Chapter Three

When the sun tinged the eastern sky with hues of red, orange and pink, Legolas gave up on the idea of sleeping and got up to start his day. The only conclusion that he had reached in the course of the night was that he had to speak with Aragorn before he could reach a conclusion.

He let his horse wander free as he made his way quietly back to the edge of the woods. He found a perch in a tree, out of sight of anyone walking by, but in a perfect place to watch the house. He wanted to talk to Aragorn, but he did not think it would be a good idea to walk up and knock on the door.

It was not long before the door opened and Aragorn walked out of the house, followed by the woman and the boy. The joviality of the previous day was noticeably absent. All three of them were serious, somber. They began walking through the village. The village was small enough that Legolas was able to stay in the woods and easily follow Aragorn to a small cemetery on the other side of the village.

Legolas frowned as he saw them stop in front of a grave. The woman knelt near the stone and placed the flowers she held at the head of the grave. She touched her fingers to her lips, then placed them against the stone marker. Aragorn stood with his arm around the boy’s shoulders, and they watched the woman in silence. She slowly straightened up and went to join Aragorn and the boy. She pulled the boy into her arms, and Aragorn stood beside them, a hand on each of their shoulders. They stood together for a time before Aragorn said something to them too quietly for Legolas to hear. The woman nodded and moved away from Aragorn. She draped her arm over her son’s shoulders and they walked away, leaving Aragorn alone at the grave. Aragorn approached the head of the grave and knelt, much as the woman had. He reached out and rested his hand against the stone. Legolas moved forward to stand behind Aragorn. He was close enough to hear Aragorn’s grief-stricken whisper.

“Forgive me, my friend. This is not how things were supposed to be. I’m sorry.”

Things were beginning to clear up in Legolas’ mind. But there was still the nagging question of why the boy looked so much like Aragorn. Legolas looked up as Aragorn stood and turned to face him. There was no surprise on Aragorn’s face as he gazed at Legolas. In fact, Legolas wasn’t quite sure what Aragorn was thinking at all. His expression revealed very little. Aragorn stepped aside and gestured for Legolas to follow him. Legolas glanced at the name on the stone as he walked past.

Bregor.

Legolas knew the name from the history books. Bregor was the father of Barahir and Bregolas. He had fallen with the sons of Finarfin, Angrod and Aegnor, in the Dagor Bragollach, the Battle of Sudden Flame. While Legolas was sure the person lying in that grave was not the Bregor from the history books, the name meant nothing more to him. Legolas followed Aragorn through the woods in silence. When Aragorn was ready to talk, he would talk. Aragorn led him to a pond in a small clearing. A stream fed into one end and out the other. The water moved slowly through the deeper part, but the water was clear enough to see to the very depths. Aragorn sat upon a rock near the water’s edge and gazed into those crystal depths. Legolas leaned against a tree and waited for Aragorn to speak.