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He looked old. Wearied and hopeless. Perhaps you did too. Dirt clung to your clothes, the smell of death trailed close behind. The road trailed on.
His recklessness had deserted him, fleeing, transforming into something wiser, something tortured. And perhaps you had seen everything possible by his side. His love numbed the pain in the days you dreamed of the flames.
You had wept together as you stepped foot in Rohan - smoke danced high above your home. But it was strikingly beautiful, sitting in the cold watching your immortal life be destroyed. Tears dripped on the barren earth, intertwining. Your souls bound forever.
The journey home was unbearable as you retraced your footsteps through the plains and the mountains. Legolas was still by your side, perhaps nothing would harm you again. But this time you fled from Gondor, charged through Rohan. The dead surrounded you, following your every move. Your love remained.
And you stood before the throne, the smell of the burning woods replaced once more by the fresh morning dew and the moss. Legolas buried his head into Thranduil’s chest - a child once more, running from the horrors of war.
A ghost seemed to flicker behind Thranduil’s shoulders embracing him too. Three generations torn apart inside by bloodshed - three generations fighting, bleeding, dying on the same barren plains as dark clouds shrouded all hope. And, yet you were another mere soul that bore witness to the fleeting moment.
But Legolas returned home a prince, Thranduil did not have such luxury. Other friends had lost much, had been crowned by the blood on the battlefield. Legolas returned to charred woods, lost kin and destruction - the war vanished. But Legolas had you by his side, a mere semblance of Mirkwood as it was before the darkness came.
Snow danced through your memories, the chill frost of Ravenhill in your mind. You remembered how Thranduil had bowed his head in defeat, how Legolas had walked away. And you had not walked with Legolas, standing firm by your king’s side.
How you were both willing to sacrifice love for duty and honour.
You had thought he would return in an instant, a brief second and Legolas would turn around and you would witness the tears that carved a pattern in his cheeks. He thought you would stride forward with your sword in your hand, that you had merely stopped for an instant - distraught and dismayed. You did not see him for some years. Your heart had ached every day, weeping and crumbling. Your resolve snapped as you stepped foot in the outside world. At the border a foxtrot blossomed - poison.
And you had wept when he found you, when he held you in his arms, the cold of the mountains never tainting your heart. Whispered how you had suffered without him, how your soul belonged to him. You knew war would soon arrive.
He had turned to you, a slight smile on his face, “I have wandered far, I have seen many sights, felt the darkness touch my soul. It was half as beautiful as you.”
His love had waited for you.
So you had roamed together, wild and free. You had travelled with the Rangers, galloped with the Rohirrim, wandered through Rivendell. And Legolas changed in front of your very eyes.
Companions came and went, but Legolas remained. Yet he grew, he learnt - no longer was he headstrong but thoughtful, rational, fearful. And the pain within your hearts blossomed - the darkness, the cold and the flames ensnared and engraved their marks in your love. But everything paled in comparison to Legolas.
His blades cut as sharp as the freezing chill in your thoughts - his eyes brighter, more dangerous than the sun and the stars. His words concealed the shame that lingered deep in his heart, the darkness that had survived as he fled from his past. It did not matter how long you had been separated, he had waited for you and you had waited for him.
But the roadway led on: friendships were formed, starlight blessed your footsteps. The road now led home. The days of ignoring your past were over, Legolas bore an even heavier burden. But you shunned the thoughts, laughing at something Aragorn had said as the three of you rode amongst the Rohirrim. Aragorn turned towards Gondor, you and Legolas turned home.
Now Legolas laughed, pulling himself away from Thranduil. You lowered your gaze to avoid the Elvenking’s tear stained cheeks. They were a mirror reflection of Legolas’ cries of sorrow after countless bodies had been recovered, after together you had watched your friends fall around you. You held him in your arms the nights after battle, whisper stories from before the darkness tainted your minds.
In Legolas’ face you saw the cruel echoes of dying men in the sharp angles of his cheeks. His lips flushed red like the alcohol that temporarily eased the memories, the blood that spilled freely on the battlefields. His hair contained wisps of pain from final breaths that ripped out of mouths contorted in agony. But his eyes danced with the rivers of home, the trees and the birds lingered in his soul. And you saw how your reflection hid in his eyes too.
And you laughed alongside him. You had survived. And Thranduil embraced you too, his facade crumbling. He no longer dared interfere between the two of you - the horrors of war had tangled your souls together.
Your head lay in Legolas’ lap as he traced the length of your arm. And you spoke of the battles, Thranduil listened on - you and Legolas felt like children once more. An otherworldly spirit settled over the hall, as if the Valar had walked across the ocean to protect the two elves that had walked the length of Middle Earth to destroy the ring of power.
Legolas tensed beneath you as you spoke of Rohan. The two of you had ridden with the Rohirrim once more alongside Aragorn, but the destruction was unspeakable. Corpses had scattered the landscape, poisoned words had twisted the mind of the king. Battle was upon you once again.
Rain had blurred your vision, a deathly silence shrouded you. And you had remembered how Aragorn had shouted in Sindarin, how Legolas had mocked Gimli to ease the fear. How you thought you would never see Legolas again.
He hung his head in shame - there were many lives he could not save, many lives he should have saved but his arrows had not flown quick enough. The souls of those dead tortured his mind. His hands stilled slightly. But you had rode towards the sunrise together, and you knew he remembered watching sunrise painting the sky above the forest with your head resting gently against his shoulder. Before the war.
You remembered how you struggled, clinging onto Éomer’s horse, blood dripping from wounds that began to drain your immortality. The delirium of the pain making you lose your mind. How you had stumbled into the doorway, a mere silhouette weakly grinning before Legolas’ very eyes. You had clutched his arms, kissed him deeply, buried your head in his chest to hide from the pain. He had barely been scathed.
That night you had wept in his arms. The taste of bloodshed, the exquisite madness of agony and the desire to die appeared in your mind like a beautiful temptation. But they were not as beautiful as him. Darkness clouded the sky, the stars were hidden in fear. Legolas kissed you, soft and sweet, and you were reminded of home, of life, as it was before the war.
Fumes of smoke from Aragorn’s pipe and all the wine in the Elvenking’s halls could not compare to the intoxicating poison reserved only for you that hid in Legolas’ heart. You had laughed as Éomer handed him more ale, you knew it would not affect Legolas for it was not as powerful as the love contained in your soul.
Quietly, Legolas spoke of the Paths of the Dead, of the muddy track under the foreboding trees. Of the plains of Gondor stretching far out in front of you as the boats moored safely. The black swarm of Mordor’s armies seemed to engulf the few silver and golden streaks of men. He had cried softly and helplessly in your arms that night.
Perhaps you and Legolas had been tainted by the clouded skies that veiled the stars and the evil that lurked within. But Legolas saw you as you were, the sinister shadows and the brightest sunshine - he loved all. And you were finally home.
The woods were as they were before the darkness came, before the flames of war, before the shame of Legolas and the pain of Thranduil. But you both grew restless, promises amongst friends remained to be fulfilled. And Legolas had known, would always know he would wait for you.
Starlight shone brightly, crowning his hair and shadowing his face. He looked almost feral, dangerous, deadly. A single tear traced down his face. Soon you would have to face the ocean once more - Éomer’s soul had left the world, Aragorn grew weary. But Legolas remained, youthful and untouched by time’s cruel grasp.
And you thought of a time long ago when Legolas would sit next to you, shoulder brushing shoulder. A foxglove blossomed next to his foot, a bluebell next to his hand. Centuries before these friends that you now had to part company with had drawn their first breaths. He had laughed carefree and it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.
“Sometimes,” you spoke softly, grief tingeing your words. “Sometimes, I wish for life as it was before.”
He smiled slightly. The tear hit the barren ground, shattering like glass into a million pieces, “I have you, I could not wish for anything more.”