Something That Should Not Be, And Yet...

Author’s note, etc... The only characters owned by me are Lily and Isobel, and I share them with Ellbee. The story is mine, but the setting and the characters belong to Tolkien. Hopefully he won’t mind that I borrowed them.

When Ell and I started writing “Eternally,” we went (separately, since we live a few hundred miles away from each other and have never met) to repeat viewings of “The Two Towers” and picked up added significance in the small moment shared between Aragorn and Legolas when the Evenstar is returned to Aragorn. It’s this small smile, and a look of understanding between them. We both love the way we could apply that look to our story, in that they acknowledge the similarity in their situation. So I decided to play with that here.

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“Something That Should Not Be, And Yet…”


“…he took a little tumble off the cliff…”

“You lie!” But even as Legolas spat the words into the dying orc’s face, he felt a shiver run up his back. Within moments he was at the edge of the cliff, measuring the length of the sheer drop with his eyes. No one could have survived a fall such as that. But there was no body. His eyes could count the pebbles on the shore, dozens of feet below, and he could see no sign that anyone had fallen there. But the water rushed hard; it would not take long for one lifeless human figure to be washed away...

Behind him Theoden spoke, his words an unintelligible murmur, but the last three words scored across Legolas’s heart: “Leave the dead.”

The dead…

His head turned slowly, almost of its own accord, and his eyes were nearly able to focus on Theoden. The king's hard look of resolve softened; Legolas realized then that his emotions must be playing across his face like any human's. Theoden reached out, gripping his shoulder in a gesture of comfort that Legolas barely felt. He couldn't speak; he could only turn once more to look down at the water that raged below. The water that had become Aragorn's grave.

Grief clenched his hands, and something cut into his palm. Dazed, he turned his head to look at the object clutched in his hand. Sunlight glinted off of spun silver: the Evenstar. He had taken it from the hand of the foul beast that had spoken of Aragorn’s demise. Legolas was amazed at how quickly Aragorn had gone from being a comrade, a leader, to one of “the dead” to be left behind while the rest of them forged on to Helms Deep. Even as Legolas put one foot in front of the other, mounting up to continue the journey with the others, his mind and heart were in turmoil. It was not unlike Gandalf: saving their lives one moment, the next falling into Shadow.

But Gandalf had come back. Could Aragorn not do the same? But Legolas thought once more of the water, of the unforgiving rocks, and his chest tightened with grief.

It was hours later that he realized what Aragorn's death truly meant for the one who loved him.

Arwen...

She had lost him, so suddenly and so certainly. Legolas looked once more at the Evenstar, which now winked at him in the light of the moon. He traced the curve of the pendant with a forefinger, his heart heavy. Aragorn would not wear this again.

Death was something the elf had seen more than once in his life, but truth be told, he could not say that he had ever understood it. He did not understand the emptiness that came now, threatening to consume him, over the loss of a comrade. He could not understand the weight on his chest that restricted his breathing when he thought of the depth of Arwen's grief, when she learned of his fate. She would carry that grief for eternity.

In that instant, Legolas knew what mortality really was.

He had known humans, of course. He had even loved humans. His mind turned to Lily, hundreds of years ago, who had taught him more about the human condition than anyone ever had before or since. Her death had been hard to accept, but she had cast him out long before that; he had not been in her life when she had passed. And now, like so many other nights, he thought of Isobel. He imagined her safe in Rivendell, far from where any of this horror could touch her. He knew she would be safe, and when this was all over he would return for her.

His next thought stole his breath completely. What if he did not return? What if, like Aragorn, he fell in battle? He had considered that before; there was still something inside of him that insisted that this was to be his final adventure. But he had never fully realized what it might do to Isobel. Now he thought of her as he thought of Arwen. Both women spending eternity alone, Arwen as an elfmaid, and Isobel’s soul being reborn endlessly, searching for the one love that would never return to complete her heart.

For the first time, he feared his death. Not for his own sake, but for hers.

How the days passed, Legolas was not sure. He knew that they arrived at Helms Deep, and he joined with the soldiers of Rohan to fortify the compound. The men, the king included, felt confident in their stronghold, and in the men who defended it. Legolas did not feel the confidence they did, but he had resolved to join with them. He would do no less to honor Aragorn’s name.

Then, one day, the sun came out.

He saw the lone rider long before anyone else. So while Gimli blustered and fussed over Aragorn’s return, Legolas was nearly stoic, positioning himself near the inner door, knowing that Aragorn would have to walk past him in order to get to Theoden.

“You’re late,” he said, only the hint of a smile showing his relief.

After a few more words of greeting, he drew the jewel from his pocket, placing the Evenstar back into Aragorn’s hand, where it belonged. He looked down at the jewel for a moment, then up at Legolas again. Understanding flared in his eyes, and Legolas smiled in recognition. Their situations were nearly the same, after all: an elf in love with a child of man. Something that should not be, and yet was.

Returning the Evenstar had changed everything in Legolas’s heart. He had given Aragorn back to Arwen. And just so, he would return to Isobel. Their tales were not yet finished.