I should have known that it would come to this. Sauron is now defeated, and
Estel – little Estel – is a wise King of Men. After his coronation, I
yearned to return to Lòrien to retrieve Haldir and sail across the Sea. I
would have taken my leave, had I not been bound in oath to see the caves of
Helm's Deep with Gimli, my now steadfast friend, and to take him in return
to the majestic forest of Fangorn. Estel was loath for the Fellowship to
break a second time, so I kept my silence and took my part in the
celebrations. To my delight, the houses of Rivendell and Lothlòrien
journeyed forth to Gondor. My mirth quickly faded when Haldir was not to be
seen amongst them. One night, Galadriel approached me in my chambers, her
clear eyes clouded in sorrow.
"Prince Legolas," she intoned. I bowed respectfully to my kinswoman. "You have seen the Sea."
I nodded. The gulls called to me every dawn, filling me with the desire to abandon all I loved and knew in Middle-earth. "Yes, Lady," I replied, wondering where this conversation would lead.
"Do you intend to leave these lands, now that the Quest is complete?" she asked softly.
A humorless smile taunted my lips. "Lady, I have unfinished business that I must attend to."
"Involving Haldir?" she probed, not unkindly. I felt myself blush.
"With he, and with others."
"Haldir is dead," Galadriel said quietly. I was certain my ears had lied to me.
"Pardon?"
"The Guardian Haldir of Lothlòrien is dead," she repeated, her cerulean eyes searching my face. "There was an attack on our lands. He took an Orc arrow in his chest. I am sorry, Legolas."
It was a lie. It had to be. It was an apparition of Galadriel's mirror, and I was trapped inside of it. I shook my head, wondering if I had drunk too much wine.
In Galadriel's eyes, I did not see pity. I saw understanding. She opened her arms and I fell into them gladly, shutting my eyes and allowing my body to be wracked with tearless, noiseless sobs. It was cruel irony that decreed that I – the youngest Prince of Mirkwood, an expendable member of a desperate Quest, the one who had easily achieved the least in the eyes of the minstrels – should survive the one who was in safer territory and better condition than myself.
Eventually, I gathered my wits and stepped out of the embrace. "Gimli," I croaked. "I vowed to take him to Fangorn. And Ithilien could use an Elf's skill to be made beautiful again…" The ring that Haldir had given me seemed to burn a hole in my chest where my heart lay. "I have duties that I cannot forsake."
Galadriel nodded, then reached into an elegant pouch that hung from her shoulder. "He wanted you to have this, I believe." She did not need to mention who "he" was. The Lady pressed a cold, metal object into my unresisting palm and vanished out the door.
I opened my hand and saw the golden ring of matrimony, the faint inscription on it reading, "Legolas and Haldir. Forever."
I sank into a chair and willed myself to cry, to be mortal, to have the ability to die and forget the injustices of the world. No moisture trickled down my cheek. My path was clear: stay in this cursed realm until I was no longer needed, until Gimli had shown me all of the hateful caves of the world, and then… Then, perhaps, I would allow myself to die of grief. Slowly, I put the ring on the fourth digit of my left hand.
I should have known that it would end this way.
"Prince Legolas," she intoned. I bowed respectfully to my kinswoman. "You have seen the Sea."
I nodded. The gulls called to me every dawn, filling me with the desire to abandon all I loved and knew in Middle-earth. "Yes, Lady," I replied, wondering where this conversation would lead.
"Do you intend to leave these lands, now that the Quest is complete?" she asked softly.
A humorless smile taunted my lips. "Lady, I have unfinished business that I must attend to."
"Involving Haldir?" she probed, not unkindly. I felt myself blush.
"With he, and with others."
"Haldir is dead," Galadriel said quietly. I was certain my ears had lied to me.
"Pardon?"
"The Guardian Haldir of Lothlòrien is dead," she repeated, her cerulean eyes searching my face. "There was an attack on our lands. He took an Orc arrow in his chest. I am sorry, Legolas."
It was a lie. It had to be. It was an apparition of Galadriel's mirror, and I was trapped inside of it. I shook my head, wondering if I had drunk too much wine.
In Galadriel's eyes, I did not see pity. I saw understanding. She opened her arms and I fell into them gladly, shutting my eyes and allowing my body to be wracked with tearless, noiseless sobs. It was cruel irony that decreed that I – the youngest Prince of Mirkwood, an expendable member of a desperate Quest, the one who had easily achieved the least in the eyes of the minstrels – should survive the one who was in safer territory and better condition than myself.
Eventually, I gathered my wits and stepped out of the embrace. "Gimli," I croaked. "I vowed to take him to Fangorn. And Ithilien could use an Elf's skill to be made beautiful again…" The ring that Haldir had given me seemed to burn a hole in my chest where my heart lay. "I have duties that I cannot forsake."
Galadriel nodded, then reached into an elegant pouch that hung from her shoulder. "He wanted you to have this, I believe." She did not need to mention who "he" was. The Lady pressed a cold, metal object into my unresisting palm and vanished out the door.
I opened my hand and saw the golden ring of matrimony, the faint inscription on it reading, "Legolas and Haldir. Forever."
I sank into a chair and willed myself to cry, to be mortal, to have the ability to die and forget the injustices of the world. No moisture trickled down my cheek. My path was clear: stay in this cursed realm until I was no longer needed, until Gimli had shown me all of the hateful caves of the world, and then… Then, perhaps, I would allow myself to die of grief. Slowly, I put the ring on the fourth digit of my left hand.
I should have known that it would end this way.