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The Last Wood Elf	By : Mel99Moe Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4551 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters or places. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 44
- 45
Chapter 45 – A Home the Heart Will Never Forget

And so, Legolas and Calariel eventually made their way to Ithilien, and settled in the Northern region. There they met other elves, some from Lothlórien and some from Rivendell. They dedicated themselves to making the inhabitable parts habitable, and keeping the wild places tamed. Soon, housing developed for men and elves. Even some of Gimli’s folk made Ithilien their home while they helped with the building of fountains and running water. They invented unique contraptions to redirect underground streams to the villages so that water was always at hand.
Life flourished in Ithilien, and a city quickly took shape, rising up like a crocus flower springing through the late winter snow. It was a wondrous place, with beautiful gardens and a very lavish landscape. There were forests and mountains, waterfalls and bubbling streams. The city itself was a bustling with business. Shops popped up along the cobblestone streets. Venders set up their carts in the courtyard, selling their homemade wares and tasty treats. It was very peaceful, and no surprise that so many people flocked to the newly developed city.
Legolas was never happier. He visited Eowyn and Faramir regularly, and was named uncle to their son, Elboron. Calariel spent time with Eowyn, familiarizing herself with the customs of humans, and teaching them about the ways of the elves. Eowyn continually asked when she and Legolas would have a child, a playmate for little Elboron. Calariel told her that the time was not right, but eventually they would have an elfling to call their own.
In the meantime, back in Rohan, Eomer was preparing to marry Lady Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Legolas had been with Eomer at the exact moment he met her. They had been in a tavern in Gondor when she walked in with her brothers. Before they left the tavern, Legolas had encouraged Eomer to speak with her, after watching the two make eye contact across the room all night. Now, to think they were about to marry. Eomer would have his queen, a long awaited and well deserved moment.
Legolas and Calariel had not wasted a moment after receiving the invitation, and along with Eowyn and Faramir, traveled to Rohan for the wedding. Calariel had never been so excited. She would finally get to see the place where Legolas grew up, where most of his influence came from. During their stay and leading up to the wedding, Legolas showed her all of his most memorable and special places. There was the tavern where he, Eomer and Théodred used to frequent, and the stables where Legolas witnessed the birth of his trusted steed, Arod. He showed her the armory and the training grounds where he learned to master his long knives and bow. He even took her to the secret meeting tree, but found the loose boards had been repaired. They would have to go outside of the protective walls to reach the tree now.
The day before the wedding, Legolas and Calariel were sitting outside on the veranda, enjoying the scenery around them. The fields were splashed with color from the wild flowers in bloom. They scented the air, as well as fresh hay and something delicious roasting in the nearby kitchens. Larks called to each other in the distant meadow, their voices carrying across the open plains, singing a sweet tune that was most pleasant to the ears.
Calariel laid her hand upon his, and Legolas folded his fingers into hers. She looked ahead, the light breeze of the day pushing her hair against the side of her face. “I have been mistaken all these years.”
“About what,” he asked.
“About Rohan. It is nothing like I expected it to be. The land and the people are much different than I thought. This is truly a beautiful place, Legolas, and you are lucky to be able to call it home.”
“Well, it was only ever meant to be a temporary refuge,” he said a little sadly.
“I don’t think so,” she answered. “It is more than that. Do not fool yourself. You are a part of this place, and it will always be a part of you. Do you miss it much?”
He stared out over the openness. “I do,” he whispered. It was true. Though he had set out to free Mirkwood, and eventually settled in Ithilien, he still missed the days of his youth, and the freedom that came with it. That was what Rohan represented. “But I look forward to seeing how this young nation will develop in the new age.”
“I hope it never loses its charm,” Calariel admitted. “I am reminded of Eryn Lasgalen in a way. Not the scenery or the city, of course, but the people and their devoutness. They live and breathe and fight as one entity, much like the wood elves of days long gone. Strong were their armies. Faithful was their King. Loyal were their people. Everyone had a part to play. The new community has adopted the same way of life.” As she talked of Eryn Lasgalen, the old and the new, her eyes lit up with pride.
“You miss our wooded home, don’t you?” he asked. There was a tinge of regret in his question.
Calariel heard it too, and smiled reassuringly. “I miss Eryn Lasgalen as you miss Rohan.”
“We could go back,” he said.
“Could you come back here… permanently?”
Legolas shook his head, knowing what she meant. “No. I suppose you’re right, but I just want to make sure you are happy.”
“I am happy, Legolas,” she said and kissed him. Then she rested her forehead against his. “As long as I am with you.”
Just then, Eomer exited through the grand wooden doors of Meduseld. Calariel sat upright and smiled at the Rohan King. Eomer nodded, but seemed hesitant to go any further, feeling as though he interrupted an intimate moment. But Calariel motioned him over, kissed Legolas on the cheek and smiled.
“I will go and find Eowyn. I’m sure there is something I could be doing to help with the preparations for tomorrow,” she said.
“You don’t have to go on my account,” Eomer said politely.
Calariel stood and laid a hand on Eomer’s forearm. “You two need a moment alone. You do not get to see each other often.” With that she entered the grand hall, leaving Legolas and Eomer on their own.
“Come then,” Eomer said, “We’ll take a walk. I could use a change of scenery. I’ve been cooped up inside for much too long meeting with Béma knows who while preparing for this wedding. It would have been much easier to run away and marry in seclusion,” he complained.
“Ai, but you are the King and the people want their ceremony. It’s not every day that their ruler marries,” Legolas said as they descended the stairs and followed the cobbled path that led into the city.
“Yes, well… sometimes it feels like all of this is more for the people than for Lothíriel and I.” Eomer smiled then, at the mention of her name. “I still can’t believe we are to marry.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How is it someone like me caught the attention of such a beautiful woman? I am under her spell, I love her that much.”
Legolas laughed, knowing just what Eomer meant by this, for he felt the same way about Calariel. “We are both blessed to have found our true soul mates.”
They walked along through the bustling city. Legolas took notice of the respect shown to the new King, as every passer-by bowed. Eomer nodded or bowed in answer, and when the traffic let up, he winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I used to think my uncle rude sometimes, for not bowing in answer to everyone who gave their respect. Now I see he was only trying to save himself from developing a kink in his spine.”
Legolas pointed to the left where the cobbled path led past a row of shops. “There are less people on this particular street. We’ll walk this way then.”
They turned and followed the road for a while, talking about unimportant things just to make conversation, until Eomer finally said what had been on his mind for a while. “So, I must say I was quite surprised when I heard that you declined your right to the crown.”
Legolas shrugged, “No one was more surprised than I was, except perhaps Lord Celeborn, but that is another story for another time. I was ready to take the throne, but my heart was not. I had seen Ithilien, seen the potential, and I knew I could be of greater help there than in Eryn Lasgalen.”
“Faramir can’t say enough good things about the reconstruction. I hope to visit one day … I mean, Lothíriel and I.” Eomer chuckled, “I’m still not used to saying that.”
“Don’t worry,” Legolas said, “The women will never let you forget.”
“Forget what?” Eowyn asked, surprising them when she came up from behind, an arm thrown around each of them.
Legolas smiled, always glad to see her. Eomer was not so overjoyed, enjoying his private time with Legolas. The King looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Why aren’t you with the women, cooing and swooning over things?”
“Am I not allowed a moment with my brothers?” she said.
Legolas’ heart swelled with pride as she called him such. After all, it was true to a degree. They were as close as siblings despite their differences. “You are always welcomed, sweet Eowyn,” he smiled.
The conversation turned to weddings and children, and Eomer wished his sister would go on her way back to the women, where such things were more readily welcomed. Then she started asking Legolas about him and Calariel, and why they hadn’t started their own family yet. Eomer had finally had enough and said as much.
“I’ll put this as nicely as I can, dear sister, but must you be so… meddlesome? Do you do this to the poor elf in Ithilien? If so, no wonder he has not got Calariel with child yet. No man … or elf … needs that kind of pressure. Why must you women be so concerned with this all the time?” Eomer was irritated to a personal degree.
Legolas noticed this too. “Seems as though I am not the only one being pestered.”
Eomer tried to avoid them, but Eowyn and Legolas had stopped walking and were waiting for an explanation. The King sighed deeply and clarified in a whispered voice. “Lothíriel talks of children and starting our family right away, but I do not wish it.”
Eowyn suddenly and without warning, elbowed her brother in the ribs, making him jerk sideways. “What do you mean, you do not wish to have children?” she berated.
“Ow!” he moaned, rubbing his side. “Of course I want children. I just don’t want them right now. I want to enjoy having my wife to myself for a while before I must share her with our offspring.”
Eowyn’s hands flew to her hips as she glared at Eomer. “Offspring?” she nearly yelled. “You make it sound as if you were raising a litter of puppies. Is that how you see it? Do you not know what a special moment it is for your wife when she tells you she’s having another baby?”
Eomer and Legolas glanced at each other, and then at Eowyn. Eomer crossed his arms, feeling that he was finally getting to the bottom of the conversation. He arched a brow, and Eowyn made herself look sheepish and vulnerable. “You said ‘another baby’, but as far as I know, Lothíriel has no child, unless there is something I have not been told.”
“I think you would remember the birth of your child,” Legolas said, taking his friend’s side. “Eowyn?”
Trapped by her own words, Eowyn gave in and explained with a heavy sigh and a roll of her eyes. “Alright, I haven’t told anyone, not even Faramir, but… I’m with child again.”
A smile spread on Legolas’ face. “But this is wonderful news. Why haven’t you spoken of it before now?”
“I wasn’t sure until recently, and it’s bad luck to the baby to say anything too soon,” she admitted.
“Well, for Béma’s sake, do not tell Lothíriel. That’s all I need is for her to catch word of another woman with child, and we’ll be in the same dilemma on our wedding night,” Eomer complained.
“Dilemma?” Eowyn chided, but before she could injure her brother again, Legolas interrupted.
“So, why have you not told Faramir? I can understand not telling others of your news, but your husband surely should know.”
“I … I was going to tell him, but I heard him talking to someone. He said now that Elboron is a little older, he would finally have a bit more time to himself. I fear he will not be as overjoyed about the new child,” she said, worry edging her words.
This was exactly the reason why Eomer did not want children right away. Eowyn and Faramir had been successful on their wedding night, and nine months into the marriage, they welcomed their son into the world. Eomer had always thought it was too fast, that a couple should have time to themselves for a while before they must move into the important and time consuming stage of parenthood. He did not voice this to his sister though. Instead, he smiled warmly, and gently rubbed her arm. “I am sure Faramir will be happy to hear that your carry his child. He is a good man and he loves you. He loves Elboron too, and now your son will have a brother or sister to play with. Do not fear, Eowyn. All will be well. Men say things they do not mean sometimes, just to fit in with those they are around.”
Eowyn smiled, concern disappearing from her face replaced with confidence. She kissed Eomer on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, and he nodded in answer. She quickly turned back into her usual intrusive self and asked, “So, where are you two going?”
They hadn’t discussed where they were going, but Eomer clearly wanted to return to the solitude of just him and Legolas without Eowyn. The moment of brotherly love had passed and was replaced with sibling rivalry. “We’re going somewhere where someone in your condition should not be going. Shouldn’t you be lying in bed or something? You know, where you are close to your maid servant, just in case?”
Eowyn rolled her eyes again. “I am not diseased, nor am I lame. I’m pregnant. So just stop your complaining, dear brother,” she responded.
Seeing a need to intervene before they started arguing again, Legolas made a suggestion that neither one would refuse. “I have not been to the barrows yet. Perhaps it is time to pay them a visit.”
Eomer and Eowyn agreed, and they turned in that direction. As they walked along and passed certain places, memories surged forward, and Legolas, Eomer and Eowyn reminisced about the days of their youth. Théodred was a part of every story, and they realized what an important influence he was to them, and just how much they missed their cousin and friend.
They reached the burial grounds and stood at the foot of Théodred’s crypt. Legolas sighed as he looked down upon the green mound. Tiny white flowers were just springing up on the vines. Simbelmynë grew upon the burial mounds, most recently taking root to Théodred’s grave. Legolas noticed that only grass grew upon Théoden’s place, for the king had not been there long. It would be a couple more years before the flowering vine would begin covering it. This brought to mind just how long it had been since Théodred died, and all that had happened since then.
“I wish he were here with us,” Eowyn said, her voice sounding choked as she held back tears.
“We all wish that,” Legolas said. Then turning to Eomer he asked, “Do you come here often?”
Eomer nodded, “I come when I need time to sort things out in my mind. It helps, I think, speaking to the dead.”
“I did the same thing when I visited my father’s tomb in Eryn Lasgalen,” Legolas admitted.
“I think they hear us and help us in ways we do not know or recognize,” Eomer said.
They spent what seemed like a long time at the barrows, each one silent within their own mind. Then, Eomer cupped a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “I should get back. I’m sure someone will be in a frantic search looking for me.”
“I’ll come with you,” Eowyn said. She kissed Legolas on the cheek. “Take your time, and when you’re done, come to the mead hall. There is a celebration for the men tonight. The women will be in the King’s hall.”
Legolas nodded and smiled to his friends. He watched them head back up the path that led to a gate into the city. Once they were gone, he turned back to the green mound. He said a silent prayer in Sindarin and in Quenya before he relaxed and spoke to the spirit of his friend, Théodred.
“There are so many things I wish you could be here to see. Your cousins, for one. They are happy and in love. Eomer is an uncle now. Eowyn has had a son, Elboron, and she is with child again. Lord Faramir is such a good father and husband. He’s a worthy man to be sure, and no less than Eowyn deserves. Their fates were intertwined in a way that we will never know. Their love developed through the harshest of times. I have no doubt that it is true and everlasting.
“And Eomer, ah, he has changed so you would hardly recognize him. You would be so proud of the man he has become. The people love him also. He is a great king to Rohan, honest and fair like your father was. Right now, he is a man madly in love.” Legolas laughed and smiled, “And with a woman of elvish decent, no less. I can almost hear you jesting with him. And no, their children will not have little pointed ears.”
Legolas knelt on his heels and picked one of the flowers, twirling it in his fingers. “Life seems to be blossoming all around. There is light in the world again. People celebrate the new age, bringing with it new hope for a new generation. Mirkwood is now Eryn Lasgalen, and it is bursting with new growth. I think I shall return there some day, but not to take up the crown. Though it is my begetting place, my soul never really belonged there, but perhaps there will be a king upon my father’s throne someday.”
Legolas stopped briefly and smiled. “I have not spoken to anyone about this, and with all the recent talk, I have kept extra silent. Calariel thinks that I do not know yet, but I have seen it in her eyes and in her smile, in the way she just is, and there is not a doubt in my mind that she carries our child. No longer will I be the last wood elf. There’s no explanation for the pure joy I feel knowing this. It is very early on, but before we left Ithilien, we spent a whole evening . . . Well, let’s just say that I’d bet my bow on it. I think she is planning on telling me after Eomer’s wedding, so I’ll not say anything that will spoil her special moment.”
The thought of the birth of children and the rebirth of lands made Legolas slip into a somber moment. There was one bloodline that would not continue on, and it saddened his heart. “You should be here, Théo. You should not have died so soon. As it is, humans live life so quick. To know yours is already over tears at my very soul. I miss you, Brother. Eomer misses you. And with all the good things that are happening right now, there is still a part of us that feels incomplete without you here to share it. Just know that you are with us in our thoughts, and in our hearts.”
Legolas plucked a white flower from the vine upon Théodred’s tomb, and took it to Théoden’s barrow. He gently kissed the pedals and laid it upon the old king’s tomb. “At least I have some comfort in knowing that your son is at your side once more. Your words come to me often, still guiding me in times of need. Thank you for all that you taught me, for all that you gave me. You are never far from my thoughts, King Théoden … my King.”
Calariel silently appeared next to her husband, catching his hand and wrapping her fingers in his. “I wish I could have met Théodred. I know how important he was to you.”
“You would have liked him,” he said. Legolas smiled as he remembered some memory. “There was a time when not with a heard of wild Mearas could you have separated Eomer, Théodred and me. Those were some of the best times of my youth.”
“Like the time the three of you snuck into the shield maiden camp?” Calariel said, taking Legolas by surprise.
“And how would you—”
“Eowyn,” Calariel laughed, interrupting him.
“I should have known.” Legolas remained silent, his mind conjuring up the events of that distant night. “I’m afraid to ask what other stories she has shared with you.”
“Oh, not many,” she teased. “More of Eomer than of you.”
“Mmm,” he said, cynically. Then he kissed her, needing to feel her warm flesh and know she was really there. Visiting the barrows was emotionally exhausting. Talking to spirits made him feel invisible in some odd way, as though he were partly exposed to Théodred’s strange ethereal world, and Calariel was his anchor. “Let’s get back inside,” he said, a chill running up his spine, as though an icy hand reached out and touched him.
The path that led back to the gate was on an incline, and when they reached the city again, Legolas stopped and looked back at the two long rows of barrows. Suddenly, his immortality seemed like a burden, and he envisioned more mounds and more Simbelmynë vines flowering upon them. He knew that one day, it would be Eomer resting here alongside Théodred and Théoden. And after that would lie Eomer’s son and grandsons, and so on. Yet, Legolas would go on, growing wiser and older, and remaining visually youthful. Perhaps this was part of the reason that the elves sailed away from here. It must be difficult to watch generations grow and die, while never changing themselves. Perhaps they had seen this, and the calling of the Valar saved them from their sorrow. But what would happen if he never felt the call? Calariel had told him he was bound to the race of Men, to Middle-earth. How true was that statement, he wondered?
Legolas couldn’t explain the rush of anxiety that surged through him at that moment, while weighing the choice that would one day come to him. Calariel sensed this too, and she wrapped her arm around his.
“What’s wrong, my love?” she asked.
Staring out into the distance, Legolas asked, “Do you think we’ll be happy across the sea, when the time comes for us to sail?”
“We will because we shall want to go there,” she answered.
“But what if I never feel the pull or hear the calling?”
“You will know, Laiqalassë. When the time comes, you will know.”
He turned to her, worry and concern prominent on his brow. “You will know, but I fear I will not. Something you said makes me think that day might not come. You said I was bound to them, to Men. I believe that now. Since we settled in Ithilien, the need to stay has never been stronger. I can envision myself watching over Eowyn and Faramir, and when they have passed from this world, I feel drawn to watch over their children, even when they are grown and have families of their own. Then I look out over these barrows, and I know I can only watch over them for a short period of time. But the generations of people, the blood that they share and pass from one individual to another… that is eternal. So, how will I let go?”
“This is all new to you, Legolas, and in time you will come to understand it better. But in case you worry, know that I will always be your mainstay. I will be your calling. I will be your longing. And if you do not hear the summons of the Grey Havens, or if you are deaf to the song of the Undying Lands, just know that my voice will guide you, and my soul will summon you.” Calariel had thought about this too. Being Noldo and raised in Lothlórien, sailing to the Undying Lands had been instilled in her. Some day she would have to go, whether Legolas was ready or not.
Feeling better about his future, Legolas smiled and kissed his wife. “You are all the longing that I need.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. Then she looked up at his handsome face. “Legolas, there is something—”
He cut her off by turning her away from him and pulling her against his chest. Then his arms went around her middle, hands coming to rest upon her stomach. He lowered his face to her neck, and laid gentle kisses upon her.
Calariel cocked her head to the side. “You know, don’t you?”
“How could I not?” he breathed against her soft skin.
“And are you happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he said, holding her tight against him.
“A new generation,” she commented.
“A King for the throne,” he said proudly.
“Or a Queen,” she corrected with a laugh.
“Our legacy,” he smiled.
At that exact moment, Legolas could feel his father smiling down upon him, and he realized that all the sacrifices his father had made were not in vain. Not just so that Legolas could live, but that King Thranduil’s bloodline would continue on. Perhaps it hadn’t all been about Mirkwood or Eryn Lasgalen. It was knowing that all the hardships were well worth the struggle. It was proving that they could not be destroyed. It was comfort knowing that Legolas would no longer be … the last wood elf.
* * * The End * * *
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The Last Wood Elf