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Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling?
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Written by Skande
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To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling.
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!'
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Summary: Legolas suffers from the sea-longing, but keeps his pain from Aragorn for fear of burdening his friend needlessly. Aragorn, misunderstanding his friend's actions, lashes out without thinking, leaving them both hurting and angry.
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Disclaimer: Oh, come on! Ahem I own Tolkien!!! Okay, so how many of you fell for that? Yeah, that's what I thought...
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Chapter One:
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West, west away...
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Prologue
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Sickening hazes of black and red swam before his closed eyes. The ground beneath his feet rolled and bucked like some thing possessed, similar in experience to riding the shoulders of the cave troll he had slain so many years ago in Moria. A fist of fire had firm hold of his stomach, and was twisting it now with sinister venom. Lances of fire, heated beyond the flames of the mortal world, lanced through his stomach, his arms, chest, head, through every vein, leaving him gasping for the breath just to scream. He doubled over his knees, clutching his stomach, tightly clenching eyes that threatened now to spill hot tears of agony.
Worse still, came the inner waves of torment that ripped like vicious claws of malice through his very soul. Crushing, pounding, demanding that he give in to them. Demanding, coaxing, whispering, hurting, soothing....
Just turn back...
No...
It hurts less, to look back...
No-- I cannot... It will try to claim me this time...
Leave the pain...
I have not the strength left to defy it again...
Look back....
No...
Look back...
No!
Look back...
NO!!!
And it was gone.
Gasping for breath, Legolas fell to the cold stone of the floor, before going limp completely and passing into welcome blackness.
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Chapter One:
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West, west away...
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"Gimli, have you seen Legolas?" Aragorn halted mid-stride as he passed the open doorway of the small dining room, before backpedaling to look inside at the dwarf seated there.
Gimli burped slightly as he looked up from his ale and addressed Aragorn. "Last I saw him," The stout creature grumbled past wiping his beard, "He was out singing to his beloved trees in the Queen's gardens."
Aragorn, gripping the doorframe with one hand as he leaned back slightly to speak with the dwarf, sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes in a decidedly unkingly fashion. "Did you not tell him we expected Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn to meet us tonight for dinner?"
"Of course. He headed in straight after to prepare."
"And did you somehow remember to mention that we will be receiving the delegates from Harad then as well?"
A blank look from the dwarf almost confirmed Aragorn's suspicions. "Of course I did laddie!" Gimli chuckled, "But I'd be surprised if he heard me."
Aragorn didn't ask what that meant, but rather, sighed, before turning to ascend the stairs in search of Arwen. He only hoped Legolas would remember to be at dinner in an hour...
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His head pounded through the blackness, effectively stripping him of the warmth of unawareness. He could sense light from behind closed lids, and realized his head was actually pounding in time to a steady rhythm that seemed to shake his entire body. Unknowingly, he moaned softly, and the movement stopped.
A voice?
"Prince Legolas?"
What in Valar's name--
"Lord Legolas sir, can you hear me?"
Why was he being awoken in the middle of the day? Where was he?
"Please, M'lord, are you alright?"
He swallowed, and managed somehow to crack his heavy eyelids open. It took a long moment for the blurry world overhead to come into clear focus, and then he found a single face, concern written through his eyes, leaning over him. Taken aback at the unfamiliar figure, Legolas started, the sudden motion causing the other man alarm as well and he pulled back abruptly.
"Lord Legolas?" He repeated, "Forgive me for startling you. Are you well, M'lord?"
Legolas frowned slightly as his overwrought mind tried to process this comment, and then remembered that he had collapsed in the hallway. If he had been the kind of person able to easily blush, he would have done do now, profusely. The man who had found him, obviously a citadel guard, knelt beside him now, his spear lain aside.
"I am well..." Legolas murmured half-heartedly. With effort, he slid his arms under him and tried to sit up, half of him hating, half of him welcoming the guard's supporting arm on his shoulder as he did so.
"What happened to you, M'lord?" The guard asked in concern as Legolas swayed slightly. The elf had not the strength to answer as he contemplated that question himself.
Valar, had it become that bad?
He had heard only faintly the far-off cry of a single gull, probably a lone scavenger in one of the lower levels, but it had been enough. Moments later he had found himself at a balcony off the hallway overhanging the city, his eyes glazed and unfocused as they had taken his mind to the sea.
The sea.
Even here, in Minas Tirith, so far from that place of pain and joy! But the sea had come to him, like the cool caress of the wind on his hurting soul, and he had listened unwisely to its sweet, seducing tune. The waves crashing on the shore, the gulls crying their sorrow as they swept overhead, the soft spray on his face...
"M'lord?" Snap. He was thrust back into painful reality. "M'lord, you are not well. Let me help you to your rooms..." Even as the guard was saying this he was gently pulling Legolas up with him as he stood,
But how had he ended up collapsing in the hallway, almost to his own rooms, when he had originally been making his way to find Aragorn in the center of the citadel? Because he had run. Like a frightened child running from a nightmare he had fled that balcony, but the pain, the sorrow, the longing—all had overtaken him. Had he really passed out this time? Valar, it had never been this bad!
Legolas moved numbly, his feet taking each step of strictly their own accord, his mind barely aware of the guard walking close beside him, ready to reach out a steadying hand should he falter.
Somehow, someway, he finally reached his own, wonderfully familiar quarters, and the guard opened the door for him, something he usually would never have stood for. Usually. At the moment, all he wanted was for the guard to leave so he could collapse and still retain some remote shred of dignity.
Groggily, even as he stepped inside, he remembered and spun back towards the hallway.
"Wait--" Legolas caught the guard's sleeve as the man turned to leave, and the man stopped abruptly at the Prince's tone of urgency.
"Please--" Legolas hesitated, and the man helpfully supplied his name.
"Haelon, M'lord."
"Haelon— Please-- Speak no word of this to the King."
The young man frowned in confusion at the odd request, but nodded slowly in acquiescence.
Legolas sighed gratefully with a quick nod as he let his eyes flutter shut in sheer exhaustion for just one moment. "Hanon le..."
He opened his eyes again, and quickly realized his mistake. "Forgive me-- I meant that you have my thanks."
The man only grinned and nodded once more in response, before departing. Legolas stumbled back a step once the man was out of sight and leaved heavily against his door as it closed.
If Aragorn ever caught wind of this, Legolas groaned to himself, he would never let the elf have a moment's peace.
Turning, the headache in his mind having reached the point of obnoxious, he stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it just as his strength gave out.
He had the vague feeling, or perhaps the remembrance, that he was supposed to be somewhere for dinner... But maybe he was wrong...
In any case, consciousness fled on a breath only a moment later, leaving his exhausted body to dreamless sleep for the second time that day...
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The incessant knocking outside the elven Prince's door did not awaken him from his deep unconsciousness. Nights of sleeplessness had left his body starved for rest, and it welcomed the forced reprieve gladly now. The Prince's door cracked slowly open, and inside appeared the head and shoulders of Haelon, the guard that had found the elven Lord unconscious in the hallway earlier. He glanced inside the room warily, his eyes seeking out the elven Prince, and stopped in alarm as he saw the lithe figure collapsed on the bed.
Quietly, he cracked the door open just enough to enter, and moved towards the bed cautiously. He carefully placed two fingers at the side of Legolas' throat, feeling for the slow pulse. He frowned slightly, noting that the elf slept with his eyes tightly shut and wondering why that struck him as odd for some reason. He knew next to nothing about elves, but he had heard that they slept with their eyes open, save for extreme cases of pain or exhaustion. Than again, the Elven Lord did not seem so much different from a man, and the things he had heard he wrote off as rumors originating from people with overactive imaginations and too much time on their hands.
Haelon sighed as he gazed at the Prince's thin form. He had been highly concerned earlier in the day on finding the Prince in his state, thinking an assassin might have somehow slipped past the guards, or something of the like. And although he had sworn to the elven Lord that he would not inform King Elessar of what had taken place, that did not mean he was not going to keep an eye on the elf. If the Prince had been truly hurt and the king found out, or worse, found out that he knew and had not told him, there would be Melkor to pay.
Besides-- The elven Prince was widely known as one of the Nine Walkers and an acclaimed hero of the War of the Ring, as well as the King's closest friend and Lord of Ithilien. Not only this, but his warm, open personality had endeared him unknowingly to many of the people in Minas Tirith and Gondor.
Satisfied that the Prince was well, but only sleeping deeply, Haelon turned quietly, and left the room like the shadow he had entered it.
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Arwen picked quietly at the meat on her plate, glancing up discreetly at her husband. Aragorn sat on her left, at the head of the table. The delegates from Harad were seated at the opposite end of the table, and Eowyn and Faramir were to her right. Directly across from her, between Aragorn and Gimli, was an empty seat.
Legolas' seat.
Aragorn radiated anger and irritation now, not much in contrast to his earlier nervousness and irritation. The alliance to be discussed later tonight after dinner with the ambassadors involved Ithilien just as much as it involved Minas Tirith, and Aragorn had been very dependent on not only Faramir, but especially Legolas being present.
The elf was his best friend, and had been since Aragorn's childhood. Theirs was a close bond, far closer to brothers even than friends, and they depended upon each other with an unfathomable trust. And Aragorn had depended upon Legolas' presence at this meeting.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Aragorn grinned graciously at his guests, the smile ringing with a strained quality everyone at the table but the Haradrim noted immediately.
"Honored ones..." He nodded respectfully as he stood, followed by all others at the table, "If you would, now we may adjourn to the council room, where we can better speak of the reasons for your long journey to Gondor."
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Darkness. So welcoming, so calm... It swirled around him, in grays and blacks and misty tendrils of lingering dreams. If only, he wished, he could remain here forever, wrapped in the comforting embrace of disconnection from the world all around him. It was so much better than the pain, the sorrow, the torturous knowledge of what was too come and the feeling of hearing without being able to respond. This was peace.
But it was not to last. A horrible banging sound threw Legolas awake and he bolted upright in alarm. Someone was banging on the door, very likely Gimli, who was the only one he knew who had enough strength behind a single knock to shake the room.
He swayed as he stood up quickly, but took a moment to compose himself. This was getting ridiculous. He was elvenkind. He was poised, graceful, strong. He was strength. Smoothing his tunic hastily and summoning to face more calm than he felt, he stepped towards the door, which was literally shaking with the force of the blows rained upon it.
He pulled it open with neither haste nor rush, and could not conceal the surprise that flashed across his face to fond not Gimli before him, but a rather flustered King of Gondor.
"Aragorn--?" He began in surprise, but was promptly cut off.
"Legolas, how could you do that to me?" Aragorn stormed, before realizing he was all but shouting and closing his eyes momentarily as he drew a deep breath to calm himself.
"Wha-"Legolas began in utter bewilderment, but was, again, interrupted.
"I was counting on your being there! I needed you, Legolas!"
Realization hit Legolas like a slap in the face. "The dinner— Valar, Aragorn, forgive me, I—"
"You what? Where were you? How could you forget something like that? It was incredibly important, and not only to Gondor, but to Ithilien!"
"Estel— I'm so sorry..." Legolas could only murmur softly, horrified at himself for abandoning his friend like this. A part of him wanted to feel hurt at Aragorn's harsh words, but another part of him knew he deserved every one. He had betrayed his best friend, and the thought brought his eyes to rest upon the ornate marble floor in shame. Guilt clenched at his stomach, like the streaks of fire that had assaulted him hours ago, just as painful but in a whole different way. He had never heard Gimli's call after him about the Haradrim arriving, so he didn't know exactly what Aragorn met about the dinner having been important not only to Gondor but to Ithilien as well. At the moment, however, he was too stunned to question it.
Aragorn only scoffed in reply, unable to control his reactions, fed through his frayed emotions, although part of him cringed inside for talking to Legolas this way, and at the elf's reaction.
"Sorry isn't good enough, Legolas!" His voice dropped to an angry undertone. "Where have you been all this time? Where were you when I needed you?"
No answer was forthcoming, but Aragorn mistook Legolas' hesitation for something other than it was, never suspecting the pain tearing through his friend at that moment. Legolas was cringing inside. There was no chance he would ever consider telling his best friend what really plagued him, and where he had been because of it, but what excuse could he give? No excuse would make up for what he'd done. And so he offered none, waiting in self-condemning silence for Aragorn to finish.
"We meet again tomorrow in the Council Room." Aragorn said coldly when he received no answer. "Don't be late."
Confused, Legolas looked up, meaning to question Aragorn as to why they would meet and with whom, but his best friend had just begun to close the door, and it slammed directly in his face.
Feeling horribly as if he had let his best friend in the world down, Legolas stared numbly at the closed door long after Aragorn's footsteps had faded away.
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Guess what? I'm going to not ask for reviews, and see what happens! Let's try reverse psychology! Yeah, yeah, that's the ticket.... hint hint