Heaven comes to he who waits
But I know I'm getting nowhere
And all the deeds of yesterday
Have really helped to pave my way
Though there's no one near me now
How come everyone can touch me
You see the torture on my brow
Relates to neither here nor now
Watch me bleed
Although my face is straight, it lies
My body feels the Pain and cries
Here the table is not bare
I am full but feeling empty
For all the warmth it feels so cold
For one so young I feel so old
Watch me bleed
It's not allowed to be unkind
But still the hate lives in my mind
I'll make no noise
I'll hide my pain
I'll close my eyes
I won't complain
I'll lie right back and take the blame
And tried to tell myself I'm living
And when it's all been said or done
Where do I go?
Where do I run?
What's left of me or anyone when we've denied the hurting?
(Watch me Bleed - Tears for Fears)
Aragorn frowned, something had happened, but what. He knew not. There was some up roar in the stables, but not seeing that it concerned him he continued to walk toward the conference room. He was supposed to be meeting with Faramir and Eomer on how to improve all relationships with Gondor and Rohan.
Aragorn looked up at Faramir's call.
"What it is?" Aragorn questioned.
"Some accident in the stables, I heard that they are in need of a healer." Faramir informed his soon to be king.
Aragorn nodded. "Where is Eomer?" He asked.
Faramir looked over his shoulder, spotting the longhaired horse master. "He is coming as well."
Aragorn waited for Eomer, before turning and quickly walking to the stables. "Does anyone have any idea what happened?" He asked, dodging several men also rushing towards the stables.
Faramir shrugged. "All I know is that some of the guards were saying something about Arod acting up and that Legolas and Gimli went down to calm him."
Aragorn stopped in his tracks, nearly toppling the two men behind him.
"What? What?" Faramir questioned worriedly.
"Legolas." Aragorn said simply, before setting off at a run towards the stables, leaving two rather confused men behind.
Bursting through the doors, Aragorn found several soldiers, kneeling or bending over a still figure.
There were two other figures lying on the ground with some other soldiers kneeling around them as well.
"What happened?" He demanded.
The guards quickly stood. "Lord Aragorn." One of the soldiers gestured toward the four unconscious figures, two of whom Aragorn was very startled to see. Gimli and Legolas.
"The horse, Arod bolted, crashing into Prince Legolas and pushing Gimli to the ground." The soldier explained.
Aragorn had knelt by Legolas' side, out of the other three; he seemed to be the worse off. He frowned, seeing blood from not only Legolas' ears but the others as well. "Why is there blood?" He asked, checking the elf's pulse and other signs to why he would be unconscious.
"Arod screamed, my lord." A stable hand spoke up. "It sounded like a Nazgul." He shivered. "And then he raced outside."
Aragorn nodded, he knew that if one was close enough to a horse when the horse would 'scream' it could break eardrums. He had treated a man not too long ago, that the very same thing had happened, only in that case the man had remained deaf instead of getting his hearing back.
As worry gnawed at his insides, he quickly turned to the nearest soldier. "Go quickly and find Lord Elrond, he is in the west wing with several other elves. Bring him immediately the Houses of Healing. Do you understand?"
The soldier nodded. "Yes My lord."
"Good." Aragorn gave a quick nod. "Now make all haste."
He watched as the young soldier ran off to do his bidding, and then quickly turned his attention back to the elf. He gently shook him. "Legolas. Wake up."
He looked up. "Try and wake them." He ordered.
The soldiers nodded and began to gently shake the other figures.
After a few moments, Aragorn heard a groan as Gimli woke up. Out of the four, he was the only one who didn't have blood coming out of his ears.
"Wake master dwarf!" Aragorn called out.
"I'm awake. I'm awake." Gimli grumbled, letting someone pull him up into a sitting position. As full reality hit him, Gimli quickly turned toward the royalty, one still lying on the ground with the other kneeling above him. "What happened?" He croaked.
Aragorn shot Gimli a look of surprise. "We were hoping you would tell us." He said tersely.
A few moments of silence reigned as Gimli thought. "Arod was causing trouble." He started. "I went to get the elf and bring him down." He frowned suddenly. "But when the elf said the horse's name." He shook his head. "Arod went wild. He charged right into Legolas, and knocked me backwards. The last thing I remember is calling out for Legolas." Gimli's eyebrows furrowed. "There was something else." He mused.
Aragorn frowned thoughtfully. Arod had been nothing but loyal to his master and to hear that Arod had charged into the elf was absurd. Something or someone had to have done something to the horse.
Aragorn's attention was quickly turned back to the dwarf. "What?" He demanded. "What is it?"
Gimli turned horrified eyes upon the human. "The sea gulls." He whispered.
Aragorn cursed, he too had heard the sea gulls but had not given it a single thought. Nor should he, it was the elf who have thought about it.
The doors burst open to reveal a very calm looking elven lord.
Instantly the humans around lowered their eyes in respect. To have a prince amongst their midst, who had fought beside them and even shed blood beside them was different than having an elven lord in their midst. Legolas had been able to blend in with the humans around him. Indeed it was said that the elf could out curse any human in any tongue! When it came to tallying up orcs he was not hesitant in a light teasing sort of goading that he was often able to kill more orcs because of his superior flexibility.
The men had respected the elf and in turn the elf gave them the respect that they often did not look for.
Nearly all the men knew of the elves arrogance, indeed many had felt the sting of Haldir's tongue back at Helm's Deep. But in the end, the filthy, dirty, blood crusted men had won even Haldir's respect.
But an elven lord was an entirely different matter all together. He was not a warrior; he was more like a king. He would not take a place among the foremost in a battle, but would remain behind lines, in the safety of his tent and hand out orders. Or so the men thought.
Not many knew that when a battle came, only the women and children were sent to the very back lines. There was no distinction in battle between a high ranking elf and a simple warrior elf until the battle was fought, and then the high-ranking elves would take charge.
The men watched as Elrond's skillful hands checked the humans first and then the elf.
Elrond shook his head. "They need more than just I can give." He stated firmly.
The doors burst open again, this time several men were carrying stretchers for the three unconscious figures.
Elrond watched passively as the two men and elf were lifted and carefully placed on the stretchers. As the men hurriedly rushed out to go to the Houses of Healing, the elven lord restrained the soon to be crowned king. "I am most worried about Legolas." Elrond said in a hushed voice, pitched so only Aragorn could hear him.
The ranger pulled back. "Why?" He asked anxiously.
"He is fully unconscious and in the middle of the sea longing." Elrond said tersely. His dark eyes met the ranger's gray ones. "I have lost many elves because of those two symptoms."
Aragorn sucked in a quick startled breath. "You mean." He started.
Elrond shook his head. "Do not give into your fears Aragorn." He said quietly. He clasped a hand to the younger man's shoulder, then turned and quickly strode after the men carrying the stretchers.
Aragorn stared after the elf, and in the silence of the stable, for a moment all he could even clearly think of was the pounding of his heart.
All that the prince could hear was the crashing of the waves against the shoreline. Dark blue turned to light blue and then back again, often mixed with a greenish tint that swirled delicately amidst the powerful tide.
As the sea air whipped around the blonde hair and took away the fair breath, the only thing the prince was really aware of was the ever- beckoning call of the sea.
How she longed to draw him into her deadly embrace. Gently caress away his longings with the ever-crashing white-capped waves.
She whispered. She beckoned. Yet there was something holding the young prince back. Some nagging thought in his memory. Something that he knew he needed to know; yet he could not fully grasp the tendrils of the thought.
Ai! He was torn with indecision. He hesitantly took a step toward the sea.
"Lasto beth nin. Tolo dan nan galad."
The words caught at Legolas' consciousness.
"Legolas. Hear my voice. Come back to the light!" The call grew stronger.
Yet Legolas resisted, his heart still too full of the sea.
"Legolas. Come to me." The sea beckoned.
"Tolo dan nan galad." The other call beckoned ever more.
Legolas screwed his eyes shut, and placed his hands over his ears. "Do not torment me!" He begged.
Elrond drew back startled at the fair voice crying out. Hands immediately caught him and he swayed dangerously.
He had just finished working upon the two still unconscious men and decided to try to call the young prince back despite his weariness.
But he had found the call of the sea on the young prince was very strong. He wearily rubbed his eyes as he shook his head.
"Adar?" Elladan spoke up. "Prince Lomion demands to see Legolas."
Elrond nodded, not even bothering to turn around. "Send him in." He said quietly.
The door opened and closed leaving an elven lord and an unconscious prince alone once more. Elrond gently took the white hand into his. "Legolas?" He gently squeezed the hand. "Do not leave now. You have too many friends here that would be heartbroken." He sighed. "Think of your Adar, your sisters and brothers how will they react when they find out of your death?"
The wind tore angrily at the young prince as the waves threatened to overcome him and drag him forcefully into the sea.
Legolas fought to keep his breath, but it was become ever so hard. He began to gasp desperately, but even the salty sea air wanted to choke him.
"Ada!!" He cried out. "Ada!"
Hands suddenly grabbed his own shaking hands and pulled him to safety. The young prince's eyes opened to see a tall, silver haired elf standing in front of him.
"Who are you?" Legolas whispered.
The tall elf smiled, placed a slender hand upon the wet forehead and began to softly chat words.
And suddenly the world was transformed from a stormy sea to a calm sunny day in a meadow.
"How did you do that?" Legolas gasped.
The tall elf laughed. "I am close friend to Mithrandir." He bowed. "My name is Galomir."
Legolas struggled to stand up, allowing the other elf to help him. "I am Legolas." He bowed as well.
Galomir laughed. "You mean, Prince Legolas, Thranduillion of Eryn Lasgalen?"
Legolas rolled his eyes. "That is my formal title." He stated, brushing back his still wet hair. "I would ask you your formal title as well." He stated rather than asked.
Galomir laughed. "You have your father's ability to demand things."
The young prince immediately blushed red. "You know my Adar?" He questioned instead.
Galomir nodded. "Aye, I know your father and I also know your mother."
Instantly Legolas' face froze into an emotionless mask. "You knew my mother?" He asked impassively.
The elf looked compassionately at the younger elf. "No, I know your mother." He said gently correcting him.
"My mother is in the Valinor." Legolas replied shakily. "There is no possible way that you would know her."
"I am no ordinary elf, young prince." Galomir responded. "What does my name mean?"
"Galomir?" Legolas asked hesitantly. Seeing the other elf nod, he continued. "It means healer."
Galomir nodded. "Aye, a healer of souls." He shrugged. "I was gifted as a young elf by the Valar."
The young prince tilted his head slightly. "So why have I never heard of you?"
The older elf laughed. "Because the few whose souls are torn usually go to the Valinor."
"So by healing their souls, they go to the Valinor." The prince summarized.
"No." The healer shook his head. "There have been a few times when the elf has stayed in Middle Earth until he or she had accomplished all that they could."
Legolas nodded, but still was rather puzzled. "So why are you here now?"
Galomir chuckled. "It's rather obvious isn't it?"
The prince blushed. "But I don't understand, my soul isn't broken, or torn."
Galomir shook his head. "No, not yet. But your heart is starting to tear."
Legolas looked down. He knew exactly what the other elf meant. It had plagued his thoughts for several days now. That one fatal day... How he cursed that day.
"The sea longing is tearing your heart in two, and soon if you do not decide it will tear sending you to the Halls of Mandos." The healer said solemnly, yet compassionately.
Shocked the prince looked up, but the figure of the healer was getting fuzzy. "Galomir? What is happening!" He cried out in panic.
"There is something else tearing your heart in two, little prince." Galomir's voice came from far away. His figure was replaced suddenly, so suddenly that Legolas drew back startled.
She had honey blonde hair; her eyes were silver green. Her dress was that of royalty, the signet ring upon her left finger supported the idea. Her lips were gently curved up in a tender smile. The sheer beauty of the female before the young prince did not faze him in anyway.
It was something entirely different. Something even harder than the sea longing.
It was his naneth.
Elráwien and Lomiothiel, two maids serving the now hidden Arwen, worked quickly to hide any evidence of their lady from the room. It had come as a rather shocking surprise, but Arwen had asked that she would not be formally greeted by the soon to be crowned king.
On the request of her father, she had decided to wait until he was crowned king and then would reveal herself.
There was a sort of excitement in the air as the two elven maids quickly cleaned the finest of Arwen's dresses. Hair things were quickly brought out and carefully set up.
Arwen's raven hair would be fixed in a manner befitting a bride meeting her betrothed. Though the coronation ceremony would not be for at least a full day and night, the maids were eager to dress their lady.
She would only receive the best treatment. After all, she was their princess, and soon she would be queen of all Gondor.
As the gowns were cleaned and pressed then put away, one could not help but a certain sort of bitter sweet. Their beloved princess was mortal now, if she even caught a cold she could die. However incredulous the idea, the maids had been extra careful during the ride from Rivendell.
A sudden knock on the door brought the two maids upright. Looking at each other, Lomiothiel hesitantly walked toward the door and opened it.
There standing before her was Lord Celeborn. Immediately she dropped into a low curtsy. "Lord Celeborn." She murmured.
"I need to speak with Arwen."
Lomiothiel nodded and quickly stepped back letting the elven lord enter.
"My lady? Your grandfather wishes to speak with you." Elráwien called out softly. For while a human's ears were quite a bit less accurate, it was known that the Lord Aragorn having been raised in an elvish home and having Numenorian blood within his veins, was able to hear almost as well as an elf.
A door quickly swept open revealing the beautiful princess. "Grandfather." A smile lifted the fair lips upward as she walked forward her hands extended. As Celeborn grasped her hands, she gave her grandfather a gentle kiss upon his cheek.
"I bring bad tidings I fear." Celeborn said quietly. "There has been an accident and Legolas was in the midst of it all."
Fear quickly sketched itself upon the fair face. Legolas had never been close to her, but they had always respected each other, indeed Legolas had pledge Arwen to keep Aragorn from death, upon his own death if need be. That pledge left her eternally in his debt.
"How does he fare?" She asked, her eyes searching his.
"He is yet unconscious." Celeborn allowed. "But the worst of it is that he was in the midst of a sea longing."
A startled gasp came from the princess. "Will he die?" She whispered.
Celeborn pulled his granddaughter into a gentle embrace. "There is yet hope that your Ada can save him." A rather amused expression crossed his face. "But not for a little while."
Arwen pulled back, a puzzled expression on her face. "What?" She questioned, wondering if her now mortal ears had betrayed her.
Celeborn smiled. "Galomir." He said simply.
Arwen smiled. She knew exactly what her grandfather meant.
There were exactly four and thirty steps from one end of the room to the other. If one wanted to absolutely perfect it was more like four and thirty steps and about one and a half toe.
Aragorn snorted, drawing everyone's gaze to him. The room was almost full. Everyone had to be there. Eomer, Ewoyn, Faramir, Mithrandir, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Haldir, Lady Galadriel, Glorfindal, Elrohir, several other elves that Aragorn didn't know that hailed from Lothlorien, and last, but not least was Legolas' oldest brother, Lomion.
Though Lomion sat very stiffly, his face showing no expression, his eyes clearly told of his torment, his anguish.
"Have you ever thought what life would be like without Legolas?" Aragorn questioned, his own mind going through the many adventures they had had together. The laughs, the tears, the pain, the hurts, the anguish.. No, his life would not quite be the same without the blonde haired elven prince.
He watched the others think about what life would, could possible be without Legolas in their midst.
"Prince Legolas Thranduillion, of the Eryn Lasgalan realm." The words were lightly spoken but seemed to resound against the hearts of everyone present. They all looked toward one of the other Thranduillion's.
"He hates that title." Gimli said quietly. "He always wanted to be just Legolas."
Lomion smiled, a very faint mysterious smile. "He always was spoiled." The words were spoken without any trace of bitterness, rather it was spoken rather fondly as if the words had been spoken before many time in simple jest. "Of all the times he nearly died, of all the times he was badly wounded, of all the times anything happened to him, he could never die." Lomion's voice cracked. He bore more than just Legolas' injury upon his spirit.
"He wasn't supposed to ever die." Lomion didn't know why he was speaking, of whom he was speaking of, but he was helpless to stop. "He was supposed to stay home and be safe. He wasn't supposed to take his place as a warrior." Tears welled up and slowly fell. "He was supposed to be safe."
The others exchanged puzzled glances but Glorfindal quickly knelt beside the crying prince and gently enfolded him in a soothing embrace.
After a bit, Glorfindal said something quietly into the crown prince's ear. Lomion nodded then pulled back. "I apologize." He said weakly wiping at a few stray tears. "This is all been very hard on me." He explained slowly. "If Legolas dies, he will be the second prince to die."
Gasps were heard all over the room. Legolas had often spoken of his three older brothers being close to each one.
Taking a deep breath Lomion continued. "Prince Tasari Thranduillion of Eyrn Lasgalan, third in line to the crown, was shot and killed in the very last battle upon Mirkwood."
Utter silence reigned throughout the room.
"If my father looses another son, it will be the death of him." Lomion whispered.
The door burst open revealing a very stressed looking elven healer. Immediately everyone stood, each holding his or her breath, eager waiting and dreading to hear what the elven lord would say..
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.