Chapter 9

Aragorn thought things over as the elf fell asleep in his arms. The news that this was their future had hit Legolas pretty hard. He himself was still in denial, it did not, could not, feel real. He pressed another kiss into the golden hair of his friend and then placed another on his cheek, kissing his tears away. The future. No, it did not seem possible. He sat still in the deep woods, listening to the trees creak in the wind and the melodic rustling of their many leaves. He had heard it before, so many times before, in the solitude of the forests that he had wandered so freely and so often. And yet, there was no way to be truly in the forest, cut off from everything artificial, for there was the hum of distant cars, and the occasional rumble of a jet plane as it sped above them in the sky.

'Ada,' Legolas whispered in his sleep.

The ranger looked down again at him, he seemed to have found some peace in his dreams, for there was a little smile on his face. He scooped him up into his arms and carried him home through the forest; the elf nestled against him, but did not wake up. He walked slowly through the undergrowth, but Legolas felt so light, it was no burden to carry him.

When he reached the house, he found that Elrond and the hobbits had gone inside, but the porch light was still on, and the front door was unlocked. Elrond was sitting up in the kitchen, absently dipping his finger in and out of a cup of lukewarm tea.

'Where are the hobbits?' he asked softly.

'They went to bed,' said Elrond. 'Is he all right?'

Aragorn looked down at the sleeping elf. 'He is…now. I had better put him to bed.'

'Come back after, I need to talk to you.'

Aragorn nodded and carried Legolas upstairs to the room that he shared with Elrond. He lay him down on his bed and unbuttoned his shirt.

Legolas stirred a little, but did not wake.

Aragorn slipped his sandals off and put them on the floor next to the bed. He looked down at his face, at the bright eyes that were now looking up at him. It was a strange thing about elves. He wondered for a moment if Legolas could see him, and what he was dreaming. 'Goodnight, Legolas,' he whispered, and then walked back downstairs.

Elrond had abandoned his tea, and was pacing around the kitchen. 'Estel,' he said when Aragorn came in, turning to face him. 'I fear for Frodo.'

'Is he ill?'

'The wound is beginning to reopen. I do not know why, I have not yet found an explanation. He was in considerable pain for some time.' Elrond paused and steepled his fingers together.

'Reopening?'

'It was bleeding again. Perhaps he had used his arm too freely, but I think not.' Elrond sat down on the sofa and hugged his knees.

'Bleeding?'

'Yes, there was fresh blood, a fresh sore. I always knew that it would never heal completely, but this should not be happening.' He leaned against the back of the sofa and tilted his face up to the ceiling. 'He is so brave. To accept a burden such as the one that he carries and bear it with a wound such as the one he has is a task that few could undertake. And he has taken it so well, but it is draining him. Already he is beginning to lose himself, his thoughts and his own feelings.'

'What are you saying?'

'The ring will claim him, Estel, unless it is destroyed. He will become like Gollum, he cannot hold of the effects forever. It must be destroyed!' He stood up and went back to pacing.

'But we cannot destroy it—that can only be done in Mt. Doom,' said Aragorn.

'If we do not destroy it, we will lose Frodo. Besides, we cannot keep the ring here forever, perhaps Sauron cannot reach it, but there is the threat of Saruman, and even if we removed him, there could be anyone. You, I, a person off the street, there are few who could resist its power, whoever it falls to it will corrupt. The ring has a will of its own, and it is evil. If it is allowed to continue, it will draw darkness to it and consume everything about it.' Elrond went to the window and stared out into the darkness.

'I know this, but what can I do about it?'

'I do not know!' cried Elrond, his voice choking. He shut his eyes tightly and a tear fell down his face.

Aragorn rushed to his side and put his arms about him. 'I am sorry,' he said. 'I did not mean to…'

'It is quite all right,' said Elrond gently, running his hand over Aragorn's hair. 'I understand.'

They stood for some time in silence, but then Elrond turned away. 'It all seems so useless sometimes, we fight so hard, and yet it seems that we can never win.' He closed his eyes. 'Sometimes it seems as if we are fighting a hopeless, never ending battle with the desperate belief that somehow good will come of it, but I see no good. It seems that the best we can ever do is stave off evil for yet a little while, but it always seems to get the upper hand.

'Good always overcomes evil?' he asked bitterly. 'I think not.'

Aragorn stood at a loss. 'How long does Frodo have?'

'Ah, he can bear it for a few more years now, ten, twelve, fifteen maybe. But the ring coupled with his wound will take its effects much sooner. Sooner than it ever took Bilbo or Gollum; we will lose him.' He sat down on the sofa again and absently braided a lock of his hair.

Aragorn stood and stared at him, he had seen Elrond depressed before, sometimes, the weight of his centuries of living would take him and drag him down. But he had always managed to pull himself up from it, renewing his own hope, perhaps with the help of a friend, but mainly on his own. Elrond was resilient.

Finally, Elrond stirred. 'Goodnight, Estel,' he said. 'I think that I shall go to bed now.' He kissed his forehead and disappeared up the stairs.

Aragorn stood uncertainly, then walked into the hobbits' room. They were sleeping quite peacefully when he saw them, and he decided not to disturb them. He went up to his room. Boromir was asleep, one leg falling off his bed. Aragorn put it back up and pulled his clothes off; he threw them over a chair, and jerked on a nightshirt, then lay down on the top of his covers and tried to sleep. But the hot air and his worried thoughts brought about a stubborn insomnia. He looked at the clock, 12:33 a.m. He stared at the clock as the minutes slowly went by, and finally fell into a troubled sleep.