Blessed by the Valar v2

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
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Darkness filled the skies ahead of the Elves of Ithilien as they raced toward Mirkwood---Eryn Lasgalen, as it was now known.

“A storm moves ahead of us,” Glorfindel said.

“It reminds me of the darkness Sauron sent ahead of his armies to Minas Tirith,” added Elrohir.

“I fear it shares the same source,” Haldir replied. He and his brothers had lived their entire lives, except for occasional forays into the world to gather information, in the realm of the Lady of Light. Galadriel, while mystical and mysterious, had, along with her husband, kept the Golden Wood a peaceful haven for the Elves. As the March Warden, he had been responsible for protecting its borders, and had done so, against many enemies. But he had always known the Lady’s power was supporting him. Now, she was gone into the West and the Darkness was particularly unsettling without her Light in Middle Earth.

The closer they got to his father’s kingdom, the quieter Legolas became. His companions did not try to engage him in conversation---somehow, it seemed best to leave him to his own thoughts. The twins could relate to his anxiety, having lost their mother to malice. Glorfindel had seen his people betrayed, his House and kin exiled or slaughtered, and had himself died slaying a Balrog so that the twins’ great-grandparents could escape the fall of Gondolin, all because of Morgoth’s evil. He looked at Legolas with compassion: to have faced the great demon had been bad enough; to have had Morgoth speaking directly to one’s mind, trying to seduce you to the dark side, must be unbearable.

For his part, Legolas was not as quiet as his outward appearance suggested. The memory of the voice of Morgoth kept coming to the fore and he could not shake off the sense that evil had somehow attached itself to him on the platform of the watching-place. When he thought about how close he had come to agreeing, he felt a wave of self-loathing. He was the son of a King, a Prince and Lord in his own right---his fortitude should never waver. He was an Elf; he was strong, unlike mortals who---.

He stopped himself. His wife was mortal. Many of his friends were mortal. Was he putting himself above them? Did he truly believe he was better than his beloved? No. It was a trick. Another trick this evil creature was playing on him. He sought Alex in his heart and found her. At least she was safe in his father’s care. Or as safe as she could be with the one who was the target of some demon’s vengeance.

Less than a day’s ride away from Mirkwood, they had their first encounter with the new version of Orc and Uruk-Hai. These creatures were bigger, stronger and faster than the ones Sauron had used. Perhaps because Morgoth had a personal hand in creating these through his servant; or maybe they were simply a different breed, coming from the wild areas of the east and north. Whatever their origins, they were vicious and cunning and the Elves suffered their first losses since coming north.

The sense of danger was almost simultaneous with the first barrage of arrows from the Orc and Uruk-Hai lying in wait. The riders who were out in front were cut off from the rest of the troop and unable to warn the others. Several of the Elves were killed immediately and a number were wounded in the initial volley. Shouting warnings to the riders in the rear, Legolas, Haldir, Rumil and Orophin had their bows drawn in a blink and were already firing on the creatures as they were sighted. The rest of the Elves drew their bows and fired as they rode to try and evade the arrows coming their way.

Despite the suddenness of the attack, the Elves recovered from their initial surprise and managed to repel the aggressors. Even in the confusion and heat of the battle, the Elves maintained discipline and would have appeared, to a mortal, to be eerily quiet and emotionless. Elven archers, who had no remorse at shooting them in the back, cut down the retreating Orc. If they were allowed to rejoin their commanders, the Elves would be at their mercy further down the road.

Legolas found Elladan and Elrohir along with the other warriors who were trained as healers, seeing to the wounded. The dead were gathered and litters formed to carry them to Eryn Lasgalen where they would be buried, if the forces of Morgoth did not disrupt them again. The prince surveyed the fallen with a heavy heart. He had failed to protect his wife, and now he had led his people into danger, sending the fallen to the Halls of Mandos. The gloom that had followed him from Karandun’s keep, and had grown heavier during his encounter with the voice of Morgoth, threatened to drag him into deep despair.

Glancing up at his friend, Elladan could see the anguish emanating from Legolas. He finished securing a bandage over some healing herbs covering an arrow wound on the arm of a warrior, and then straightened. Walking over to the prince, he stood for a moment before speaking.

“We lost 14 warriors. There are quite a few wounded, but only 3 are serious. The rest should heal within a day or so. We are close to Mirkwood where the others can be attended by your father’s healers.” Seeing the other Elf’s haunted expression, he grasped him by the shoulder. “It is the way of evil, Legolas. Do not take the burden of blame upon yourself.”

The eyes that met Elladan’s were full of misery. “But I am their leader. They are my responsibility, regardless of whatever forces oppose us.” He turned and walked back to Arod and mounted. Glorfindel came over and stood with the dark-haired Elf.

“What can I say to him? He carries such a burden and I fear he will give in to despair.”

The older Elf shook his head. “There is nothing you can say, my friend. He carries the weight of command and responsibility. It is not easy, even under the best of circumstances. To have the greatest evil in Arda single you out makes it nigh impossible to bear. But he is strong---he will come through this even stronger.” Although he spoke with confidence, his heart was uneasy. The young prince had been through a lot and even the strongest of Elves had a breaking point. He only hoped Legolas had not reached his.

The Seneschal of Rivendell sighed and pulled himself onto his horse. As he rode past Haldir, Orophin and Rumil, he shook his head slightly in answer to the question in their eyes. No, Legolas was not all right.

He caught up with the Mirkwood Prince and they rode side by side quietly. He understood how the other Elf felt. He had lost practically all of his kin in the fall of Gondolin and as the Lord of his House, he felt responsible for each loss. Although it was the way of war, and Legolas had commanded his warriors in many battles, losing these Elves today was a heavy blow. They were fighting an evil that had honed in on him, and on his father. Although the ultimate goal was to prevent the spread of darkness across Middle Earth, it was still a very personal battle, and losing warriors in what was almost a private war was incredibly painful.

They had ridden silently for several hours when Legolas turned sad eyes toward Glorfindel.

“Does the pain ever go away? Does it ever get easier?”

He wanted to give the younger Elf words of encouragement, tell him that, yes, eventually you became accustomed to it and some magical moment would come where you would know how to protect everyone under your care. Instead, he spoke truthfully.

“No. The pain remains. But you learn to accept it. Loss is inevitable. And it is never easy.”

Legolas nodded and they passed the rest of the trip to Mirkwood in silence.

The sight that greeted them when they reached the Great Greenwood was reminiscent of other battles fought to recover Dol Guldur from the Nazgul. Orc and Elves were locked in bloody conflict. The Mirkwood Elves, joined by Celeborn and their kin from the South in East Lorien, were barely holding on as Orc and Uruk-Hai launched flaming arrows and balls made of burning dried brush enclosing skins full of oil that exploded upon impact, spreading the fires throughout the trees.

Legolas felt his heart drop at the sight. His beautiful Greenwood was burning. He and his fellow archers attacked the flanks of the dark forces, taking down as many as possible at a distance before riding into the thick of the battle, knives and swords swinging.

His despair and pain boiled over into rage as the prince sliced his way through the creatures. He lost all track of time and his surroundings as he cut down one beast after another. When his supply of arrows was depleted, he drew his knives and was soon covered with the black blood of Orc and Uruk-Hai. He thought of them, touching his wife, defiling her simply by breathing the same air as her and his only thought was to see them all dead. Vengeance filled his heart and made him tireless. He did not know what was going on in the great forest, but he hoped the Elves were dealing death without relief; these creatures deserved no quarter. He also begged the Valar to keep Alex and his father safe.

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The attack had come, not from the east or north, as expected, but from within Mirkwood itself. Alex was unable to sleep, and stalked the corridors of Thranduil’s palace like a caged lion. She could feel Legolas’ anguish through their bond---he was reaching out to her, as she was to him, and it drove her crazy that she couldn’t be with him.

Her inner beast was clawing its way to the surface, demanding to be set free. The patrols had been reporting even more of the Great Spiders had moved into the Greenwood and Thranduil ordered those who were unable to fight---wounded, Elfings, those who cared for them---evacuated to East Lorien. Strangely, the beasts had not made an appearance to the south. It was as if they were concentrating on Thranduil’s realm almost exclusively.

Alex walked out onto one of the balconies that, from the outside, seemed to be a cave or ledge, but actually gave a good view of the surrounding forest. The king was there, with his bow, and for a moment, she almost mistook him for Legolas. Then, he turned and she could see he felt the same tension as she did.

“You should stay inside where it is safer, Alexandra,” he said in hushed tones. “There is a fell voice in the air and I know it bodes ill for my people.” Looking at her, he smiled sadly. “I am sorry you became trapped in this evil. You should be at home in Ithilien with my son, living out your years in happiness; not waiting for ancient demons to attack a place that is not even home to Legolas any more.”

She shook her head. “It’s still his home in his heart. He loves Eryn Lasgalen more than any other place in Middle Earth and I would not want to be anywhere else but here, doing what I could to protect something so important to him.”

“I know he still loves it, but you are wrong.” She looked at her father-in-law in askance. “His heart is at home with you---wherever the two of you are, is his home now. This is only the memory of home.”

She started to reply, but suddenly her inner predator was loosed as black shapes hit them both. She grabbed at the creature that had knocked her back against the wall of the palace and felt a hard carapace and knew it was one of the Great Spiders. In the back of her mind she was aware of the sounds of shouts in the forest, but her primary goal was to prevent the creature from sinking its fangs---or worse, stinger---into her. Digging her claws into the spider’s body, she ripped it away and slammed it into the stone wall, crushing it.

She dropped the carcass in disgust---what a pathetic excuse for an attack; no sport at all---and turned in time to see Thranduil slicing into the beast which had attacked him, opening its belly with his long knife. Poison, blood---whatever repulsive things existed inside the creatures---gushed out. A third spider was scurrying down and Alex grabbed its legs before its claws could latch onto the king, and, putting a foot against the spider’s body, ripped two of the legs off completely.

The creature let out a sound so awful she almost paused. But her desire to kill the thing was too great. Grasping the remaining legs she tore them from the body just as Thranduil’s knife came down, piercing the creature’s underside. Its mouth moved for a few more seconds as if trying to snap at its killers, then it was still.

The king looked at her and she saw his eyes widen slightly, then he turned, drawing an arrow and shooting down another of the Great Spiders before it could complete its swing over to their position.

Morhir appeared below them on the forest floor, and shouted up. “The Great Spiders are attacking all over the forest, my lord. And the border patrols have spotted a troop of Orc and Uruk-Hai closing in on the northern and eastern borders.”

“What of the western and southern borders?” The king feared for those of his people he had sent to East Lorien.

“Lord Celeborn’s forces are under attack from the Great Spiders to the south as well. They cannot get to us and are trying to move around to the west.” The young Elf looked disgusted. “The creatures have been breeding and have nests everywhere. They were sent here to cut us off from all aid.”

Thranduil nodded. “Any sign of my son?”

Morhir shook his head. The king dismissed him and turned to Alex. This time, he did not flinch when he looked into her black eyes.

“What does your heart tell you? Does Legolas still live?”

She pushed past the bloodlust that was trying to engulf her. This Elf wanted to know about her mate. She sought the bond and found it, as strong as ever.”

“He lives,” she said softly. A scrambling above them signaled another attack by the spiders and she focused on killing. The rational part of her mind told her to make sure the Elf was kept safe, although he didn’t seem to need her help. He was as swift with the bow as her mate.

The king turned and shouted, “Inside!” She hated to leave the fight, but did as he said. They sealed off the balcony and raced through the maze of the underground palace. She could hear shouts of Elves, screams of spiders and roars of what she assumed were Orc and Uruk-Hai. She wanted to get out into the forest and hunt.

When they emerged, the sight was disheartening. Smoke hung thick in the air and the smell of burning foliage was pungent. Added to the smoke was the scent of blood---that of the Elves, sweet and delectable; of the dark creatures, sour and repulsive. Saelbeth spotted them and, slashing an Orc across the belly, pushed the body aside in order to sprint over to their position.

Alex lowered her gaze so as not to disturb him as he told them, “Legolas’ warriors are attacking from the flanks of the Orc lines.”

“The west---.”

“Is closed, my lord. The Spiders seem to have been working with the other creatures of darkness. They attack us, but leave the Orc unharmed.”

Further conversation was cut off as a hail of Orc arrows flew at them. Elven reflexes helped Saelbeth and Thranduil avoid certain death while Alex ran forward, into the oncoming creatures. She grabbed the first one by the head, snapping his neck without pausing. The two Elves were momentarily stunned as were the Orcs, at her aggression. However, both recovered quickly and engaged the fight.

A part of her cringed at the death and destruction around her, while the dominant part was enjoying the freedom to slaughter at will. She did not feel the pain of the blades when they cut into her skin; she registered them only as indicators of further prey. After a while, she realized there was nothing left to kill. She looked around and saw bodies littering the forest floor and she was alone.

At first, she was angry---she still had the desire to destroy these creatures. But gradually, she calmed and a dread overtook her. Thranduil and Saelbeth were nowhere to be seen, she began searching for Elven bodies---surely she hadn’t attacked them in her frenzy. However, only Orc and Uruk-Hai lay on the ground. She listened for the sounds of the battle and began running. She was surprised she had gotten so far from the palace. Smoke and mist hung heavy in the air and, no matter how far or fast she ran, she could not seem to find the rest of her people. Something was definitely wrong about the whole situation.

“They are not your people,” a voice whispered.

She stopped and listened. She couldn’t tell where it had come from.

“Who are you?”

“You know me; we have spent many pleasant hours together of late.”

Terror struck without warning. It was the one who plundered her soul, stole her will.

Laughter echoed in the silent forest. “Yes, my sweet---give in to your fear. It will make you all the more pleasant. I have spent a lot of my strength orchestrating this little distraction and you can replenish me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a great dark shape moving toward her, emerging from the mist. It looked like a man in a long, hooded cape, and was quite tall. She was frozen. Her inner beast wanted to stand and fight, attack even, while the human part of her wanted to run as fast as possible. But the … thing held her mesmerized. She could only watch as it came closer, like a mouse before a snake.

As it moved to within arm’s length, the cape opened and she saw it was actually spreading great wings as its claws reached out to grasp her. It looked exactly like Thranduil had described: dark blue skin with moving shadows, black glittering eyes, a mouth full of razor sharp, pointed teeth, and a crown of horns encircling its head.

She came to her senses and began to struggle, but it was very strong. And, she felt it trying to establish a connection with her. She kicked and pushed at it but the creature only laughed and pulled her into an obscene parody of a lover’s embrace.

“You have made me strong---I do not know what is in you, but it is powerful. But, I’ve also been able to take the spirits of the Elves who are suffering and dying here. Elven souls are so bright, even as they slide toward death. Some of them, I believe, were your friends. Believe me when I say I did not make their passage easy.”

“Do not touch me,” she spat. “You will get no pleasure from me, I promise.”

“Oh, but I already have,” he---it laughed. She could feel its repulsive body pressing against hers and choked down nausea. “When I visit you in your dreams, your tears and heartache are immensely pleasurable. Tell me, did you think you would escape me so easily? By coming to Thranduil? You only made it easier for me. Now I can torment the Elf king with his son and daughter-in-law; tortured, raped and killed before his very eyes.”

“Why?” She knew she was probably going to die, and die painfully. But she wanted to know the reason.

“Why not?” the creature answered. “Because of the actions of Thranduil, I was trapped in my prison for millennia and unable to do the work of my master. His bitch wife captured me, although she died in the process. Then he cast me away into cold darkness. It was only by the grace of my master that my prison was swallowed by one of the great beasts that roam the deep, dark waters. And when the beast died, its body floated to the surface where it washed upon the shore, caught in some rocks. As it decayed, eventually my prison came to light and my master’s servant, Sauron, found it. I was released and sent into Rhun to breed my master a new army---he knew what Sauron’s fate would be. Then, as I looked into the hidden palantir, I saw a young Elf prince and a woman. I knew who he was---he was the one I had chosen to replace the servant Thranduil killed so many years ago. But his father and mother denied me that prize as well. I saw how I could accomplish my master’s will of bringing confusion and death to Middle Earth, and still get my revenge upon the Elf king.”

As he spoke, his hands caressed Alex almost tenderly, and he paused at times to nuzzle her hair, even snaking out a long, pointed tongue to lick the side of her face slowly, sending shudders of revulsion through her body. The most disgusting thing, though, was his obvious arousal at the thought of devouring her soul. She vowed to kill herself rather than let him take her again.

So intent was the creature on sating his lust for her soul, he did not notice the Elf sighting him down the shaft of an arrow, nor hear it when it was let fly. Alex felt Maelweth stiffen and squeeze her convulsively. An arrow had appeared in his neck, piercing through from one side to the other. She fought for breath against the crushing embrace of the demon and thought she was going to pass out, when suddenly he released her.

With a roar of rage, he turned to face his attacker as Thranduil emerged from the lifting mist. She became aware of the sounds of battle growing louder and once free of the demon’s arms, was shocked to find herself surrounded by an all-out war. Maelweth ripped the arrow from his neck and screamed his frustration.

“You are weak, Maelweth,” the king said, shooting the demon again, this time in the chest. “You cannot make your form dissolve to avoid the arrow and the sword---you have not the strength.”

“But I can still destroy your beloved Greenwood---even now it burns. And don’t forget, your son has taken the field---I can still have him for my amusement.” The demon folded his wings around him, like a shield and spun, creating a whirlwind into which he vanished.

“He must feed soon. Orc and human souls do not give him the power he needs. He cannot control his army and protect his physical form without power.” Thranduil drew another arrow and she saw his quiver was depleted. Alex began running from corpse to corpse, yanking out arrows, which she used to replenish his supply. When his quiver was full, she picked up a sword from a fallen Elf. He looked vaguely familiar and wore the armor of her husband’s warriors. No doubt he was one who had come to her rescue at Karandun’s keep and had seen she arrived in Mirkwood safely. Now, he had died trying to protect her.

“He is going to go after Legolas. He must be warned.” The king sent an arrow through the eye of an Uruk-Hai. “Go, through the palace. Behind the throne is a passage that goes beneath the river and comes out in a stand of trees on the other side. Press the third carving from the top on the left behind the dais.”

“I can’t leave you here!” There were few Elves around them, yet enemies kept coming.

“You must. Nothing is more important than the life of my son. Go and warn him!” It was a royal command, yet at the same time, the plea of a desperate father.

She hesitated a moment more. Every fiber in her being told her to stay and protect Thranduil.

“Go now!” the king shouted at her as he let fly another arrow, taking down another Orc. He turned to look at her and he looked so much like his son her breath caught. “You cannot help me any more. You must try to get to Legolas.” He whirled and stopped one of the Great Spiders that had scurried through the trees above them and leapt at him. She could see from where Legolas had inherited his talent with the bow. It was like watching her husband, and that made it so hard for her to abandon their position. But Thranduil was correct. She was of no further use here. With one last glance at the Mirkwood king and his Elves dealing death, she ran through the dense forest toward the palace and to what she hoped was the relative safety of her husband’s lines.

Legolas fought with strength born from rage. The home of his youth was in flames and he could see his woodland kin as they struggled against the fire, the Great Spiders and the army of darkness. He knew it was only a matter of time. Scouts had reported the forest was impenetrable from the south and East Lorien Elves told him the same wall of Spiders was preventing them from sending aid through the western border, yet allowing Orc and Uruk-Hai free passage.

He knew there were passages in the palace that had been placed there in case escape was necessary. But they were one-way only. They could not be opened from outside the palace, even if he knew where they came out. He had no way of getting inside to help reinforce the warriors fighting and dying in Mirkwood proper.

He briefly caught sight of Rumil and Haldir as they dodged Orc and Uruk-Hai blades. At least they still lived. Of Orophin, the twins and Glorfindel, he had seen nothing. He prayed to the Valar that they still lived.

Looking at the blazing forest, he thought of Alex and Thranduil. His wife and his father were trapped along with his kin and his warriors in a death-trap. The Great Spiders cut off any retreat as well as prevented help from getting in; the Orc and Uruk-Hai were coming through, courtesy of their bestial allies; and the trees screamed in agony as they burned. The grace of the Valar was all that could help them.

“The Valar have ignored your pleas so far, my princeling.” The soft, seductive voice of Morgoth floated into his mind, causing the sounds of the battle to fade away. “Even now, your father and your wife are trapped. If they are not stung to death by the spiders, then surely, the Orc and Uruk-Hai will slaughter them. And you know how they dispose of the dead---they will feast for days on the flesh of Elves, including the king and his daughter-in-law. And, if perhaps they should escape the blades of my servant’s pets, the forest is an inferno that will consume them. Even Elf-flesh cannot withstand the flames.”

“Leave me in peace,” Legolas hissed. “Your words cannot tempt me.”

The voice chuckled. “Look into the flames, young prince. Can you not see your brethren as they suffer? That is only one of the possible fates awaiting your lovely wife and your precious father.”

Legolas felt sick as he saw an Elf fall into the waters of the river, flames engulfing his body. He could not see who it was, but knew it was one of his Mirkwood kin.

“Even now, my servant holds her in his loving embrace,” Morgoth sighed. “She has suffered his attentions in the past, but was restrained. Now she is free to run, but cannot. Her heart is giving in to despair because she sees no way out. No matter what she does, she will die painfully.”

Legolas closed his eyes and tried to shut out the voice.

“Your father cannot help her. He can barely fight for his life and his kingdom. He cannot be troubled with his son’s mortal wife. Of course, who can blame him? He has his people to consider. She is your responsibility---one you have continually ignored. You should have watched her more closely in Ithilien---you know, Haldir and Aragorn knew of Karandun’s hatred, yet they did not tell you of his insult to your wife at Minas Tirith. You cannot trust even your closest friends.

“And when she was taken, where were you? With all of your forces, once again, bailing out the king of Gondor. These mortals will never survive without the help of the Elves, and well you know it. She was taken and tortured terribly. Do you know what she did under Karandun’s lash? She thought of you. She kept you in her thoughts, hoping you would take the pain away.

“The most painful thing, though, were the tender attentions of my servant. Maelweth has always enjoyed taking souls when they are in agony. I am sure he is feasting upon your Elven brethren. He will save your wife for his special treat. He will make her suffer exquisitely if only to torture you. And he will torture you in order to torment your father.”

Legolas could not see, his eyes would not focus. He could only see swirling shadows and darkness, hear screams and death, and smell blood and smoke. The entire world was falling around him. Why would the Valar---?

“Yes, why would the Valar allow this to happen? Because they do not care for the concerns of the world. They say they do, but in reality, they care only for their own existence. They disregard the prayers of Elven princes who only ask for peace. They allow creatures like Maelweth to torment lives in Arda for his own personal amusement and revenge. Yet, you, they ignore. You---one of the Firstborn, a hero of the War of the Ring, an Elf who has fought to bring peace to Middle Earth---your prayers are denied.”

“No,” Legolas whispered. “The Valar hear all prayers.”

“Yes, they do. They simply ignore most of them and refuse the rest. They are fickle and cannot be trusted. They are unworthy of your devotion.”

“And you think you are worthy of my worship?”

“Me?” Morgoth laughed. “No. I am simply a being who seeks to bring order to this chaos that the Valar have brought. I can end this battle now. I can send rains to douse the flames, send my servant and his beasts to the void; end that silly little war in the south; save your father and his kingdom; and give you your wife for eternity. She will never die, just like you. All you need do is agree not to resist me. No cost to you, yet you gain everything you’ve asked for: Peace and your mate’s immortality. Simply turn your back on the Valar and their duplicitous ways. Only with control can there be peace in Middle Earth. And only through me can you gain eternal happiness with your wife.”

The stench of roasting flesh and blood sickened him, as did the cries of pain from the Elves and the trees. He could end it. The Valar had allowed it to happen. They were allowing evil and violence to run rampant across Middle Earth, only allowing an occasional respite. Morgoth promised an end to the chaos and uncertainty. And he promised eternal life for Alexandra.

Legolas felt his resolve weakening. An end to the pain and fear. He could do it with a simple word of agreement.

Arms wrapped around him and he brought his knives up, slicing at his assailant.

“Legolas! Stop!” The voice sounded familiar. His vision slowly returned and he saw Alex a few steps in front of him, out of the reach of his knives. Her eyes were dark, but not black, and she held an Elven sword, prepared to block him should he attempt to kill her again.

“Alex?” He could not believe it. He had almost killed his beloved. He dropped the knives and pulled her into his arms, his tears soaking into her hair. “Sweet Elbereth! Forgive me. I---I almost killed you.”

“You tried,” she said through tears and laughter. “But for once, I was faster than you.”

He opened his eyes and was startled to see this side of the river had quieted. A few skirmishes continued, but all around them were dead Uruk-Hai, Orc and Elves. He was somewhat relieved to see there were more of the dark warriors than the Firstborn. Across the river, in the seat of his father’s kingdom, however, the battle raged on.

“What happened, Legolas? You were standing there, staring across the river, but you wouldn’t answer when I called to you?”

“It is a long story. I have been haunted by a fell voice since we pursued the creature who attacked you into the east.”

“Legolas, he’s here. His name is Maelweth, and he has a history with your father.” She quickly told him all that Thranduil had passed on about the creature, and included her most recent encounter. Haldir, his brothers, the twins and Glorfindel joined them as she spoke. Elladan sported a bandage on his left arm and she noticed Elven blood blended with the black of the Orc and Uruk-Hai on all of them. It was the first time she’d ever seen Elves look so … messy.

“Do you know the way back into the palace?” If they could get inside, they could reinforce those fighting within the boundaries of the river.

“Yes, it’s right over there.” Glorfindel called one of the warriors over and had him ride to the southern border to let the East Lorien Elves know they had found a way inside.

*
Following her directions, the Ithilien Elves soon found themselves emerging into the throne room of Thranduil’s palace.

“Where was my father when you saw him last?” Legolas did not know what he would do if Thranduil had been sent to Mandos’ Halls. His father had always seemed invincible and he could not imagine what it would be like to see him fall.

She led them through the maze of the palace and into the wood where she and Thranduil had encountered Maelweth. Legolas sent his warriors to reinforce the fighters who were still struggling. Alex had to admit, she’d thought the Elves outnumbered, but had never seen them fighting in force. They were awe-inspiring, to say the least. They fought with efficiency and an almost detached ferocity---actually, quite beautiful to watch. They appeared cool and unemotional, yet devastatingly ruthless at the same time. She could well see how Aragorn and the rest were concerned about their defenses in Middle Earth once the Elves all departed for Valinor.

She and Legolas proceeded on their own to try to find the king. They encountered Balewith and Findecano who had seen him headed west. When they reached a clearing, they stopped short at the sight of Thranduil standing in the center, bow on the ground at his side, his long knife next to it. He held his sword loosely as he seemed to stare intently at a point on the ground a few feet in front of him.

“Father?” Legolas whispered. He did not like the look of the king. Gone was his proud stance. He seemed almost … broken.

“Father!” The prince spoke firmly. “Thranduil, son of Oropher! King of Greenwood the Great! Speak!”

His father slowly raised his eyes to those of his son. Legolas was taken aback by the abject misery he saw there.

“She died for nothing,” Thranduil whispered. “She killed herself to trap him, yet he still came back. The Valar have abandoned us.”

“No!” Legolas gripped his father’s shoulders. “The Valar never abandon us. It is not always given to us to know their will.” As he spoke, he realized his father was suffering the same doubts he himself had been plagued with ever since Morgoth had begun tempting him.

A flicker of recognition sparked in Thranduil’s eyes. “Legolas? Oh, my son!” He threw his arms around the prince and held him close. “Forgive me. I have brought this upon you by my weakness so long ago.”

“No, father. It is by your strength and that of my mother, that we have been free of this evil for so long.” Legolas had never seen his father express doubt---he had always been a tower of strength. It allowed him to see Thranduil in a new light---as a husband who mourned his lost wife. He had the same fears and doubts as Legolas. Yet he had overcome them.

“How touching.”

Maelweth stood watching them, his silvery-white teeth glinting like needles in his gruesome smile. His wings were back, his body appearing quite substantial.

“It seems you have made it much easier for me to have my revenge. All the principles are gathered. Although, I must admit, I was looking forward to playing with your little Elf friends, Prince Legolas. I had heard Glorfindel rode with your company. I have not seen him since the First Age when he met his doom at the hands of one of my brethren.”

A dozen Uruk-Hai emerged from the trees---Alex noticed it was once more misty and quiet. Maelweth was, again, expending a great amount of energy to generate the illusion they were alone in the forest. Alone with 12 brutal beasts surrounding them and one demon directing it all.

Neither Elf had arrows left in their quivers so Legolas put away his sword and drew his knives. Thranduil raised his sword and they gauged their enemy. Alex knew she would not be much help, but a little was better than none.

“Take them,” Maelweth ordered softly. The creatures encircled them, staying out of the reach of their blades.

Knowing she was the weakest when it came to the weapons, the Uruk-Hai nearest Alex made their move first. She had two of them attacking her at once and fought to keep from being cut down. Legolas and Thranduil were unable to help her because, once their attention was drawn to her predicament, the rest of the troop attacked them. With at least five of the creatures apiece trying to take their heads, neither had the chance to protect Alex.

Being so close to the beasts alerted Alex and she allowed a feral smile. She slashed at the two who had underestimated her abilities and caught one across his chest. He roared in anger and their battle picked up. She was disarmed quickly, but they didn’t count on her claws. She ripped the throat from one, black blood spurting out to cover her.

Maelweth watched her slaughter his pet and turn on the other. He let the struggle go on for a moment longer, then stepped in. He grabbed her and pulled her to his body, covering her with his wings. She fought against him and he smiled. He was enjoying the feel of her desperate attempts to breathe. Her nails dug into him and shredded his demon’s skin, but it mattered not. When he had fed on her, it would regenerate.

Her movements became weaker, finally ceasing altogether. He pulled his wings back and looked down at her. She was unconscious and he smiled, pulling her against him, turned so that when her eyes opened, she could see the slaughter of her lord and his father.

Legolas had managed to kill two of the Uruk-Hai and had severely wounded a third. Thranduil had killed two as well, but the remaining six seemed unlikely to fall any time soon. Both Elves had been fighting or on alert for several days and even though Elven stamina was incredible, it was not infinite. Both were beginning to tire. Their opponents recognized this weakness and took advantage of it. One false move, and Legolas found himself disarmed and held securely by two of the creatures. Maelweth spoke.

“I have your son and his wife, Thranduil. As much as I want them to suffer, it will be even more severe if you do not surrender. Now.”

The king spared a glance at his son and saw Legolas shake his head. He redoubled his efforts and slew another of his attackers.

“Why do you fight so?” Maelweth asked. “You have lost your kingdom and will soon lose your only child. You have nothing left to fight for.”

Thranduil did not answer, but swung around, slicing the head from another of the Uruk-Hai. He had only two left. But he was tired … so very tired.

“You will go to Mandos’ Halls regardless of your actions here today. But you will suffer before you go.” He looked at the Uruk-Hai who still held the struggling Legolas. They had bound his arms tightly behind him, pulling them painfully back. The weeks of riding, the war in the south, pursuing Alex, then the wild distraction in Rhun, topped with their race to Mirkwood, the ambush and the battle, had left the strong Elven prince on the verge of exhaustion. Morgoth’s temptations had preyed upon him as well and he was losing his will to struggle. Only fear for his wife and his father kept him from giving in entirely.

His captors dragged him over to Maelweth, who held Alex against his body with his right arm, and reached out with his left hand to run a finger along Legolas’ cheek.

“Such a pretty little prince. My congratulations, Thranduil. You and your wife certainly produced a fine specimen in this one. He should be quite entertaining.” The creature slipped his hand behind Legolas’ head, knotting his fingers in the silky blonde hair and pulled the prince’s face close to his.

“So, this is what your woman dreams of. She tried to use you to keep me from her mind. But I could see what she was doing.” He brought his mouth down and captured the Elf’s lips. Legolas tried to pull away, but Maelweth’s grip was too powerful. He felt the creature’s tongue as it slid over, then between his lips. He kept his teeth clenched as the long, slimy tongue explored his mouth. The beast’s sharp, needle-like teeth cut into his lips, and he could feel it licking his blood as it trickled into his mouth. When Maelweth released him, he spat the foul taste of the creature’s kiss to the ground.

The demon chuckled softly. “I can see why she holds onto the memories of your kisses, the feel of your body as you take her.” He turned Alex’s unconscious face up and lowered his head, kissing her as well. He held her so her mouth was open to him and he plundered her mouth with his serpentine tongue. He laughed at Legolas’ expression of outrage, which only grew when Maelweth slid his hand inside of her tunic to caress her breast.

Thranduil felt sick at the disgusting display. But it had served its purpose. One of the two remaining Uruk-Hai managed to land a blow causing him to drop his sword, slicing deeply into his shoulder. He grimaced at the pain as he was dragged over to where the demon waited.

“Now. One happy family.” Maelweth bared his teeth in a grotesque smile.

“You have me. Let them go.” Thranduil was not afraid of death. At least he would be with Baliel in the Halls of Waiting.

“Yes, I have you. But why should I let them go? You have not yet suffered enough. I spent almost fifteen hundred years in that prison. It may not seem long to an Elf, but an eternity in isolation---cut off from my master, starving, alone---is not something that is easily forgotten and never forgiven.”

“What more do you want?” Thranduil spat. “Do what you will to me. I do not care. But my son and his wife are not a part of this quarrel. The decision so many years ago was mine and mine alone. They had nothing to do with it. Let them go.”

Maelweth laughed. “Do you think I really care about what is fair? Vengeance is not fair, Thranduil. It is cruel and it is meant to punish.” He reached out and took a lock of Thranduil’s hair in his fingers and leaned down, inhaling the Elf’s scent. “Would you like to know what I saw in your wife’s mind when I took her?” he whispered. “Do you know what she kept in her secret places; the things she tried to cling to when she suffered from our joining?”

Thranduil closed his eyes and tried to close his mind. He would not listen to the demon’s disgusting words.

“I think I shall dwell in this place a while longer,” Maelweth said as he let Alex drop to the ground. “It suits me, don’t you think? And I shall feast on the souls of the Elves who have not yet fallen to my army. When I am done here, I will take those from East Lorien, then the Elves of Ithilien. None shall escape me. With enough Elven souls, I will become invincible. Eventually, I will not need them to maintain my power, it will have grown so, and my Master will reward me with omnipotence.”

He was startled to hear laughter coming from Thranduil’s whelp. Legolas laughed deep and loud. The king stared at his son. What was so funny about this situation?

“You think Morgoth will give you omnipotence?” Legolas shook his head. “He does nothing but lie. He did not protect his servant Sauron. He let his Balrogs be slain. He cannot even save himself. He taunts, he teases and he tempts. But most of all, he lies.”

Maelweth reached out and clamped his hand around the Elf’s throat. “Do not tempt me, princeling. I will kill you where you stand.”

Legolas fought to maintain eye contact. He would not give in to this creature. He became aware of a rushing sound, and things were starting to go dim. He tried to breathe, but no air would move into his lungs. This is what it felt like to die. He thought he could hear the sounds of a battle around him; somehow, he’d thought death would be quiet.

Suddenly, the pressure around his throat released and he fell to the ground, dimly aware the Uruk-Hai were no longer holding him. He felt strong arms lifting him, holding him and he saw his father looking down at him.

“Are you alright, Legolas?” Thranduil’s anxious eyes searched his.

“I am well,” he managed to gasp. “But my arms hurt.”

The king laughed and laid him down, turning him so he could cut through Legolas’ bonds. A sudden wind and flash of blue light caused them to cover their eyes. When the dust cleared, they saw Maelweth was gone and there were Elven warriors all around them. Haldir knelt beside the king as Elladan assisted Legolas to stand.

His eyes searched for Alex. She lay in Orophin’s arms as Elrohir examined her. He raced to her side.

“She is well, Legolas,” Elrohir assured his friend. “She will come around momentarily.”

Orophin relinquished his burden to her husband and accepted Legolas’ thanks.

“What happened?” He looked at his friends. All were accounted for. Saelbeth, Morhir and Balewith stood with Findecano and some of the Mirkwood Elves, separating a pile of arrows between their quivers. Rumil was directing the clearing of bodies, and Glorfindel stood cleaning his sword.

Thranduil was deep in conversation with Celeborn. It struck Legolas as odd to see the Lord of East Lorien in armor. He had only known Celeborn as the serene, sedate Lord of the Golden Wood. But, the prince knew, he and Galadriel had been warriors long before they founded Caras Galadhon.

“Father?”

Thranduil turned and smiled at his son. Kneeling beside him, he asked, “Is she alright?”

“Elrohir says she will be. She probably passed out when Maelweth smothered her in his wings.” She stirred and began to cough and the two Elves helped her to sit upright. She looked around.

“Where’s Maelweth? What happened?”

“I have been trying to ascertain that information myself,” Legolas answered, looking significantly at his father.

“Glorfindel killed him,” Thranduil said simply.

“How?” Legolas and Alex asked in unison. “I thought he was invulnerable to weapons,” she added.

“He was not invulnerable to a sword through his chest,” the golden-haired Elf replied.

Thranduil nodded. “Apparently, he is only invulnerable when he is at full strength. Despite having ‘fed’ during the battle, he expended a great deal of energy controlling his army, the Spiders, maintaining his illusions for us. He forgot to replenish his power. He began to lose control of the situation and we were no longer hidden to the eyes of the Elves. The Uruk-Hai that were holding us were cut down by Elven arrows and Glorfindel pierced the creature with his sword.”

“It was that simple?” She looked at Legolas who was a mystified as she. “All we had to do was tire him out?”

The Seneschal of Rivendell shrugged eloquently, as only an Elf could do. “It was the will of the Valar,” he said simply.

He moved off to help look for survivors and care for the wounded. Legolas held Alex to him and looked at his father. The king smiled and squeezed his son’s shoulder, and for a moment he was simply ada, daddy. Then he rose and was once again the King of Greenwood the Great.


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EIPLOGUE


Legolas walked the shores of Valinor. He had been reunited with so many of his old friends---Elves he had grown up with in Mirkwood; Rivendell Elves he had not seen since long before even the War of the Ring; Lorien Elves he had met during the Fellowship’s stay in that realm. He saw Elrond and Celebrian, and told them of Arwen’s final days. Best of all, he had been reunited with his mother and father, as she had come from the Halls of Mandos. He could not remember Thranduil being so happy and he understood so much more about his father now than he ever had.

He knew now why his father had been so set against his marriage to Alexandra. He’d known his father had wanted to spare him the unbearable grief of losing her. Thranduil had experienced the loss of his beloved Baliel when Legolas was still a very young Elfling and not until Alexandra had passed into the halls of her fathers had he truly understood what his father had suffered and what he had hoped his son would never know.

It had been over 65 years since his beautiful Alexandra had died. She had been 87 when she had breathed her last and, although her hair was white and her skin had wrinkled, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever known. He had always hoped the Valar would have granted his prayer of so long ago and given them immortality together. But Alex had told him they should be grateful for the time God had given them. He had smiled, kissed her and tried to do as she counseled.

They had enjoyed an idyllic life together. Even the evil times were good for them because they survived them together. They had explored Middle Earth together until the traveling became too much of a strain for her. They regularly visited The Shire, The Glittering Caves, Minas Tirith, Rohan and Eryn Lasgalen and he saw all the familiar places anew through her eyes. She had been particularly thrilled by the Argonath, although, she told him they were somewhat frightening: she kept expecting them to come to life as they sailed between them.

That they never had children did not seem to bother Alex. She had long ago resigned herself to a life without offspring. Legolas had selfishly wished to have a baby with her because he felt it would give him something tangible to remember his beloved by throughout eternity. As the child would have been half-Elven, he could have chosen immortality and Legolas would have had a piece of Alex forever. As it was, though, the bond they shared and the love he carried with his memories of her gave him comfort during times when the desolation of losing his true mate threatened to drive him to despair.

Once, when they were visiting Pippin, Merry and Sam in the Shire, Alex had picked up a map of Middle Earth and noticed the Grey Havens to the northwest. He saw her study it for a while, then came over to where she sat and put his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head.

There had been more silver than gold or fire in her hair. And, although she remained toned and kept her strong figure, he could feel her skin beginning to loose a bit of turgor and becoming dry. Fine lines from years of laughter were visible at the corners of her eyes and mouth. He knew she worried about these superficial things, but he did not even notice them. He saw only his beautiful and much beloved wife. To acknowledge these signs of aging would have forced him to face her impending death and he just wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

“That is an old map, my sweet. It still has Eryn Lasgalen identified as Mirkwood.”

She glanced up at him and smiled, then turned her attention back to the map. Tapping it, she said, “I would very much like to visit the Grey Havens. Is it very far from here?”

Legolas shook his head. “Not very far at all. We could leave in the morning, if you like.”

“Is it still used? I mean, is that where you will sail from when it is time for you to leave Middle Earth?” Always when she spoke of his journey to Valinor, a slight tremble entered her voice. He knew she found the idea of the Elves making a voyage from which they could never return, heartbreaking. He kissed the top of her head and hugged her close.

“Most likely, I will depart from there. But that will not be for a very long time. I have never seen it myself, either. This should be an interesting trip.”

She turned to look up into his eyes. “It won’t bother you, will it? I mean, you hear the call of the sea and this is the place where you can answer it.” She was worried it would cause him heartache or, to her, worse---he may find the compulsion to go into the west inescapable, and she would be forced to let him go to what she considered the Elven equivalent of suicide.

He smiled and, lifting her chin, kissed her tenderly. “I will never leave you, my love. We will go to the Grey Havens together and then return to Ithilien … together.”

The next day, they began their journey. They took their time, stopping to explore along the way. When they reached the beautiful port, neither spoke. It was quiet and calm. The light from the sun cast a golden path upon the water through the entrance to the Havens from the western sea.

Legolas had felt the call growing stronger with each step. When they finally stood on the dock and looked out, it was all he could do to resist the urge to dive in and let the sea carry him away. But one look at his wife washed away that desire as the waves clean the shore.

She was gazing into the sunlight beyond the harbor, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. He could see she was murmuring a soundless prayer and he knew in that moment, that given the choice between the journey to the Undying Lands and staying in Middle Earth with his beloved, he would not hesitate to turn his back on Valinor. He understood Arwen’s choice as never had before.

Alex turned to him. “It is so beautiful, Legolas. I can see why your people come here. It’s like looking at the gates of Heaven.” He pulled her to him and they held each other for a long time.

Later, they visited with Cirdan, the Master of the Grey Havens. He gave Legolas a smile upon their departure that was full of wisdom and understanding. He knew the Elven Prince would eventually answer the sea’s summons, but also knew it was not going to be today, not as long as his mortal wife walked this land.

After their return to Ithilien, Legolas would sometimes catch Alex watching him with such sadness and love his heart would almost break. When she would catch his gaze, she would smile and the sadness would disappear. He never asked her about her thoughts on those occasions, but always wondered if she were picturing his departure from that beautiful dock.

When Alex was no longer able to travel comfortably, they remained in Ithilien, passing their time talking of the things that make up the memories of a life together. Both knew her time was growing short and Legolas could feel the fear growing in his heart. Oddly enough, Alex did not seem afraid at all. She told him more of the afterlife in which her people believed. It sounded much like the Undying Lands and he drew some comfort from knowing she would be with her fathers in a beautiful land where there were no more tears, pain or fear.

As the end approached, their friends came to say farewell. Arwen and Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir, and even Thranduil made the journey to Ithilien. Gimli rushed from the Glittering Caves to be with his dearest friend and Alex seemed to take comfort from knowing Legolas was surrounded by those who loved him. Saelbeth, Rumil, Balewith and Morhir would stop by every day to check on the Prince and his Lady. Of course, Glorfindel, Haldir, and Orophin kept constant vigil near their chambers, never far should Legolas or Alex require anything. They would sit with her when Legolas needed to be elsewhere on unavoidable business, and Alex was comfortable to either talk or pass the time in silence. She had formed deep bonds of friendship with these powerful Elves and her fading from mortal life seemed to affect them to only a slightly lesser degree than it did her husband.

Helen and Paris, her two small dogs, descendants of Dexter and Dita, slept next to her, leaving her side only to tend to their needs, then running back through the halls to their mistress. Legolas would often catch them watching her with mournful eyes, which they would turn to him as if to ask him to make her better, so she could play with them again.

When her time finally came, they had passed an uneventful day, and the sun was just dipping below the mountains to the west. Legolas sat next to her on their bed, holding her, singing one of the old Elvish songs she loved. Helen and Paris were curled up next to her and she had put her hand on each of them as if trying to remember the feel of their soft, warm presence.

He had thought death would tear her from him. Instead, she slipped away peacefully. Their bond had remained strong throughout, and when Alex died, it did not snap, but changed subtly. He still felt her in his heart, but no longer felt her in his arms. Rather than being surrounded by her love, he felt it from within himself. Looking down, he saw her eyes gazing sightlessly out their window at the last rays of the sun, and no longer did her chest rise and fall with breath. He could feel her body beginning to cool within moments of her spirit slipping its bonds and, for a moment, he was at a total loss.

He did not hold back his grief. He held her to him and wept uncontrollably. The dogs watched him with sympathy and Helen began to lick his tears where they fell onto Alex’s lifeless hands. He did not think he could survive the intense sense of loss and pain. What good was eternity without his Alexandra beside him?

Finally, his innate self-discipline allowed him to bring his emotions under control long enough to face those who waited in the salon. It was as if they’d known this would be Alex’s last day and none wanted to leave their friend to face his grief alone.

He laid her down on the bed and closed her eyes, pulling the coverlet over her. She looked at peace. Helen and Paris remained by her side and their faithful vigil gave him comfort. He kissed her again, and then went to the door. Taking a deep breath, he opened it and strode down the hall to their private receiving room.

As soon as he opened the door, they knew it was over. No words were necessary. Arwen began to weep quietly as Aragorn held her. Elladan bowed his head and said a silent prayer while Elrohir gave a mournful Gimli a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Glorfindel and Haldir turned away to gather control over their grief while Rumil comforted a distraught Orophin. Of all the reactions to his wife’s death, Orophin’s obvious heartbreak affected Legolas the most.

Superficially, he had the arrogance of Haldir, but he kept his emotions so controlled publicly it almost seemed he had none. Legolas knew better, of course, but he had never seen the other Elf so distressed. He knew Orophin and Alex had formed a close friendship in Lorien, but he had not known her death would hurt their friend so much.

He went over to where Rumil was holding his weeping brother and put his arms around him.

“Orophin, do not grieve so. She passed peacefully and I believe she was happy. Her people believe in a place not unlike Valinor, so I have no doubt she is in a beautiful, peaceful place. She loved you well.”

Orophin looked at Legolas and the Prince was taken aback by his tear-stained gaze. It dawned on him Orophin had likely never lost anyone close to him. Like the first time Legolas had experienced the death of a friend, Gandalf on the bridge at Khazahd-Dum, Orophin was finding out what it felt like to have a friend die.

“Forgive me, Legolas,” the Lorien Warden said, his normally confident tone strengthening as he recovered. “My grief cannot compare to yours.”

Legolas shook his head and smiled at his friend. “It comforts me to know you loved her.”

He turned to find Thranduil watching him from a seat on the windowsill, and walking over slowly, stood before his father. The grief in the King’s eyes startled his son. He knew his father had developed a sort of affection for his daughter-in-law. After all, she had helped to protect both his realm and his person, and had brought nothing but honor to him. He had come when Legolas had sent word that his wife was dying, but he hadn’t expected his father to show such sadness at her passing.

Thranduil gripped his son by the shoulders for a moment then pulled him into a surprisingly comforting embrace.

“I know your grief, my son. I would have done anything to spare you this.” His words were spoken so only Legolas could hear them.

“I know you would’ve, father,” Legolas replied. “But the life we had together is worth the price of my grief. I would not have changed binding with Alexandra for anything.”

Thranduil’s answer was to hold him tighter for a moment before stepping back and giving him a slight nod. “I know, Legolas. I know.”

Turning he went to the door and called for one of the servants. “Arrangements must be made, my son. You must decide what is to be done.” Once again the King rather than a father grieving with his son, it was Thranduil who guided Legolas in the rites for the dead, rituals unfamiliar to Elf-kind. Of those gathered at Ithilien, only he had buried a spouse and was invaluable to Legolas as he settled on the details of her funeral.

She had wanted no fuss made and he honored her wishes as much as possible. She was buried near the chapel in their favorite garden, the secluded and beautiful spot on the grounds of their home having served as a place for quiet devotions as well as not-so-quiet lovemaking. Whenever he was at home, he visited her grave daily and instructed the groundskeeper to keep fresh flowers on it when he was away and unable to place them there himself. He recalled the words to the first song he had ever heard her sing, one he had grown to love and she had translated for him:

“And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.”

He always said an Elvish “Ave” as he knelt beside her final resting place, and never failed to tell her how much he loved her.


He walked into the shade of a forest he had not yet explored on these shores. The trees were singing a beautiful song of peace and his soul answered them. His sense of loss seemed to ease in their shade, and even though he knew he would always yearn for his wife, he found his pain lifting. He wandered without conscious thought and suddenly found himself in a clearing beside a small pool fed by a low waterfall and trickling off into a gentle stream.

Kneeling beside the glassy surface of the pool, he gazed into its depths. Alex would have loved this place. She had always been drawn to such places in Middle Earth, especially when seeking quietude. He would often find her saying her prayers in what she called “chapels of nature”. He hoped Iluvatar, or whatever she had called the Creator, had heard her prayers.

Staring into the pool he became lost in his memories and was only mildly surprised to see her face, as young and beautiful as the day they had become bound to one another. She smiled at him and he murmured her name.

“I am here, Legolas,” she answered. But instead of speaking in his heart, this voice came from behind him. He was afraid to turn. He feared that if he looked away, he would break this spell and she would be gone forever. She looked so real, he could not tear his gaze from her.

“Why do you not face me, my love? Have time and distance finally broken your bond with me?”

Standing slowly, he turned around.

There she stood, smiling at him with such joy, he felt tears stinging his eyes. Her hair shone like spun copper and burnished gold, and tumbled over her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed like the grass in the meadow when the morning dew was first kissed by the rays of the sun. There was no sign of age or illness and she wore a simple gown of a rich, silvery blue. He blinked to clear away the tears. She was still there.

“Alexandra?” He could not breathe. It was impossible.

“Yes, my prince.” Reaching out, she took his hand and placed it against her chest. Her skin was warm and soft, and he could feel her heart beating beneath his fingers.

“How is this---? How did you come to be here? The path to Valinor is closed to mortals. I was with you when you died, and buried you in the garden of our home in Ithilien. I do not … I do not understand. But, sweet Eru, I am so happy to see you.”

He pulled her into his arms. She felt solid, real. Not at all like the dream she had to be. When he lowered his lips to hers, her mouth tasted as sweet as he remembered. Her arms wrapped around him and her body molded to his and it was if the years fell away and they were back in Minas Tirith in the first days after their binding. He could not bear to break the embrace.

Their kiss lasted an eternity and was still too short. When it ended, he looked into her serene eyes.

“You seem so real, Alex. If this is a dream, then let me sleep forever.”

“It’s no dream, Legolas. I’m real and I’m here with you in Valinor.”

“But how?” He really didn’t care how it had come about, but it was the only thing he could think to say. All he wanted was for it to last forever.

Laughing, she took his hand and led him over to a shady spot and pulled him down to sit next to her on the thick carpet of cool grass.

“Don’t you remember when you told me about this place, I told you it sounded like what my people have always been taught about Heaven, the place we go when we die if we have lived in the way God intended?” He nodded. “This is my Heaven, Legolas.”

He still did not understand. “But you died. Mortals go to be with Manwe when their lives end and are then sent on to a different fate than that of the Eldar.”

She shook her head. “You’re not hearing me, my love. Yes, I died. My mortal life ended. I went to Paradise because I was given God’s grace, and was granted an eternity in Heaven. So, here I am. This is what He has given me as Heaven.”

“You are here with me. Forever.” It was more than he had ever dreamed possible.

“Yes, my love. I told you, we are taught that when we die, we will be reunited with those we love in Heaven. It is not so much a physical place as a place close to God. And this is that place for me.”

He did not know how it was possible, but then, only Mandos and Manwe understood the fates of Men after death. Since he was an Elf, he could not share that fate. But if Alex was here, then the Valar had heard his prayer, and Eru---The One---God--- had heard them both. He held her close and wept tears of joy. They were truly blessed.

**Lyrics to “Danny Boy” by Fred Weatherly