly. “How can there still be a link if she no longer exists? We saw her fall into the fire.”
Aragorn turned back to gaze into the placid face of his beloved. Sleeping Beauty. A myth he had heard of long ago among the rangers, of a beauty that was locked for eternity in a magical sleep. Only the kiss of true love could break the spell. Could such a thing work, Aragorn wondered?
The King of Gondor stood up suddenly and walked to the bed side table between Legolas’s and Arwen’s sleeping forms. He stared at the small black object, which sat between them, seemingly dormant.
“What are you doing?” asked Elrond, as he watched Aragorn pick up the space stone. It lay flat and dull in the Man’s palm.
“I have a hunch,” whispered Aragorn.
He reached out to Arwen and, after a moment’s hesitation, picked up her hand and drew it over towards Legolas. Aragorn sat on his lover’s bed and took Legolas’s hand as well. Holding their two hands together, Aragorn carefully placed the space stone in Legolas’ palm.
Both Elrond and Gandalf raised alarmed voices when the thing suddenly glowed to life. Blue light erupted from the small dark stone that now seemed to slither as if a living thing against the Elf’s skin.
Before anyone could protest further, Aragorn placed his own palm over his lover’s and locked their three hands together. At first nothing happened. Aragorn closed his eyes and concentrated.
‘Legolas,’ he pleaded silently. ‘Hear me, my love. Arwen, Legolas, please come back to me, …both of you.’
Suddenly he was in the cavern. Fire made the walls glow red. He was alone. He walked around the strangely silent stadium. Evidence of the great battle littered the ground but nothing stirred in the darkness. It was as if it all happened long ago. But why was he here?
He walked over to the edge of the volcano. The fiery pit was as he remembered it. But now it was silent. The river of fire below meandered lazily under the earth. It might have been a peaceful scene had it not been so desolate. So barren.
Aragorn turned around slowly. Movement somewhere behind him signaled he was not alone after all. He walked slowly in the direction of the darkening shadows. There he saw her. Her black hooded head was bowed as if in mourning. The crown of black thorns stood as a silhouette against her white skin.
Aragorn swallowed nervously.
“Arwen?” he asked, lips suddenly dry.
The thing that turned to him was not Arwen. Yet it was. She bared silver needle like teeth at him in a low hiss. Then turned away, head bowed in quiet grief.
Aragorn stood frozen. Where was he? Where was his Legolas?
He swallowed again and took a hesitant step forward. “Arwen? Please…please s-speak to me. Wh-what are you ….doing here? Where is Legolas?”
The thing hissed again in growing warning. Aragorn stopped his forward movement instantly. Fear trickled down his back.
“She will not speak to you,” said a quiet voice from the shadows behind him.
Aragorn whirled around, relief and awe flooding him at once, as his eyes took in the glorious glowing form of his lover. Legolas stood in the archway bathed in white. His hair hung almost to his waist and swung gently with an unseen breeze.
Legolas moved past Aragorn, without pausing, to kneel by Arwen’s side. He took her black, clawed hands in his and held them to his chest.
“Why have you come here, Aragorn?” asked the glowing Mirkwood Elf without looking up from Arwen’s tear stained face.
Aragorn stammered. He stepped forward until he was standing over the two figures.
“To …to find you, of course. To bring you both back!” What else would he be doing here? What was going on here anyway?
“To find us and bring us back…back where?” asked Legolas. “To Gondor? To Mirkwood? To our …world of …of…”
Before the Sindar could finish, his voice faltering with sudden emotion, Arwen interjected: “Our world of living death?”
Aragorn gasped. She stood suddenly and turned to face him. The black cowl fell back from her face. He stared at her black insectoid eyes, and sharp metal teeth. She smiled at him.
“What is the matter, my husband? Don’t you like what you see? This is what you made me into …This is how you see me, is it not?” She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breath reeked of death. “This is how you have seen me for a long…long time. Eventually I turned into what you wanted me to be.”
Aragorn screamed and tried to push her away. She released him and laughed.
Legolas stood up and watched them sadly. “You did it, Elessar. You did it to her…to me…and to yourself. You did this to us all.”
“No! No…I … I am sorry, Legolas!” Aragorn cried. He turned to Arwen. “I am sorry, Arwen…Please, please…don’t stay here…like this!”
Arwen stopped laughing and stared at him. Suddenly they were both gone. Aragorn stood in the cavern alone. The only sound was that of his own harsh breathing. He whirled around. Then, again in the other direction.
“Where are you?” he shouted into the silence. “Please! Please hear me!”
He ran to the edge of the pit but even the river of fire now stood frozen and unmoving. He turned around again and stared with wide panicked eyes at the darkening cavern. He was alone.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” he shouted in despair.
Slowly he sank to his knees, by the silent frozen pit of fire. He was alone. A sob broke free from his constricted throat. He did not see the long black tentacle-like appendage that slithered out of the pit until it suddenly wrapped around him and pulled him over the edge.
Aragorn screamed as he fell and fell. But he did not fall into the river of fire. He fell on grass.
Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes to be greeted by the familiar blue summer sky of Imladris. The smell of dew and wild flowers instantly told him he was in Rivendell. It was the hill where he used to play as a child, with Arwen and the twins. Over to his left was the bridge where he proposed to Arwen. And below was the courtyard where he first laid eyes on the most beautiful Elf he had ever seen. The Mirkwood Prince, who came to Elrond’s counsel, joined the Fellowship, and became the great love of his life.
Aragorn sat up and looked around. The falls splashed and sparkled in the bright sun. He stood up and began to walk towards the glade by the water. He squinted against the noonday sun and saw them. They were lying in the grass. Like two beautiful wildflowers native only to these lands, the Elves slept.
Aragorn walked silently on the grass until he stood over the two beings. Arwen’s blue-black midnight hair shone like Yule tide jewels against her pale luminescent skin. Her lips were pink and full. A rosy hue gave her the fresh look of a sweet maid, barely out of her minority.
Next to her rested the golden Prince of Mirkwood. His wheat colored hair fanned out to mingle with the ebony strands of the She-Elf. His skin glowed with an inner light and his sharp sculpted beauty was softened by sleep to make him appear heart achingly innocent.
Sleeping Beauty.
Aragorn bent over the sleeping Elf and with a slight hesitation bent to brush his fingers across the pale smooth cheek. The Elf sighed but did not awaken.
Tears sprang to the Man’s eyes. He had done this. They were right. He should be the one lying in a coma somewhere. Not Legolas. Not Arwen. They were in this state of living death because of him. For years, in fact, if he told himself the truth.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly to the two sleeping figures. “You were right, Arwen. You were right, Legolas.”
Aragorn sat on the grass, and perused the two who loved him most. What fate did that love bring them to?
“I …I was afraid,” Aragorn said quietly. He looked away, down to the glade where he used to play as a child. Somewhere past the bushes and around some trees he would find his mother’s grave. He used to visit there often and contemplate his fate.
“I was afraid,” he said again. “I was afraid to really love someone and give myself completely…I …I didn’t want to risk losing the one I loved, if …if I wasn’t good enough…I knew I was cursed, and so too would any who dared to love me. And I was right.”
He stopped, frustrated with his own babbling. He turned back to the still forms, both so beautiful, so lovely, so worthy of much more than anything he could ever give. What could these two magnificent creatures want with someone like him?
The tears that had been threatening to fall now slid down his cheeks. He took up the Elf’s hand. “I am sorry Legolas that I did not declare our love to all right from the start. You are the one I truly love and wish to be with for all of my human days.”
He looked over at the cold beauty of his Queen. “I am sorry Arwen. I loved you, once, …as a sister and a friend. I love you still, but not as a lover. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Unable to stop the tears from flowing any longer, Aragorn bowed his head and freely sobbed. He could not hold back any longer. It poured out of him from depths he did not know he had. Eventually it slowed and as the heaves lessened, he felt a cool touch on his head. Gentle fingers brushed at his tears and soft lips grazed his brow.
He looked up into two pairs of bright eyes. Aragorn stared speechlessly at the twin looks of love and gentleness in the faces of his dearest Elven loves.
Silently they all stood and enfolded each other in a tender embrace.
Gandalf and Elrond smiled at each other, as the three beings cradled each other.
“They are waking now. You did it, Aragorn,” said Gandalf.
Aragorn opened his eyes. Gandalf and Elrond were standing over him. He was stretched out on the bed next to his lover. Legolas and Arwen were both slowly waking from their slumber. Aragorn looked up at his step-father.
“Yes, Elessar. Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me,” Elrond whispered.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Elrond said again, as the misty sails of the Elven ship billowed gently in the breeze.
She turned her dark eyes up to her Ada. “Yes, I am ready to see my mother. You know I love you, Ada. But I am ready to go.”
The Elven Lord nodded, lips pursed to hold back further entreaties that she reconsider. Arwen knew her own mind.
As he helped her embark, she paused and looked out over the bright blue sky and green of the woods. She would miss everything but a new world waited for her. As if reading the thought, a large hand patted her gently on the shoulder and she turned to look into the most brilliant pair of green eyes she had ever seen.
The handsome Elf winked at her, rakishly, and she laughed. “It is beautiful. Yet Valinor will know true beauty when you, dear Lady, step onto her shores. All will be well. Trust me.”
The power of his smile hit her and she blushed. His eyes sparkled with the many colors of the sea and his long brown locks fell forward as he bent to kiss her hand. Arwen’s blush deepened and she smiled. Her spirit suddenly felt much lighter.
Thranduil turned then to face Elrond. “Do not be concerned. She will heal on the shores of Valinor.”
The legendary King of Mirkwood stepped off the ship and turned his flawless face to the sun. With arms spread wide he beamed at the sun as if greeting a brother. His heavy mane of brown dread locks glistened in the light and his tanned muscled chest rippled as he inhaled deeply. Even Elrond had to smile at this devilishly handsome Elf King.
“Ada!”
The great King turned from the sun and beamed even wider to behold his most precious child. Legolas ran, much as he did when he was only an Elfling, then stopped as if realizing what he had done, and approached more sedately.
Thranduil laughed, a booming mirthful sound that drew the birds out of the trees to flock in the sky above him. Legolas laughed too and broke into a run again. He landed in his Ada’s arms just as if he was a small pup again and he didn’t care who saw it.
“My son! My son. You are alive. And you have defeated the worst and most foul Creature to ever enter our land. I thank you and …I am proud of you.”
Legolas bent his head, a rosy hue staining his cheeks.
“I am glad you are back, Ada,” said the young Elf when he looked up again.
“Are you eager then to relinquish the throne, my Son?” asked Thranduil with a raised brow.
Legolas hesitated. “I am honored, my Father that you have given me a choice. But I …I would wish to…explore other possibilities…”
Thranduil stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You served your Kingdom well. News of your victories spread to the Gray Havens and …beyond. You have earned the right to choose. But,” Thranduil paused and tilted his son’s face up to him with a finger under the pointed chin. “Are you sure, my son, that this is what you want?” The King of Mirkwood looked over at Elessar with narrowed eyes.
Gondor’s Sovereign was bidding farewell to his former Queen. Aragorn turned to the two Wood Elves and squared his shoulders. He approached slowly, his white Horse walking behind him.
He stepped before the King of Mirkwood and bowed. It was a gesture of respect and Thranduil knew it. Aragorn was dressed in full regalia, every inch the King of Men. The White Tree of Gondor emblazoned on the flag above their heads flapped in the breeze. The Gondorian army waited at a short distance.
“Your Majesty, I assure you, your son will be happy,” Aragorn said simply, holding out his gloved hand to the beautiful Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas smiled and placed his white hand gently in the hand of his betrothed.
Thranduil appraised him with a charming smile and stood tall as he stepped to the Man’s shoulder. “I have no doubt, King Elessar,” he said smoothly. “I have no doubt at all. Mirkwood would have it no other way.” His green eyes glinted dangerously before turning his back on the couple.
The King of Mirkwood turned to his entourage of Wood Elves and opened his arms magnanimously. With a signal from their Liege they leapt effortlessly into the waiting trees to lead the procession safely through the woods. Galadhrim, Archers, visiting Elves from Imladris, and Men of Gondor all prepared to make their way to the Grand Palace of the Green Wood for feasting and celebration. For their Sovereign Lord had returned to them from the Gray Havens, and their precious Hunter Prince no longer walked as though one dead among the living.
The Mallorns swayed their heavy bows in jubilation. The vines parted for their King to pass. The creatures of Mirkwood all stopped to pay homage to the Royal Family. The birds danced gleefully in the air, the spiders shivered in their webs, and the trees sang of order restored. Harmony bathed the forest of the Green Wood in its gently song and the land of the mysterious Wood Elves prospered once more. Even deep within the cavernous, darkly secret, and most hidden places of the earth, nature’s symmetry was eagerly received. And Darkness bared its teeth in a metallic grin. For in the land of the Wood Elves timing really was everything.
The End
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