Pre-chapter Note to readers:

I am posting this on my birthday (Dec 17^th) because, like Bilbo, I’m handing out a present this year. This chapter is my Christmas / New Year gift to you.  :–)

CHAPTER 29:  MAELSTROM

“Mama, mama, look!  Deedyn, look what I got from the prince!”

After the rapid sequence of events that morning that had led to the finding of the elven captives, a wind from the West had grown steadily, bringing to the village of Grimwythë the faint smell of approaching rain and the threat of grey skies. But for now, the provincial air was bright with the smiles and excited shrieks of a sunny-faced little girl as she was swung around in the air by the golden prince of her fantasy stories.

Perienna’s glee had begun when she had been approached by a washed and clean Legolas, who wore only light bandages and the weariness on his face as evidence of his earlier ordeal. With his uninjured arm, the prince had picked her up and kissed her on both rosy cheeks before giving her his heartfelt thanks.

The prince was now delighting the child further by tossing and catching her with elven deftness, eliciting laughter that was a ray of welcome sunshine after a night of agony.

The only dark spot in the sunny situation was the child’s consternated mother, who stood by wringing her hands and biting on her tongue to stay her words of fear. But the prince soon took care of the distressed woman.

“Madam,” he addressed her courteously, throwing her a radiant smile that sent even her prejudiced heart – and those of several young maidens around her – a-flutter. “My compliments to you on raising this remarkable child!”

The woman very quickly changed her mind about elves, one in particular, and went even as far as to apologize for what her fellow villagers had done to him, much to the amusement of Gimli who was standing nearby. Legolas then turned his attention back to the child.

“One day, if time and fortune shine favorably on us, little lady, you shall visit the…palace… in which I grew up – even if it is quite different from how you picture it,” the elf prince said, making the six-year-old eyes light up in unbounded delight. “But for now, I shall leave you this small token to remember me by; it will not break.”

Legolas then handed her a golden cord with which to tie up her hair: made from strands of his strong, silky elven hair, much like the one he had crafted for Aragorn, and finely woven so that it would endure. Gimli, standing nearby, smiled and thought how apt a gift it was, for it was on account of the little girl’s fascination with the prince’s hair that had led to his and Elrohir’s rescue.

“Even the King has one,” the dwarf lord whispered to the child, winking at her.

“Tie it on for me, please!” Perienna asked Legolas without ceremony, and the prince readily obliged with his nimble fingers, receiving in response a pair of delighted arms around his neck.

As the little girl ran off to proudly show her mother and friends her precious gift, Gimli noted with amusement the smitten maidens who were stealing shy looks at the prince from a distance. The dwarf clapped his friend on the back and chortled.

“Ai, Elfling!” said the stout dwarf. “If I did not think elves too willowy for my liking, I’d say you could charm the tusks off an oliphaunt!”

“Aye, that he always could, and still can,” came a fair voice behind them. Legolas and Gimli swung around, and the prince’s face broke into a smile of surprise at the sight of the light-footed speaker and his companion, who walked up to him and bowed.

“Mae govannen, Hamille!” said Legolas, rising from his knees to embrace his friend in joyful welcome. “And you as well, Lanwil. I did not expect to see you here!”

“Nor did I think I would be returning to this place,” came the calm reply from the brown-haired elf, whose smile turned to a frown at the bandages on his prince’s arm and wrists. “But you can expect me to ask for a full account of how that came about,” he said, “and what else could possibly have transpired since I left you hale and whole at the Crossroads; for after all, you were merely – how did you put it? – merely going in search of a spider.” He stared Legolas in the eye, thinly veiling his concern and displeasure. “At your leisure, of course – my prince,” he added, raising his eyebrows.

A short burst of honest mirth came from Legolas’ lips. “Ai, Hamille, it is good to see you!” he said, grasping his friend’s shoulder and sighing. “But leisure is one thing I do not have, gwador. Now that I have expressed my gratitude to a little girl, I must attend once more to the grave matter that weighs heaviest on my heart.”

A distant roll of thunder punctuated the prince’s speech, drawing the group’s attention to the skies above. So wrapped up had Legolas and Gimli been in the rapid sequence of events that morning that they had barely paid attention to the gradual approach of rain clouds that heralded the coming of a storm.

“It would seem that each visit of ours to this village brings on a tempest,” Hamille observed with a wry smile, recalling the same violent weather during their previous stay. He turned his bright eyes from the clouds to the uneasy looks sent in their direction, for though the villagers had become accustomed to the comings and goings of these strangers from other realms, there were still some who did not entirely welcome the intrusion into their safe, settled routines. “Yes… the right weather for the telling of stormy tales, I think.”

“Perhaps, but I shall leave the telling of tales to my friend Gimli,” Legolas said.

“Only after I settle this persistent growling in my middle!” declared the dwarf, inclining his head towards a tent that Lord Langley and his men had erected as shelter for the company, and where Merry and Pippin were now busily helping them to prepare lunch, for the men had ridden far and were still hungry. “We’ll be leaving soon for the Paths, so if you’ll excuse me – I need to give a couple of Hobbits a hand.” He wagged a finger at Legolas as he strutted off. “And mind you take some nourishment yourself, Elf!”

Dismissing the dwarf’s reminder with a playful wave of his hand, Legolas turned and headed for the path back to the cottage. “Tell me, Hamille: what brought you here? Do you know how Arwen fares?”

Walking at a hurried pace, Hamille narrated how he had grown worried at the prolonged absence of Legolas from Ithilien, and after his father had concluded his visit, he had ridden to the City, assuming that the prince would be there.

“The Lady is as well as can be under the circumstances – but imagine my annoyance at finding out that you had returned here without our knowledge!” Hamille said candidly. “I could not forget that this village holds little love for Elves, or how poorly the folk looked    upon you when you were last here amongst them.”

“Annoyance hardly describes it, bridhon nin; he was in fact incensed,” Lanwil chimed in teasingly. “We could hardly think for worry – and it would seem justifiably so,” he added, glancing at the bandaged arm.

“It is but a cut, compared to what Elrohir endured,” Legolas protested, meaning to assuage the worry of his kin, unwittingly increasing their distress instead as they immediately wondered what could have occurred. “Still, none deserves our concern more greatly than Aragorn, for with him lies the greatest danger, and it is to him I must now return.”

“We departed before we could learn much about that matter,” said Lanwil as they entered the cottage. “We were told of a way to save him from the Shadow Realm – but will you tell us of it now?”

“You shall soon find out from the lips of he who knows it best,” said Legolas, striding towards the room where Elrohir lay. “It is to him we turn for the next step.”

Soon, after brief greetings with Celeborn, Elladan and Tobëas, and a quick look at how Elrohir and Aragorn were faring in their separate rooms, the elves and the guard gathered in the sitting room to hear what Lord Celeborn had to say about the King’s condition. They were all disturbed by the King’s sunken cheeks and increasingly dark shadows under his unmoving eyes.

“I will not sweeten my words: Elessar would already have passed by now if not for the unnatural force that holds his spirit and body,” the elf lord said solemnly as more thunder rumbled, closer than before. “But, without sustenance, he may soon be beyond our aid.”

“Then let us leave as soon as Lord Langley and his men have taken some food,” said Tobëas. “They are faint with hunger from their long journey, but we wish to escort the King, at least to the foot of the ravine as before.”  

“And a storm looks about to set in,” Elladan observed through the window. “Should we wait for it to abate? The Paths are quite a ride from here.”

In the pause that followed the suggestion, the window curtains began to flap as the wind grew in speed outside. Vaguely, the elves could hear the voices of Merry and Pippin, and of the villagers in the distance as they rushed about gathering the children and their laundry, and to bring in the meat they had set out to cure in the sun, for the coming storm would not be light.

“We will wait a while, for the fury of such storms is quickly spent; but we must depart as soon as the rain lightens,” said Celeborn. “I am glad that we have more of our kin here, Hamille – even if it is only two,” he told the new arrivals. “I fear we shall need to call on the names of Elbereth and Gilthoniel many times before the Holding Gate… for aid and mercy.”

“The King’s spirit – his soul – is behind the Gate?” asked Hamille.

“As were those of the Cursed Ones – yes,” Legolas answered with a heavy heart. He closed his eyes as he recalled how he had sensed Aragorn’s presence in the prison of stone. “He must feel as they did: forgotten and abandoned – though he could be no further from the truth. Would that we could release him this instant!”

“We will if Saruman’s runes do indeed hold the key to his release,” said Elladan. “We will soon find out.”

“I have many questions, my lord,” said Hamille. “But chief among them is the one concerning the runes, for I have heard only snatches of what they entail. Will you tell us what they say, and how they hold the key?”  

At first there was only silence from Celeborn, and it was clear to Hamille that it did not please the elf lord to speak about them. Yet, speak about them he had to, for what they were about to attempt hinged on the accursed words of the evil fallen wizard.

Thus, as the scent of imminent rain filled the room and the wind wailed lightly outside, Celeborn recited the runes once more for the sake of Hamille and Lanwil, cautious to speak them only in the Common Tongue. But even in that language, the words carried a malice that made Hamille uneasy, and the elf shivered as he learned how Saruman – with the first part of the spell – had sent the People of the Mountain into the Shadow Realm.

“It was the second part that condemned Elessar to the same prison,” Celeborn said, uttering the lines that made Legolas’ heart bleed to hear them:  

…he who wakes thee from the Dead

Shall wander ever in thy stead

Knowing none beyond the Spell

Forgetting all, in Shadow dwell…

The elf lord paused and drew in a breath before he continued.

“Then come the two final lines, Hamille, and therein lie our hope – a faint guide – as to what to do,” said the elf lord slowly. “And this is what they say: they tell us that Elessar shall wander in Shadow Realm, lost and desolate, remembering nothing… 

…till Light and Life can overwhelm

The Dark and Death of Shadow Realm.”

A hush fell over the Eldar then. Having heard at last the mysterious spell in its entirety, and the important concluding lines, Hamille and Lanwil pondered on them awhile.

In the silence, the keen-eared elves could hear the first drops of rain in the distance fall from a weepy sky to beat a light rhythm on the leaves of trees. Much closer, the chirpy, animated voices of children and parents called out in blissful ignorance of the gravity contained in two brief lines of a wizard’s chant: strings of words that might in fact point to the only means of obtaining the release of the King of Gondor from a fate worse than death.

“ ‘Till Light and Life can overwhelm… the Dark and Death of Shadow Realm,’ ” Hamille repeated slowly.

“Yes, Hamille,” said Legolas. “Lord Celeborn thinks that Saruman would have wanted some control over the consequences of the curse that his minions and prisoners would not have. Therefore, he saw to it that the only ability to break the hold of the spell would lie in his hands. First, it would require light that would overcome even the darkness of the Shadow, light that could not be extinguished by ordinary hands, which he as the most powerful wizard in Arda would have had the power to harness.”

“And second, it would require life that could overwhelm death,” said Elladan.

“Not by bringing the dead back to life, surely?” asked Lanwil in surprise.

“Nay, for no one can, at least not in Arda,” answered Elladan. “But there is Life that defies death.”

“Aye, life that resists death: I believe that is what he meant,” Celeborn affirmed. “Saruman’s life could, for he was immortal, and as long as he was not slain, he would have had the power to defeat the curse should he have wished to do so.”

“He… was immortal… ages-old…” Hamille said slowly. Then he looked up at the elf lord. “As you are,” he breathed. 

Celeborn nodded. “Aye, Hamille, that I am,” he said. “My heart tells me that it was why the Lady Galadriel came to me in a vision, telling me Elessar would need my aid. As for the Phial: Sam could not have reached me with it, and so she sent him to Legolas, knowing that he would be with Elessar when things went dire. She had to bring the two sources of unending light and life to the King.”

The elf lord held out the Phial that he had retrieved earlier from Legolas’ torn tunic, and looked absently at the starlight captured inside. “And now, if the Lady has guided us rightly, we have both the Light and the Life that can overwhelm Dark and Death.”

“But how…?” asked Hamille with upturned palms. “How will you do it, my lord?”

“Yes, Daeradar, we have not discussed this in depth,” Elladan noted. “What do we need to do?”

Celeborn put away the Glass of his lady, and looked around calmly at the other elves, finally resting his eyes on his grandson. “I have thought about this long and hard,” the elf lord said. “If the runes speak true – the presence of both undying Light and Life will break the hold of the Door. Therefore, to overcome the curse, there seems little choice but for me to enter the Shadow Realm myself, with the Phial of Galadriel.”

At Celeborn’s words, mute astonishment appeared on the elven faces around him, save that of Legolas, who had half-expected the elf lord to propose such a move, but it was still difficult to hear it being articulated, for the very thought of a stifling, dark realm made his throat constrict.

“Even if I cannot destroy the stone prison, I hope I shall be able to bring Elessar out of it,” Celeborn continued before anyone else could speak. “If Light and Life can truly overcome the Realm, the Gate may not hold me for long, but if I leave the Realm, Elessar must come with me – I see no other way out for him.”

“But…but entering the Realm…” Elladan said, frowning. “How…?”

Celeborn did not flinch as he answered. “The same way the People of the Mountain were sent there: I must be cursed into the Darkness,” he said evenly. “I will instruct one of you to read Saruman’s verses in the Black Speech, to utter them as he once did… and to send me in with that same curse.” The elf turned to Legolas, looking at him squarely. “I have thought you might be the one to do that, Thranduilion.”

A loud peal of thunder followed Celeborn’s disquieting answer, and then the rain arrived, doing nothing to soothe the apprehension of the younger elves, whose faces went pale.

“My lord…” Legolas began weakly.

“I cannot know if it will work,” said Celeborn, “though I feel the likelihood that we have found the right spell.”

“But the risk!” Elladan exclaimed, clearly perturbed. “The runes spell it out: He who wakes thee from the dead shall wander ever in thy stead. What if you do manage to free Estel, yet remain trapped in his place?”

“Then let us hope that the final lines speak the truth and allow me to leave,” Celeborn replied. “Let us hope that I indeed hold Life and Light that can overwhelm the Darkness.”

“But how certain are you of that, Daeradar?” his grandson demanded.

The elf lord smiled patiently. “How can I offer surety, Child?” he said gently. “None here knows enough of the Realm. Were the Three Elven Rings still in Middle-earth, perhaps I would have greater wisdom and foresight in this matter. But the Rings are gone, and the power of the Elves is fast fading. Yet, we must try, must we not? Would you leave Elessar to his current fate?”

Casting his eyes to the floor, Elladan sighed in resignation and shook his head. “No, my lord, I would not… and we must try what we can,” he conceded. Celeborn touched his grandson’s bowed head lightly, finding no inclination for further speech.

“I will prepare the King,” said Tobëas, breaking the silence. “He will need to be dressed warmly against the weather.”

As the man left for Aragorn’s room, Celeborn went with him. Legolas followed the elf lord’s figure with thoughtful eyes for a while and lapsed into silence, as did his kin. While the rain grew in volume outside, a myriad of thoughts ran through each elf’s mind, though the thoughts were different – very different.

“Do you intend to come with us, Elladan?” Legolas suddenly asked.

“Of course,” the dark-haired elf answered readily, though his face was troubled. “But… Elrohir… this rain…”

“He cannot be moved,” Legolas agreed. “Will you stay behind with him then?”

Elladan hesitated, torn between caring for his brother and going to the Paths with his grandsire. “Nay,” he said at last. “Not with Daeradar entering the Shadow Realm, and Estel…”

“Then will you not first have to ensure that Elrohir’s wound is well dressed?” the prince suggested, “and leave enough instruction with whoever will see to him in your absence?” 

“Aye, I know what I need to do, Legolas,” said the Imladris elf, the demands of the situation making him irritable. Peeved, too, at Legolas’ curiously assertive reminders, he walked off wordlessly to the room where his brother was resting.

When Elladan had left, Legolas slowly released a breath and turned to Hamille, hiding the true purpose of his next words. “It was a severe wound,” he remarked, anticipating Hamille’s reaction.

“I have held off asking about this till now, Legolas,” said the brown-haired elf. “But what exactly took place here that caused you both your injuries?”

Feeling satisfied that he had managed to draw the query from his friend – yet sickened by what he was about to do – the prince began uttering words about a situation that he would have, at any other time, elected not to dwell on.

“Elrohir and I could have died,” he stated deliberately. Then, although it disgusted him to do so, he fed the growing anger of Hamille and Lanwil with a quick narration of what Fierthwain and his mates had done to him and Elrohir outside the Paths, how they had callously held them captive despite their wounds, and how they had even considered disposing of the elves if the need had arisen.

When Legolas had finished, there were sparks in Hamille’s livid eyes that could have ignited the beacon of Amon Dîn, and Legolas thanked the Valar that Perienna’s mother was not around to hear – or understand – the passionate curses that the elf was pronouncing unchecked.  

“Those heartless creatures would have left you to die? They should count themselves fortunate that it did not happen!” Lanwil said, sharing Hamille’s sentiments. “But tell us, heru nin, how were you found eventually?”

Careful not to show how glad he was that the elf had asked the question, Legolas kept his voice even. “That is where my story ends, for I must also see to Aragorn,” he said. “But did I not say that Gimli would tell the tale better? He would be glad to fill the gaps in the account while we wait out the storm.”

“Then, while you are making preparations, bridhon nin, may I have your leave to seek Gimli – and then some… beasts?” Hamille asked, his brown eyes burning as fiercely as the storm outside promised to be. “I cannot wait to see their hideous faces; I have a few things to say to them.”

Again, Legolas compelled himself not to stay Hamille as he usually would have. “Very well, Hamille,” the prince said. “Gimli will know where Lord Langley is holding the men, but, saes – ”

“We will do nothing that will bring you shame,” the elf promised, knowing instinctively what his prince would have asked of him.

Legolas gazed at the face of his friends for a moment before he nodded and gave them a strangely rueful smile. “I am glad you came,” he said quietly.

Then he watched them pull up their hoods over their long hair and step out the door in search of Gimli. Striding quickly to the window, Legolas stood there listening and holding his breath till his keen ears could discern from afar the voices of his friends even through the steadily growing wind and downpour.

“Ho, yes, I will take you there!” Legolas heard the dwarf say eagerly.

“And we will go with you,” said Pippin next. “To be honest, we are at this moment beset by the terrifying thought of going to the Paths with Strider! We will not be left behind – but we need some distraction in the meantime. This food has provided some, but it is almost gone, so watching you telling those fools off would please us greatly, thank you!”

“But do not hope for any words of intelligence from those eight pieces of warg rumps,” Gimli rumbled on. “Mathgor, bless his heart, took me to see them this morning, and I was sorely tempted to fry them in hot oil! Let me tell you what they said:

‘We were doing the King a favor,’ Fierthwain claimed, being as tough as the useless slab of meat he is.

I almost choked. ‘What favor?’ I yelled. ‘By taking away the Phial and the friends who would save him?’

‘Look at the King now!’ the fool insisted. ‘This is what comes of keeping the company of Elves.’

‘Fierthwain, it was not they who caused him this terrible fate,’ Mathgor pointed out. ‘They are his friends and his family; they are out to help him.’

‘Help?’ his cousin challenged. ‘By bringing him to see the place of the Dead in the Mountain? By disturbing our homes? I cannot see what help – or good – Elves bring!’

Grraaaahh! I’d had enough by then!

‘Of course you cannot see it!’ I told the man right to his face. ‘How can you, when you’re constantly wandering around in a fog of stupidity – and you’re too thick in the skull to find your way out!’

So, don’t be surprised, Hamille, if you hear them spout more nonsense; it’ll make your ears burn, it will. I’d have happily broken their necks, but I suppose we’ll have to wait till Aragorn wakes up and sees to them. Or that prince of yours…”

The companions’ voices began to fade so that even Legolas could no longer hear them, suggesting that they had begun their walk to where the men were being held.

Exhaling in relief, Legolas left the window and headed directly for Aragorn’s room.

Now is the time, he thought.

Nodding briefly to the guard posted outside the room, the prince opened the door quickly and locked it behind him, surprising Lord Celeborn and Tobëas with the look of urgency on his face.

“My lord,” he said, interrupting the elf lord and the man as they finished bundling the still form of the King in warm blankets. He walked over to Aragorn and gently placed a hand on the forehead of his friend. “I have something to say, and I will not mince my words, for time is of the essence.” After only a brief pause, the prince looked up at Celeborn again. “I, heru nin, and not you, should be the one sent into the Shadow Realm for Aragorn,” he stated simply.

Determinedly warding off questions from his listeners, the prince continued.

“Aragorn needs someone to lead him out of the Realm, but if he has indeed forgotten all as the spell – and my dream – suggests, he may only follow one who can gain his trust, who can restore enough of his memories for him to find an attachment. As wise as you are, my lord, I have spent a greater number of years with him, and gone through much joy and pain and fear about which I can speak to him.”

Legolas cast Aragorn a look of affection before he added: “I think, therefore, that he may respond more readily to a friend with whom he has shared much closeness… than to an elf lord he holds in high regard from a distance.”

Glancing at Celeborn, and undaunted by the unreadable expression on the elf lord’s countenance, the prince went on.

“But that is not all the reason I have for what I propose – nay – insist on, my lord,” Legolas said boldly. “I also bear Arwen’s welfare in mind. If you or Elladan enter the Realm, and things go awry; if… if both you and Aragorn cannot return… Arwen will be bereaved not only of the husband who is her world, but also a brother, or her grandsire, whom she will need to help her cope with her loss. It would be too much for even the stoic Evenstar to bear.”

This time, a shade of emotion crossed the elf lord’s face and his heart was moved, as was that of the loyal guard of Gondor – and still the prince had more to say.

“There is one other reason, my lord,” Legolas continued. “You cannot be the one to enter the Realm, for if anything were to go amiss… if any unforeseen trouble were to occur, you would be the only one with both knowledge and power to find some means of bringing Aragorn back – be it immediately, or eventually. And therefore,” the prince finished, “we – he – cannot afford to have you lost in the Shadow Realm as well!”

As the prince concluded his passionate delivery, Celeborn and Tobëas could only observe some moments of silence. But the elf lord looked tenderly upon the much younger elf, and when he responded, it was with sincerity in his deep voice.

“Thranduil would be proud of you, Child. Well have you laid out your thoughts, for I can find no way to dispute all you have said,” the elf lord conceded. “And you speak from the heart… so that I can hear even the one other reason you have chosen not to voice.”

The two pairs of blue eyes locked in a steady gaze, and Legolas read in Lord Celeborn’s what the elf lord had understood even without the prince saying it:

You wish to be with him, Legolas. I know there is little light for you as long as Elessar remains in Shadow. You would wish to be with him, even if things fail.

The prince closed his eyes and sighed, nodding in confirmation and gratitude.

“You are not in error, my lord, and now you know all,” he said. “But we cannot let Hamille and Gimli learn of my wish to take your place; they would never allow it, and would bind me hand and foot to stop me from even reaching the Paths. Thus, I beg you to leave now with me and Aragorn! I have done my best to keep them both occupied, and Elladan as well. They think we will wait for the men to be ready, or for the storm to pass, but we must steal away now. Tobëas, will you help us?”

“I… I mean no offence, Prince Legolas, but… are you able to do what Lord Celeborn could? Go into that dark realm and lead the King out?” the man asked a little doubtfully.

“You heard me earlier, Tobëas; who can offer certainty in this matter?” Lord Celeborn answered unexpectedly for the prince. “Legolas may not have the knowledge of ages as I do, but I do not believe that the spell calls for that. It should be enough that he, too, is deathless.”

The elf lord then looked at Legolas. “I have noted, too, the words of the Lady Galadriel when she spoke to Samwise in his dream,” he said. “She said that you, Legolas – not I – would ‘need the Phial to keep Hope alive.’ ” The elf lord smiled. “I am therefore not surprised by your coming to me with your arguments, young one. I would not have asked it of you, but you offered this of your own free will. By doing so, you are bringing to fulfillment the foresight of my Lady.”

“Then let us depart without delay,” said Legolas, reaching to arrange Aragorn’s hood low over his face. “Keep the others distracted, Tobëas, and let no one into the room while Lord Celeborn and I leave with the King through this back window. Our horses will come easily and quietly enough at my bidding, and I will lead us to the lonelier paths behind these cottages. I was once taken along them – blindfolded, no doubt – but even then, I will know them, and perhaps that is the one good thing that has come of the foul deeds of Fierthwain.”

“This terrible weather is very welcome, then, my lords, for its gloom will lend you cover from prying eyes,” Tobëas said. “Hark how it grows! No one else will be out in this whipping wind and rain, nor expect you to be in it.”

Legolas nodded in agreement. “You need not stay the others for too long, Tobëas,” he said. “But give us enough time to reach the Paths and put the spell to work before they can stop us.”

“Lord Langley will not be pleased, but I will comply, my lords, for I trust you with the life of my King,” Tobëas said, bowing crisply to both the elves. He then went on one knee before his unconscious King and lowered his head. “May you return to us soon, Sire,” he said quietly. “We await you.”

Then the man stood quickly, and with one last look at the elves, opened the door and stepped out to play his role.

  ----------------------------------------------<<>>----------------------------------------------

Three hours later, Legolas could not stop the slight tremble in his hands as he spread a blanket on the hard ground before the Holding Gate in the Cavern of the Haunted Mountain, and watched as Lord Celeborn gently laid the cold form of Aragorn upon it.

On the long ride here through the storm that had slowed them but also aided in their stealthy flight from the village, only the closely woven elven cloaks – made by Lady Galadriel and her elf maidens, and gifted to the Fellowship during the Quest – kept Legolas and Aragorn from being completely soaked through, and provided enough cover for a dry blanket on which to place Aragorn now.

“There were moments when I thought we might see your friends riding hard on our heels,” Celeborn commented as he unfolded another blanket. “Someone was certainly watching over us, Legolas, paving the way for us.”  

Legolas spread the second blanket atop Aragorn to keep him as warm as they could.

“What was it that Gandalf said once during the Quest?” the prince reflected. “There are other forces at work that we cannot see. Who could tell that this storm would visit itself on the village today? Or that the Lady would send the messages and Lamp as she did? Some things are meant to happen, my lord… and that is a comforting thought.” 

The Lady’s Phial was indeed comforting, for it was the only source of light they could bring along during their hurried departure, but it was enough for now. Holding it up, Celeborn and Legolas looked again in mute pity upon the skeletal ancestor of Mathgor that sat before the Holding Gate like a macabre sentinel for years unknown, a grim reminder of their own need to save one they loved from the same fate behind the stone door.

As Celeborn raised the Phial and made visible once more the blood-red runes of Saruman above the Gate, Legolas walked forward to stand beside the bones of Mathgor’s forefather, and he placed his long fingers upon the hard, cold surface.

“I have come back, Estel, as I said I would,” the prince whispered, sounding disquietingly loud in the dark silence of the mountain tomb. He ran his fingers over the stone, unable to stop the slight shiver in them. “Do you remember, mellon nin, the vow I made to you not so long ago?” he asked hoarsely. “I promised you that if you were ever lost, I would go to the ends of the Earth and beyond to find you and bring you back. I promised you… that even if you denied me, or forgot, I would remember for us both, and never turn my back on you. I swore to you that I would knock at the door of your heart till you heard me and answered, till you could say my name once more, however long it might take. I promised you all this! Do you remember, Estel?”

Legolas laid his forehead on the Holding Gate and closed his eyes, awaiting an answer he knew would not be heard, and praying for strength to keep the promises he had made. He turned around when he felt the gentle hand of Lord Celeborn on his shoulder.

“Come, Legolas, it is time,” said the elf lord softly.

Nodding feebly, Legolas set about removing the wet shoes from his feet, then lowered himself into a sitting position beside Aragorn and gazed upon his friend. Gently, he brushed off remnant drops of water from the dark hair and brow of the King and took the cold hands in his own.  

“Wherever you are, Aragorn, there shall I be,” he said quietly. “Know me when I come to you. Follow me when I lead you out.”

With those words, Legolas looked at Celeborn, his face a little ashen but composed. “I am ready,” he said.

“Clasp his hand, Legolas, and lie close beside him,” the elf lord instructed, and when the elf prince had done as he said, he bound the friends’ hands together at the wrist. The skin on the elf's chafed wrist was already healing and there was little pain. Celeborn nestled the Phial in their clasped hands.

“Will this help, my lord?” Legolas asked in wonder.

“I do not know,” Celeborn replied honestly. “But it could not hurt; you will not be separated in the flesh at least.”

Legolas swallowed as his next question came to his lips. “You have no counsel for how we might come back, do you, my lord?” he asked quietly.

Celeborn looked the prince truthfully in the eye. “No, my child, I have no map that can guide you back,” he answered. “But I will not leave, nor will I stop calling to you. Hear my voice, and since you can be sure the others will be here soon, you will hear their voices as well. We who love you will reach out to you; let that be your guide.”

Legolas nodded. “I will, my lord, but please – make me one promise,” he said, clasping the elf lord’s arm firmly. “If Aragorn… if he does not wake… do not attempt to bring me back either. Will you give me your word, my lord?”

The aged elf’s brows furrowed. “Legolas,” he said. “It is a cursed darkness you go to; it already pains me to have to send you there – ”

“Whatever happens, I will not leave Estel alone!” Legolas said with fervor. “Saes, my lord, give me your word; do nothing to remove me from the Realm, unless Estel returns with me. Do I have your word?”

Legolas held Celeborn’s arm, refusing to release it till the elf lord sighed in resignation and nodded.

“Hannon le,” said Legolas, and lay down again. “Let us begin, my lord; do what you must.”

Celeborn took a moment to look deep into the young elf’s eyes, seeing the trust and determination swimming in the bright blue orbs.

The elf lord had, throughout their long, hard ride here, thought of words to say to Legolas that would give the younger elf courage for the task, but for all his wisdom, the aged lord could not tell at this moment if it was the prince – or he himself – who was in greater need of courage, for it struck him that he was about to use his power to willingly and knowingly send an innocent Firstborn into an evil prison from which he was not sure he could bring him back.

I never thought the day would dawn when I would use the Speech of the Dark Lord to utter a curse upon one of my own, the Eldar thought, his eyes suddenly growing moist with tears of regret he had not shed for thousands of years.

“Forgive me, my child, for what I am about to do,” he said solemnly to Legolas, and bent to place a light kiss on the fair brow. “Elbereth be with you both.”

In the time that followed, the silence of the enormous tomb chamber seemed strangely deafening to the ears of the elf lord. It, and the deep black around him, closed in upon him like a solid force, reminding him of the hostile darkness into which he was sending Legolas. It drove into his heart the sharp, agonizing implication of the deed he was about to commit. 

Kinslayer! A voice, unbidden and unwelcome, cried out in his mind.

Celeborn clenched his teeth. Elbereth, give me strength, he pleaded.

Kinslayer! The thought assailed him again.

Begone! he commanded the accusatory voice. Remove yourself, hinder me not! I have a task to perform!

Drawing in a deep breath for strength against further attacks of guilt, he held Legolas’ head between his hands and began to chant the verses in the Black Tongue.

Legolas Thranduilion!

With this Gate I hold thee fast

From this day forth until the Last.

No tool nor hand shall open Door…

“Legolas!” came a sudden, disruptive cry in the distance.

Starting at the sound, Celeborn loosened his hold on Legolas, and swung his head towards the southern entrance to the chamber.

“Legolas!” a voice called again, its muffled echoes bouncing off the walls of the dark Paths to mingle with other cries. “Valar, Legolas! Do you hear me? Where are you?”

And as the sound of running feet squelching in water-logged boots and shoes reached the sharp ears of Celeborn and Legolas, the elves exchanged a look of mutual understanding.

“They have come!” Legolas said in dismay. “Hurry, my lord, make haste!”

For a moment, the elf lord was greatly tempted to withdraw from uttering the curse, but Legolas, seeing the hesitation, pleaded again with wide eyes: “Heru nin – do not stop now! This must be done – please, hasten!”

Reluctantly, Celeborn began uttering the curse anew, and now, he had to force himself not to pause.

…with this Gate I hold thee fast

From this day forth until the Last!…

And though he was filled with loathing at each word that fell past his lips, and his breath threatened to choke on the tears that were welling up, Celeborn kept his hands firmly around the head of the young prince, clearly enunciating each line of the curse in the Black Speech of Mordor so that it rang like a death knell in the evil darkness.

…But he who wakes thee from the Dead

Shall wander ever in thy stead…

As the voice of the ancient power resounded, the Holding Gate began to glow eerily in the dark, and the runes above it lit to a fiery red even without the Light of the Lamp.

There was awakened the feel of an evil that had long slumbered, and Legolas gasped as a great discomfort crept over him, chilling him. He felt himself becoming lighter… lighter… and the weeping face of the elf lord was spinning slowly before him, mouthing hateful words…  

…Knowing none beyond the Spell…

The sound of footfalls filled his ears, footfalls heavy and light, but all running, running, growing louder and closer, mixing with the echoes of frantic, pleading voices – gruff and fair, deep and small…  

“Legolas, we know what you mean to do!... Don’t!... Saes, Legolas!... Please, wait!…”

Forrgetting all, in Shadow dwell…

Legolas’ grip on Aragorn’s hand tightened. I will come to you; I will find you, Estel…

Closer came the pursuers… closer their cries…  “Legolas, stop… whatever… you’re doing… Heru nin!…”

Cold was the Undying Light in the hand of the elf prince. Wherever you are, Estel, I will be there…

Loud were the words of the curse from the lips of en elf lord.

Till Light and Life can overwhelm…

“Legolas!”

Spinning, spinning, spinning…

A strange current surged through him… and Legolas was struggling for breath… weightless… growing weaker and weaker as he began to yield to the pull of an evil force…

…the Dark and Death of Shadow Realm!

Legolas gasped.

Just as Celeborn delivered the final line, the prince caught a glimpse of figures racing towards him with fire in their hands… tall, short… vague, shifting forms… soaking wet… and among them was Hamille, his mouth agape in terror… and Gimli…

Even in the dark, even on the verge of departure from the world he knew, Legolas saw their wide, distressed eyes meeting his... and with the last ounce of strength he had left, he smiled sadly at the well-loved friends.

“Baw!” Hamille screamed, rushing towards his prince. “No, no, no! Heru nin, do not do this to him – daro, daro!”

“Halt! Disrupt not his journey!” Lord Celeborn commanded loudly and held his hand up in such a firm gesture of authority that the approaching company stopped dead in their tracks.

Then, as Hamille and Lanwil and Gimli watched in horror, the Holding Gate blazed fiercely into painful radiance, blinding them, shaking and rumbling the walls of the stone prison it guarded.

“Legolas!” Hamille called out, grief-stricken and falling to his knees before the golden figure, yearning but not daring to touch him.

Then as the shuttering of a lamp, the Gate went dark. And in that same moment, the elf prince of Ithilien went completely limp – as still and lifeless as Aragorn, King of Gondor, whose hand he still clasped.

A stillness of disbelief and shock fell upon the gathering as all movement and sound died abruptly, like the sudden quelling of a furious storm.

Celeborn slowly released his hold of the prince’s head, and for long moments that followed, all who were in the Cavern – elves, dwarf, hobbits and men – remained mute and shaken over what they had just witnessed: an act akin to the condemnation of a pure soul to a place created for traitors and crafted from evil.

Then the strength that had held Hamille together since the moment he discovered his prince’s secret flight from the village, broke, and like the snapping of a twig bent too long, he cried out and rushed at the elf lord Celeborn in rage, all bonds of kinship and reverence pushed aside in his moment of anguish. He was hindered from venting his anger only by the strong arms of Lanwil, Elladan and Gimli, who held him and comforted him despite their own turmoil: storm-ravished figures shivering from a chill much more intense than that of the rain that had pelted mercilessly upon them.

“It was his choice, lad,” said Gimli, choked with emotion of his own. “Ai, stupid, stubborn elf! But he knew what he was doing… where he would be going… being with Aragorn… it was his choice.”

Then even the dwarf became robbed of speech, and for a while longer, there was only the sound of quiet weeping – the only sound that could be heard amidst the hush in the tomb chamber, save for the measured steps of hesitant feet as stunned men and hobbits forgot their fear of the Paths and moved cautiously to surround the two still figures lying side by side on the cold stone floor: King and Prince, Man and Elf, bound together in a friendship few could fathom.

Then Hamille approached Lord Celeborn and knelt stiffly before the aged Eldar, bowing his head, while water dripped listlessly from his long hair and clothes.

“Forgive me, hir nin, I know you had little choice in what you did,” the Ithilien elf said brokenly as he fought to control his weeping. “But you have sent into Shadow – with no certainty of his return – the friend and the brother whom I have known and loved since his birth. He is the prince I serve and the lord I would give my life to keep safe! How could you have snatched him from me so cruelly, my lord, without first giving me a chance to speak with him?”

Clenching his fists tightly, Hamille threw Lord Celeborn his final question: “And if something goes amiss… if he does not return… what then, hir nin, what do I tell my King?” 

As Hamille’s tears continued to flow furiously down his already wet, pale cheeks, the sage elf lord of Lothlorien laid a hand gently upon his head, and he held not the bitterness of the young elf’s anger nor the recklessness of his words against him, for his own sorrow and fear were just as heavy.

Instead, Celeborn began to whisper words of comfort: soft, soothing words in the tongue of the Sindar that spoke not to the ears of the grieving Firstborn, but to the heart.

Standing in a chamber of death and evil – not knowing if he would be greeting a returned soul, or mourning the loss of another – words of comfort and hope were all he had to offer.

Post-chapter Note: I know the ending leaves something to be desired, but at least our Elf and Ranger will be together over the holidays. BTW: the phrase “fog of stupidity” used by Gimli in this chapter was first used by Red Squirrel to refer to Fierthwain in a review. I’ve waited about 15 chapters to use it here. Thank you, Rodent. :–)