XVII

And Back Again

Legolas woke by voices down below.

He lay under the silk blanket, curled up on the side like a badger in its den, and listened to the sounds of heavy footsteps on the courtyard, the doors opening, someone running up the stair. A horse neighed a greeting from the stable. Marigold, he thought. Then it might be Arahad returning.

He nestled down deeper under the blanket and tried to go back to sleep, but it was difficult now that he was awake. His shoulder ached and he had to roll over to the other side. Now the moonlight fell on his face. He would not have minded; but he could not shut his eyes, because he kept imagining a dark shape blocking the moonlight out, and Tilwine bending down, dagger in hand, and the look in his eyes...

The voices had left the courtyard. It was very quiet. He rolled over again, but his shoulder wouldn't stop aching.

In the alcove next to his he heard Tinuhen move under the covers, then his bare feet steeping lightly on the stone floor. The faint glow of embers in the fire-place in the parlour grew as Tinuhen blew life in them. A moment later he stood by Legolas' bed with a lit candle in his hand. He set it down on the nightstand.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"No." It was true. Legolas hadn't had any bad dreams for three full nights now. "But I can't sleep."

Tinuhen pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down. "I'll be here until you've fallen asleep again."

Legolas wanted to ask him to read a story, but Tinuhen looked very tired, and the sooner he fell asleep the sooner Tinuhen could go back to bed. "Tinuhen?"

"Yes?"

"Can you close the curtains?"

"Of course."

But before Tinuhen could move to do that, there was a knock on the door. They were both startled. Tinuhen left the candle on the nightstand and went to open, while Legolas pushed himself up on his elbows and tried to see who it was. There was a faint glow from someone else's candle, and Echail and Tinuhen whispered for a moment before Tinuhen returned. His eyes were downcast.

"Hethulin and the others have returned", he said. "They - found him."

"Is he here?"

"Yes. I am going to go down and help... take him inside."

Legolas bit his lip.

"Echail says that the cold... well, the cold has made him change very little. It looks almost like he is sleeping. I think everyone will want to say goodbye to him. You do not have to look at him, of course, but if you want to come down - I mean it is very late, and you should be in bed, but..."

"I want to come with you down."

Tinuhen helped him from the bed and fetched his crutches while Legolas stood on one leg and pulled a gown over his nightshirt. Echail waited for them outside the door. The mark of Marigold's hoof on his forehead was fading to a faint scar surrounded by yellow bruising, and the hair was growing back where lord Elrond had to cut it for the stitches. He didn't say much to Legolas as they walked, but he gave him a wary smile, which Legolas returned. Although lord Elrond said his leg would heal, Legolas was glad he wasn't the only one in Rivendell who limped, and he thought Echail was glad for the very same thing.

Echail led them to a room where there was a table in the middle, though the chairs had been stowed away. Hethulin was there, still with the bow and the quiver strapped to her back and snow melting from her boots, and so was Arahad and the other rangers that had left with her, and Maidh, who was almost crying again, and some of the other wood-elves. More were coming. They were all in various states of undress, in nightgowns or linen shirts or with wrinkled tunics over their smocks. When all were there, Arahad bowed his head to them and left with Echail and the rangers. Now there were only the wood-elves.

Beren lay on the table, wrapped in a blanket. Legolas knew it was him, because the blanket was too short and did not completely cover his boots. The snow had been brushed off of it, but tiny glistening stars were still left in the folds, and some of them had melted into perfectly rounded drops that made the blanket look as though pearls had been sewn onto it.

Up until then, Legolas had not wanted to believe that Beren was dead. He had thought he could pretend that Beren was only on vacation and visiting the Grey Havens as he'd always said he wanted to do. But Beren was here now, and he was dead.

When all were gathered around, Tinuhen reached out and folded the blanket aside so that Beren's face became visible. After a moment, Legolas looked up at it. In the dim light from just a few candles, Beren was very pale, but it did look as though he was sleeping very deeply, and if so his sleep was peaceful. Sometimes, when he thought of Beren laying there alone at the feet of the Dimrill Stair, in the open because the ground had been too frozen to dig through, Legolas could not help but think of Tuiw - the worms crawling over his bared bones and the moths eating at his snowy white hair. Now he knew it was not so for Beren. Beren would be buried properly - not at home, and that was sad, but Tinuhen said he would surely understand - and if worms did eat him, it was only so he could become earth and so that flowers could grow on him, and no one would have to see it.

Tinuhen reached out again and stroke Beren's cheek, and when Legolas looked up at him he saw that tears were running down his face. That was when they started running down Legolas' face too. He was afraid that Beren would be very cold if he touched him too, so instead he stroke a braid of Beren's dark hair, while Hethulin held his crutch. Then she reached out and did the same.

When they'd all done their good byes, the wood-elves looked to Tinuhen as though expecting him to say something. Even Hethulin did; Legolas had noticed she and Tinuhen looked at each other often, and in a whole other way than before. But Tinuhen, for once, was at a loss for words. A long while he just stood there and they could hear the shiver in his breaths.

Then his right hand sought Legolas', and his left hand sought Naru's. And then Naru took Faerdis' hand, and Legolas took Hethulin's, until they stood in a circle hand in hand, just like they had once did when they were about to leave Greenwood, just as Beren had wanted them to do then. Tinuhen had not been in that circle, but he must have seen them doing it.

"I don't think anyone could have guessed what would happen on this journey", Tinuhen said after a while. His voice was thick. "Not even Beren. But I think... I think he knew that whatever happened, we would stay strong if we stuck together. We would make it through not as many, but as one. And we did."

"Thanks to you", Hethulin said.

"I don't know about that", Tinuhen said and smiled and sobbed. "I think it was thanks to Beren. And to all of us. What matters is that we are here. All of us now. And we will come home. Beren will come with us in our hearts." He looked at Laeros, and Laeros looked back. "All will come home in time."

He squeezed Legolas' hand, and Legolas instinctively squeezed Hethulin's, and all the elves simultaneously drew breath.

"We have done what we came for", Tinuhen said. "And we did it together. If Beren knew that, I think he would be proud."

It wasn't a very good speech, as speeches go. It was not the most passionate either, to come from Tinuhen, because when Tinuhen spoke of etiquette he was very passionate indeed. But it was a speech that made the elves straighten their backs and look at each other and breath deeply again. It made them long for home, but it also made them feel as though home was not far away but there, in that room, in their hearts and in their linked hands.

And it made them feel that, though there were still many questions that lacked answers, and some things that would never truly come to an end, it was finally all over.

They buried Beren five days after New Years Eve under a bright winter sun. Lord Elrond was worried they would not be able to dig through the frozen ground, but it was all right, for the elves of Greenwood buried their dead under trees, and there was a maple near the House of Elrond who willingly took Beren under her roots. The wind pulled at their hair and their white breath mingled. The last they saw of Beren was his dark hair in the snow disappearing beneath the roots. Hethulin thanked the maple. Then they walked back to the House through the snowy woods, each in their own thoughts.

Later that day they had a funeral feast in the Hall of Fire. They ate and drank all that was left from the Midwinter and Yule and New Year festivities, and then they danced and sang, and Tinuhen walked out of the hall with Echail and a wine bottle because the wood-elves sang such rude things he could not stand it. In some ways Tinuhen had not changed, but that was probably just as well. Elladan and Elrohir decided the songs were not meant for Legolas' ears either, and Legolas was very tired anyway, so they walked outside into the cold night air and said goodnight to the horses in the stables. Marigold was so glad to see Legolas she tried to jump over her stall door when he could not reach her quickly enough. She stood beside Amlûg, who became a bit jealous when Legolas hugged Marigold first.

"You see, Amlûg", Legolas told him, "Marigold risker her life for me, and that's why I owe her a lot, but she's not mine, so don't be afraid that I'll forget about you."

Elrohir, who stood beside him, raised an eyebrow. "You call the horse Amlûg?"

Legolas grinned.

"That is the best name for a horse I ever heard", Elrohir said. "I wish I had a horse named dragon."

The following weeks passed like a blur. The House of Elrond was all of a sudden a very merry place, full of song and laughter, and with comfort and kindness to those who needed it. Spring came as spring does, slowly at first and then so fast that one forgot it had ever been winter. There was hardly any time to long for home. But when one day Hawn and Findel and some other rangers came down from the north and said that the snow had melted in the High Pass so that it would now be possible to cross the mountains and head east, Legolas was very glad indeed.

And so they left at last for home, taking farewell of the House of Elrond under an indecisive Mars sky. The courtyard was muddy, the birches had just burst into green, and no one knew whether to keep their cloaks on or not, because the sun was warm but the air was cold and the clouds came with rains that lasted for half a minute or so and then moved on.

"Come back soon", said lord Elrond when they rode off. "And tell the Elven King and Queen they are always welcome!"

"Practise your letters, and you will soon find there are a great many books other than Tales of Doriath that you can read", said Erestor.

"But do not forget to have fun", said Glorfindel. "And keep training with the bow!"

Echail didn't say anything until Legolas did.

"I hope you get to be a warrior one day, like you want to."

"I don't know about that", Echail replied and shrugged. "Maybe I am not meant to be a warrior. But Glorfindel says that even if one cannot fight, one can still train other fighters."

"Greenwood needs teachers."

"So I've heard." Echail looked up at Legolas where he sat on Amlûgs back and grinned. "Stay out of trouble now."

The twins rode with them for a while. When they came up high enough that they could see the House of Elrond again, Legolas looked back; Lindir and Ninneth stood on the courtyard waving, even though the others had went back inside. He waved back, then turned no more until they reached the highest point of the Pass and could see the West, now behind and below. It was a beautiful sight, and Legolas thought that he would like to see it again some day - but for now, his mind was on his home.

At the other side of the Pass they found their two carts. One was still whole, so they unloaded their pack horses so they could send them home with the twins and carried everything over to the cart instead. Legolas hugged both Elladan and Elrohir for a long time before he let them go, and though neither of them said much, they did not need to either. The twins gave him a slender dagger with a hilt made from the bone of a bear - for strength, they said, but also for gentleness, and for the love of sweets. It was a splendid gift.

Legolas wanted to ask them to promise not to be so sad, but he understood it was an impossible thing to promise. "I'm going to miss you", he said.

"We'll miss you too", Elladan said. "But we'll see each other again soon, no doubt."

"When?"

"I don't know yet. Just keep an eye out, won't you?"

"I will", Legolas said. The twins smiled at that, and then they mounted their horses again, took the ropes that bound the pack horses together, and turned back towards the West. Soon they were only silhouettes against the setting sun.

On the wood-elves rode, followed by the spring sun melting the snow in the mountains. There was no snow in the foothills or the Vale of Anduin when they reached it, and they raced each other in the tall new grass and gathered dandelion and nettle leaves to fill out the grain and dried meat they had got from Rivendell. They made nettle soup and nettle bread and when they crossed the river Anduin they caught enough fish to grill over the fire. They bathed in the river, which was full and eager with spring, and looked all the time towards the dark line of trees by the horizon.

On they rode, and Greenwood was dark and silent, the way they had left it. It seemed emptier now, and the Forest Road was crumbling and breaking as if the elves that had lived alongside it had somehow kept it whole and could not longer now that they were gone. Dark weeds grew between the cracked stones now, and in many places the road could no longer be seen. But though the Shadow had grown, they could not feel it as strongly as before. Legolas felt as though it wasn't really there. Maybe it was sleeping, or maybe it had its attention elsewhere. The elves kept their spirits up, and the trees were happy to have them there.

In the meadow with the three stones they met Ninniach and a couple of other elves - half from the shadow-wood, half from the Mountain. They had bows and short-swords, or slings and spears, and they were all clad in green and brown. Ninniach explained they were on patrol, which was how they planned to protect the forest.

"We make sure nothing gets too close to the Mountain", she said, "but we will also take care of trees and wildlife. We've been burning spider nets through the whole winter, but we haven't seen any for a while."

"I understood what you said about Greenwood", Legolas told her. "Why you didn't think lord Elrond could heal her. Because he can't, can he, but maybe we can, or at least we can do our best and fight it."

Ninniach smiled at him.

"You were right", Tinuhen said. "About everything."

She looked at him long, and her gaze was softer than usual. "No, my prince, not about everything. I was wrong about you."

On they rode, and as they came closer to the Mountain, the horses quickened their stride without the elves having to ask them to. It was afternoon when they left the shadow-wood, and Mars was ending. Birds and squirrels and deer and foxes came to greet them, and the trees sang in joy. The path seemed to bend and twist more than ever, as though Greenwood had laid it so so that the elves would stay with her longer before they went into the Mountain. And all of a sudden Legolas wished it would bend and twist forever. He wanted to come home, and yet he didn't - because the horrible thought struck him that maybe everything would be different, so different that he'd rather not know it.

He stiffened on Amlûg's back and Amlûg sensed his worry and tossed his head. Now he didn't want to get home either. And Tinuhen looked down on him and smiled, and there was sadness in his smile, and he put his hand lightly on Legolas' shoulder.

Maybe he felt the same. Legolas looked up at him and smiled back, faintly.

The stream lay before them, glittering in the sunlight, and the gates stood open. They rode over the bridge. They rode through the gates. The stables and smithy had finally got new thatching on the roofs, and the courtyard was covered in fresh straw. The stair had a new puddle below, from the spring rains.

It wasn't different, not at all. But it wasn't the same either.

Legolas climbed from Amlûg's back and stood, clutching at his mane, while the other elves ran up to their loved ones and hugged them. There was so much laughter and chatter and questioning that not a word could be distinguished and in all that noise Legolas felt detached from it all, as if he stood under shelter and watched a storm rage outside and didn't feel a single gust of wind. Mother and father stood on top of the stair. The steps weren't as tall as they had once been. He needed only walk up to meet them.

He couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. They weren't different - he was.

Then father took his arm from mother's waist and walked down the stairs. His eyes were sad and happy at the same time, and a little tired, and there were tears in them - and it was then that Legolas remembered that father knew some of what had happened since he left. Together they had stood on that plain with the pools and the grass and the broken weapons, together they had faced that thing in the darkness, the figure of flames. It felt like long ago, but it had been real. Father remembered it, too. When he was almost at the bottom step, he bent down, so that Legolas didn't have to look up at him, and the memory of that dream-that-wasn't-a-dream was like a raw wound in his eyes. He tucked a strand of hair behind Legolas' ear and it seemed he did not know if he should be happy or sad.

But then he smiled, and though it was a faint smile at first, it widened, and it reached his eyes and his shoulders and laughter rumbled in his chest, the loud, unchecked laughter that Legolas reminded from when he was very little. And father forgot he was a king, or maybe he didn't care. He pulled Legolas into an embrace that took the breath from both of them and lifted Legolas into the air and spun him around, and all the time he was laughing until tears spilled down his cheeks.

"My dear, dear child", father said, but then he held Legolas a little away and corrected himself. "No, not quite. A child you were when you left me, but you have grown."

"I had to."

"I know." Father smiled at him the way one might smile at the first rays of sun after a long winter, and Legolas truly felt that warm and big and brilliant. "Blessed be this day!" father said and spun around again, then set him down on the stair and put a hand on his shoulder and dried the tears from his face with the back of his hand. He didn't wear his old silver crown, Legolas noticed now, but one made of leaves and red berries.

Mother wore a similar one. It lay proudly on her dark hair when she knelt on the stair and wrapped her arms around Legolas, tightly. Her body felt hard at first, her chest tight with worry, and he felt a breath go out of it. Then it softened. A new breath filled it, warm and gentle.

"Truly", she said, softly so only Legolas could hear it, "this day you have blessed, Legolas, and it will be remembered."

Tinuhen had expected a formal greeting, and had stood with his hands behind his back waiting for the opportunity to say grand and noble things, but he grew tired of that after a while. He said: "For your information, esteemed parents, your other son is also standing here, and he also happens to have been absent for a long time. But I am sure that can wait to after dinner."

At that the Elven King and Queen fell silent, horrified, then began to apoligise; but Legolas said: "Don't worry, he's joking," and they laughed and realised with surprise that he was.

"Oh, Tinuhen!" mother said. "Come here, you don't get away, not after you said such a dreadful thing!" She embraced him, and Tinuhen buried his face in her thick hair and pretended he held her so tight only because she wanted to, and Gwiwileth was the only one who felt how much his shoulders trembled.

"What a day to be alive", said Thranduil quietly to Legolas, before he went down the stair too. "Tinuhen told a joke."

There was a lot of hugging and kissing and laughing there on the courtyard, and Laeros' parents laughed and cried at the same time because they knew Laeros wasn't coming home but there were good news about him, that he was talking again, a few words at a time, and singing. There were so many people Legolas wanted to say hello to he could not remember them all. Cuguiel said the first thing the Kitchen Head had done when the traders arrived in Dale was to order chocolate, and Legolas said there was a special package of spices and herbs for her somewhere in their packs.

It wasn't until they moved into the Hall of Trees that Legolas caught sight of Merilin. She stood in the doorway, leaning on the post, with her arms casually folded and the long silk dress billowing about her legs. Her hair was braided as beautifully as ever, but there was something absent about her smile, as though she were deep in thought. There was something different about her too. She had always reminded Legolas of spring, fair and flighty, but now she felt like late summer when the leaves are dark and thunder comes down from the north with the first winds of autumn.

She looked at her brothers, and they looked at her, and nothing needed to be said. They simply took each others hands and walked, together, into the Hall of Trees, where the fire burnt and birds flew beneath the ceiling and elves chatted. Nothing was changed, Legolas thought, and yet all felt new.

The sun rose high over the Mountain in the Kingdom at the heart of the forest, deep in the Wild, far over the Misty Mountains.

When the Old One returned to his tower that spring he felt weary. His plans were in ruins. His servants had fled from him, and he dared not set out to find them when he was too close to the found himself. That was the worst of it all, that he had so nearly been discovered.

He called himself the Old One, because that was that was how he showed himself to all his spies and servants: a man old and frail in tattered robes, with eyes of steel and a voice that could take down mountains. They feared him, and they were right to. He was mightier than they would ever know. Mightier than anyone.

But weary.

When he came to the tower, his tower of tall black rock standing alone in a fair garden, he walked up the tall stairs and locked himself in the room on top and sat there for many hours like someone nearly drowned who needs time to catch him breath again before he can move on. His wrinkled old hands curled hard around the armrests. Kill the messenger, he had said. They had killed the messenger, two swift arrows in his back, and the Old One had thought he could go back to his work in peace.

But he could not, for there were others meddling with his affairs; the Grey Wizard and the Brown Wizard, always meddling, always watching, always waiting for him to sway so that they could step down and take his place. They had forced the Old One to take more drastic measures, to send his spies and servants out and block the passes of the mountains so that none could pass through, none, none.

But they had, the elves had and the wizards had. The Old One had been afraid then. Already he had stretched too far and risked to be caught. How much more must he risk? How much more could he risk?

In the end he had to let go all his carefully calculated plans. Let the elven spy live, and the princes. He did so so that he himself would not be caught.

And he had not been caught.

When he thought of that he smiled at last, with relief and with scorn. He had not been caught; the fools that called themselves the Wise would never catch him. He was more cunning than they could imagine. Mightier than they could imagine.

The Old One stood up, and he was no longer weary. He must lay low for a time, not take any more risks. He would make new plans, gain new servants. Then, when the Wise had forgotten about him, when the Brown Wizard and the Grey Wizard had other things on their meddling minds, he would set to work again, and he would be even more secretive, even more cunning. And he would succeed. Who could stop him?

The Old One turned to the Stone that lay, ever watchful, under a piece of moth-eaten cloth on a pedestal in the centre of the room. Saruman, the stone whispered. Saruman...

It was tempting, so tempting to look into it. The Stone could show him a great many things - but it would try to command his will, and he would have to fight it, and he would be exhausted. No, not now. He would leave the Stone for later. Tomorrow, perhaps, or tonight, or this afternoon, he would look into it. At least, he thought, and swept from the chamber, he would eat something first.

Saruman, the stone whispered.

FIN

It's over, you guys. After almost one and a half year (mostly because I couldn't keep it *cough*), this story has come to an end. I'm amazed at how many of you have stayed with me from the beginning, and how many of you jumped on the wagon late and actually read the whole thing, and I'm overwhelmed by you favourites, following, and reviewing this story - I wouldn't have kept going without it, but I would have kept going with far less, and I could never have expected all of this. I'm so grateful for your patience and positivity and it's been so much fun to read your guesses at what might happen or angry outbursts at the cliffhangers (I'm sorry. But they were fun.) Really, it's been amazing.

I don't know when and if I'll next have a story on here; it'll probably be nothing near this big. I need time to work on my own original novel, and it won't be published anywhere on the internet. That doesn't mean I won't be around though! So until next time I just want to wish you all good luck in whatever you're doing, and thank you for sticking with me. Lots of love!

Oh, and - I haven't answered all questions about this story in order not to spoil it, but if you still want to know anything about the ending, ask away!

~Siri