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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6315 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter IV: End of an Era

Minas Tirith, Gwaeron FA 120

Legolas stood before the window looking out to the west, his eyes bright with unshed tears. Today they had laid to rest Gondor’s latest king, perhaps her greatest. And a new one now ruled in his place.

The lives of Men are but seasons to the Firstborn.

The summons had come to them in the early hours of two days ago. They had ridden swiftly to Minas Tirith, he and Elrohir and Elladan and a visiting Gimli. Aragorn had only awaited their arrival before proceeding to the Hallows where he had lain himself down upon the bed prepared for him.

Legolas had been shocked by his appearance, unused as he was to the swift waning of the Dúnedain at the end of their lives. Faramir had not reached the true culmination of his life when he died and he and Elrohir had been in Imladris when Imrahil passed away. Therefore, unlike the brethren, he had no previous experience of this sudden passage from young to aged.

Aragorn had not been wizened or bent as lesser men were though in recent years, streaks of grey had appeared in his black hair, as had faint lines in his noble face. Now his hair was silvered and the lines had deepened. He still looked strong and majestic and his comeliness had not been diminished in any way; merely altered. But so long had been his life and lengthy the years of his youthful appearance that the Elf-prince found it difficult to believe that he had indeed left youth behind and would eventually leave life as well.

They each had spoken with him at the last. To his daughters he had given his final blessings, to Eldarion his last words of love, his counsel and his crown. Words had not passed between him and Gimli; only a heartfelt grip of their hands. And then it had been Legolas’ turn.

He had long thought he would not be able to endure this day. Yet now that it was here, he found that he could. He looked upon his old friend and king with sadness and some confusion. Aragorn understood his mixed feelings.

“I will miss you terribly, Aragorn,” Legolas whispered. “After all we went through together... Gondor will not be the same without you. I cannot—” He faltered then, tears stinging his eyes, and found his hand caught in a surprisingly strong grip.

“For so long as you have your Elf-knight’s love, you will endure anything, Legolas,” he gently told him. “He is your strength and the font of your forbearance.”

“Aye, he is,” Legolas murmured, glancing in Elrohir’s direction.

“Take good care of him, Prince of Greenwood,” Aragorn said. “He is the greatest treasure you will ever have the good fortune to possess.” Legolas was startled by the sudden twinkle in the dimmed eyes. “And had I been an Elf, I might very well have competed with you for his affections.”

Legolas could not help chuckling at that. He smiled gratefully at the erstwhile Ranger who had ruled Gondor wisely and lovingly for one hundred and twenty years.

“Farewell, meldiren”—my friend—he murmured before giving way to Elladan and Elrohir.

With Gimli at his side, he had watched from a respectful distance as they bid their Estel goodbye, unashamed of the tears that streaked down their cheeks. At the last, each had grasped the king’s hands and raised them to their lips. And then Elrohir had gazed into Aragorn’s eyes and his own had widened. He glanced at his brother and then at Arwen uncertainly. But when neither protested whatever it was that had passed between them in that exchange of gazes, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his foster brother’s lips.

Legolas had been surprised by that. But he had also immediately comprehended the significance of the gesture. In Aragorn, the duality of his elven forebears had existed but had never been allowed full expression. That had not been his destiny and his Elven family had taken pains to direct him down the road for which he had been fated even before his birth. This final show of affection was but an acknowledgement of what might have been had his destiny been otherwise.

With the brethren’s farewells done, they had left the King and Queen alone together. What was spoken between them, Legolas did not know though he supposed Arwen would confide her husband’s last words in her brothers. They were together now in Aragorn’s study, the twins consoling their sister in her bereavement.

He had retreated to his bedchamber to await Elrohir. He thought back on the past three decades. The last of Aragorn’s long and eventful reign.

The most far-reaching aspect of Aragorn’s legacy would be the peace he had attained for his kingdom. He had finally succeeded in forging treaties with the majority of the men of Rhûn, thus reducing to negligible the conflicts Gondor had with the Easterlings. The orcs of the south had been all but eradicated while the goblins that had infested the mountains of the north had been so diminished that their numbers were no longer much of a threat. And the alliance with Harad had been strengthened further by the marriage of his daughter, Anóriel, to her Southron prince.

Another achievement had been the restoration of Osgiliath. Now fully rebuilt, the city that straddled the Anduin was still sparsely populated. But it was coming alive again and more swiftly as the years passed. Already, its central district was bustling with commerce and many nobles had begun to reside once more within its walls. The next generation of men would reap the full benefits of Elessar’s bountiful efforts.

The final fifteen years of his rule had been marked by utter quiet and contentment. It was a prosperous realm he had bequeathed to his only son. Legolas knew that Eldarion would continue in his father’s footsteps. He prayed that so would his sons and sons’ sons after him.

He heard the door open and footsteps approach him from behind. Strong, slender arms encircled his shoulders and a kiss was pressed against the side of his neck.

Elrohir sighed heavily. “Estel is hardly cold in his tomb yet we must plan Eldarion’s coronation. And we must do it soon that my sister may witness it before she departs from Gondor.”

Legolas frowned. “Arwen is leaving?”

Elrohir nodded somberly. “Her grief is too great. She cannot bear to remain here with all the memories of Estel. She leaves as soon as Eldarion is crowned king.”

“Where will she go?”

“Lothlórien.” He sighed. “Elladan and I will accompany her up to its borders. She refuses to let us go any further and will not even accept our offer to remain with her until her passing. Ai, Adar”—Father—“was right. This is proving harder for Arwen than she ever expected.”

“But who will be with her when her time comes?” Legolas murmured. “The Evenstar should not be alone when she passes away.”

“‘Tis her choice,” Elrohir said simply yet in his words lay all his sorrow for the eventual loss of his only sister.

Legolas turned in Elrohir’s arms and faced the grieving Elf. “It may sound unfeeling of me to say this now but I am grateful you chose to be of Elf-kind,” he whispered. “I do not know what I would do if we had to part.”

Elrohir smiled through his tears. “I once thought that an eternity in Aman would be much too tame for me to bear,” he said. “But now I look forward to that eternity with you, melethron.”—lover. He grinned crookedly at Legolas. “Think you Master Gimli will agree to join us?”

“He will say nay,” Legolas replied. “But I believe I can persuade him.”

“How so?”

“With an enticement. There is a certain lady whom he will not be able to resist seeing again.”

Elrohir squinted at him curiously. “And which lady is this?” he asked.

“The Lady of the Golden Wood herself.”

Elrohir gasped. “Grandmother?” He was torn between shock and hilarity.

“Aye,” Legolas grinned. “He verily treasures the lock of hair she gifted him with though he knows not the significance of it.”

Elrohir shook his head, amazed. He looked at Legolas and suddenly smiled. He drew the prince into his arms for a crushing embrace.

Legolas gasped then laughed and embraced him back. “What is this for?”

“I am only so grateful for you, my golden prince,” Elrohir whispered.

**********

The initial days after Elessar’s passing were subdued to say the least. While all went about their appointed tasks dutifully, there was little cheer or enthusiasm. Even Eldarion remained sorrowful and less than eager to take up the reins of his rule. He had loved his father deeply.

But his coronation came to pass soon enough. It was held on the Pelennor before the gates of the City. Eldarion had decreed that he would be crowned not in the High City but on the sprawling plain before Minas Tirith, witnessed by all the people he would rule. Here the mantle of leadership was formally turned over to Aragorn’s son and here an era officially ended even as another began.

Legolas watched the proceedings with mingled sadness and rejoicing. Behind him were Nimeithel, the twins, Elendir and Elros, and Lindir. At his side were Elrohir and Elladan. Flanking them were several Elven warriors led by Daurin. All the Elves were clad in white and silver and on the brows of those who were of noble blood were the silver or mithril coronets of their stations. They were a vision to behold, beautiful beyond belief.

People stared at them, committing to memory the fair faces, the tall slender forms and the exquisitely rendered raiments. This would be the last time an event of note in Gondor would be adorned by such ethereal charm and otherworldly beauty. After this day, the Firstborn would no longer walk the streets of the city or grace its halls.

Legolas could sense that Elrohir was striving to control the storm of emotions that threatened to express itself in tears. The archer could only imagine what the Elf-knight was feeling. He had buried the brother he’d had a hand in raising from near infancy, the most beloved of all the fosterlings the Peredhil had taken under their protection. Now he was witnessing yet another beloved child turned warrior prince become king. At least, he would be spared the burden of laying Eldarion to rest as well.

Surreptitiously, he took Elrohir’s hand and squeezed it consolingly. Gleaming argent eyes met his gratefully for an instant before Elrohir was summoned along with Elladan for their part in the ceremony. Legolas felt his own eyes blur as Elladan handed unto Eldarion the scepter of Annuminas and Anduril, the reforged sword of the king’s forefather, Elendil, while to Elrohir fell the honor of placing the winged crown of Gondor upon his nephew’s head. He glanced at Arwen who stood opposite him. She was succored by Ilien, her law-daughter, the new Queen of Gondor.

Arwen had altered startlingly since Aragorn drew his last breath. Though still possessed of the breathtaking beauty of memory, it was no longer a warm, vibrant loveliness but cold and remote. It was almost as if she was no longer a part of the world but merely an image of what once was. Grief had swiftly taken its toll on her. Legolas sensed she would not long out-live her husband.

It was then, as he was scanning the faces of the ladies of the court around Arwen and Ilien, that Legolas saw her. Lady Gilwen was looking directly at him, her eyes gleaming oddly. Legolas wondered at her expression with unease.

The Queen’s cousin had become one of her ladies-in-waiting a few years after her husband’s death. It had been a move encouraged by her kinfolk. A move designed hopefully to curtail the rumors of infidelity that had tainted her name during her marriage and followed her into her widowhood. It was known in Dol Amroth that she had not been a chaste wife, particularly when her lord began to age ahead of her. And after his death, rather than marrying again, it was said that she had taken lovers instead.

Such behavior was frowned upon by the ruling family of the seaward princedom. Its members were staunch believers of the inviolability of the vows of matrimony. Open promiscuity by unwed persons was considered undesirable as well. If one had to indulge one’s self, one ought to conduct one’s self with discretion and dignity and spare others the discomfort of witnessing such wantonness.

A lady-in-waiting had to follow certain rules of deportment and that included chaste behavior. And so, the widow had been duly taken in by her cousin in the hopes of correcting her errors. But that had meant her constant presence at court and that had not been to Elrohir’s liking at all.

He harbored no sense of guilt where she was concerned. But neither did he enjoy being ogled with such futile longing as she exhibited even in the presence of others. It was irritating to say the least considering that he had made it absolutely clear to her that he had no interest in her or her company. To get around the problem, the warrior had lessened his visits to Minas Tirith and oft persuaded Aragorn and Arwen and their family to come to Ithilien instead. But he never told them the reason behind this recent preference. He had not wished to have it known that he may very well have been the first in the string of extra-marital lovers she had had through the years.

She continued to stare at Legolas with that odd look in her dark eyes. When Elrohir came back to his side, she regarded the twin in that familiar yearning manner then turned her attention to Legolas once more. And then she dropped her gaze to his hand. The hand that had instinctively reached out to clasp the Elf-knight’s briefly in support and affection. It struck Legolas then.

She knows about us, he thought with shock. Yet she has never betrayed our secret. Why?

******************

Glossary:

Gwaeron - Sindarin for March

To be continued
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight