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Legolas watched Alara as they stood on the cliff, looking down at waterfalls. “You don’t have to do this if you don't want to,” his words were filled with worry, and she sighed, looking down at the ring in her palm. It was aflame with ancient writing she couldn't decipher.

The setting sun cast a golden glow over her home, Rivendell, making it shimmer. “I do, though,” she said, and Legolas turned away from her, looking off into the waterfall below their feet. “It will destroy all we have left until there is nothing more to conquer.” 

Alara never thought that it would come to this when she found the man she was supposed to marry dead at the bottom of the very waterfall they were watching. She sat down, struggling to keep from remembering the night once again. Her eyes closed, tears giving way as she saw Beowulf’s lifeless body once again.

That night, she had been searching for him through the thick woods, struggling to see through the darkness that spread over the land. 

Fear was lodged in her chest as they were to marry the following day, and she had not heard from her lover since the night before. The trees rustled with a cold wind, and she shivered, coming upon an opening in the trees.

Alara looked across the large opening, recognizing it as the lake that rested below the waterfall that fell from Rivendell. A dark figure was sprawled across the shallow water, and her senses seemed to cease.

Alara ran, her breathing steadily increasing with her anxiety as she stumbled upon the rocks on the lake's edge. The figure was one of a man; her breath hitched, and her dress became soaked with the water surrounding them. It weighed on her arms as she lifted them to feel the face of the man, not noticing a faint glowing coming from his right hand. It was Beowulf, her lover, the man who would have been her husband.

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“Alara?” She felt a hand on her shoulder. Alara recognized the voice as Legolas’. She felt devastated, for today would've been her wedding. He smiled as if trying to comfort her, but she felt unconsolable as if she had no purpose left in this world except for the small piece of gold she held in her palm. It seemed a part of her now as if it had attached itself to her heart, next to the hole Beowulf left.

The trees shivered along with Alara, seeming to share her grief for her lost love. She looked down and saw the strange ring glowing in her palm the same way it had that night she had found Beowulf.

“We should take it to your father.” Legolas stood, resolve set on his face. He seemed shaken, not knowing what to do with this pile of tears she had turned into. Alara brushed her sadness aside and nodded, taking the hand he held out to her. 

They walked back up through the forest to their home, planning to find Alara’s father, Elrond. 

She felt scared for the future she had lost, for the home she thought they would have a lifetime to build. Legolas stopped, and she stood beside him; concern grew in her. “What is it?” She whispered, and he turned to her, eyes downcast.

“I’m sorry for everything. It breaks me to see you like this.” He said, trying to comfort her. He had seen the pain in her eyes, her expression downcast at the ring. 

“I’m fine, Legolas.” She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him now; she just wanted to speak with her father. As they walked back up the hill, Alara breathed in the misty air from the waterfall. It used to be a place of pleasant memories back when Legolas and her would play there as children. Now, she can only see her dead fiance’s body in the mist. She had never seen him wearing this ring, but now she was curious. Something felt strange about it like some kind of energy surged in her hand as she held it. 

Legolas sighed. “What do you think happened to him?”

They were almost to the Elven home. “I don’t know. I saw him lying dead in the river by the waterfall. You saw, but he was holding onto this ring. I’ve never seen him wear it before…” 

Legolas’ eyes glistened when she mentioned the ring. “Strange indeed…” 

…

Elrond's eyes widened as he gazed at the ring in Alara’s hand. His eyes fell towards the inscription carved into the gold band. Her eyebrows furrowed at her father’s look. “Father… Beowulf… He’s dead.”

Elrond stood in shock. His daughter was supposed to get married today, and now this ancient relic would ruin everything he had worked to build. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. 

 “I found his body at the bottom of the waterfall. I… I don't know what could have happened.” She sighed, then continued, “But I found this ring clenched in his hand… I’ve never seen him wear it before.” 

“Daughter…” He started. “This ring… It must be destroyed. It is a threat to Middle Earth. The One Ring…”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Legolas’ eyes widen. He looked tense, his eyes glued to the ring in her hand. This was all new to her. She had never heard of a ring like this. What did Legolas and her father know that she didn't? “I don't understand. What is this ring?” 

Legolas spoke up, his eyes still on the ring. “One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.” He muttered. “This is the ring Sauron created in the fires of Mount Doom.”

Her father stepped closer and motioned for her to hand him the ring. “Yes, this is the ring. How Beowulf acquired it is unknown, but that is not relevant now. As we speak, Sauron’s forces are growing stronger by the minute, and our alliance with Men is fragile. That was why I arranged for you to marry Beowulf, daughter. But now…everything changes. We must tell Aragorn. He is our only hope for an alliance now.” She placed the ring in his hand, her eyes not leaving the golden glow. 

…

Alara walked back to her room, overwhelmed by all that had happened in the past hour. She looked out the window and stared at the waterfalls surrounding her home. Her life would never be the same; she was sure of that. She was tired. This was too much for her to handle, so she laid down and let sleep take over. 

…

When Alara woke up, the sun was already setting, casting her room in a golden light. The day was almost over, the day that was meant to be the happiest one of her life. She looked out her window and realized her life would never be the same. She sighed and got up from her bed, making her way to the courtyard where Aragorn and his men were meant to arrive. As she walked, she gazed around the halls she had known her whole life, not knowing if it would change because of this One Ring. 

She reached the courtyard and saw her father, Legolas, and two men standing by the pillars. It seemed as if they had just arrived. One of the men was tall and robust, seemingly trained by years of combat. He had cropped, dark, wavy hair that framed his dark expression. The other was slightly shorter and had a stoic expression, with dark hair hovering over his dusty blue eyes. 

When she entered, all eyes were on her. She took her spot next to Legolas when Elrond spoke up. “Aragorn, this is my daughter Alara. Alara, this is Aragorn,” he said, gesturing to the tall man, “and this is Captain Levi Ackerman.” 

She nodded and made slight eye contact with the Captain, acknowledging him. His gaze intimidated her, and she turned to face Aragorn. He stepped closer to her and took her hands in his. “Word has spread that my brother has come to his demise. I’m sorry,” Aragorn said. 

She sighed. “Yes… thank you for your condolences, Aragorn. I’m also sorry. He was your brother, after all.” He nodded stiffly in response, stepping back to stand next to the captain and holding an expression Alara couldn’t quite place. 

Elrond cleared his throat. “Aragorn and the captain know why they are here. Not just because of Beowulf’s death but because of the ring he once held. The One Ring ,” he took out the ring he had taken from Alara a few hours prior, its glow illuminating the room. Everyone became agitated at the sight of the golden band as a force seemed to weigh their thoughts down. “...must be destroyed. It was forged at Mount Doom, and Gandalf the Grey believes it could be destroyed there. Aragorn, Captain, I thank you for your assistance. The Elves take great value in our alliance with Men. I am sending Prince Legolas to assist you on your journey. I trust you three warriors will succeed in this. I believe that the Ring led to Beowulf’s demise. The Ring is known to corrupt any being; I do not doubt this. We need someone strong to bear the burden of the Ring. Someone who will not falter.” 

Alara knew deep in her heart that this was her burden to bear. She was the one who found the Ring on her dead fiance’s body. This Ring had ruined the life she had dreamed of for so long, and she wanted it gone. “I will do it, Father.” Again, all eyes fell on her, and her father sighed, understanding her need to join this fellowship. 

“Very well,” Elrond said. “My daughter will carry the ring, and you three men will do everything you can to lead her on this journey.”

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Legolas looked at Elrond with contempt. He could not believe he was allowing his daughter to go to Mordor. As the meeting ended, Alara walked away, presumably back to her room. He could tell she was still grieving the loss of Beowulf and that she’d prefer to be alone, but he hated seeing her like this. So, he sighed and walked through the elegant wood-carved halls decorated with ivory and gold. Every inch of the halls sparkled brighter as he traveled to the courtyard, and he imagined living there himself. He imagined a life there, happy.

Legolas reached the courtyard, a brilliant garden with several stone walkways underneath trees that stooped over the estates nearby. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and the sun hit them in a controlled manner that made them glow.

He sat down upon a stone-carved bench along one of the walkways, a place he and Alara visited often as children, and thought about their upcoming journey. 

Many dangers were ahead, obstacles that, though he was afraid to admit it, frightened him. Legolas wasn’t scared for himself, though; he feared for Alara. She was now broken and vulnerable, not deserving of this burden she had to carry: the ring.

“Legolas?” A familiar voice sounded from above, taking him out of his thoughts. Aragorn sat beside him and fixed his view on the courtyard before them. “It is nice to see you, old friend, though I hoped for better circumstances. I give my condolences to you about your brother,” Legolas replied, thinking yet again of the ring. “My brother was a selfish man who only cared for power and fame; he chose his path, and that led him to his death.” Aragorn’s eyes shut briefly, his expression reserved and stoic.

“Alara is heartbroken, Aragorn. Heartbroken over the man that chose that wretched ring over the future of his own people.” Legolas sighed, understanding the grief Alara held, yet not entirely at the same time. “She loved him. I am not sure why, but she did love him, ” Legolas exhaled. “Now, all he has left us with is pain and suffering, Aragorn. How must she go on this journey? How must we stand by and watch herself unravel before us?” 

The two friends looked at each other, sharing an understanding. Aragorn’s eyes seemed calculated, lost in thought. “We must fight. That is all we can do. Her heart is set on destroying the ring, and I'm unsure if she cares that her spirit might fall with it, too. Ultimately, we must do this for our people, Legolas. We will succeed. There is no other option.”

Aragorn's voice did not falter; he spoke confidently and with pride. “I have made many mistakes before, but I will not make the same two again.” He ended with a hushed tone, drastically contrasting his previous statement. 

The trees stilled, filling the two men with a silence that seemed to overtake their very thoughts. Aragorn stood, leaving just as quietly into the estate halls as he had come.

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Alara wore the golden ring on a chain. She finally retrieved it from her father, who advised her not to wear it on her finger. So, she found a simple silver chain to thread it through, contrasting the sinister golden glow of the ring. The Fellowship had already set out on their quest, and Alara looked back at the place she had called home her entire life, saying goodbye. She didn’t know if she’d ever see those waterfalls again if she’d ever lay in the comfort of her room, or if she’d ever see her father again. 

She rode her horse between Legolas and Aragorn, Levi following behind them. For some reason, the brooding man behind her made her feel uneasy. She could feel his gaze on her as they rode, and she couldn't help but question his loyalties, whether they were to Aragorn or himself. They rode for the rest of the day in silence. Legolas occasionally conversed with her or Aragorn while the Captain watched behind them. She’d never heard a single word come out of his mouth, which made her feel even more tense around him. 

The sun was setting, so they found a clearing in the woods and stopped to set up camp. Alara found a spot to sleep and tied her horse to a nearby tree. Aragorn rounded up the group and said, “We need it tonight. We should spread out and go hunting.”

Legolas interjected. “Alara shouldn’t be left alone in the wild. One of us should go with her, just to be safe.” She sighed at his proposal. She knew she could handle being alone in the woods for a few minutes. Her father had gifted her his finest sword to take on this quest. 

Aragorn nodded. “Yes, that would be best. Levi, will you accompany Alara?” 

She tensed at Aragorn’s suggestion. He was the last person she would want to be alone with. She held her breath, hoping the Captain would refuse.

Much to her dismay, he sighed and nodded. “I suppose I have no choice, do I?” 

Legolas and Aragorn nodded and left to find food, while Levi and Alara went to find firewood. Their walk together was silent, an awkward aura in the air. The captain did not look like he wanted to engage in any conversation, but she could no longer stand this dreadful silence. “I-”

He cut her off immediately. “I have no interest in talking with the likes of you. Don’t think for a moment that I’m doing this for you or Beowulf. I am only here because Aragorn ordered me to.” He gave her a cold glare and continued on the path to find firewood. Alara sighed; being here so recently after her fiance’s death was too painful for her to bear. She did not expect anything of Levi, Aragorn, or even Legolas. Even so, his attitude made her feel even worse about herself, as if she was a burden. Legolas had told her many times that he would follow her no matter what, and she was grateful for it, but she didn’t feel she deserved his kind words. All this time, Legolas had put up with her, weeping and comforting her, while all she did was pay him no mind, all because she was grieving Beowulf. 

“I understand… and I am sorry, Captain. None of you should need to come along on this quest. I’m sorry you had to leave your home for this.” She said Levi occasionally picked up an acceptable branch as they walked through the thick foliage. 

“I don’t need your apologies. All you need to do is keep that mouth of yours shut.” He snapped, holding a well-enough amount of wood. He turned around and started walking back towards the camp.

Alara silently followed, thinking over their conversation and the many other routes it could’ve taken. She didn’t imagine the captain to seem so cold-hearted, but Alara supposed she should have guessed that, as this quest was harrowing.

Legolas and Aragorn had already returned with their dinner when they arrived back at camp. Levi set up the firewood and started the kindling while Alara took a seat next to Legolas. Aragorn and Levi took the time to prepare the meal, skinning the rabbits while Legolas turned to Alara. “Manen ci, Alara?” (How are you feeling, Alara?)

She took a moment to collect her thoughts. She wanted to be honest with him. “I…I can’t stop thinking about him, about Beowulf. The memory of his death haunts every corner of my mind. Legolas… this is too much for me to handle…” Legolas’ eyes darkened, and he looked far off, lost in thought.

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He sighed and looked towards the ground. This was inevitable. Even if Beowulf had not died now, he would in the future, a future where Alara would still be alive and well. That was just the curse of being mortal, how elves and men are never truly meant to be. He was worried for her. He did not want her to succumb to this depression; he would never forgive himself if he let her. “Then let me handle it. You do not need to keep grieving like this, Alara. There is a way for you to end it, though it will be quite daunting for you.” 

She turned towards him and gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

He rested his hand on hers. “There is a way for you to find peace. Forget him, mellon. He was doomed to die, whether it be yesterday or tomorrow. He would’ve brought you nothing but grief.”

Her eyes watered, tears threatening to fall. “Legolas…How? How could I do that?” 

“You will live for thousands of more years, Alara. Beowulf, the year you spent together is nothing in comparison to the life you will live. I understand that you love him, but please, Mellon. I can’t let you destroy yourself over this. I couldn't bear to see you fade away from me.”

She brushed a tear away and looked down, eyebrows furrowed in anger. “How could you say that, Legolas? I was well aware that he was mortal, but all that mattered was that we made the most of the time given to us.” 

“I know, Alara, but he is no longer with us. You can't keep living like this. I only want what is best for you, Mellon, believe me.” His eyes softened at her as he held her hand, squeezing it gently, feeling a strange surge of energy at the contact. 

Beowulf was never what was best for her. Marrying a mortal only leads to heartbreak; her father should’ve known that. Legolas could not understand how Elrond could let her go through with that union. “I can help you; I can help you to forget.”

He knew the look on her face; she was considering it. “How?” She asked. 

“You shall find out once you're certain of your decision. He knew she needed time to process this, and dinner with Levi and Aragorn present was not the best idea. “Take a walk with me?” 

She smiled reluctantly as he got up, offering his hand to her. She took it, and he helped her up. “Alara needs to clear her mind for a bit. I shall accompany her. We’ll be back in a moment for dinner.” He said, addressing Levi and Aragorn. He offered his arm to Alara, and she took it. The pair wandered into the distance as the two men continued to skin the rabbits. 

They walked through the forest, the tall trees, and under the moon's light. Legolas was reminded of the times when he and Alara explored the forests of Mirkwood and Rivendell when they used to come and visit each other as children. He’d always looked forward to the times they’d visit each other. Being the only heir of Thranduil, Legolas often grew lonely as a child; his mother had just died, and his world was dark. But when he met Lord Elrond’s youngest daughter when he was only ten years old, there was a little light in his life, his only friend. 

Two thousand years had gone by quickly, and now the elleth he had grown to love was pining over another: a mortal. His heart wilted like a flower deprived of sunlight, the petals of his emotions falling away one by one at the thought of her loving another. The girl he loved for two millennia, who he had given his heart to, turned away from him and towards another, a human. He would not let her feel this much grief over a greedy, selfish, and dishonest man. He was determined to erase him from her memory, to eradicate all her painful memories of Beowulf. 

Suddenly, Alara stopped walking, sighed, and turned to face Legolas. “Legolas… I can’t continue like this.” His eyebrows shot up at her words. “I was chasing something that I would’ve never been able to catch, and now, it’s consuming me. If you are able to, please take this pain away from me.” His heart shattered all over again as he saw the tears welling in her eyes. 

He took her hand and nodded, that strange energy tingling his fingers. “Of course, I can help, Mellon. I am always here for you. Just look into my eyes.” She obliged and looked up at him, unsure of what to expect. He took both of her hands in his and started whispering, “Dolle, dolle i aníral lín, mellon.” 

Her eyes slowly started to shut, and he knew she was drifting off. The memories had left her, and she was finally free from that horrid man. She fell asleep soon after, so he carefully picked her up and returned to camp. He felt slightly guilty at taking her memories away, but it was what she had asked for. It was for the best, he convinced himself. Beowulf brought her nothing but sorrow, and he was a wretched man. He would need to tell Aragorn and Levi about this. He knew they’d understand; Alara simply would not be able to continue her journey suffering, unable to give her all for the kingdoms that have now been left under. 

When they arrived back at camp, Aragorn held a concerned expression upon the sight of Legolas carrying Alara’s limp body. Levi also looked surprised and stood, walking towards the fire, which held cooked bits of rabbit on skewers. “What’d you do to the brat, tree hugger?” The captain asked. 

He ignored Levi’s banter and layed Alara down on a soft patch of grass. “I erased her memories of Beowulf.” He spoke, and the air tensed. “We all know she would be unable to continue this quest, suffering the entire time.”

Aragorn raised his eyebrows, worried, “Did she agree to this?” 

“Of course. I offered her a way to obtain peace, and she agreed, asking me to take the pain away. It was the only option.” Legolas sighed and gazed upon the ring hanging from her neck. It glowed, lain across the grass, and was interwoven with her brown hair.

Levi scoffed at the sight of her limp form. “Well, at least she won’t be crying like a baby the entire time. She was pissing me off.” He said, taking a bite from the now-cooked rabbit meat. Aragorn followed suit.

Legolas opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Aragorn. “That’s enough, Levi. Legolas did what he thought was best, and if Alara agreed to it, I have nothing to say against it.” 

The elf sighed to himself. This would be a difficult journey, not just because of the dangers they would face. Legolas was previously acquainted with Aragorn, having fought and traveled with him after the Battle of the Five Armies. They were good friends, so to speak, but the captain was something else. Levi was not fond of anyone and didn’t try to build relationships with people either (save for Aragorn). He was always cold and snarky, and Legolas never liked him. “I have no interest in hearing the opinion of a man the size of a dwarf.” Legolas sneered. 

The Captain sneered at the elf prince. “Is it not enough that I agreed with you, moron?” Levi was prepared to say more, but Aragorn again interrupted their conversation. 

“That is enough, both of you! Legolas, havo dad.” (Legolas, sit down). He did, reluctantly, his eyes not leaving Levi. “We will be on this journey for some time. I suggest you two get used to each other,” He turned to Levi. “I’m speaking directly to you, Levi.”

Legolas shook his head and sat beside Alara, trying to forget his argument with the captain. Aragorn was right; their resentment would only make things worse. Alara was fast asleep, her breathing steady. Aragorn had put the campfire out, and her features were illuminated by the moonlight. Legolas rested a hand on her shoulder, whispering to her. “Losto vae, meleth.”