Coming Home

Coming Home, Chapter 4

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That night after Aragorn had cried himself, silently, to sleep in her arms, it was Arwen who went to Legolas.



He had slept through diner, and she had convinced Aragorn to leave him. Yes, Legolas needed to eat, but he’d neededep mep more. Now in the early morning hours, long before the dawn, he was up and restless. She could hear him moving about, but he didn’t seem to be in the obvious distress he had been in the night before, and Aragorn needed sleep as well.



She took Elendi to the nursery, and picked up a mug of tea in the kitchens before returning to knock lightly on the outside door of Legolas’s rooms.



“Legolas?” Arwen called, when she got no response to the knock. If he had gone back to sleep, she didn’t want to wake him...



The door swung open and Legolas blinked at her for a moment, rather owlishly, before stepping back to admit her. Quite aside from being unsteady and pale, he seemed nervous, as though he expected her to lash out and attack him, physically, or otherwise.



Arwen handed him the warm mug, and settled herself on the bed. Legolas looked at the cup, at her, back to the cup, and finally raised an eyebrow rather wearily.



“I realize it’s early Legolas, but surely you are not so addled that you do not know what to do with tea.”



Legolas snorted and took a sip of the warm liquid... closed his eyes and took a larger drink.



Arwen watched, fascinated, as Legolas relaxed. It was so easy to forget that he ws in constant pain, and constantly felt ill... Until you saw the lines of fatigue and pain soften.



“Better?”



“Much,” Legolas admitted. “What is it?” Not that he seemed overly concerned with it’s contents... He was still drinking, albeit more slowly.



“I’m not altogether sure.... Ada left rather copious quantities of it with us before he left middle earth. The first three months I was carrying Elendi, I think it is all that kept me alive--and sane.”



Legolas sighed and leaned against the wall, still holding the cup and sipping occasionally.



“Legolas, come sit down, before you fall down.”



Legolas looked as though he were about to protest, but changed his mind and sat beside her on the edge of the bed.



They sat in comfortable silence for a bit, until Arwen’s hand covered Legolas’s. He’d put the tea down and was rubbing absently at his forearm.



“Stop that,” she said gently, squeezing his hand slightly before letting go.



“Stop--,” Legolas started before he realized what he was doing, and stopped.



“Drink your tea Legolas.”



He did as she asked, seeming amused by his own easy compliance. When he’d finished he pushed back to sit against the wall.



“How is Estel?”



Arwen looked at him, startled, though she couldn’t have said why. She paused to consider before answering. She simply didn’t know how to answer that question easily. Aragorn was complex at the best of times, and now the sea of emotion was nearly beyond description.



Legolas misunderstood her silence, “I’m sorry. I-”



“No,” Arwen said meeting his uncertain gaze, “Legolas, No. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I just don’t know what to tell you. He’s elated to see you again, and that you got to see Elendi. He’s devastated that he’s losing you. He’s frustrated that he can’t help you. He loves you. He hates fate. He feels guilty for ‘driving’ you away and hurting you. He’s ecstatic that you got to be together again. He feels guilty that you got to be together again...” she was leaving no room for doubt that she knew what had happened on the ride that she had sent them on, or that she was resentful.



“And he calls me complex,” Legolas muttered.



Arwen wrinkled her nose and smiled, “Indeed you are... but he certainly is no less complicated. She poked him gently in the ribs, “Finish your tea.’



“Yes, mother.”



“And don’t you forget it.” Arwen pulled her hair over her shoulder, and pulled her legs onto the bed. “We hate this Legolas, but we are here for you-- both of us. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask for it for fear of stepping on my toes.”



When Legolas looked at her with disbelief, she said gently, “Legolas. I am his wife, and you are dying. It would take a person far crueler than I, to stand between you now. He loves me, and he will always love me. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you as well. Unfortunately, the time he has with you is limited. Make use of the time grace has given you.”





After a long moment, Legolas sighed. “I never meant to hurt you.”



Arwen lifted both of her eyebrows at him before saying simply, “You haven’t.”



Legolas looked at her, as though to determine any untruthfulness on her part before turning away to set the cup on the night stand. His aim was not quite as unerring as it should have been, Arwen noted with a mixture of amusement and concern, and he nearly missed the table altogether.



She caught the cup, still in Legolas’s grip and pushed it further onto the small wooden table, without making an issue of it.



“How are you Legolas?”



Legolas paused, considering. He never would have been able to talk freely with Aragorn about such things. He was too close, and too emotionally involved with the situation. Arwen cared, but she didn’t have as much invested as her husband. Furthermore, there were things Arwen would understand, a shared ancestry and frame of reference no human could have understood. But was he really ready to talk about it? All Arwen could do was offer.



“I don’t know.” Legolas said honestly. “Confused and scared.” he finally admitted, almost apologetically.



“I suppose that’s a fairly reasonable reaction, given the circumstances,” Arwen pointed out ge, “Y, “You have lived centuries, and certainly had no expectation of death-- not like this.”



Legolas nodded and pulled one of his knees toward his chest with a slight grimace. “It’s funny. I told Aragorn I had a death wish when I left Gondor. That I was reckless, foolish, looking to destroy myself. Yet I can say with certainty that I never expected to die... Or if I did I expected to be cut down and killed instantly. Not this slow, lingering dying in inches.”



“At least it allowed you to come back to us...,”



“Yes, and I am grateful for that. Most of the time,” Legolas said ruefully, “Yet I can not help, at times, but wish that I had died instantly, with no time to think about what the next weeks bring.”



“It isn’t death itself you fear.” It wasn’t a question. Legolas answered it as such anywbr /br />


“No... Mandos is not something that has ever been fearful to me. It is the process,” Legolas looked away abruptly, “I am no fan of pain Arwen and I hurt. The knowledge that it will only get worse make it that much harder to stand. Of course I also dread becoming helpless and dependent. I did not think through my decision to be here.” He said sounding half angry, half defeated, “I should not be here. I don’t want to--”



“Shhhh,” Arwen said gently wrapping Legolas in her arms. He went willingly too emotionally and physically exhausted to resist her, “Of course you should have to come to us. We love you. You could never be a burden Legolas.”



“I hate this!” he whispered fiercely.



“I know,” She said with out entirely releasing him but offering him the option of moving away, which he did after a moment. Legolas had always been fiercely independent, as long as she had known him. He was never one to depend on another, or show weakness. He may have been royalty but he’d lead the life of a warrior. To be reduced to depending upon his closest friend, his lover, and his wife for care.... That must have been almost more painful than the physical effects.



Legolas bit his lower lip and shuddered rather hard, and she instinctively reached out for him, placing a hand gently on his forearm. Legolas flinched back and then grimaced in what she supposed was meant to be a smile... he didn’t quite pull it off.



“I’m going to go get Aragorn for you.”



“That isn’t necessary,” Legolas replied, his voice strained and brittle sounding.



“I know that, and you know that, but he doesn't know that. He’d never forgive us.”



Legolas knew she was offering him an excuse, a way to save his pride, and she knew that he knew. She only hoped he would accept the offer... He needed Aragorn badly. Only with Aragorn had that guard ever come down, and only Aragorn had any hope of being able to cot hit him.



Finally he nodded stiffly.



“He’ll be here soon,” she said with forced levity as she left, stopping to pick up the empty mug. She’d have to get more for Aragorn to bring with him...., and perhaps they could find something for pain, she mused as she closed the door softly behind her.