Oh dear one, how you weep. Little do you know I watch over you,
little do you know I'm still here. You smile for them, dearest one of my
heart, and yet I know the pain festering in your soul. It is a wonder
why you have not faded, they rejoice that you are still amongst the
living.
And yet I know you won't be amongst them for long.
Dearest
Legolas, is it such a crime to wish you could join me soonest? Is it
such a selfish motive to want you near once more? I love you Legolas,
although I regret deeply that I fell in Helmsdeep and caused you so much
pain. I weep with you, dearest, though I have no form.
Lord Namo
granted me this one boon, told me you were not long for this world and
bid me to watch over you and guide you to Mandos when you cross over. I
am glad, my heart, that I am allowed to see you before my judgement, and
that I shall cross into Mandos with you.
You sit in the council
chambers, that boisterous kind hearted dwarf beside you. King Elessar
argues with his advisors, the lovely Lady Arwen offering support at his
side. Everyone speaks, dear one, save you. I think you know it is time,
that you must go.
Slowly, ever so slowly, you stand up, your sweet
face twisted as though you carry the burden of the world upon your
shoulders. My heart aches for you, Legolas, I never wished to cause you
pain. Estel, dear sweet compassionate Estel, seems to sense something is
wrong and he swiftly silences his companions. All goes quiet. Arwen
pales, she knows.
"Legolas?" Aragorn asks you, "Do you wish to say something?"
"I-",
You begin but never finish, the words dying on your lips as your broken
soul lifts and your last breath hisses from your lungs. You crumple to
the floor, oh so fast, too fast for any to catch you. There is
pandemonium, everyone erupting from their seats but the world darkens
and I see nothing more.
Nothing more except you standing across from me, merry and smiling and oh so you.
I smile and extend my hand.
And with a shout of joy you take it
Many
years later and many leagues away in the forests of Ithilien, a fair
country ruled by Faramir and his wife Eowyn, a young Elf, a youth barely
of age if one is to tell the truth, rode towards the halls that housed
the steward of Gondor. His long auburn hair was bound in a single, tight
braid of the type archers of Eryn Lasgalan wore, although a strange
talisman- a golden ring strangely similar to a binging ring- was
interwoven in his locks.
He suddenly halted, a mild and patient
expression crossing his features as he heard the tell tale sounds that
heralded another Elf's approach.
Soon said elf appeared from the
trees, seemingly the same age as the other although that is where the
similarities ended. This elf had hair the colour of whitened gold and
wore it loose like the warriors of Lorien were want to do.
"Mae govvanon", he called.
"Mae
govvanon", said the other as he dismounted and fell into step with the
other elf, "You must be Domelen, they told me you would be waiting
somewhere along this stretch of road for me".
"And you are obviously Laiqualassë, have you brought the papers needed for this diplomatic mission thingy?"
Laiqualassë
grinned and held out his hand. "Obviously else I wouldn't be much use
in this mission. Now why don't we shake hands and be on our way? Oh, and
I prefer being called 'Las, tis a much easier name to say"
Domelen laughed, "Your a polite one aren't you?" he said teasingly. But nonetheless he did as he was told.
"My
Nanneth raised me right", Laiqualassë retorted and then paused, a
puzzled frown crossing his features, "Have we met before? You seem oddly
familiar".
Domelen looked confused also. "I am not sure for you seem familiar also".
"How strange".
موضوع: Lord of the Rings: Dearest of Hearts 