Chapter 8

Legolas found Merry and Pippin and took the home; they walked slowly across the grass, the elf holding their small hands. The music and laughter died away leaving them in a gentle silence broken by chirping frogs, the buzz of insects, and the wind in the leaves. When they reached their house, they found Aragorn sitting alone under a tree. They settled down near him.

'How is Frodo?' asked Legolas.

'Elrond took care of him, he's sleeping now,' said Aragorn.

'What was the matter with him?' asked Pippin, leaning against Aragorn's arm.

'His shoulder hurt, Pip,' Aragorn whispered, stroking Pippin's curls.

'Is it because of the wraith?' asked Merry.

'Yes, because he stabbed him,' Aragorn answered.

'But I thought Elrond already fixed that,' said Pippin.

'He did, but it isn't quite done healing yet.' Aragorn drew Pippin closer.

'It will never fully heal, will it?' asked Legolas, in Elvish so that the hobbits would not understand.

'No, Legolas, it will not.'

Legolas lay his head on Aragorn's shoulder. 'He is so brave.'

'That he is.' Aragorn put an arm around his friend's waist.

'You shouldn't speak in Elvish when we're around, it isn't polite,' complained Merry, who was on the other side of Legolas.

'Sorry,' said Aragorn.

Legolas closed his eyes and took in the moment. The air smelt wonderful, and, except for the occasional automobile, the sounds were natural and peaceful—it almost seemed like Middle-earth again, if it ever had been. Did they still not know the answer to that? He pressed his face against Aragorn's sleeve and pretended. He could still see the forest and his home; he could still see the leaves and moss and twisted branches of Mirkwood. It was a feared place, but he loved it. Merry was warm against his side, and Aragorn strong as he leaned upon him. For once, he felt safe in the strange new world.

Elrond sat down beside them.

'How is Frodo?' asked Merry.

'He's sleeping,' said Elrond.

'Will he be all right?'

'He will be fine.'

Legolas looked up from Aragorn's arm at Elrond who had lain down on the grass and was staring up at the sky. 'What have men done to our lands?' Elrond asked nobody in particular.

'We still are not certain if this is Middle-earth,' said Aragorn quickly.

'And how can you not be certain? Does not the sea still call us?'

'Perhaps the sea calls Elves in other worlds too, the sea does not call me,' said Aragorn.

'Estel,' sighed Elrond. 'How can you be so blind? It is the world that was Middle-earth.' He pointed up at the sky. 'The stars are the same. Have you not before noticed?'

Aragorn pulled away from Legolas and Pippin and looked up at the night sky. 'So they are.'

Legolas got up and looked at the stars as well. The same constellations hung in the sky, but they were moved slightly now, as they would be over a great period of time. He closed his eyes.

'And now we know,' said Aragorn, but his voice was cut off by a loud explosion, as the first fireworks burst in the air.

Legolas studied the green fire as it sparkled in the air and disappeared. Fireworks did remind him of Mithrandir. Where is he? He felt Aragorn's arms around him.

'Don't cry, Greenleaf.'

He realized that there were tears in his eyes, and quickly wiped them away. 'And this is what men did?' he asked, his voice broken.

'Please don't blame me,' Aragorn whispered.

The elf looked over at Elrond who was watching the display with Merry and Pippin; they were both gasping and exclaiming their wonder; Elrond sat in silence. Sam came out to join them and was equally delighted.

He looked back up at the fireworks; they were indeed beautiful. 'Is this the sort of world that they want? That you want?'

'Legolas, please, I did not ask for this.'

'And this is what we had to leave for, so you could come and take our lands and rip the forests out, tear the mountains down, dam the rivers, and burn the fields. Why are you never happy with what you are given? Why do you hate the weather and fear the wild? What has the world ever done to you that you torture it thus?' His voice was smooth, controlled and quiet, but inside his spirit shook.

'Greenleaf…'

'You have choked the air, dirtied the waters, the ocean when I saw it had been trashed. What other damage have men done? Why were they ever given the world? Why? Why were they ever made?'

'Legolas, you don't mean that.'

'I am beginning to wonder if I do.' Legolas turned to him and looked deep into his grey eyes. 'What was Iluvatar thinking?'

Aragorn looked at him, pained. 'Legolas, I love the world the same way you do. It was not I who did this.'

'And yet, perhaps you would.' Legolas looked at him distrustfully. 'Perhaps you would side with men.'

'Do you think that I agree with them? Do you think that I believe it right and just to take whatever you want without regard to the consequences? Legolas, I thought you knew me better.'

'And yet, I have seen you, you admire the works of men, their buildings and vehicles, do you not?'

'Legolas, I…'

'Deny it.'

'I do not know why you are so mad at me.'

'Does it matter to you whether I am angry or not?'

Aragorn was silent for some time. 'Yes,' he said finally.

'Why do you care?' Legolas asked; his face lit by a sudden flash of blue as a rocket burst overhead. He did not wait for an answer, breaking free of the ranger's embrace; he dashed into the woods.

The woods were quiet and dark, and the trees about him narrow and pale, he ran swiftly through them, silent and uncertain. All that he could think of was running, the rhythm of his body as it bore his wild spirit forward. He did not know where he was going and he did not care; the one thing he wanted was to be alone—to be far away from everyone and everything and to be safe in his own solitude. And how he wished that Aragorn would run after him. To be chased by his friend, perhaps then he would know that he cared, he wanted to be caught and held against his will and told that he mattered and that the world mattered and that he would not be allowed to run away. And to be alone, how he longed for that, and to be found, that was also his desire.

With these conflicting wishes, he ran on through the woods, oblivious as to where he was going. There was nothing about him but the air and the trees and wild, hidden creatures and the sound of the fireworks that reached him still and their colourful glow that reached down to him in bursts through the leaves.

He had long put off believing it, he had thought it, said it, but he had not believed. Somehow he had still thought there was hope, perhaps he had thought that it was all just a nightmare; he did not know what he had thought. Perhaps he had just been in denial, not wanting to believe anything. But, no, this was too horrible to be real, to dreadful to be thought of. And yet it was, Elrond had said it was. This—this dirty, violent, wretched world—this was the future. Then there was no hope. No matter what happened, whether Sauron got the ring or not, the world would still die. Evil would still win. There was no hope any longer.

He tripped and fell, sobbing, to the ground, the scent of warm earth enveloping him. He was alone, of course. He had run to be alone, and yet he had wanted to be caught, but he was too fast for that. He drew his knees tight against his chest and wept bitter tears, ignoring the beautiful fireworks that glittered above.

'Greenleaf.'

He had been found. Aragorn pulled him into his arms.

'Dunadan, I am sorry, I did not mean to blame you,' the elf whispered.

'You need not apologize.'

'But I blamed you for…'

'Hush,' said Aragorn, covering his mouth with his hand. 'Hush and say no more.'

Legolas obeyed him gladly, crying until all his tears were spent against the Ranger's chest.

Aragorn held him and said nothing, murmuring an old lullaby and kissing his soft, golden hair.

The fireworks display ended, and they were lost in the silence of the night wood, and again all was still and calm.

Legolas lay in Aragorn's arms and made no sound, the world about him slowly merging with his own thoughts as he drifted to sleep, caught and held and at peace.