Chapter Text
Eryn Galen was far from the sea, far enough that Legolas was finally no longer able to hear the crash of the waves upon the rocks. Minas Tirith was too close by far, the sound of the water lapping at the walls of the ports of Osgiliath always reaching his sensitive ears no matter how intently he attempted to ignore it. Gulls soared constantly above the city of Men, crying out to him and bading him follow them to the depths of the crashing ocean. He had not been free from their call for the many months that he had spent in the city, never once could he pass a day without lingering too long by an open window, transfixed by the distant sound of waves upon white shores.
He had told nothing of his plight to his companions, already they suffered enough in the aftermath of war, the paranoia of hunters upon the plains never leaving them even after so much time spent safely contained in thick walls of stone. Legolas had found no peace since his life in Gondor began, it had been too long since he had felt the bark of an ancient tree beneath his fingertips, since he had walked barefoot upon the forest floor. His life had become one of tradition and diplomacy, advising Aragorn on matters of state, no longer able to persuade him to run wild through the woods with him as they had once lived. He had not paused to give thought to himself, hoping always to outrun the discontentment that lingered at the edges of his consciousness.
It would descend upon him in sudden moments; while he sat at the King's table, bearing witness to the chaotic banquets of Men, as he walked among the gardens of the Queen but could find no joy among the plants, when he stood upon his balcony in the depths of night, unable to find rest, and allowed himself to sink into the haunting melody of the Sea. Aragorn and Gimli had noticed nothing amiss, or if they had, they had silently attributed it to the malcontent of warriors once their war no longer needed fighting, and they had certainly never raised any issue in conversation. Legolas was not displeased by this arrangement, he had no desire to bare this weakness in his soul, to confess that he was losing himself and that there was nothing that could be done to save him. They would try to find solutions, too stubborn by far to stand by and witness any suffering in their friend, but there were no solutions to be found, and Legolas did not think that he could stand to watch them struggle in vain.
He was relieved to be returning to his homeland, he had certainly felt the loss of the trees in the many months since he had left it. He knew that much had changed since his departure, he himself had certainly grown, no longer so hopeful, no longer so gentle. Since he was but a young Elfling, he had been exposed to the harsh realities of the world beneath the canopy of Mirkwood, but he had always carried an enduring spark of hope in his young heart. The trees had loved him and they could not stand to see him sad, not even when darkness swarmed between their boughs and battles were fought beneath their leaves. Always they had spoken to him, sung to him, soothed him as he suffered the cruelties that life had dealt to him. But now, the trees had fallen silent, and there was no joy to be found for him beneath their branches.
The forest had healed, his father's attack on Dol Guldur had cast the evil from his lands as they had borne witness to the defeat of Sauron at the Black Gate, and there was a peace among the trees that Legolas had never seen in all three thousand years of his life. He could no longer hear the giant spiders straying so close to their borders, the air no longer attempted to choke and disorient, but Legolas felt less welcome there now than he ever had.
He hesitated at the forest's edge, pulling his horse to a disgruntled stop, unwilling to step beneath the trees, already knowing what reality he would be forced to face, but Aragorn and Gimli were beside him, and he had no desire to show them this weakness. Although the sounds of the Sea could not reach him here, the call was well settled in his heart, and it drowned out the song of the forest. If the trees were attempting to greet him, to sing for the return of their young Prince, he could not hear it.
It was as the Lady of Lothlórien had so long ago predicted, no longer was he a being of the forest. Once these lands had cherished and adored him as he did them in return, he had belonged and the spirits of the trees had welcomed him as their child, and now he returned to a silent shell of the land he had left. Grief welled within him like a brutish monster, crying out in its agony as the full realisation that he would never belong in his home again struck him to his core. He had not cried in so long, not since he had thought Aragorn lost before the battle at Helm's Deep, and yet tears now burned viciously at his eyes. His pain did not easily overwhelm him, it had not done so in centuries, but he was closer now to drowning in his sorrow than he had been at any moment in the dark quest that they had undertaken. The death that he mourned now was more vivid and real than any other, he felt it tearing him apart from within, felt the agony of his own demise powerfully and cruelly cut to the centre of his spirit.
"Are you well, my friend?" Aragorn's soft voice drew him tenderly from his mourning, and he looked up to see that his companions had moved forwards, guiding their horses beneath the trees and now looking back on him in confusion and concern.
"Yes." He answered automatically, "Forgive me, I was lost in my thoughts. Much has come to pass since last I was home, it does not feel entirely real. I am anxious to see my father, he may not yet have forgiven me for disobeying him so entirely in joining this quest."
Aragorn smiled warmly, shaking his head in denial of his spoken fears, "I am sure that he will simply be glad to see you safe."
Legolas weakly returned his smile, missing the strength in his heart to reveal the truth. His smile faded as soon as Aragorn turned to face the forest once more, and he took a deep breath before guiding his horse after them. The silence burned in his mind like a wildfire, uncontrollable and dangerous in the sharp grief it drew from him. His spirit would never know peace again, he could be certain of that fact, no longer could the trees provide him respite. He was alone, stranded in a world that had no place for him anymore.
The trees rustled overhead, thrashing their branches as they spoke, cried out, but their words and their song fell on deaf ears. Legolas strained to hear them, desperate to be reminded of the melody of Arda that was now nothing more than a memory in the depths of his mind. But no matter how desperately he tried, no sound reached him. He could hear only the movement of the leaves, as though he were nothing more than a Man.
"You must be glad to hear your trees once again, Elf." Gimli commented, unusual kindness in his brusque tone.
Legolas was near certain that he felt his heart shatter within his chest, the knowledge that he would never hear them again a bitter thought to face, "I am." He answered with feigned serenity, "Their song is beautiful like nothing else I have ever heard."
"We Dwarves prefer the music of taverns." Gimli announced boldly, "Or the ringing of hammers in great caves."
Legolas found himself a little soothed by the normality that his friend provided, and he wished that he was able to find the joy in the noise of people as he seemed able to do, "You are simply jealous." He teased in return, "You are offended that they will not give up their secrets to Dwarven ears."
"I wish to hear it also." Aragorn added pensively, looking up at the trembling leaves above him, "It is painful indeed to be excluded from their words."
Feeling his lower lip begin to quiver with unshed pain, Legolas simply gave a quiet hum of agreement, losing himself in watching the branches and hoping that his companions would assume him simply to be lost in the music of the forest. Instead his mind had fallen near blank, filled with the rush of distant waves and the pain of what was now lost to him.
They rode through the forest in silence, so many months together moving them beyond the point of constant conversation and allowing them to simply be at peace in their shared company. The forest truly was as beautiful as Legolas remembered, and although it sung to him no more, he still held the same pride in it as he had always done, and was glad to be sharing it with his friends.
"My Lord Legolas!" A cry from the trees above drew him to look up, searching the boughs until his sharp eyes settled on the figure crouched among them. The Elven guard descended the tree with immeasurable ease, dropping onto the floor before them and fixing Legolas with a wide grin, "My Lord." He said again, offering a deep bow in greeting, "It has been too long."
"I am glad indeed to see you well, Feren." He returned the cheerful tone, honestly pleased to see his friend of so long in such good spirits. It felt strange to return to the Silvan tongue, none among the Fellowship spoke it so it had been many months since he had practised aloud the language of his birth. It was another small reminder that he was returning, at least, to his people, and that allowed his heart to settle a little. He hesitated before speaking again, anxious as to what answer he may receive, "How is my father?"
Feren shifted his feet, pausing for longer than Legolas was happy with before going to speak again, "He has missed you greatly, my Lord. I think he feared that you would never return to him." He must have seen Legolas' look of anxiety as he immediately clarified his statement, "The kingdom has not suffered; as a leader, he has been as he always was, and we are grateful for his strength in these dark times. But there has been a grief within him that we have not seen since the early days after the passing of the Queen."
Gimli must have seen the look of upset that Legolas could not keep from his face, as he leant a little more towards him to speak conspiratorially, though of course his whispers did nothing to deter the ears of Elvenfolk, "What's he saying, lad?"
"He gives word of my father, and I am not glad to hear it." Legolas answered simply, sparing no more time for idle chat and returning his attention to Feren, "Send word to the King of our arrival." He decreed, clearly surprising both of his companions with the royal countenance that he was able to adopt as they looked to him with confusion in their eyes, "Let him live in this fear no longer."
Feren offered one last deep bow before turning on his heel and running off among the trees, footfalls silent on the path. Legolas immediately urged his horse on after him, distracted from his grief by the need to see his father and reassure himself of his safety and strength of mind. He could hear Gimli and Aragorn behind him, exchanging quiet words that he had no trouble picking out but had not the care to actually listen.
Both fell silent as they came upon the gates of the Woodland Realm, towering above them and formidable in their strength and beauty. He turned over one shoulder, offering them both a forced smile, "Welcome to my home." He said, a tint of humour colouring his words as he considered how different this kingdom must seem to those of either of his companions. Although Minas Tirith was beautiful for a city of Men, it was surely nothing compared to the elegance of the Halls of Thranduil. And certainly nothing Dwarven could ever challenge it.
"My Prince!"
Legolas' heart leapt within his chest to see Galion stood by the gate, the closest confidant of his father and a beloved fixture of their family for as long as Legolas could remember. Relieved to see that he was smiling, suggesting no immediate issue that must be resolved, Legolas dismounted and quickly closed the last gap between them, drawing him into a tight embrace, "Galion, my dear Galion, how are you?"
"Well indeed, well indeed." Galion smiled, "I am relieved to see you home, little Prince. You have been sorely missed for every day of your absence." He then looked behind him and took full stock of his companions for the first time, looking back at him with raised eyebrows, "Your company is strange."
Legolas smiled in bemused recognition of that fact, changing to Sindarin when he spoke next so that Aragorn at least could comprehend him, "May I introduce to you, Elessar, King of Reunited Gondor and Arnor, and Gimli, son of Glóin. They are companions of the Fellowship, and dear to me beyond measure."
"You bear a different name each time I meet you, Elessar." Galion also shifted to Sindarin to tease Aragorn slightly as he greeted him, their many meetings through the years allowing a sense of familiarity between them.
"Aragorn is fine." The Man assured him gently, returning his good humour and touching his heart in passive greeting.
Galion then turned his attention to Gimli, his surprise clear despite his usual careful schooling of his expressions. However, he must have taken note of Legolas' sharp eyes upon him as he greeted him courteously, even switching to the Common Tongue to do so, "Well met, Gimli, son of Glóin." He bowed his head, "The respect of our Prince is not easily won."
Gimli huffed slightly, clearly pleased with the respectful greeting, "Well met." He returned in gruff Sindarin, his pronunciation far from perfect, but clearly pleasing the Woodelf.
"Tell me, Galion." Legolas returned to Silvan to prompt him to provide him with the information he did not wish to share with the others, "My father, is he well?"
Galion hesitated, "He is stable." He said eventually, "He lost himself in his fear for you, I did all that I could."
Legolas did not doubt that, Galion had been a guiding light of their household for so long, saving his father from his grief when Legolas' mother was killed and Legolas was so young as to still need constant care. Galion was a servant by title alone, it was known to everyone that he was the closest friend that the King possessed, and surely if anyone were able to provide the support he needed, it would be him, "I am certain that you did." Legolas offered in comfort, "Thank you, dear friend, for all that you have done."
Galion looked at him for a long moment, the pause growing near uncomfortable before he spoke again, "Be honest with me now, Legolas. The trees are wild with grief, they speak as though they have lost you, as though you died upon the field. What has come to pass?"
Sighing heavily, Legolas gladly accepted the comforting hand that was placed upon his shoulder, "I have not the heart to speak of it. They are right to grieve, but there is nothing more that can be done."
Galion glanced at Aragorn and Gimli, clearly guessing that they knew nothing of what was being discussed between them, "I shall take you to your father." He told Legolas, voice heavy with sadness, "He will be glad indeed to see you."
"Galion?" Legolas stopped him as he turned to lead them through the gate, "Do not tell him."
He looked at him with sad eyes, smiling gently in a way that made Legolas feel younger than he had done in so long, "He will know."