All We Need

“In that hour I looked on Aragorn and thought how great and terrible a Lord he might have become in the strength of his will, had he taken the Ring to himself.” Legolas Greenleaf, `The Return of the King’ by JRR Tolkein.

~*~

The folds of fabric held him captivated as they flailed in the breeze, undulating colours binding his gaze to them. A dazzling array of greens, blues and whites fused into a blinding light. Aragorn sealed his eyes against them, breathing deeply. Images of swans, horses and white trees encircled with stars danced behind the closed lids.

Opening his eyes again, he smiled as a light wind blew across the plain, disturbing the long strands of grass as if Illuvatar had stretched out his hand and swept the rushes aside, feeling the life within. A sombre expression descended on his features as he looked past the lush hill on which he sat to the desecrated land beyond.

In the weeks since the Ringbearer had returned from Orodruin, the debris of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields had been all but cleared. But the ground was still worn with the weight of many hooves and feet, and if one were to pass across the battle field they would taste the metallic tang of blood in the air.

Turning his eyes away from the scorched earth, he brought his gaze to settle finally upon his own hand and the Ring of Barahir. In the years before it had been a wonder to him that such a small thing, a band of silver and a jewel, could weigh so heavily upon him.

He fingered the heirloom absently as he turned his head to the side and, looking up into a fair and familiar face, spoke softly.

“Are you going to stand there all day?”

Soft laughter rang clearly and danced away on the air. The passing breeze whipped long golden tresses into sparkling blue eyes ringed with silver. A slender body clad in green folded itself beside the former ranger. Legolas leisurely draped himself upon the bank, stretching out his long limbs in a feline fashion.

“Nay, not all day my friend. Only until you cease your brooding. Though it appears that I may have a long wait ahead of me.”

“I see you are making yourself comfortable.”

“Why of course! I am royalty after all, though you may have forgotten it in these last months. Covert travel and clawing my way through orc infested mines does not allow for maintaining my regal bearing. I have endured long hours listening to that grumbling dwarf this day. I sought you out only to enjoy the company of an equal. But shame on me, you are no longer a Prince, Master Longshanks, but a King! You are my better, your Majesty. Forgive my audacity, I keep forgetting!”

The Prince of Mirkwood smirked at his companion, despite the far away look still haunting Aragorn’s eyes. It was a look he was all too familiar with. The Silvan Elf had become increasingly exasperated with that particular millstone around the man’s neck.

“I wish I could forget.”

“Aragorn, this has gone on long enough. Out with it human, I am in no mood for this melancholy. Master Peregrin is planning on stealing Gimli’s pipe, and I intend on being present for the aftermath.”

Aragorn smiled gently at the mirth behind the elf’s eyes. Those orbs were the only part of his friend that even hinted towards the ages he had graced Middle Earth. Yet it had always seemed to Aragorn that Legolas’ eyes were the most lively, exuberant part of him.

“It is a wonder, the bond that has formed between the two of you.”

“Indeed. Imagine, the heirs of Thranduil and Gloin breaking bread together! Sharing playful banter! I do not know how I shall tell my father.” Legolas shook his head, strands of hair flicking up again into his face.

“If I remember aright, that banter was not always so friendly.” Aragorn looked at his friend accusingly. “Did you not once liken his beard to the fur on a warg’s backside?”

Legolas merely shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “An observation by which I stand to this day. But do not attempt to waylay me, Elessar, for I am not so ignorant as either you or the dwarf assume. What troubles you?”

The human sighed heavily, relenting to the inevitable. When Legolas fixed his mind upon something, he would not rest until he achieved it. He was as stubborn as Gimli in that way, which is why their ‘debates’ were often so entertaining.

“I fear for this nation’s future. I fear for what I will make it. There has been so much sorrow, so much suffering. I would that Gandalf could wave his staff and make everything right with the world.”

“We have all wished such a thing. I believe young Frodo and Samwise willed such an occurrence every trudging step of the way to Mordor. Yet they kept their hope, held fast to it. And they prevailed. If the road is a straight one, you will not appreciate the destination once you reach it. Much has been achieved, yet so much more there is to do.”

“I know now the weight Frodo bore around his neck. The One Ring was a plague on his spirit. Just as this is to me.” Aragorn held his hand before him. The sunlight glinted off the silver band around his finger.

“Frodo was tormented by the evil of the Ring and its maker, not the Ring itself. Just as you are haunted by the history of the Ring of Barahir. You still fear your heritage. You still believe the waekness of Isildur runs through your veins.”

“What if I fail?” Aragorn’s gaze pierced Legolas. The elf let his shoulders slump, his irritation replaced by compassion. This had disturbed his friend long enough. It would end now.

“You have not failed. You will not fail. The mistakes of your forefathers do not define you. The sovereignty of Gondor is indeed a hefty responsibility, but a responsibility it is, not a burden. You have dwelt long in exile, bearing misplaced guilt for the folly of men. You wear the crown of Gondor, it does not wear you.”

“I wish it were that easy…”

“It is easier, Aragorn. The Ring is destroyed. Sauron’s evil is finally overcome, and in no small part due to you. You have undone the weakness of Isildur. You were tested, and you prevailed. What a terrible force you would have been had you taken the Ring when you had the chance. But you did not. And now Gondor and all of Middle Earth are free of Sauron’s malice. It was not on a whim that you were named, Estel. Sometimes Hope is all we have. But that is well, because it is all we need.”

Legolas watched with a creased brow as Aragorn removed the Ring of Barahir from his finger. He twirled it slowly, examining every nick, every scratch it had procured across the ages. Eventually, he closed both his eyes and his fist around the ring. He bit his lower lip lightly and, with a deep breath, he finally let go.

“Thank you, mellon nin.” He said, slipping the band back on his finger.

“Do not thank me just yet. We may have won the war, but there is much yet to do. I myself intend to return with some of my people, and make the trees of Itlilien grow tall and proud once more. Provided, of course, that my Lord allows it. I fear that after hearing of the repugnant company son has been keeping, he may attempt to waylay me!”

Aragorn chuckled, a welcome sound to the smirking elf’s ears. The pair sat in companionable silence for some time. Gradually he became aware of a soft melody, and turned to find Legolas singing under his breath. The tune was bittersweet, and Aragorn followed the elf’s searing gaze to a shimmering in the distance. The Anduin.

“You sing of the sea, do you not, my friend?”

“Yes, Aragorn. Ai, the sea! Did not the Lady warn me? I fear I will not find peace under bough or leaf again. I will follow my people across the waters; follow Earendil’s star.”

Aragorn knew the pain in his friend’s heart, but he could not help the selfish stirrings within his own. “When will you sail?”

Legolas seemed to shake whatever trance had held him and blinked the mist from his eyes. “Oh, not just yet Mr. Strider! I wish to see just how crotchety the dwarf will become in old age! I’d wager he could become quite the grump!”

“Legolas, you are not alone in this. The sea longing may hold you, but I pray that your heart remembers us. We are all your brothers, we fellowship. We would not have you suffer in silence.” The King placed a gentle upon the Prince’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Aragorn.” Legolas placed his own hand atop his friend’s. “But do not fear for me. I hope to enjoy many more long and happy years in Middle Earth.”

“Well, if you hope it, then it will be. After all, hope is all we need.”

The End.