Chapter Twenty Seven

Legolas’s spirit was soaring. He smiled broadly, feeling like an eagle must feel when winging its way through the endless sky. In truth, he was flying like an eagle. The clouds slipped past him, and then he broke free of their cottony essence. The sky was a darker, richer blue than he had ever seen from the ground. The sun shone down on his upturned face, warming his skin. The warmth felt glorious after the freezing cold that had claimed his life.

He tried hard not to think of the last sight he had seen, after his spirit had first left his body. The group around him were solemn and grief-stricken, his father and Estel in tears. He wanted so much to tell them that all would be well. That he would be well, and they would recover from the loss they were experiencing. But, of course, he wasn’t able to communicate with them so he could ease their sorrow. And, his spirit could not linger, no matter how much he desired it.

He had glimpsed his tortured body, as he sped upwards away from the scene in the forest clearing. He regretted that such a cruel form would be left behind to be mourned. It would have to be shrouded completely while lying in state, as his people offered their final respects to their fallen prince and his family to their lost kin. He cared not for himself how he looked. He cared only how his family would react to what they would see. Legolas sighed. There was no use dwelling on such things, since they could not be changed. What had happened had happened. That life and that death he had to leave behind, as he was leaving Middle-earth behind.

Now that Legolas was looking forward to the future, it surprised him that he had the same sensations that a real body had, able to feel the cool, crisp air, as it rushed past him, and the sunshine on his face. He glanced down and saw the shape of his body as it had been before Mordraug. It was vaguely transparent, not at all solid, but it was definitely recognizable. His thought processes were unfettered, and his emotions as real as ever they were in life.

He turned his head slightly and stared fully into the golden sun, as he made his way through the pristine air. He smiled when he realized that it did not hurt his eyes to look directly into the blazing orb above him. He was beginning to realize that there would be no more pain in his future. Yes, all would be well with him.

Legolas was so enthralled with the flight of his spirit that he lost all track of the time that was passing during this journey. Had it been hours or mere seconds? Time seemed not to matter in this after-life existence. In truth, he had never worried much about time. He had been born into a race of immortals. Eternity had always stretched out before him into infinity. The fact that his immortal life could be taken had always been a possibility, especially since he was a warrior, but he had never contemplated that fact in any great depth. The elf had always taken precautions, however, they had been more because of those that he was protecting rather than for himself. He certainly never worried about his own death. Now, here he was making his way to the Halls of Mandos.

Another smile spread across his face. He was now thinking that this journey would end in a great adventure, and he was looking forward to experiencing it.

Though he had left most of his family and friends behind, before long he would see his beautiful Naneth. Her loving arms would soon enfold him the way they had when he was an elfling. Perhaps, that was the reason he had perished, so that he could be the one child of hers, who would spend the remaining length of Ilúvatar’s Song with her. That thought brought joy to his heart. *Naneth, I am coming,* he sighed happily.

~*~*~

Thranduil knew the instant his son’s spirit left his body. It felt as if someone had reached a cruel fist into his own chest and wrenched his heart from his body. The weight of such a loss almost crushed him. He held Legolas as tightly as his arms would allow. The tears continued unabated.

Estel did not have the same connection with Legolas that his father had, but all the same, he knew the moment that death claimed his friend. He didn’t even try to hold back the tears that freely fell from his eyes. Death had now parted the two friends, but still Estel could not take his hand from Legolas’s shoulder. Instead, he squeezed it harder. Everything around him, and every thought in his mind was swept away. All that existed for him was that Legolas was dead. Those three words were so much worse than the three he had thought earlier. But, this wasn’t just words. This was reality.

The Rivendell twins were mired in their own grief. They had known Legolas since he was a small elfling and had always thought of him like a little brother. It had gladdened their hearts after Estel had come to live with them, and they had watched as gradually the two, elf and human, had bonded. Now, their grief not only weighed heavily upon their own hearts but also extended to Estel.

Elrond felt as if he had lost an adopted son. Beside his grief lay the burden of failure. He absently twisted Vilya, as the Ring of Air rested upon his finger. He had used his healing abilities to help countless others of all races through the long years. Why could he not have helped this young elf, who meant so much to him?

His thoughts drifted back to Celebrian, his beloved wife. She had sailed West after the tortures she had suffered at the hands of orcs, but he had been able to save her to make that journey possible. He held dear the surety that he would be with her one day. His heart reached out to Thranduil, who would now have neither his wife nor his youngest child with him in Valinor. Elrond could barely imagine such heartache.

Glorfindel’s face reflected his sorrow. He then thought of the snake and was glad that he had been the one to kill it. If only doing so could have saved Legolas’s life. He hoped that, in time, the fact that the serpent had been slain would help ease the devastated hearts around him. His own heart ached, but he forced himself to think of the others. He wanted to be able to help them during the hard days that stretched out before them.

Arda continued to turn. No death, no matter how deeply mourned, could stop time from moving forward. So finally, after many moments of quiet sorrow in the clearing, Glorfindel roused himself and said softly, “We should prepare to leave.”

No one else stirred.

Thranduil, his face still laying against Legolas’s hair, murmured something. No one could understand what he said until a strangled cry escaped his throat, and the words “Little One” tore through the air and settled like a pall around them all. He did not want to physically let go of his child. Deep inside his shattered heart, he knew he must, yet he could not make himself do so. Not yet.

~*~*~

Something was happening. At first, Legolas could not figure out what it was. All seemed as it had been, yet something different was occurring. At first, he thought it had to do with the flight of his spirit. This was all new to him, of course. Perhaps, there was some sort of shift in perception that had to take place before he reached the Halls of Mandos. He took note of the fact that he was now headed away from the sun toward the West. That was expected, so he did not believe that was what was disturbing him.

Then, Legolas suddenly realized what was different. A sound was floating on the air, faint and far away, but there. He was sure of it. The elf turned his head so that his left ear was aimed downward to try and discern what that sound could be. He wondered if maybe it was something he needed to know before he could continue the journey.

He heard the sound again. It was a voice. He turned his head this way and that but still was not able to understand the words that were being spoken nor who it was who uttered them.

Then, on the very periphery of his keen elven hearing, he heard what the voice was saying. “Little One.” He heard it clearly now. His father’s pet name for him. The mournful sound of those two words spoken, he now knew, by his broken-hearted father, tore at his heart. How could his spirit, now on its way to the Halls of Mandos, still feel such sorrow at words that he should not even have been able to hear? It made no sense to him, and he frowned in bewilderment.

Again the words swirled around the elf like a soft echo. “Little One.” “Little One.” “Little One.” Each time they were repeated, they seemed to become more somber, more hopeless. There were desperate tears in those words and a grief beyond measure.

Suddenly, Legolas realized he was no longer soaring. He was no longer moving at all. His heart lurched. He was hanging suspended in the air. It was a most disconcerting feeling.

With a wisdom that he could not identify, Legolas knew that he was being given a choice: To continue his journey to the Halls of Mandos or to return to the only world he had ever known. That same wisdom told him that he had to make up his mind quickly, or the choice would be made for him, and he would continue onward.

He tried to think of what would occur with each choice. If he continued, he would enter an existence of peace and happiness with his Naneth. If he went back... What? Would he be condemned to spend the rest of his immortal life in a twisted body that could never accomplish anything but to cause him endless pain? Would that not burden his family and bring more enduring emotional pain than his death would do? Would he return to the life he had before being bitten by the snake? Unfortunately, he had no idea what the answers to any of those questions were. And, there was no time left to speculate.

Again, he heard the words “Little One” spoken in a tone of pleading and heartache. His choice was made. “Goodbye, Naneth,” he whispered, believing she would understand.

With no warning, he found himself not just falling but plummeting backwards. The clouds soon surrounded him and then flew upward away from him. Instantly, he found himself heading face first toward the earth. An odd thought came to him: Is this the way a falcon feels when it lays his wings along its body and dives at an incredible speed straight down toward its unsuspecting prey? It was both exhilarating and frightening. He stared mesmerized as the earth below moved up to meet him with terrifying speed.

He saw the forest spread before him in various shades of green. Then, the clearing came sharply into view. He didn’t even have time to think about the people that were gathered there before his spirit crashed into his deformed body.

Bitter cold swallowed him, and all awareness fled.

TBC