Under The Stars.

In the early hours before dawn when the sky still glittered with stars and the moon shone full and bright, nothing stirred in the city below.  Minas Tirith was shrouded in silence as its inhabitants slept peacefully, some perhaps dreaming dreams that would be nothing but misty memories when the day dawned.

However, not everyone was able to pass the night in unbroken rest.

Faramir could not seem to find peace in slumber and tossed and turned restlessly, his attempts to sleep thwarted by the annoying flickering of the silvery finger of pale moonlight that thrust its way through the gap that appeared between the thick velvet curtains leading from the balcony into his bedchamber. As the warm breath of evening exhaled through the archway, the heavy fabric billowed out allowing the moonlight to penetrate the darkness. The next breath was inhaled and the light vanished behind the curtains as they fell back into place with the crisp snap of a banner flapping in the wind. The alternating light and darkness proved to be such an annoying distraction to Faramir that he angrily threw back the covers, stomped over to the doorway and roughly drew the curtains aside so that the moonlight entered unhindered. 

As he moved out onto the balcony, his hair was ruffled by the warm summer breeze and he took a few deep breaths of the refreshing night air that was scented with the perfume of the flowers from the garden below, many of which were those favoured by Legolas and Arwen and only bloomed in the silvery light of the moon.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a brief flight of fancy and imagined that his beloved Éowyn was standing under the same moonlight in Edoras, breathing the same early morning air as she thought of her lover. It was a selfish whim on his part he realised, for she had returned to Rohan with her brother to prepare for the burial of the slain King Théoden. Her thoughts were no doubt filled with sadness and loss for her beloved uncle.

“I love you, Éowyn, I miss you,” her betrothed whispered into the silence, knowing that her heart would feel his love and concern.  

The sound of the pieces of parchment on his desk fluttering gently in the breeze caught his attention and forsaking any further attempt to sleep, Faramir decided to make use of this quiet time. The performance of the duties of Steward were generally not required in the early hours of the morning, as he judged the time to be, and he wished to work on his account of the events in Ithilien during the Ring War. The manuscript was almost finished and he wished to complete it before his duties as Steward, Prince of Ithilien and especially husband of the lovely Éowyn, devoured all his time. 

As he turned to make his way to his desk, a very faint glow near the farthest the edge of the garden caught his eye. He blinked several times as if to clear his vision, but when he looked again the apparition was still there. Concerned for the safety of his King, the Steward dressed quickly, belted on his sword and headed for the garden. 

His years as a ranger stood him in good stead as he stealthily approached the strange white glow that seemed to emanate from a small grassed area that was surrounded by a shoulder high hedge. Finding a spot where the greenery was thin enough to provide a ‘keyhole’ through which he could easily observe the cause of the strange light without himself being detected, Faramir knelt down and peered through the bush, his eyes wide with wonder at what he saw.

The source of the glow was Legolas.

The Elf stood in the centre of the clearing, totally unmoving, his arms outstretched, his eyes staring at the star filled sky, a look of peace and contentment on his face. He was wearing only a sleeveless silk undershirt over his leggings, and his feet were bare. He wore is hair free of its usual braids and it fell like a curtain of golden silk down his back.  Faramir had heard tales of elves having an ethereal luminescence, but he had always thought that such stories were merely bedtime tales told to children and not something to be believed. Apparently that was not the case, for there before him stood a positively radiant Elf who was well aware that he was being watched. 

“Hiding in the bushes in the early hours of the morning is hardly the place I would expect to see the Prince of Ithilien,” he said turning to look directly into Faramir’s eyes.  

“And I would not expect to find the Prince of Mirkwood standing in such a state of undress in a garden at this time of day. Should you not be sleeping?” replied Faramir as he moved to stand in front of the Elf, unable to stop himself from gently touching his palely glowing arm. Legolas smiled acceptance of the touch and his eyes sparkled with amusement at Faramir’s look of wonder. 

“I do not require much sleep, it is the light of the moon and the stars that renew my strength and vigour. This is the time of day I enjoy the most, and I make no apology for my state of dress; it would be considerably less were I in my forest,” he added, sounding slightly offended whilst managing to hide his amusement at the shocked look he observed on Faramir’s face.  

“I meant no offence,” he said apologetically.  “Is your link to nature the reason that you appear to glow?” wondered Faramir, realising too late that perhaps this was not a very tactful question. To his immense relief, the Elf merely laughed out loud.  

“You remind me of Samwise. That young Hobbit has an insatiable curiosity about the ‘mysteries’ of my folk, and even Boromir asked much me the same thing,” was the reply he received as Legolas lay on the cool grass, gazing up at the stars.

“He probably did not want to believe what he saw with his own eyes. Boromir did not usually believe anything I told him, unless he had absolute proof.” commented Faramir wryly as he sat next to the Elf and accepted the silent invitation to continue the conversation. “Did you speak with him often?” he asked. Legolas studied the young man whose grief was evident not only in his countenance, but also in his melancholy posture. His eyes were downcast, and he watched his fingers turn white as he wrung his hands together. “Were you and he friends?”

“Our conversations were mainly limited to the business of the Quest, but I believe we developed a rapport, as comrades in arms, at least; he was a strong and fearless warrior,” replied Legolas gently in a voice filled with the grief he still felt for the fallen son of Gondor. They remained in silence for a few moments, both thinking of Boromir. “We did have quite an interesting conversation one night as we rested on the banks of the Anduin,” Legolas said as his thoughts drifted back to the night in question.

“Will you tell me about it?” asked Faramir, anxious to hear as much about his brother’s last days as possible.

“As I recall, it began much the same as ours did this morning, with his curiosity about my elvish inner light, and how it shone through my skin when I stood under the stars.”

Faramir noticed the faraway look on Legolas’ face as he recalled the conversation he had shared with the fallen son of Denethor, and he listened intently as the Elf related the details.

                                      *********        

Legolas moved away from the campfire to stand beneath the trees, for although they were nowhere near Mirkwood he was comforted by the whispered words of the unknown woods.  In turn, they were pleased to listen to the songs he sang softly to the stars. On this particular night, he felt the strange tingling sensation at the back of his neck that warned him he was being watched. Looking around he saw that it was Boromir who was staring openly at him, with wide-eyed astonishment.

He deliberately ignored the man until he had finished his song, then he walked back over to the campfire and sat directly opposite Boromir, returning his stare in kind. The Steward’s son quickly realised that he was showing very poor manners, and had the grace to look embarrassed for staring at his companion.

"I sense you are disturbed by something, Man of Gondor? Me perhaps?" Legolas asked quietly. Boromir looked at him sharply, not expecting such directness from the perceptive Elf. Although his brother Faramir was enamoured with the legends of the Fair Folk and had told him many tales of the strange powers they were said to possess, Boromir gave the stories little credence. Perhaps there is more to Faramir’s words than old wive’s tales, he thought. Legolas was certainly very different in many ways from both he and Aragorn, not to mention the Hobbits and the Dwarf. Boromir was intrigued by the Elf, a fact that he knew would never admit to Faramir.

“I did not mean to stare at you, it is just that until I travelled to Rivendell, I had not met any Fair Folk, and I certainly have never seen someone who has such a radiant glow to their skin. Most of the people of Gondor think of Elves as mysterious, immortal beings, who may or may not actually exist,” explained Boromir.  

“Before too long there will be very few Elves in Middle Earth, and our existence will become a myth,” agreed Legolas. “But Magic? I know not of what you speak.”    

“The Lady Galadriel wields it, how else did I hear her voice in my head? And what of her mirror? It seems like magic to me,” insisted Boromir, still disturbed that she had read his thoughts like a book.  

“It is simply her way, as I see it,” replied the Elf, uncertain as to what Boromir meant by magic. “As for immortality, it is our gift from Iluvatar, just as a mortal life is yours.  However, both Rivendell and Mirkwood still have dealings with Men. Elrond offers a safe haven to the Dunedain, my father deals with the Men of Dale, and Aragorn and I are friends.”

"He is more Elf than Man," said Boromir, the bitterness and distrust in his voice not lost on Legolas.

"He may have been brought up amongst Elves, but he is still Isildur's heir, and will one day be King of Gondor and Arnor,” Legolas stated sharply.

"It is the Steward of Gondor who now reigns over the lands which were once ruled by his fore-fathers." Boromir said, a hint of anger in his voice. "It is obvious to me that Aragorn does not want to be King." There was no denying the truth in that statement, but Legolas felt the need to defend his friend.

"He will be, when his people need him." Legolas said with a certainty he could not explain but accepted without question.

"I would that I had your faith in Aragorn, but Gondor cannot afford to wait much longer for him to choose that path. It becomes ever more difficult for us to hold off the forces of evil from Mordor. If it is true that we can not use the One Ring, I hope its destruction saves my city and its people," Boromir said angrily.

"I understand your love for your city, for I feel the same about the forest I call home. Do you not see that in our fierce and loyal protection of our homes and our lands, Elf and Man are no different? The Shadow moves ever northward from Dol Guldur and I have spent almost my whole life defending my father's realm, just as you have protected Gondor,” said Legolas, smiling as understanding dawned in Boromir’s eyes.

“Yes, I can see that in some things we are not so dissimilar,” agreed Boromir, nodding his head slightly. “But what is to become of the Elves when the war is over?”  

“The light of the Elves is already fading, and the destruction of the One Ring will ensure that our time here is at an end. We will all eventually leave these shores, and sail into the West,” explained Legolas.

"So by being on this Quest you are helping to seal the fate of the Elves. It seems a strange thing for a warrior as proud as you are to do," Boromir observed feeling confused.

 “It is for Aragorn, for Middle Earth and all the folk who must remain here that I aid in the defeat of Sauron. We cannot leave knowing that those who are to come after us inherit a world ruled by evil,” stated Legolas.

"That is both a noble and generous gesture indeed. It would appear I have much to learn about Elves, even though it will only be a brief re-acquaintance from what you have said,” conceded Boromir.

"It would be wise for us all to know our friends as well as our enemies," agreed Legolas. "Speaking of enemies, I think I will scout the area once again since it is almost time to wake Aragorn for his watch."

"I will bid you goodnight then," said Boromir unable to stifle a yawn. "I thank you for a most enlightening conversation. Maybe you will have the opportunity to speak to my brother Faramir when the war is over, I am certain he would also enjoy speaking with you.”

                                             *******

“Thank you for sharing that with me, my friend, it eases my sadness to learn more about my brother. He was a good man, and despite our differences, I loved him very much. And I am pleased that we have finally found time to talk for there is another subject about which I would like to hear your opinion,” said Faramir slowly.

“And that would be?” encouraged Legolas, aware that the words were painful for the Steward to say.

“Frodo told me that he tried to take the Ring,” Faramir said sullenly. 

“I would say rather that the Ring tried to take him, it tried to seduce him with its offer of power. It played on his pride, and on his determination to defend Gondor and the White City at all costs. He died trying to redeem himself for his failure to resist the temptation,” Legolas said softly, his eyes just a little brighter as tears of grief welled in them at the memory of the courageous Man of Gondor lying among the dead Urak-hai, black arrows protruding from his body. “He was an honourable man corrupted by an evil beyond his power to resist,” said Legolas quietly. 

“He did not deserve to die for it,” whispered Faramir, turning his face away to hide his own tears.

“Nor did many others, but that is the price of war, and our grief at their loss is its legacy,” answered Legolas, thinking of not only Boromir, but also of the grandsire he had never known. “Did Aragorn mention to you that I am considering moving into the forest of Ithilien with some of my people from Eryn Lasgalen, if you have no objection to Elves in your Princedom, that is?” asked Legolas, deciding it was time to change the direction of the conversation.

“Oh no, I do most assuredly not object! You will be most welcome!” exclaimed Faramir with a brilliant smile that travelled to his eyes, letting Legolas know that he was genuinely pleased with the idea of Elves returning to the forest. “Where would you build your city?” 

“We will allow the trees to decide where they wish us to build our talans, I do not wish to live in a city,” came the simple reply. 

“Talans, eh? I can understand that, I love the woods myself. You must invite me to see them once they are finished.” said Faramir eagerly.

“You and Aragorn will be my first guests,” promised Legolas.

 “Can you really can speak to the trees?” Faramir asked as he fully realised what his companion had actually said a few moments ago. 

“Yes, our spirits are all part of the same natural world, and so we are able to communicate, not with words as you and I do, but with our inner senses,” explained the Elf.

“We must discuss this further, but at some other time, I see the dawn is almost breaking and I am suddenly feeling very weary,” he said barely stifling a yawn as he rose and headed back to his chambers. “I thank you for a most enlightening conversation.”

 Legolas started at Faramir’s last words, they were exactly the ones Boromir had spoken that night on the banks of the Anduin. He turned his gaze back up to the stars that were now slowly fading, and he wondered whether some of Galadriel’s ‘magic’ had been at work, whether she had told Boromir of a likely meeting and friendship between his brother and himself when she had spoken to him in Lothlorien.

If his beloved stars knew the answer, Legolas heard no reply.