Seasons Of The Heart

Disclaimer: Belongs to Sir J.R.R. Tolkien. This piece is mine.

Warning: Slash. For more information, please check the first chapter.

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== 4: Winter ==

The ground was covered with soft, white snow. The branches stood out, naked, dead, in such cruel weather. But yet with its cruelty came a glacial beauty. There was good in every season, as there was motion in every piece of poetry. Small icicles dangled from those dead branches, causing it to look like white and clear crystal leaves. The skies were gray, and feathers of snow floated down from the heavens, like faeries, dancing in the wind.

Laughter filled the air, as two elves bundled in the snow. The ice was too powdery to form into balls, and so sprayed out before they touched the other. Legolas took off his cap, a mischievous glint in his sky blue eyes. He filled it with the white flakes, packing it snugly within the soft material. Chuckling, he nudged the half-elf.

"Are you cold, my Lord?"

"No, I am warmly decked enough, thank you," Elrond smiled. He knew that the elf had a trick up his sleeve. Legolas pouted.

"Well, then, your head is cold," he said, pulling Elrond's cap off, and freeing the dark locks. The half-elf gave a yell, and chased the blond for it. Taking his chance, Legolas bowed Elrond over and held him in the snow.

"Let go of me!" the half-elf struggled, laughing. Legolas complied, much to his surprise. He sat up to catch his breath, leaning against the blond for warmth. Legolas grinned.

"Here's your hat," he said. The half-elf nodded, and reached to take it from him. But Legolas shied away slightly. "I want to put it on for you."

The half-elf blushed when he heard the request. He nodded shyly, and sat back against the trunk of a large gray tree. Legolas inched close, and popped the cap full of snow onto his head. Elrond gave a yelp of dismay, and as quick as lightning, he managed to smack the blond elf on his head.

"Legolas!"

"Ha… Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

The half-elf defied gravity, all a sudden jumping right on top of the elf. He pinned the golden being down to the ground, his past skills as a warrior still evident, even after many years of living in harmony. Out of the entire company, only Gimli retained most of his strength, working with the smiths and forgers. Legolas had not told him yet, but he had secretly requested from his stout friend a ring, which he would give to the half-elf when he thought the time was right.

"No, no, stop, stop," Legolas struggled helplessly, under the effects of laughter caused by fingers tickling him, under the thick fabric. Elrond grinned wider and lunged in for a stronger attack.

That was when he felt it.

A sharp stab, like that of a sword's, plunging through his body. The half-elf gave a gasp before releasing his grip, and tumbling over the shocked blond elf. Legolas sat up at once, and worriedly turned his companion over. To his horror, the half-elf lay unconscious.

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"What happened?"

"I don't know," Legolas sat by the corner, dejectedly placing his face in his hands. It was a few days since the incident took place. Elrond had only regained consciousness a few times, and hardly spoke a word. The greatest healers famed had come to see his well being, but all were stumped by their discovery, or rather, their failure to discover the cause. Most of all, though; they were worried by the severity of it.

Gimli grunted as he took a seat beside his friend. He placed his calloused hand over Legolas' shoulder, and thumped it gently. "He'll be fine." In his eyes, there reflected a mix of feelings – frightened, yet hopeful. Legolas took a look at them, and immediately drew strength. Gimli was a stout comrade to have when times were at the worst.

"I fear… I don't know what I fear, Gimli," Legolas said. He shook his head and tried to focus. "They say that he might… they say that he might die, Gimli. But elves don't die due to sickness. And that is what I fear."

"Have confidence, Legolas!" the dwarf replied in a hurry. "I have always known this elf-lord to be as hardy as a rock made of diamonds! Nothing cuts through his will! Be confident; he will be well."

Legolas nodded, but his heart was in turmoil. He could not simply sit there, waiting for the worst to happen when he could prevent it. But these feelings he did not speak out loud, lest Gimli or Gandalf reprimand him for it. He kept silent.

A few days passed, with the condition getting no better. Legolas felt more dejected than ever. He went to a small tavern, and sat there to drink, as custom of the wood-elves, once upon a time, long ago in Middle-Earth. There they would exchange stories and banter, as well as some who would gossip. The custom was fast fading, but it did hold its ground, a little weakly, in the West.

A flaxen haired wood elf sauntered next to him, and with a smile, he sat beside Legolas, mug in hand. He nodded pleasantly, and then casually began to exchange talk about the weather. Before long, they began discussing matters of much more serious nature.

"I hear that an elf has fallen ill."

"That is so," Legolas replied. He did not like mentioning that that elf was his lover.

"I also hear that he has a lover," the elf smiled dreamily. "I do wish that I were in his shoes. I heard that he was very attractive."

Legolas laughed, a bit jealously. "He is very attractive. His lover is a jealous person. Mind your tongue when you see him, sir."

"Yes," the elf nodded. Then his tone became melancholic. "That is all very sad. I had news that he might die. It's a pity for the two, I feel terribly sorry for them. I don't personally know them, otherwise I could pass a bit of information I learnt on my way here that might cure this sickly one."

"Information?" Legolas sat up. This was news indeed!

"Yes," the elf thought hard. "I remember once dealing with Men. There were a group of us then, and there was a very comely lad I took a particular fondness of. One day, though, he fell sick. Then, I had heard of a certain herb that could cure almost every illness – it's better than Athelas. I went in search of it. It worked."

"Where can you find it?" Legolas inched closer. The elf grinned nervously and backed off from the other.

"Do not be too eager!" he cautioned. "The road to it is deadly, even now, in the West of the Sea. If it weren't so important, I wouldn't have looked for it. You can find it in the Mountains east of Imladris."

"The mountains!" Legolas exclaimed in dismay. He vividly remembered the journey through the mountains in the fellowship, while they were traveling East to Mordor. But then, he remembered too, that this might be gossip. He decided to pursue it with Elrond, who was the master in Herb lore. Thanking the elf, he made his way back to the house of healing.

Legolas sat by the half-elf. He held his hand up gently, and shook him a little, to wake him.

"This is urgent, Elrond. I must ask you a question."

"Speak, then," the half-elf said, looking at Legolas quizzically. The elf sighed deeply.

"I have heard news of a certain herb, found in the mountains east of your home. Is there such a herb, that can cure all illnesses?" he asked, all in a breath. "I heard that is better than Athelas."

Elrond paled when he heard it. He gazed at the determined look written on the flaxen haired elf's face. "I cannot lie to you, Legolas. But first, you must promise me not to risk your life for me."

Legolas bit his lip. He said nothing, nodding his head, and crossing his fingers hard behind him. He could lie now. When they were happy together again, at last, Elrond wouldn't be angry then.

"Very well, then. Yes, there is a sort of herb, and it is indeed stronger than Athelas. This is the flower that blooms in the mountains, just east of my home. You have passed that way before, but failed to notice it. It is white, like snow itself. Silver are its leaves. It grows in the crack of rocks, in steep regions. Therefore it is very hard to obtain. This is the everlasting bloom created by Yavanna herself; with her very hands she tended them. When she left for the West, they blossomed still, to this day." Elrond looked away. "I did not dare tell you at first, fearing that you would try to achieve the impossible."

Legolas drank the information in. He got up, and kissed the half-elf on the brow. Elrond looked after him long after he left. Legolas had promised, but the half-elf's heart sank in deep – somehow, he feared the worst.

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"East?"

The bearded shipwright stared at Legolas in horror. The notion of going eastward was altogether now foreign to him. Legolas sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

"I'm not requesting that you come with me, Master Cirdan. I would only wish for some advice while navigating the seas. Would you not give them to me? I seek only a way to cure my beloved."

The shipwright shook his head, a little worried. The journey was perilous, more hazardous than being in the east itself. But then, he could not find heart to deny the younger elf some advice. He could not stop a loving heart; he knew. With a heavy breath of air, he told the flaxen haired elf all he knew about the ocean.

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"Master Elrond?"

The half-elf turned to face the figure standing by the doorway. It was no other than his old companion Gimli. The dwarf stepped in, and bowed low. The other repeated the same gesture, only nodding his head weakly, smiling blandly. The light in his eyes was already quenched – the stout dwarf could clearly see it now. Numbness seeped through him, a fear not known till now, but felt then when he sat in conversation with his golden haired friend, once upon a time, a few months ago.

He took a seat beside the bed, and held the half-elf's hand up the way Legolas would before. He fished out a ring, a ring wrought of mithril, with a single clear and well cut diamond embedded in the center, and he slipped it into the half-elf's fourth finger.

"Legolas wanted you to have this."

Tears welled up the half-elf's eyes. News had come to him before that a voyage set to the East had ended in calamity. On board was his flaxen haired elf, one who strove to set things right, and had even lied to him then. This was also one who never came back.

"…Thank you." He smiled, a pained one, at Gimli. The light of the stars that had been extinguished was now replaced by the shine caused by the moisture of unshed tears. "I had always wanted such a beautiful ring. And now I shall bear it, when it hurts most."

Gimli nodded silently. His heart was already bleeding. Elrond looked up at him, pale as the sheets spread around him. But he looked a little calmer now. "Tell the others that I'm sorry… I'm sorry for troubling them, and I'm sorry for causing them so much pain. And I… I want to thank all of you… thank you."

The dwarf held on yet firmly. "I will, Master Elrond. Be at peace."

The half-elf closed his eyes and smiled, laying back into the sheets. He could see the distant memories flash past by, as clear as if they had occurred yesterday. He remembered how he met the flaxen haired elf in spring, by the seashore, with the sturdy dwarf by his side. He remembered how summer began with their first kiss; tentative, by the poolside, just by the white falls… and how warm it felt to be carried home by Legolas. He remembered the clear autumn day on the lake, where the leaves floated round them, their little craft, as they pledged their love on the moving, silky waters. And he remembered too, just a few months back, how they had played in the snow, before his illness took him over, by surprise.

Then all went dark, and he remembered no more.

Gimli heard the last breath being exhaled. He got up, and walked to the window, pulling the white curtains aside. Outside, the ice was thawing, and drops of water hit the sill, tinkling a melody. Winter was ending soon.

But this time, spring would never be the same again.

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The End

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Note: There is no happy ending to this story, so please, don't ask me to write an alternative conclusion. (^^;) I'm an evil boy. Anyway, this has got to be crappiest thing I've written so far. XD