Into Darkness My Moriquendi

Beta: ravenswing. (Thank you for putting up with me.)

[ This is an AU story, set in the middle of the Fourth Age.]

[ Archived in Open Scrolls Archive, fanfiction.net ]

Into Darkness My Moriquendi


1 - Meetings and Memories

Word finally reached the Undying Lands as the Valar informed the elves that Sauron has resurfaced once again in Arda. Such circumstances had proven to be far worse than ever: death, destruction, despair, and slaving of the human survivors. Fearing that the Necromancer’s power may find its way to Valinor he were to uncover the straight road that leads to its shores, some of the Elf-Lords entered the halls of Taniquetil to have council with Manwë and the other thirteen spirits that were summoned.

Legolas sat beside his father, listening to the Valar and questions from the other elves. Questions if in fact, most of the best warriors could travel back to Middle-Earth to act as aid to any humans they could find, and help them to try to defeat Sauron once again.

“No one was greater as a king than Aragorn Elessar,” interrupted Legolas as someone mentioned the Gondor King that was now in command. All eyes peered at the Prince as he stood at the table. “He was my friend, and a good man,” he said, “Whoever is there now does not care about his people or the lands; thus the reason why the Dark Lord is practically destroying Arda as we speak.”

One of the Elf-Lords retorted, “Legolas, Elessar was a great king, but he could have been more if he had not played Ranger while you and the rest of the nine companions took part in the War of the Ring ,”

The elf paused, glancing over at Elrond who kept a burning silence for now then gazed back at the blond elf.

“I think you would have done a better job yourself if that dwarf had not befriended you. I think Gimli poisoned your mind some how for you to change your opinion about his kind.”

Manwë looked to the one that was starting an argument with Legolas; but it was Thranduil who silenced him with the stern voice for which he was known.

“Enough, Arius,” the king said, ”Heed my warning to never speak to my son that way.” The king said, and nothing more.

“Do not speak of my dear friends like they were nothing, Arius,” Legolas whispered, “Their spirits are still with me.”

He slowly sat back down in his chair with a low sigh, and then suddenly the prince stood, bringing his hand to his chest and bowed to the Lord of the West to excuse himself, abandoning the council once Manwë let him go.

Thranduil watched as his son left the Blessed One’s halls, and sighed. ‘Ai! The more I push him to move on, the more he cowers into himself.’ He quietly sighed. ‘What does the child want from us?’ He looked over to Legolas‘ mother that had arrived here after Legolas was born to avoid the coming dangers in his kingdom, he smiled when she caught him staring, and she returned the smile warmly. ‘My sweet Mithrellas, my beloved wife indeed.’

Mithrellas looked deeply into his green eyes, her steady blue gaze holding him for a moment until she lightly grazed her hand over his, as if she knew what he was thinking.

“I will speak with our troubled son; stay here my love, they need your voice in this urgent meeting as much as you need them.” She whispered loud enough for him to understand. Before she stood, the hand that touched his own found pause on his cheek. She cupped his face, then left him to find Legolas.

Legolas walked down a long, stretch of stairs that would lead him to the base of the mountain that was the home of Manwë and Varda. His expression was a mix of poignant thoughts as he remembered two of his friends.

Many friends of his were elves that would live an everlasting life until the world is no more. No one have held his heart with much compassion and care that he returned to them like Aragorn and Gimli; although, it was Gimli after they have fled from Moria when Gandalf fell to his apparent doom with the Balrog.

He let his hand wander across the smooth surface of the stone wall as he continued his gradual descent along the stairway, and then let a faint smile go.

He remembered when he and Gimli arrived at the Undying Lands, and Manwë asked to see them both. It was an honor for the elf and dwarf to meet the Elder King, and when they traveled up the mountain, Gimli was in awe when he heard of its many catacombs and tunnels.

Manwë let him explore the Holy Mountain, as well as the other places of Valinor. Gimli had been fond of Taniquetil that he asked the Blessed One if he could build a place to stay in one of the caves that he discovered with the elf. Legolas had been practically pulled along to venture with him through the mountain. Then Gimli weakened as he aged, and would not allow anyone to help him when he became deathly ill. Soon after, the first and only dwarf to be granted access to Valinor passed away in his sleep.

Although, that was not the only mortal death here, Bilbo before Gimli, Samwise after Gimli, and then Frodo long after. They were his friends; he knew more about one than the others, but he spent time with all of them as much as he could. Frodo, just before he died, talked to him about death, and it seemed to be such a sensitive subject for the two of them, that Legolas held the hobbit in the little one’s death bed after their conversation ended, and then came that whisper from Frodo’s mouth, which the prince would think about for the many years to come.

Legolas remembered it, and how it was spoken.

‘Death is a release from the many burdens of life and its struggles, I guess,‘ Frodo said, ‘What I feel right now is happiness, so do not feel whatever you are feeling about me, Legolas because the look on your face for an Elf is too frightening to see; be jovial, my friend.’

Frodo matured just as much as he did during the War of the Ring, and what he said just before he died, seemed to be the most unforgettable quote uttered from him. It was blunt, straight to the truth that would not stray from the elf’s mind. Gimli though, was as always, stubborn as ever, even before his death.

‘Legolas,’ muttered the dwarf, ‘I will always beat you one score above yours because I am a Dwarf, and you are an Elf. We Dwarves will always win, you know for a fact when we were at Helm’s Deep, and among other places during our travels through Middle-Earth and over here where I met Galadriel again, and even drinking, of course. Oh! I nearly forgot, caves are better than your greens, Greenleaf…’

There was another, Sam had asked him to keep a promise just before he died, and Legolas agreed to the promise. ‘

Legolas, you will take care of my garden will you not? Will you take care of it for me, please?’ Legolas nodded to the hobbit’s request as he held the child-like hand in his, and remembered how hard it was to hold off the tears, but wept at Sam’s bedside as the halfling passed on.

This was when he worsened; at each passing of his friends, and Gimli’s death had been troublesome for him. The two hobbits tried to comfort him, even though they were weakening; and once Frodo died, Legolas was the last of them, of the Fellowship, and he became emotionally broken. Although, he tried to go on without his mortal friends, he found it hard to carry on with his life knowing that he would not die.

A warm, yet sad smile formed at his memories that will stay with him forever.

He grimaced slightly at the pain in his heart as he stopped near the torch in the wall, and held a hand over his chest. Legolas slowly sat down on the step, and leaned against the stone; closing his eyes. The pain he had endured for so long was becoming unbearable; preventing assistance from Lord Elrond, or Galadriel, and also Manwë that could see his inner weeping.

“Legolas,” Whispered his mother when she found him on the stairs. Seating herself close to him she wrapped him in her arms to comfort him. “The pain of the deaths of your friends is killing you.” said his mother, “You must allow someone to help you.” She spoke into his ear as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

Legolas leaned into her embrace, sighing. “Mother, my grief is the same as I felt when Mithrandir fell, only worse,” he explained quietly, “My memories will always stay with me, as well as the anguish of losing each one.”

He tumbled into a deathly silence that made Mithrellas tilt back his head against her shoulder to gaze into his eyes.

Mithrellas gently brushed her fingers through his hair and over his cheek, relaxing him. His hand reached up to hers as she rested it over the side of his face. Twisting around a little at the waist, he hugged her, and she hugged him in return. She carefully moved her hands around his back; moving the silky fabric of his shirt around slightly as she did so.

Legolas finally said to her, “I wish to visit them.” he asked, “Will you come with me, nana?”

His voice was strained with an unwelcoming amount of sadness that sounded as if it was wanting to break free from her son who did not seem to act like a proud warrior he once was. He needed her and Thranduil’s love, and he needed solace. The thought of how long it was taking him to be back to the way he was, was unnerving and strange because he would barely talk about it. This was the first time that he asked her to accompany him on his visits to his friends’ burial place, and maybe it was a sign of him opening up to anyone, including her.