Chapter 9.

“Adar, I cannot think.

My mind is in turmoil.

I will be back in a few days.

Much love, Legolas.”

Thranduil frowned reading the careful scrawl of his youngest son. When he had asked his wife how Legolas was doing, she had simply smiled and said nothing.

But now, reading the note and while wishing, but knowing there was nothing more he could do or say to his son, Thranduil silently gave his youngest his blessing and prayer that he would once more find his path.

---

Lightening flashed across the darkened sky as the heavens opened up and poured out the rain. Thunder crashed, rumbling darkly and echoing in the heart of a drenched elf, sitting by a rock face, his knees drawn to his chest.

‘The rain suited his mood just fine.’ He thought bitterly. Tears slid silently down the pale cheeks, mixing in with the pouring rain. His heart ached, a slow pang that never seemed to stop, never seemed to go faster and never went slower. It stayed there. Beating in tune with his heart.

He stood with one fluid move, letting the rain pound at his slender frame. He tilted his face to the sky, loving the feel of rain hitting his face. The shiver of cold wetness numbed his skin, but oh how he wished it would numb his heart.

The thunder crashed again, the sound echoing off the rock walls.

His eyes slid shut, tears forced from the corners. How he hated the warmth of his tears, it meant that he still lived. ‘Lived?’ His mind scoffed. ‘He didn’t live. He just existed. An empty shell holding a hurting heart.’

Lightening flashed across the sky, revealing a broken elf.

“WHY!” He screamed, choking back his sobs. “Why don’t you take me? Can’t you see my suffering? Can’t you see my pain? Why am I left here?”

He sank to his knees, his hands covering his face as he wept bitter tears.

How long he stayed there, he didn’t know.

Years could have passed and he would have been oblivious.

The storm lightened and slowly passed, but Legolas remained on his knees, unaware of his surroundings.

‘Are you moping again Legolas?” Gimli’s voice scaled through time. ‘I never realized elves moped so much.’

“Watch your tongue master dwarf.” Legolas replied condescendingly. “I do not mope.”

“Then what do you think you were just doing?” Gimli retorted.

‘Thinking.” Legolas shot back.

“With a frown on your face and a scowl upon your lips?” Gimli pressed.

“Aye!” Legolas cried out. “That is how I think!”

“You mean mope.” Gimli sniggered.

“I wish I could take all of his fears Aragorn.” Another memory. Accidentally eavesdropping on a conversation between Frodo and Aragorn. “There are times when he looks so lost. I almost wish he had never come. That he would have never stepped forward.”

“He would have had to face the sea sooner or later, Frodo.” Aragorn replied softly.

“But he is still so young in Elven terms.” Frodo protested. “I would have him live a longer life here on Middle Earth.”

Frodo sighed. “I think he will hate it in Valinor.”

“Why do you think that?” Aragorn asked curiously.

“Because we will not be there.” Came Frodo’s somber reply.

“His family will be there Frodo.” Aragorn said.

Frodo was silent for a few moments. “But will that be enough?”

Legolas had often pondered the somber words. He never understood them until he had reached the Valinor and was forced to face yet again the pain of loosing his beloved friends.

His safe guard, the place that he thought that death could not come to had come and torn his already fragile heart into pieces. He had known that death would happen in Middle Earth, but he would have never imagined it in Valinor.

But yet it had. It had come silently, stealing his friends away. No outcry had been made, for they had not been given a choice to remain or leave.

He stood suddenly, surprising the world around him. His fists were tightly clenched. Drops of water fell easily to the already soaked ground. His blonde hair was plastered to his head, but he cared not. His leggings were filthy from kneeling in the muddy ground, but he was unaware of it.

He had brought no extra clothes with him, no food to eat, no water to drink, nothing.

The wind rustled the treetops, sending the leaves into complete disarray. The wind tugged at his loose tunic, sending a chill down the elf’s back. Pushing aside wet hair, Legolas slowly trudged onward.

His feet carried him to that secret place where no other elf had ever gone except him. The trees blurred by him as he ran faster and faster.

He had made several torches to light on an instant notice, providing the flint worked. His hands were shaking, he noticed rather distantly. It was if he was watching himself do everything.

He struck once. Twice. Took a rattled deep breath and tried again. The flint sparked and immediately Legolas gently blew on the tiny sparks until they became hotter and soon the torch was afire.

Grabbing two others he quickly stood up then crumbled to the ground as the world spun around him. He blinked several times at the six torches that had been suddenly lit and then only one focused.

He swallowed back the nausea in that back of his throat and slowly stood again. This time the world stayed where it was supposed to and he pressed on. Twisting and turning along the hidden path, Legolas’ steps were sure as he ducked underneath the low ceiling of rock and twisted his body this way and that as he went deeper into the cave.

The drops of water echoed loudly against the silence of the darkness.

How long he pressed forward, he did not know. All he knew was the beating of his heart, the torch in his hand and the echoes casting their eerie sounds along the path.

The torch sputtered, but Legolas paid it no mind. He had come along this path that he did not even need the torch, and his mind was so consumed with thoughts that he didn’t even really pay attention to where his feet placed him.

The torch suddenly died. With a curse Legolas flung it away, but pressed on, his eyes needing no light to guide him.

The darkness seemed to cling to him. The shadows whispered tauntingly in his ears.

“Legolas.”

Legolas whirled around, his hand coming up to defend his weaponless body.

If there was something there, he could not see it. For even his Elven eyes could not pierce the utter darkness surrounding him.

He stood for a few moments, his breath coming in gasps.

“Thranduillion.”

Legolas whirled around again. “Who is there?” He challenged.

Silence answered him.

Reining his emotions in, he pressed forward.

“Do not hate me for dying, Legolas.” The whisper echoed along the darkened path. “Love me for living.”

“What if I hate you for living!” Legolas shouted angrily.

He broke into the large chamber that cast an eerie green glow upon the rocks surrounding him.

He had made statues of all his friends here. Of Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn, Eomer, Lothiriel, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam, Gimli, Boromir… There were hundreds within the large cavern.

“Oh Legolas.” Aragorn’s statue seemed to move, but it was not the statue that moved, it was a transparent figure of Aragorn standing before him.

Tears spilled down the dirtied cheeks. Grabbing a long metal bar, he screamed and began to destroy the beautiful statues he had so lovingly created in memory of his friends.

The stone shattered beneath the metal bar in his hands. Aragorn’s smile disappeared as the metal bar disfigured it.

“I hate you!” Legolas screamed. His hands stung from the vibrations off the metal but he paid it no mind.

Soon the cave was filled with chunks of elaborately carved stone. Faces were disfigured, arms were smashed into pieces, and one statue after the other fell victim to his hatred.

His breath came in gasps as he slowly crumbled to the floor, the bar falling weakly from his grasp. He buried his face in his hands as he cried out his agony.

This would end here. He would live or he would die. He would no longer just exist. His fate would be decided in the green glow of a ruined cavern.

A soft light drew his attention.

It was from the entrance of the cavern.

Soft laughter drifted through.

“Arwen!” Aragorn’s voice called out.

Legolas swallowed and slowly stood. Walking carefully to the entrance he looked out.

There was a large green pasture with apple trees in full abundance scattered every which way. He saw his beloved mortal friends sitting comfortably around a large picnic blanket with food scattered here and there.

“Pippin! I told you not to eat all the scones!” Arwen scolded the hobbit.

Legolas’ breath caught.

“Oh don’t mind him Arwen.” Merry said laughing. “He’s got two empty legs to fill yet.”

Boromir laughed. “Are you sure it isn’t an empty head as well?”

Pippin launched himself at the warrior.

Faramir laughed, his hand entwined with that of Eowyn’s.

Aragorn grinned, his pipe in his mouth as he regarded his friends with a happy sparkle in his eye.

“Aye lads.” Gimli growled. “Enough of that or you’ll poke someone’s eye out.”

Tears formed and spilled down the cheeks, making a clean path amidst the dirt. “Gimli.” Legolas whispered. “Aragorn.”

Both looked up as though they had heard their names actually being called. Then looked at each other and gave a wistful smile.

“I hope his life is happy.” Aragorn commented lightly. There was no mistaking who he was talking about.

“He is surrounded by his family Aragorn.” Boromir said setting Pippin down. “He used to tell me so many stories about his family.”

“But it was his friends who knew him the best after Aragorn was crowned king.” Gimli rumbled, sitting back his pipe fixed in his mouth as well.

“Legolas is strong.” Faramir interjected. “I’m sure he is just fine.”

Arwen smiled gently at her husband. “How I miss him.” She whispered.

A quiet mood settled over the picnic.

“I shall never forget when I saw him first saddle that stallion.” Eomer said quietly. “We all called him a fool for wanting a horse such as that after Arod died.”

“Wind Runner.” Lothiriel remembered. “The name was more than apt.”

Silence prevailed again. “I am sure he is happy.” Aragorn said wistfully.

‘If elves could die of a broken heart.’ Legolas thought. ‘He was well on his way.’

“I would not want him here though.” Frodo said suddenly.

Shock played on everyone’s face, including Legolas’.

“And why is that?” Eowyn queried.

“In Valinor he can live as an elf was meant to live. In Middle Earth he rarely knew peace. He was always fighting, always protecting someone or something. He never looked to his own needs, but always placed us before him.” Frodo said quietly. “But in Valinor perhaps he will find a wife, have a few elflings and then tell his children of us.”

“Of the fellowship.” Boromir chimed, a smile on his lips.

“Of the two towers.” Pippin smiled.

“Of the return of the king.” Faramir said glancing at Aragorn.

“Of his friends.” Arwen supplied.

“Of his life.” Aragorn replied.

“Of Rohan.”

“Of Minas Tirith.”

“The paths of the dead.”

“A friendship with a dwarf.”

Laughter broke out. “Perhaps.” Aragorn said, he gazed thoughtfully at his surroundings. “Perhaps.”

The light faded and Legolas found himself, once more alone in the cold green glow.

He cast a glance at the ruined statues and with a new determination, he rose to his feet. He went to the weakest points in the cavern and taking the metal bar into his hands, he took a deep breath and swung with all his might.

---

A distant rumble made the small gathering of elves look up quickly.

“Adar?” Lomion questioned, uneasily looking towards the far distant mountains.

Thranduil said nothing, but felt his heart sink. Legolas was out there somewhere.

“Thranduil!” A call turned his attention the opposite direction.

It was Elrond. He was hurrying forward a worried look on his face. “I’ve just received news that a few elves saw Legolas heading in that direction.”

Sudden terror froze his blood. Every thought but that of Legolas drained from his mind.

---

He hit it again and again.

When at last huge chunks of rock fell from the ceiling, he turned and ran out the entrance.

He could hear the thump of the boulders falling around him, but his only focus was of that of the entrance.

Flinging rope across his shoulder and grabbing a shovel and pick, Thranduil turned to face his wife.

“I’m coming with you.” She stated.

Thranduil blinked, surprised at the words. He looked at her; she was dressed in male’s clothing, leggings and short tunic. Her hair was twisted simply in a bun, a few stray strands escaping. She looked every inch the beautiful ellyth he had fallen in love with at first sight.

He nodded, finding no words in his heart to deny her. “Come.” He said simply, holding out his hand.

---

Darkness.

Cold.

Pain.

Laughter.

“Don’t forget me.” Merry’s last words echoed in his heart. “Don’t forget me.”

Faces turned towards him.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Joyous.

“I uv oo.” Eldarion threw his chubby arms around his neck.

Aragorn.

“Don’t hate me for dying, Legolas. Love me for living.”

“Legolas!”

He coughed, gagging on the dust filing his throat.

He blindly pushed aside debris, looking for a way out.

“Crazy elf!” Gimli shouted across time, across worlds. “Are ye’ trying to get yourself killed?”

Despite himself Legolas grinned. “No.” He coughed again. “No Gimli. I am not trying to get myself killed. Just out of here.”

He could almost see Aragorn’s worried face above him. Waiting to poke and prod him to make sure of any injuries that Legolas would try to hide.

Then the faces changed, and instead of seeing Aragorn’s face, he saw that of his Adar’s.

And Lomion. Thalion. Loriel. Lothgil. Tasari.

Smiling at him.

Their eyes bright with life.

“Legolas! Guess what I did today?” His nieces and nephews piling on him eager to tell their beloved uncle the day’s events.

He struggled forward, the debris impending his movements. Panic edged his vision. “I don’t want to die.” He thought terrified.

He pushed through some rocks to find open air. He was still in the cave, how far in he still was he didn’t know, but if he could find the path again he would hopefully be able to easily find his way back out.

He bent over, placing his hands on his knees and taking a deep breath coughed as much dust from his lungs and spat it out.

He gingerly ran his hands over his body, looking for any injuries. He found many bruises, but nothing serious.

Blinking quickly, he felt around with his foot to find any sort of pathway to guide him out.

The path that he had helped create had been a small one. Only one elf at a time could fit through the passage.

Stepping forward cautiously, he was not surprised slam his head on a low rock ledge, but he was surprised when his feet suddenly slid forward and he landed on his back, blinking at the stars that suddenly appeared in his vision.

He groaned, the sound echoing in the damp cave. Pushing himself upwards, he felt a trickle of warm blood slid down his face. Grimacing, he wiped it away and stood. Carefully regaining his balance, he started forward again.

---

‘Thank the Valar Legolas had decided to move after the rain had stopped.’ Thranduil thought, as he literally flew along the easy path that Legolas had made.

Broken twigs lay scattered about amidst the muddy ground. Leaves were pulled from their branches and there were several branches that had been bent and torn off.

The clear path only in intensified Thranduil’s worry, and he could easily read the worry on his three other son’s faces as well as his wife’s.

Legolas dearly loved ‘his’ trees and to see them so torn was shocking, especially since Legolas had been the one who had made the disarray.

Silence reigned as the small party swiftly made it’s way forward.

‘Valar keep him safe.’ Thranduil prayed.

---

“I don’t hate caves, Gimli.”

Legolas smiled at the memory of entering another cave, a different place and a different time.

‘I just don’t like them.”

“Ha.” Gimli retorted. “You can’t fool me elf. I know you’re scared.”

“I am not!” Legolas defended himself, but his actions proved otherwise as he edged ever so closer to the dwarfs stout frame.

“Don’t worry laddie.” Gimli chuckled. “I’ll protect you.”

“The only protection I need is from your stench.” Legolas desperately tried to wrap his mind around something other than the cold darkness surrounding him. Their torch had ‘accidentally’ gone out, or so Gimli said. “Did you even take a bath this morning?”

“Stench!” Gimli growled, all to easily letting himself be pulled into the taunt. He knew exactly what Legolas was doing. “I thought that was you.” He sniffed suspiciously.

Legolas stopped. “Gimli. Please tell me that wasn’t you.”

Gimli blinked. “What?” He sniffed again. “That?”

“No.” Legolas replied, his voice strangely choked.

There was an echo of something, vibrating along the cavern walls.

“Oh that?” Gimli said offhandedly. “Probably a mouse.”

“A mouse?” Legolas repeated incredulously. “A mouse.”

“Aye laddie.” Gimli agreed, but his hand strayed to his axe tucked behind his back. “A mouse.”

“What kind of mouse?” Legolas questioned.

Gimli grinned, seeing a very juicy moment for a trick. “Oh I don’t know. Some mice are big…” He paused dramatically. “But then again there are rats down here too.”

He heard Legolas swallow, and edge even closer to him.

“Aye.” He agreed with himself. “What do you think cleans all the orc carcasses?”

“What orc carcasses?” Legolas whispered, his hands instinctively going to his blades.

Pretending to slip, Gimli latched onto Legolas’ arm. “Oops!” He cried out. “I’m sorry laddie. I must have just tripped on something.” He grinned, having felt Legolas jump in surprise.

“If we ever get out of here I am going to introduce you to my pets at home.” Legolas threatened weakly.

Gimli chuckled. “If laddie. If.”

They had survived, thankfully. But he had sworn never to go into any cave with out a torch. Yet here he was. Trapped in a cold, no wait. That was because his clothes were still damp. Or was it?

He felt his clothes. There were slightly damp, but not enough to really chill him.

Well a not so cold, but really damp cave that pitch blank.

Legolas grinned sardonically.

Life was just full of ironies.

TBC