Chapter Twenty One

Legolas rode through the night. The long strands of his golden hair that normally fell down the front of his shoulders, now flew out behind him as he leaned low over his stallion’s neck. The horse, Elenblaith , ate up the miles, as his hooves flew rhythmically down the road. The elf tried hard not to think about what he had done back in Rivendell, but he could not keep the thoughts at bay for long.

He had slugged his best friend and left him lying unconscious. Now, the last sight Estel would have of him alive was one of violence and betrayal. *It was necessary*, the archer told himself. It was the right thing to do to save his friend from following him to his own doom. Legolas would rather Estel hate him for the rest of his life than to see the man killed. He meant what he had said in the letter he had left. Estel was destined for legend. It would not be only among men but among all the races of Middle-earth. Even the elves who would later sail to Valinor would speak of him with awe and respect. The archer had no doubts about that.

Legolas was hoping that Estel would become so angry with him for punching him out that he would just turn his back and leave the elf to his fate. But, he knew better. He would never have had such feelings toward the ranger, if their roles were reversed. Estel had already demonstrated the depth of his brotherly love for Legolas so many times, including this last event with Mordraug, that the elf knew his friend would stop at nothing to come after him, alone if necessary. But, more than likely others would come, as well. It frightened him to think that Thranduil would also follow, as would the twins.

Spurred on by his fears for his father and his friends, Legolas unconsciously urged his horse even faster. He could not let these people that he loved face Mordraug. Even if the dark elf was somehow defeated, he could still inflict death and destruction on them all before he died. That was not acceptable in the elf‘s mind.

The moon rose to its zenith and began its descent below the horizon. Finally, Legolas slowed down. He couldn’t let his fears force him to run his horse into the ground, though he knew that to please his master Elenblaith would run until he dropped. The elf loved the stallion too much to risk his life, too. Also, on a purely practical note, he couldn’t afford to end up on foot.

Legolas stopped as he reached a narrow stream that ran through a small group of stunted-looking trees a few miles from the Misty Mountains. There would be few trees ahead of him, as he rode south near the base of the mountains. The next true forest he would encounter would be in the valley he sought.

The elf dismounted and let the stallion drink his fill. The archer likewise drank what he needed. In his opinion, nothing beat cold, clear mountain water to refresh a body. He also filled a small water skin that he had not taken the time to fill before hastily leaving Rivendell. He ate a piece of lembas to keep his strength up. He would need all of it to face Mordraug.

Then, while his horse grazed nearby, Legolas swung himself up into the largest of the trees. It provided little in the way of shelter, as the branches were sparse, though the leaves had done their best to festoon what branches there were in springtime greenery.  However, it was not shelter that Legolas was seeking.

The elf lay back against the squat trunk and gazed upward. He smiled, glad that the night sky was clear. Sitting in a tree, watching the stars sparkle like diamonds in the inky darkness of the heavens was soothing to his soul. Right then, and just for a few moments, he felt free of all the earthly cares that lay upon him. Mordraug, the poison in his body, the fear for his family, his home and his friends all faded into the background. He was a wood elf, and this was where he belonged. It mattered not that this wasn’t his home. It mattered not that this was probably the last time he would ever find himself in this position. It mattered not that this particular tree would be little more than a sapling in Mirkwood. It mattered only that it was a tree, and the elf could find peace in its comforting presence.

For its part, the tree was happy just to have an elf resting in its branches. It had been many centuries since, as a strong, young tree, it had sheltered one of the Firstborn. Now, that its time in Middle-earth was almost spent, the long-forgotten memory was reawakened. The tree took as much pleasure in the presence of the elf, as the elf did sitting in the tree.

It seemed like only a few moments later that the eastern sky above the dark mountain tops began to lighten, causing the stars to begin to fade. Several seemed to wink out of existence as Legolas watched. He took a deep breath, as if he could inhale and absorb the splendor he had witnessed before it surrendered to the light of a new day.

With a sigh, Legolas jumped soundlessly to the ground and whistled for Elenblaith, who came to him and nickered softy, as the elf rubbed the stallion’s velvety nose. His oneness with the tree and the stars was over. Now, he had to go back to concentrating on his self-imposed mission. Nothing else mattered now, least of all his own comfort.

The blond archer leaped gracefully onto Elenblaith’s back, and the two turned once again down the road leading south toward the valley forest.

~*~*~

The group that had left Rivendell a little over an hour after Legolas was making good time. Yet, as hard as they were pushing their mounts, none of them believed that they were gaining much on the Mirkwood prince.

“We cannot keep this pace up much longer,” Elladan felt compelled to say at last. “We must rest our horses, as I am sure Legolas has done.” It irked him that they could not continue uninterrupted. Had they been able to do so, they would have had a much better chance to catch the woodland elf.

Unknown to them, Legolas had just resumed his journey and what little advantage they had gained while he rested would now be lost when they did likewise.

Even Thranduil and Aragorn saw the logic in Elladan’s words. Reluctantly, they came to a halt. Neither one wanted to harm their mounts. And, like Legolas, they knew they could not afford to end up on foot. If that happened, the main purpose for their pursuit would be in vain, and even Aragorn believed that his friend would then be lost to them forever.

The group moved off of the road and walked toward a patch of grass near a group of large rocks that seemed to sprout up out of the ground. There were several trees scattered nearby.

Thranduil stood by his horse and gazed down the road so intensely that it was as if he was trying to spot his son riding along near the base of the mountains. *Where are you, Little One?*

He had not changed his thinking regarding Legolas's ultimate fate. It would have given him much strength, courage and joy to think he might be able to save his son. Even knowing he could not didn’t dampen his determination to reach Legolas and do what he could to make his journey to the Halls of Mandos as easy as possible.

Thranduil knew that seeing his youngest child suffer the same agonizing death as his wife would scar his own soul far beyond anything he had experienced in his over five thousand years of life. He had been in shock when his wife had died. In a way that had, at the time, clouded his mind to the full horror of it on a personal level. Even seeing the other elves die by Mordraug’s command had been in a swirl of disbelief. There would be no such shock or disbelief now, and the knowledge of what was to happen to Legolas ate at him mercilessly.

He had believed he had destroyed the dark elf all those years ago. Why hadn’t he made sure? Thranduil couldn’t help but believe his lack of thoroughness then was now allowing the current situation to take place. He shook his head. *Forgive me, ion nin.* It was a pitiful plea he knew, but there was nothing he could do to alter what was going to happen. He had been present when Legolas was born, and his sole intent now was to be with Legolas in his last moments of life, no matter how soul-wrenching it would prove to be. *I failed you before, Legolas, but I will not let you die alone.*

Thranduil’s thoughts of Legolas's fate were currently going through Aragorn’s head, as well. The only difference was that the ranger was still fully expecting to save his friend. No one was going to talk him out of that idea. Legolas had gone through too much to die now, and Aragorn had gone through too much to let him. He was a practical man and often had to engage in compromises, but when it came to his best friend, his mind would not allow him to accept anything that might take the archer from those that loved him. That was not going to happen.

Aragorn hesitated only briefly before walking up beside Thranduil and putting his hand on the King’s arm. Ordinarily, he would never have even considered doing such a thing. Ordinarily, the King would not have allowed it. Now, the two stood side by side, bonded, for a while at least, in a common goal. “We will save him,” Aragorn said softly.

Thranduil didn’t argue. He knew the human would not accept the inevitable, and trying to convince him to do so was an exercise in futility. There was no way of knowing exactly how things would play out, when they finally reached the valley forest. Perhaps, if the man still thought he was saving his friend, he would fight harder against the dark elf. *No,* the King thought, *he would fight hard to help rid Middle-earth of Mordraug and his evil snake even if my son was not involved.* It was a concession that surprised Thranduil. He realized he had not only fully accepted the human as a part of his son’s life but was glad for it. Yet, this change of attitude had come too late and at much too high a price.

Aragorn was startled a bit, when a hand touched his own arm. He spun his head around to see Elrohir standing on the other side of him, offering him some water. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty until he looked down at the water skin. He smiled at his elven brother. Lifting the skin to his lips, he took several long swallows. He then offered it to Thranduil.

The wood elf shook his head, at first, and then changed his mind and took it. Denying himself the refreshing liquid he needed wasn’t going to help the situation in any way. He, also, took several swallows. “Hannon le,” he said to both Aragorn and Elrohir.

“Ada says we will be here for a little while yet. We have to rest the horses long enough to do them some good, or all hope of catching Legolas will be lost.” Elrohir had a moment’s stab of guilt at saying that, especially in front of Thranduil. However, they all understood the situation well enough to know it had gone far beyond needing to be delicate with their words.

Thranduil nodded and handed the water skin back to the dark-haired elf, who took it and headed toward the rocks where his twin brother sat. The elven king then turned his attention back toward the road. There was no thought of resting himself. He was an elf and could go farther on less rest than mortal man or horse. He stood silent and unmoving.

Aragorn saw that there would be no more conversation coming from Thranduil. He wondered briefly if this was the right time to give Legolas's letter to the woodland king. He sighed. Yes, it had to be now. There might not be another chance. With reluctance, Aragorn reached inside his tunic and pulled out the letter. He handed it to the elf. “Legolas left this for me to give to you.“ Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The man sat down next to the twins, noting that Elrond and Glorfindel were sitting nearby, talking quietly. Aragorn lay back on the grass. He pushed all thoughts from his mind. It was the only way he knew to attain the rest he needed. Continuing to think about Legolas and Mordraug would only lead to more tension and turmoil. He deliberately did not look in Thranduil‘s direction. Seeing the elf king’s reaction to the letter would be more than Aragorn could handle right then. He closed his eyes.

Thranduil stared down at the piece of parchment. He slowly unfolded it and immediately recognized his son’s handwriting. He knew what the letter meant without having to read a single word, yet there was no way he could avoid doing so. With a feeling of impending heartache, he began to read.

Dearest Ada.

There is so much I wish to say to you that I hardly know where to begin. I could write from now until dawn and not say everything to you that is in my heart.

First of all, please forgive me for what I am about to do. You know as well as anyone that there is no hope for me to survive this encounter with Mordraug. If I must sacrifice my life, I wish it to be for a cause that will allow you, my family and my friends to continue with your lives.

I want you to know that you have been the most important person in my life, since I first became aware of my own existence. You have loved and nurtured me, teaching me right from wrong. You taught me to be honorable when dealing with those I encountered, even other races. You encouraged me to seek knowledge and to use that knowledge to the betterment of myself and our people. You made me learn. Even when you scolded me for some misadventure or wrong I had done, you tempered it with love. You gave me my independence when I know you would have preferred to keep me safe at home. The driving force of my life has been to make you proud of me. You have always made me feel that I succeeded.

I remember the first time you took me hunting with you, the first time you let me ride a horse by myself, the first time you put a bow in my hands. All of these events gave me great joy. Yet, my fondest memory is of the many times I sat on your lap as an elfling with your arms around me, singing softly to me until I fell asleep. You have always---always---been there for me. Now, it is finally my turn to be there for you.

Please tell my brothers and sisters that I love them dearly. It saddens me that I will never get the chance to see them again or tell them goodbye. Give each of my nieces and nephews a kiss for me and tell them that their Uncle Legolas loved them.

I know you will grieve for me, as I would for you. But, I pray that you find comfort in knowing that I will spend eternity in the Halls of Mandos with Naneth.

I love you, Ada, with all my heart. Had I been able to choose a father for myself, I would have chosen none other.

Your loving son,

Legolas

Thranduil carefully refolded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. He walked away toward a lone tree several yards from where the others in the group rested. He climbed up into its branches and settled himself. Leaning his back against the tree’s sturdy trunk, the King of Mirkwood cried.

TBC