Ever After

Rating - R (For violence, no romance here!)

Summary - In the aftermath of a terrible tragedy, evil creeps unnoticed into Gondor.

Disclaimers - I am but a lowly mortal, playing in the garden of the Valar. In other words, I don't own these characters!

Well, it's so short it's more of a teaser than a prologue, but never mind!

Prologue

Legolas paced along the shoreline, staring out to sea. His face was a picture of frustration and irritation. Valinor was supposed to be the isle of peace, but peace was the very last thing he felt. He glared at the sea, the gently rolling waves seemed, even now, to be mocking him. Turning away, he clenched and un-clenched his fists, trying to relieve some of the tension. He wondered if he was going to feel this way for the rest of eternity. 
  "Legolas?" Came a soft voice from behind him. He turned to look at the speaker, a she-elf with soft golden hair and eyes that matched his own.
  "Mother." He said quietly. "I didn't know you were nearby." The former Elven-Queen looked sadly at her son and laid her hand on his shoulder.
  "Please Legolas, talk to me. You've been restless ever since you came here. It's not supposed to be like that." Legolas averted his eyes. She was his mother, she knew when something was wrong. It was pointless to try to keep his feelings from her.
  "It's not fair." He whispered. The Queen sighed.
  "Oh my son. Life has never been fair." Legolas jerked his head up sharply, suddenly angry.
  "But life isn't the issue now is it?!" He snapped. He looked at her desperately, seeking answers he knew she did not have. "Why, Mother? Why did I have to die?!"

    End Prologue

Now, to those of you who are reading this and saying: "What?! She's mad! If he's dead he should be in the Halls of Mandos!" I am fully aware of this and I bring it up in chapter two. But basically, he's been there and has been released already! Please don't flame me, it's all in the name of (Hopefully!) good story telling!
Thanks!
Lairewen

Disclaimer - Not mine

Ever After - Chapter 1 - Final Battle

        Legolas sat in a tree, thinking. He remembered the final battle. It was burned forever into his mind.

The day had dawned crisp and clear, a beautiful spring day in mid-march. Legolas had woken early and having washed and dressed, headed down to the stables. He was staying in Gondor for week with Aragorn, while Faramir looked after Ithilien. Gimli was also there, taking a holiday from the Glittering Caves. All were in high spirits, it had been some time since they were all together and they were planning to make the most of the time. That day they were going hunting and since he was up early, Legolas had gone to ready their horses.

As he placed the saddle on Aragorn’s horse, he became aware of another presence behind him. Turning, he saw Arwen just coming through the stable doors, already dressed for riding. Legolas smiled. “Good morning My Lady.” He said politely. She glared at him.

“Good morning - Legolas.” She said pointedly. She hated formalities between them, especially as they were of the same status, but Legolas always acted as if she were above him. Even after all these centuries, she had yet to figure out if he really thought that, of if he did it simply to annoy her. She strongly suspected the latter.

Ignoring her pointed use of his name, the Prince changed the subject. “The hunting should be good today. The fine weather will draw the prey into the open.” Arwen smiled.

“I have no wish to hunt today. I just wish to enjoy the ride.” She opened the stall door and led her horse out before swinging gracefully onto the mare’s back. Legolas nodded.

“Have a good ride then, My Lady.” Arwen sighed.

“I will - Legolas.” Nudging her horse, she rode out of the stables. Legolas returned to preparing the horses for the day’s hunt. His own horse had neither saddle nor bridle, but Aragorn had both and Gimli - Gimli had everything possible to help him remain on the back of his small, gentle horse.

He had just finished when Aragorn entered the stables, with Gimli in tow. The dwarf was grumbling about the hour, the sun was up, but it was not yet seven in the morning. “This was supposed to be a holiday.” He muttered under his breath. Legolas laughed and handed each of his friends their mounts.

Minutes later they were riding into the forests south of Gondor. As the morning went on, the sun rose higher into the sky and though there was a slight chill they were not unduly cold. Even Gimli could find no cause for complaint. It was a perfect day.

They returned several hours later, after a very successful hunt. No less than three deer, four partridge and two rabbits had fallen to their weapons, dinner that night would be something special indeed. They had just returned their horses to the stables when they heard a commotion near by. A moment later, Arwen rushed in. “Estel!" She cried. “Thank the Valar you’re back!” The King rushed to her.

“What is it?!” He asked urgently. “What’s wrong?!”

“Soldiers!” She said. “The renegades we thought we were rid of! They have returned!” Aragorn swore loudly. Had the situation been less severe, Arwen would have chastised him for his language. But this was not the time. Thankfully, due to the day’s activities, all three of them were armed. The King looked at his long-time friends, who nodded in reply to his unspoken and unnecessary question.

“Stay here.” Aragorn told his wife. “If the fighting comes near you, take your horse and ride away!” Arwen was not pleased at having to hide away during battle, but as Queen, she could not risk herself. Valar forbid that something should happen to Estel, somebody had to be around to rule the kingdom.

“Be careful.” She told him, her worry evident in her voice.

“I will be.” He replied gently before rushing out of the stables, Legolas and Gimli close behind.

The scene that met their eyes when they got to the front of the palace was one of total chaos. Gondorian soldiers battled the renegades as far as he could see and there were signs that the battle had been going on for some time. Many bodies littered the battlefield, mostly of the enemy, but some were Aragorn’s own men. The King’s face set in a grim line. They would pay for this. With a ringing battle cry, he charged into the fray.

The wrath of the King and his friends was a terrible thing to behold. In minutes, no less than fourteen enemy soldiers lay dead. But many more still remained.

Legolas spun as two soldiers came at him. He drew his knives and twirled them around in his hands, so the blades appeared as whirling silver discs. The two soldiers tried to dodge, but they were no match for the elf’s skill. One of the blades sliced into the closest man’s shoulder, incapacitating him, the other died instantly when the second blade slit his throat.

With the two men down, Legolas turned his attention to the rest of the fight. Spotting several of the renegades attacking a group of Gondorian soldiers, he raised his bow and loosed several shots in quick succession. The renegades fell and Aragorn’s men nodded their thanks to the elf before returning to the battle.

Looking round for his friends, Legolas quickly spotted Aragorn, doing fine against three of the enemy. Legolas smiled. He needed no help. He looked instead for Gimli. He found the dwarf a moment later, fighting off a soldier twice his size and struggling slightly, but he could do nothing to help him as he was then attacked by four men who seemed very determined to take him down. He was unimpressed and dispatched them quickly with his knives, moving then to Gimli’s side. Gimli laughed as he brandished his axe at another soldier. “Go on!” He yelled. “Get out of here you sons of orcs!”

By now, many of the enemy were dead, injured, or had retreated. But a few still remained, determined to do as much damage as they could before they fell. Legolas turned to speak to Gimli, but stopped as he saw a soldier to his left, armed with a bow, the arrow aimed directly at him. He raised his own bow, knowing that he could easily get the other before he got him, but as he went to shoot, his eyes glimpsed a movement to his right. A feeling of dread rose within him as he saw that there was another soldier, also with a bow, this one’s arrow aimed at Gimli. Legolas was an incredibly fast shot, but not even he could shoot in two different directions at once. He would only have time for one shot.

Swinging his bow around, he released the arrow at the soldier to the right, killing the man instantly. But the other soldier’s arrow had also been released.

Gimli realised the danger too late. But as fear of death grew within him, an elven arrow felled the man where he stood. Gimli breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to thank his friend - just in time to see the second soldier's arrow strike the elf just left of his chest. “LEGOLAS!” Gimli cried out in horror as the elven prince fell.

Legolas felt the arrow strike. He gasped as pain overwhelmed him and he fell to his knees. His bow fell from his hands and his vision started to blur.

Aragorn’s head shot up as he heard Gimli cry out. Quickly finishing off the soldier he was still dealing with, he rushed to where Gimli stood. As he neared, he could see Legolas, on his knees, an arrow protruding from his chest. “NO!” Dread washed over him. It couldn’t be! He ran to his old friend's side, slaughtering any that got in his way.

With a cry of rage, Gimli leapt at the man who had shot his friend. The soldier never stood a chance against the enraged dwarf and Gimli’s axe took his head from his shoulders almost before he knew what was happening.

All around, the remaining renegades were stunned at what they’d done. Not wishing to face the King or the dwarf, those that still lived, left.

Aragorn reached Legolas and pulled the Prince into his arms. “Legolas.” He whispered his friend’s name.

The elf blinked as he became aware of Aragorn’s presence.

“Estel.” His voice was faint. Everything was very fuzzy now, but he knew who it was that held him. He tried to focus on the man’s face. But everything was fading, even the pain in his chest was now nothing more than a dull ache.

Arwen ran from the stables. She could feel Aragorn’s pain, she had to get to him. Racing to the scene of the fight she saw Aragorn kneeling on the ground, Gimli standing beside him. Aragorn was cradling Legolas in his arms. Her breath caught. “Please, Ilutivar, no.” She rushed to where her husband was desperately trying to save his oldest friend.

Aragorn forced himself to remain calm. He quickly checked his friend’s wound - and his worst fears were realised. The arrow had pierced Legolas’ heart. There was nothing he could do. “Legolas.” He choked back a sob. “Please, don’t die.” The elf forced a pained smile.

“I am sorry, mellon nin.” He whispered. “I do not wish to go - but I fear I must. Forgive me.”

“Nooo!” Gimli dropped to his knees beside his friend. “Why Legolas?” He asked. “Why did you do it? My life isn’t worth it, you damn stupid elf!” Unbidden tears fell from the dwarf’s eyes. Legolas reached out and weakly grasped his friend’s hand.

“It was to me.” He said softly. He looked up and saw Arwen standing by Gimli and Aragorn. “Arwen.” He breathed her name. Just her name, nothing more. The she-elf fought to maintain her composure. “Look after Estel?” He asked. She nodded.

“Forever - My Lord.” A slight laugh escaped his lips as his old joke was finally reversed.

“Thank you.” Knowing that he had very little time left, he turned his attention to the others. “Gimli. Estel. You have been the best friends I could ever have wished for. I will miss you.” He gave one last, weak smile and then his heart stopped beating and his spirit fled the shores of Middle-Earth.

“LEGOLAS!” Aragorn screamed his friend’s name and buried his face in the elf’s shoulder, sobs wracking his body. Gimli sat beside him, still gripping Legolas’ hand, crying silently. Arwen could only stand and stare, numb with shock.

They stayed that way for a long, long time.

End Chapter One

OK, here we go again! Enjoy!

Disclaimer – I am not Tolkien.

Ever After – Chapter 2

  He remembered asking Arwen to take care of Estel and he had a fuzzy memory of telling his friends he would miss them, but if there had been anything after that, he wasn’t aware of it.  He had been consumed by darkness and then wrapped in a great light. His next clear memory was finding himself in the Halls of Mandos. That had been an interesting time. He’d been – understandably- disorientated and had not really known what to expect. He soon discovered that the halls, though light, airy and comfortable, left one with a sense of unease and a feeling of not belonging. Still, he’d been somewhat surprised when he’d been moved on to Valinor after a scant five years. He’d expected to be in Mandos’ Halls a lot longer – a few hundred years at least. But Lord Mandos had seemed to want him to go to Valinor much sooner that that and Legolas was not one to complain. Besides, Valinor was much nicer than these halls, he was sure.

  The beauty of Valinor was everything he’d ever expected and more. Blue sky, green grass and perfectly formed trees that made up vast forests where white deer ran. Around the forests were the homes of many hundreds of elves, all linked to a path that led to a shining silver city. The great city where many of the greatest elves now resided. Legolas had only been there once, when he had first arrived. They had offered him a home there, but he had felt more comfortable in the Woods. Though Sindarin by heritage, he was a wood-elf at heart and was most at home in the forest. The cities of the Noldor were not for him. His mother was the same and he was now residing in her home built high in the trees.

  On the surface of it all, everything was perfect, but deep inside him, the Prince was screaming. He felt trapped, caged. He had been here seven years, but it felt like seven thousand. What was worse though, was that he did not even understand why he felt the way he did. He did not regret the actions that had lead to his death, he had saved Gimli’s life and if he had the chance to do it all again, he knew he would change nothing. So why was he so angry? So unsettled? Why could he not feel Valinor’s peace? No matter how hard he tried, he could not find the answers to his questions and that only increased his frustration.

  So lost in his thoughts was he, that he did not hear someone swiftly climbing the tree he sat in and walking up to him. “Legolas?” The newcomer questioned. When he received no reply he waved his hand in the other’s face. “Legolas!” The Prince turned and glared at the other elf.

  “Go away Haldir!” He snapped. “I wish to be alone.” He turned his back on the Lorien Elf. Haldir was not put off however and sat himself down on the branch near the Prince. They sat in silence for a time until Legolas realised that Haldir was not going to go away anytime soon. “What do you want?” He asked irritably. Haldir sighed and reached out to grasp his friend’s arm.

  “I want to know what is wrong Legolas. Everyone is worried about you, especially your mother. You have been in Valinor for seven years. You should have settled by now.” He broke off and looked at the Prince.

  “I’m fine.” Said Legolas shortly. Haldir shook his head.

  “No you’re not. I’ve known you a long time mellon nin and I have never known you to act like this. There is more here than what you’ve told your mother. So,” – And here he grinned- “Until you tell me what is wrong, I am not going to leave your side!”  Legolas visibly slumped. He knew Haldir spoke the truth. He was never going to get any peace until he’d told him everything. And who could say? Maybe Haldir could actually help. He’d been dead longer, maybe he knew how he was feeling. He turned slowly and looked at the one-time March Warden.

  “Very well.” He sighed. “You win. I will tell you.”  He took a deep breath and began to speak. “Ever since I died nothing has felt right. I do not know how to describe it, but everything feels wrong. As if there was something I was supposed to do before I left Middle-Earth.” His face darkened. “I was not ready!” Haldir’s eyes opened wide.

  “And I was?!” He exclaimed. “Legolas, no one wants to die, but it happens sometimes, even to elves. You know that. We all go through that feeling of incompletion. But you have to move past it.” Legolas met his friend’s gaze and held it.

  “Tell me Haldir,” He said softly. “Does it usually last this long?” Haldir sighed.

  “No.” He replied. “I have never known it to last longer than a few months. Perhaps there is something else that is effecting you.” Legolas looked away then, not meeting his friend’s eyes. “Legolas?” He prompted. Staring down at the ground, Legolas muttered something that the Lorien elf couldn’t quite hear. “What did you say?” He questioned.

  “The sea longing.” Said Legolas quietly. It’s still here Haldir, it hasn’t gone away.” Haldir was stunned.

  “How can that be?! He cried. “The sea-longing is the call to Valinor, now you are here, it should have been sated.”

  “I know.” Legolas replied. “But perhaps we were wrong. Perhaps the sea-longing is about the journey, the journey that was denied me. Or it could be because most elves sail soon after feeling the sea’s call and I did not. I stayed for Aragorn. Maybe it had an effect on me that I was unaware of.” He shrugged. “I do not know. All I know for certain is that the sea-longing still stirs within me. And….” He trailed off.

  “Yes?” Haldir encouraged him.

  “Something else.” Legolas said. “A shadow in the back of my mind. A feeling that something is terribly wrong in Middle-Earth. I can’t explain it.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m a mess Haldir. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.” The March Warden edged slightly closer to Legolas and wrapped a comforting arm around the Prince’s shoulders.

  “Try not to worry Legolas.” He said gently. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.” He smiled. But why don’t we try to relax for a while? Lets go hunting.” Legolas shrugged.

  “Why not?.” He said. “Perhaps it will help.” The two elves jumped lightly from the tree and headed to the forest, stopping at Legolas’ home to collect his weapons. As they walked along, a thought struck Legolas. “You know.” He said thoughtfully. “I went hunting the day I died. I caught a deer, two partridge and a rabbit that day. He frowned. I was really looking forward to dinner!” Haldir laughed.

  “I know the feeling!” He replied. “I was looking forward to a really good nights sleep when I was killed!” He smiled. “Dying really ruins your day, doesn’t it?!” At that, Legolas actually grinned.

  “It certainly does!” Feeling more light-hearted than he had done since coming to Valinor, Legolas went off to hunt some deer, putting aside for the moment the worries in his mind.

  Arwen looked at Aragorn from the balcony of their rooms. The King was wandering the gardens, pausing occasionally to stare at the stars. A deep but familiar sorrow filled her heart. He did that a lot these days. It had been nearly twelve years since Legolas was killed, but Aragorn had never gotten over his friend’s death. He always put on a good face for his people, but in reality, his grief still ran as deep as it did the day his friend died.

  Arwen cast her mind back to that dreadful time twelve years ago. She remembered how the days following Legolas’ death had been sheer hell.

*Flashback*

  “Estel?” Arwen gently tried to call her husband’s attention to her. Legolas had been dead for two days and in that time the former ranger had not spoken at all. He had not even left his room since placing his friend in the stone room of waiting where all deceased royalty was prepared for the final journey. “Estel?” She tried again. “Estel, Ada has come, our brothers too. Won’t you come with me to greet them?” He looked at her, his mind slowly processing her words.

  “Ada?” He said questioningly. His wife nodded, relived that he had finally spoken, even if it was but a single word.

  “Yes and Elladan and Elrohir too. Come Estel, let us go and see them.” Taking her husband’s arm, she gently guided him out of the room.

They walked a short way to the large open courtyard in the centre of the palace. There, they could see Elrond and his sons waiting.

  Elladan saw his brother coming and ran to him. Throwing his arms around the human, he held him tightly. “Oh Estel.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry. We came as soon as we heard. I just can’t believe it!” Unable to cope with his brother’s emotions, Aragorn pulled away. Fresh tears pricked at his eyes and he barely registered Elrond and Elrohir’s approach. Elrohir stood to the side as Elrond went to his son. Placing his hand under Estel’s chin, he gently forced the human to look at him.

  “Estel.” Aragorn raised his eyes to look at his father, but he was unprepared for what he found. The elf-lord had clearly been crying. Glancing at his brothers he saw similar expressions of grief on them. With something akin to shock he realised.

  “It’s not just me. I’m not the only one who’s going to miss Legolas.”  He swallowed hard and tried to speak. “Ada, I – I – You came.” He stuttered. Elrond pulled his son into his arms.

  “Oh Estel, of course. Legolas was loved by many, but to you, Elladan and Elrohir he was as a brother. He was a part of our family and his loss is a terrible tragedy. We had to come.” Aragorn nodded and clung to Elrond.

  “I feel so lost.” He whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Shhh.” Elrond soothed. “Try to relax. We will help you.”

  They had finally moved to Aragorn’s chambers. The King was asleep, worn out by his grief. Arwen sat by the bed, her eyes never leaving her husband. She had just explained to her father and brothers the events surrounding Legolas’ death. It had not been easy to speak of it, but she was glad for their presence. She had felt very alone the past two days.

  Elrond looked sadly at his daughter as she finished the tragic story. “And how fares Gimli?” He asked softly. Arwen shook her head.

  “Not well Ada.” She said. “He blames himself for Legolas’ death. He has not left his chambers. He will take neither food nor drink. The servants tell me he has almost destroyed his room in his rage. I – I have not had chance to talk with him.” Elrond nodded.

“It’s all right Arwen. I will speak to him. You should get some rest my Daughter. You look exhausted.” Indeed, Arwen had not slept since the events of the previous two days. Despite her grief, it had been left to her to make the necessary arrangements, as Aragorn and Gimli had been all but useless. Elrond pressed his daughter gently on to the bed. “Rest.” Elrond said. “I will take care of everything.” Arwen nodded and lay down, for once content to let her father take over. As soon as her head touched the pillow, she was asleep.

  With a sad sigh, Elrond left the room and went to see to the grief-stricken dwarf.

End Chapter 2

Flashback continues next chapter!

Just wanted to thank +++++++O’Shea for beta reading this one for me! I took most of your suggestions!

Ever After – Chapter 3

‘Yesterday we shook hands,

My friend,

Today a moonbeam lightens my path,

My guardian.’

Angels fall first - Nightwish

  Gimli stared around what had once been his room in the palace. It was hardly recognisable as such now; most of the furniture had been destroyed, as had anything else within reach. His axe lay where he had dropped it after his rage had finally given way to tears. It wasn’t right, he thought bitterly. It should never have been the elf. It should have been him. If only he’d seen that soldier earlier. It was his fault, all his fault! He knew it was and nothing would make him believe otherwise. Lord Elrond had tried to lift the blame from him yesterday, but the dwarf would have none of it. Legolas had died because of him, and the guilt would haunt him forever.

  Gimli snarled as he heard a knock on the door. Why couldn‘t they leave him alone? “What do you want?!” He yelled through the closed door. He did not want to have to face anyone, he felt sure he would start crying again. The terrified voice of a young servant girl came back in reply.

  “Lord Gimli, King Thranduil has arrived. He has asked to speak with you.” Gimli’s rage fled at the words. The bone-deep sorrow that the rage had hidden returned instantly. If he felt like this, then what was Legolas’ father going through? He did not wish to, but he knew he had to speak with the Elven-King. Taking a deep breath, Gimli tried to calm himself. Then, with a shaking hand, he opened the door of his room and went to face the King of Mirkwood.

 Thranduil stood by a tree in the gardens, leaning on the thick trunk for support. He had just come from the Room of Waiting where his son lay. He tried to force the images from his mind. That was not how he wanted to remember Legolas. His son had always been so full of life, always ready with a smile and a joke. Just like his mother. A deep pain filled him. His wife had died two thousand years ago, when Legolas was very young. Now Legolas was gone too. Was there anything left to live for?

  Gimli slowly approached the Elven-King. Thranduil’s back was facing him and the elf was gripping the trunk of the tree he stood by. The dwarf went to speak, but Thranduil heard him coming and turned around.

  “Master Dwarf.” He said softly. Gimli’s heart almost stopped. He had never realised before how much Legolas had looked like his father. When Thranduil had turned, he’d thought, just for a second, that it was Legolas and not Thranduil who stood before him. Trying to control his emotions, Gimli bowed low to the elf.

  “Lord Thranduil.” He greeted him in a voice that trembled slightly.

A period of silence followed as both elf and dwarf tried to figure out what to say. Eventually, it was Thranduil who spoke.

  “My son died to save your life.” It was a statement, not a question. Fearing what the King would say next, Gimli could only nod. “He thought highly of you. I had always feared what would happen when you and Aragorn died and he was left alone.” The King stifled a sob. “I need not have worried.”

  The guilt that Gimli already felt intensified as he listened to his friend’s father. He looked away, wishing more than ever that it had been he, not Legolas, who had died. He was sure the Elven-King must hate him, so he was unprepared for Thranduil’s next words.

  “But he made the right choice.” Gimli stared at the Elven-King in shock as he continued. “Legolas was always extremely loyal and protective. He would always put the lives of others before his own. If he had saved himself, he would have betrayed everything that he was.” Thranduil looked sternly at Gimli. “So I suggest, Master Dwarf, that you live the remainder of your days in such a way that my son’s death was not in vain.”

  With that, the elf-lord turned and walked away, leaving Gimli rooted to the spot.

  The funeral was held the next day. In the customs of the Elves, Legolas’ body was cremated and his ashes were given to Thranduil, to be scattered among the trees of Mirkwood.

  The eulogy that Aragorn gave moved even those who hardly knew the elf to tears. He spoke of their long friendship and of some of the many things that they had been through together. He told them of the Prince’s love for his family and friends and his great affinity for all living things. Yet it was what he didn’t say that held the most meaning. It was the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that said all the things that words could not.

There was not a single person in attendance that could not see the depths of the King’s grief.

  Over the next few days, the guests that had come to Gondor for the funeral slowly began to leave, heading back to their homes and their lives. Thranduil was the first to leave. His son’s funeral had almost broken his heart and he could no longer stay in the city where he had bid Legolas farewell. He had departed the morning after the funeral, taking Legolas’ ashes with him.

  Before he had left though, he had called both Aragorn and Gimli to stand before him. Then he had placed Legolas’ bow in Aragorn’s hand and his twin knives in Gimli’s. At the look of surprise on their faces the Elven-King had simply told them. “He would have wanted you to have them.”

  The two friends had been touched by Thranduil’s gesture and had vowed to always cherish the gifts. They would be a physical reminder of their greatest friend.

  Elrond and the twins stayed longer than most, helping and supporting Aragorn and Arwen, but eventually they could no longer ignore their duties back in Rivendell. Estel knew though, if ever he needed them, they would come back.

  The last to leave was Gimli. He had to return to the Glittering Caves, though he did not know how he could rule his people after all that had happened. Yet Thranduil’s words stayed with him and in them he found strength. He would not let Legolas down. However hard it may be, he had to keep on living.

  ~It smiled. This was a most wonderful stroke of luck. The elf’s death had hit the King hard and it would take him many years to recover - if he ever did. A King weakened by grief was just what it needed.  Now it had the time it needed to put its plan into action.~

*End flashback*

  Aragorn slowly climbed the stairs to his rooms. Tomorrow it would be twelve years to the day that Legolas had died. In all that time the pain of losing his best friend had not lessened, though he had learned to live with it. Gimli had arrived earlier that day. It had become a ritual for them over the past twelve years to meet on that day and remember their friend and his life.

  He entered the room and saw Arwen sitting up in bed. Wordlessly he undressed and got into the large bed beside her.

  She waited until he was settled. When he had blown out the candle and laid down, she moved closer to him, laying her hand on his heart. “Estel?” She spoke softly, worried that what she had to say might upset him. He turned his head so that he could see her face.

  “Yes love?” He said, though he did not really wish to talk. Arwen took a deep breath.

  “It has been twelve years Estel and still you grieve. I know he was your best friend, but I am sure he would not want this. Legolas loved life, he would want you to live it to the full and not spend your time lingering in the past.” Aragorn closed his eyes. He had known that she would bring this up sooner or later. The words hurt, but then, the truth often did.

  “Oh Arwen, I know that you are right, but I cannot help it. We went through so much together over so many years that I still cannot believe that we will never meet again.” He looked at her closely. “I can see how it upsets you though, so for your sake and for Legolas’ memory, I will try to move past the pain.”  He wrapped his arms around her and she smiled.

  “I’m glad my love. Legolas would be too.” She moved in his arms and kissed him tenderly. “Now get some sleep.”

  ~It growled in frustration. It had thought it had longer than this. Damn that she-elf! She was causing problems. It might have to take care of her.~

  Aragorn and Gimli walked side-by-side in the palace gardens. They said little, both lost in the memories. As they came to a large oak tree, Aragorn stopped. A memory pushed its way into his mind. Suddenly, he smiled and a quiet laugh escaped him.

  On hearing the laugh, Gimli turned and stared at his friend, mouth open in shock. Surely Aragorn was not laughing? Not on this of all days! “Aragorn?!” The dwarf gasped.

  “Forgive me Gimli.” Aragorn said, still smiling. “I was just remembering a camping trip Legolas and I went on many years ago. It started raining and Legolas was afraid I would get ill, so we took shelter in the hollow of an old oak tree. We thought we’d be fine, but the rain became a storm and the tree was no longer safe. I got out fine, but as Legolas went to get out, a great gust of wind snapped a large branch off the tree opposite and by sheer bad luck, in fell into the hollow. Legolas just pinned himself to the back of the trunk in time! I cut him out eventually, but you should have seen his face when he realised that he, a wood-elf, was stuck in that tree!” Despite himself, Gimli laughed.

  “Oh, I can imagine it well enough!” He grinned. Aragorn looked down at the dwarf. There was a slight sparkle in his eyes.

  “We have lingered on the pain for too long my friend. We had many good times with Legolas. Let us remember those now.” Gimli nodded in agreement and approval. Aragorn was right. The elf should be remembered with smiles and laughter, not tears.

For the rest of the day they told each other stories of the adventures that they had shared with the Prince of Mirkwood. Often, Laughter could be heard ringing in the trees.

  Arwen heard the laughs and smiled. Perhaps things were finally looking up.

~“No!” It cursed. Things were moving too fast! It would have to do something and soon, or all it’s carefully made plans would come to nothing!~

End Chapter 3

Me again! You’ll probably be glad to know that it’s action, action, action from here on! Um, I’m making the assumption that elven horses live longer than ordinary ones!

Ever After – Chapter 4

  ~It smiled as it saw it’s target. It was time to put it’s plan into action. It would take a lot of energy, but if it worked, it would be well worth it.~

  Arwen walked alone down the stone passageway that lead to the library. There had been a great deal happening in the kingdom lately and she had not had much time to herself. But things were quiet this afternoon and she was looking forward to spending a few peaceful hours in the library. She had almost reached the doors when she became aware of a dark presence behind her. Before she had chance to move, a dark shadow of indefinable shape wrapped itself around her. She tried to scream, but the shadow covered her mouth. Using all her strength she struggled against the being, but to no avail. All her struggles did was to knock her circlet from her head, sending it clattering to the ground. She could only watch in horror as the evil being opened a dark portal in front of her and proceeded to drag her through it. 

  As soon as she was inside of it, a great weight crashed down on her senses and she lost consciousness.

  “Arwen?!” Aragorn walked around the palace calling his wife. It was getting late and he hadn’t seen her since early afternoon. He stopped a couple of guards coming his way. “Have you seen the Queen?” He asked. They shook their heads.

  “I’m afraid not, your Majesty.” Said one. Aragorn frowned. Where was she? That he couldn’t find her was worrying, she had never eluded him before.

  “I see.” He replied. “If you do see her, please tell her that I am looking for her.”

  “Yes your Majesty.” The soldiers saluted and walked on.

  Aragorn wondered where to go next. He ran his mind over the places he’d looked. “The library!” He cried out loud. She liked to go there to relax, she’d probably been reading and lost track of the time, he decided. Turning on his heels, he headed quickly to the huge room. As he approached, his eyes saw something at the edge of the path. Bending, he picked it up – and his blood ran cold. It was Arwen’s circlet. “ARWEN!” He cried out and ran to the library, rushing and looking desperately for his wife. He was clinging to the fading hope that she had somehow dropped the circlet and not noticed. But the library was empty. Terror filled him and the King of Gondor ran like the wind to the first guards he saw. “The Queen is missing!” He told them with barely contained panic. “Organise search parties at once! FIND HER!” The soldiers nodded and ran to do the King’s bidding. The order given, Aragorn raced to the stables to get his horse.

  Throwing open the doors he grabbed his tack and was just about to place the gear on his mount, when a quiet neigh from the far corner caught his attention. He looked over to see Telpëwen, Legolas’ horse. The long-lived elven horse had been a gift to Legolas from Thranduil after Arod had passed away. Telpëwen had not been ridden since Legolas’ death, but Aragorn knew that the spirited beast was much faster than his own. Not hesitating for a second, Aragorn moved away from his own mount and over to the elven-horse. Telpëwen was not used to wearing tack, but Aragorn knew she would take it in her stride. He felt no guilt at riding his departed friend’s horse, he knew Legolas would have approved.

  In minutes he was ready and riding out to meet the captain of his guard, who would be his second in command. Desperate determination rose within him. He’d find Arwen. He had to. He couldn’t lose anyone else.

  When Arwen awoke she found herself chained to a cold stone wall, surrounded by total darkness. But she did not need to see to know that evil was near, she could sense it. “Who is there?!” She called out. “Reveal yourself to me!” A cold laugh was heard in reply. “Who are you?!” She demanded again. Then she froze as she felt a cold hand placed under her chin.

  ~“So defiant.” It whispered. “I will enjoy watching this.” ~

   Nausea ran through Arwen at these words, but she forced herself to remain calm. Whatever this evil was, she would not give it the satisfaction of seeing her fear. But it was an exercise in futility, for the being could sense her emotions.

  ~“Yes.” It said. “You are right to fear. For you have much to be afraid of.”~

   Arwen held her head up high.

  “My husband will come for me.” She stated in a voice of steel. The being laughed again.

 ~ “Oh.” It hissed. “I do hope so. It will be greatly enjoyable to see how he handles his grief this time.”~

   It ran it’s cold finger down the elf-maiden’s cheek and then vanished.            

  As soon as it was gone, a dim light slightly penetrated the darkness, giving just enough light to see by. Arwen cast her eyes over her surroundings. She could just make out several forms coming towards her. As they got closer she identified them and icy fear ran through her. Orcs. She was in a den of orcs.

  Aragorn rode swiftly though he knew not where he was going. There was no clue as to Arwen’s whereabouts, all he knew was that she had been going to the library at some point that day. So he did the only thing he could – He opened his heart and called out for her. “Please, Arwen, help me find you. Please.” His hand went to her Evenstar pedant that he always wore around his neck. “I need you.”

  The whip cracked against her back for the hundredth time. Her dress was in tatters and her back was raw and bloodied from all the lashings. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Trying to block the pain, she turned her thoughts to her husband. “Estel. I love you. Please, save me.”

   One of the larger orcs gripped her face in his hand. Slowly, he raked his nails down her face, causing a line of deep scratches to appear, blood welling up almost immediately. “You’re brave, she-elf.” The beast growled. “But we’re only just getting started.” Without further warning, he grabbed her arm and bent it viscously back. There was a sickening crack as the bone snapped. The sharp pain that shot through her made her breath catch. Her head swam, she could hardly focus anymore. Laughing, the orc grabbed the injured arm and bent it in the other direction.

She screamed.

  The Evenstar glowed brightly catching Aragorn’s attention. “Arwen?” He whispered. The pendant seemed to glow brighter in response. “Lead me.”  A light tugged slightly at his consciousness, telling him which way to go. Pulling Telpëwen round, he galloped in the direction the pendant was pulling him in. He prayed to Ilutivar he was not too late.

  Arwen whimpered. Her resolve had shattered with her arm and the searing pain was overwhelming. She could no longer see, the lead orc had smeared a dark mud-like substance over her eyes some hours ago. It had burned with the intensity of a dying sun before solidifying and fusing her eyelids together. She wondered if she would ever see again and if she’d live long enough to care. “Estel.” She whispered. “Where are you?”

  He was near. He could feel it. He urged Telpëwen to go even faster and soon the ground was but a blur beneath him. His guards followed as best they could, but they could not keep up with the elven-horse. Aragorn was glad he had kept the animal after Legolas had died – he had very nearly sent it back to Mirkwood. They were close to the hills now, hills that were full of old caves and holes. It wasn’t long before a foul stench assailed his nose. “Oh Valar.” He breathed in fear. “Orcs.”

  Following his nose and the glow of the Evenstar he soon came to the crumbling entrance of the den. Now he could hear them, laughing and gloating. He knew without a doubt that his wife was in there. He slid off Telpëwen and drew his sword. His guards then rode up behind him and followed suit. “Follow me.” He grated. “Kill all that oppose you.” With a loud yell of rage he led his men into the cave.

  With an evil sneer, the lead orc raised a knife at the bound and blinded elf-maiden. The knife was coated in the sticky black substance that was morgul poison. There was very little of the stuff left these days, but they had enough for one stab wound. As he began to bring the knife down towards Arwen’s shoulder, there came a shout. “Listen!” Cried an orc near the entrance passage. “Someone’s coming!”

  “Men!” The leader yelled, sniffing the air. “Arm yourselves!” Dropping the poisoned knife, he grabbed his sword and raced to the entrance.

  Aragorn swung his sword in front of him, neatly decapitating an orc that had dared to get in his way. He was deadly in his single-mindedness. Nothing would keep him from Arwen. All around him his men were fighting the orcs, defending their King and praying for their Queen. As the orc ranks thinned, Aragorn pushed his way towards the back of the cave. More orcs blocked his way the deeper in he went, but he cut them down with brutality born of rage and fear. Soon, only the leader remained. Aragorn’s eyes blazed as he beheld the last obstacle standing between him and his wife. He snarled and launched himself at the orc. The evil creature dodged, bringing his blade round, striking at Aragorn’s side. The King twisted just in time and missed the blade’s cruel blow. He dropped into a crouch as the orc came round and attacked again. His sword swept at the orcs feet, the razor-sharp metal severing the limbs at the ankle. With a howl of rage and pain the orc fell onto it’s back. Aragorn did not hesitate and plunged his sword into the orcs dark heart, killing it. No sooner was this done, than he was running again, seeking his beloved.

  He raced into the back of the cave and there he saw her, hanging limply from her chains. “Oh, Ilutivar, no!” His voice broke as he took in the battered and broken body. With a sweep of his sword he cut the chains from her wrists and cradled her in his arms. “Arwen.” He whispered brokenly. “Oh, Arwen.” Her injuries were heart breaking to see. Her right arm was broken twice, as were all the fingers on that hand. Her left leg had fared little better, being broken twice below the knee. Her back and arms were a mass of ugly welts caused by constant whipping, and her eyes – her eyes were obscured by a hard black substance that had stuck to her face. She did not respond as he held her. “Arwen, please.” He begged. His hands searched frantically for a pulse. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he found it a moment later. She lived, but barely. Whether she would stay in this world for much longer, remained to be seen. “VALAR!” Aragorn cried out in grief. “Why do you allow these things?! Why?! Oh Elbereth! Is there no one who can stop this suffering?!”

  The arrow fell from Legolas’ hands as he froze. All time had stopped. “Legolas!?” Said Haldir in alarm. The prince slowly looked up. “Are you all right?” Haldir asked. Legolas looked at him with eyes full of confusion and pain. “Legolas?” Haldir said again. The prince shook his head.

  “I can’t take this anymore.” He whispered hoarsely.  “It’s too much! I just can’t bear it!” Then, without another word he began to run, heading directly for the Silver City.

End Chapter 4