Chapter Sixteen: Soothing the Pain of Guilt

Legolas nocked another arrow and drew back his bow. He released and watched as it hit the target dead center. It had not taken him long to adjust once again to his long bow. Legolas did not remember receiving the beautiful bow of the Galadhrim, but it was a pleasure to use. He ran a finger along the intricate carvings, admiring the vaguely familiar feel as he sighed.

He would never forget that night he had awakened to those who were so strangely familiar, yet were unknown to him. They had spoken long about who he had been, who he was, but it was not the same as knowing himself. He had despaired. Then his father had come with his sister, and it had been comforting to find he still knew them, yet disconcerting that he still did not know himself. The small flashes of memory of the recent past were not enough to define to himself who he should be. He had sought solace in sleep, for there he was comforted. There he vaguely recalled remembering.

It had been two weeks since his life was turned upside down, when he had awakened to the ache in his chest that haunted him, the song on the breeze that called to him. The call of the sea was a constant, giving no reprieve from its persistent, lulling summons. So Legolas did what he had been encouraged to do: he got up and began regaining his strength. In moving about he hoped to distract himself by strengthening his body.

It took a few days for him to recover enough to stand and walk slowly, moving about the garden behind the Houses of Healing. But once on his feet, his strength had quickly returned. Legolas was on the path towards regaining himself. He sought places, things, and activities that should stir feelings and hopefully memories. But very few memories returned to him, and, for the most part, Legolas simply made new ones. He practiced with his bow. He sparred with Aragorn, Faramir and even Éowyn. He walked the city of stone, and visited the horse he did not know, though it was obvious the horse knew him well, as did the people of Minas Tirith. It would seem he was well liked, and that, at least, was a small comfort.

Faramir and Eowyn spoke with Legolas about Ithilien. Arwen told him of their first meeting, when they had danced at his coming of age ceremony. Aragorn told Legolas much about the last ninety years and he could hear the nostalgia in the King's voice as he spoke of the beginnings of their friendship. For reasons Legolas could not name, he knew he could trust this man named Estel. Yet it was very odd to hear people tell of shared experiences that he could not recall himself, though the stories felt oddly familiar, as if he were on the verge of remembering a dream he had once had. The stories stirred feelings that had no basis in actual memory. It was an odd sensation.

So the last two weeks had gone by, and Legolas found himself withdrawing from those who knew him. They left him feeling confused, a stranger to himself. The only way to overcome it was to remember, thus Legolas continued seeking out anything to help himself recall his past…and anything to help dull the sea's call. He spent time seeking familiar things, and spending much time with his father and sister, who for some reason he recalled clearly, though he had few memories of them past his childhood.

From that first night, Thranduil had rarely let Legolas out of his sight, and the time with his father had not been entirely pleasant. The Elvenking had seen the call of the sea in his son, and Legolas realized he must have hidden much of it in the past. The situation he now found himself in — the frustration of being unable to remember — was causing him to be unable to mask his emotions easily.

Thranduil wanted Legolas to journey back to Eryn Lasgalen and then after a time, to sail into the West. His father was convincing in his arguments, and Legolas could not explain why this irritated him so much. He did not want to hear any more from the Elvenking; he only wanted time to remember for himself.

But time was not something he had, for the sea continued to call with its lulling song, drawing him closer to heeding the call, since there was no longer a strong anchor to hold him in the forests of Ithilien. Legolas wondered if he would be able to remain long enough to remember. There would be healing in the Undying Lands.

As Legolas continued practicing with his bow, his mind continued to process all that had happened to him. Here on the archery field, he could contemplate in silence as he pulled arrow after arrow in comforting, familiar repetition. Here, Legolas could escape all of those who hounded his steps and worried about him.

A small grunt as the next arrow hit the target caused him to smile. Well, almost all, he thought. The dwarf was another matter altogether.

Legolas could not comprehend how he had become friends with a dwarf, but he had no doubts that he had done so. Of all the familiar strangers that surrounded him, Gimli was the most constant and the most concerned for him. Not even his father's worry could compare to the fear he felt coming from Gimli. And unlike the others, the dwarf was the quietest of them all, speaking little, usually when answering direct questions. There was an air of uncertainty about Gimli, one Legolas instinctively knew should not be there. Gimli should not be silent; there should be conversation between them.

For now, Gimli simply sat off to the side, smoking his pipe and watching Legolas practice. With an arrow nocked and his bow pulled back, Legolas held the pose for several minutes, continuing to strengthen the arm that had been broken six weeks ago. When his elbow began to shake, he held it a minute longer, then released. This arrow was not as accurate, but that had not been the point of the exercise.

Legolas glanced at the dwarf and noticed Gimli had not seen the shot. Once again, the dwarf was looking at the ground before him, lost in thought. Legolas sighed. He had to do something; this was not helping, it was distracting. Aragorn had told him about his friendship with Gimli, and that the dwarf was not behaving in his usual manner. Something was bothering Gimli, but none could get him to speak of it. Legolas decided it was time he find out just what it was.

Placing his bow and quiver on a stone ledge table nearby, Legolas walked over and sat beside his friend — for friend he was, remembered or not. Gimli did not even look up; he simply sat there, pipe in hand staring at the ground.

"What troubles you, Gimli? Why do you focus so intently on the ground?" Legolas asked. "Have I done something to upset you, Master Dwarf? Aragorn assures me you are not one to keep quiet for so long." He let a smile grace his lips as he tried for humor, but inside he winced. He had not gotten the banter quite right. It felt…wrong.

Gimli looked up and gave him small smile, but Legolas could see a deep sadness in the dwarf's eyes. "Well, I have to admit you are trying, lad. But it's just not the same." He went silent again, but it had been a huge concession for Gimli to make.

"And it may never be the same, Gimli," Legolas finally voiced what they both feared. "I am sorry." Legolas jerked slightly when the dwarf's head snapped up at his apology.

"YOU are sorry?" Gimli asked incredulously. "Nay, Legolas, it was my fault this happened. You are not to blame. I am the one who is sorry."

Legolas looked at the dwarf in disbelief. Is this why the dwarf had been acting strangely? He was suffering from guilt? "What do you mean it was your fault? I thought the cave-in was an accident. Is that not how I was injured?" Legolas asked somewhat apprehensively, unsure of what the answer would be. Why would another feel guilty for an accident?

Gimli took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "But I am a dwarf, Legolas. I should have sensed it sooner. Even more, I should not have asked you to explore the caves with me at all. You have never felt comfortable underground; I should not have pushed you to go." The dwarf's eyes turned back to the ground.

Legolas tilted his head back and gazed into the sky, thinking about Gimli's words for a few minutes. Bringing his eyes back to the dwarf, he spoke what he knew to be true. No memory was required to know how to answer this claim. "I do not remember why I went with you. I do not remember going at all." He shook his head. "It does not matter. I went. I made the decision for whatever reason, and the consequences of that decision are mine alone to bear."

He waited for Gimli to look back up at him. "It was an accident. It is no one's fault. It just happened. Please, do not blame yourself. It helps me not."

Gimli frowned for a moment, then smiled as he nodded his head slowly. It was a real smile and it seemed a great weight had been lifted from him. "Perhaps things are not so different after all, elf" Gimli told his friend.

The two sat in comfortable silence a while longer. Then collecting their things, they headed to dinner, a smile on Legolas's face as Gimli chatted for the entire walk.

To be Continued…