Passersby ➵ ONC 2021

➵ the death of difference

"Longil has found your actions unreasonable," Elu announces to Legolas, Nînthel standing just behind him as he delivers the news. "She has ruled you unsafe and declared a sentence of death, and then banishment of your reborn state of Valinor."

"Do you find this to be a worthy sentence?" asks Nînthel in a formal tone, as if she has practiced these words many times for many thousands of years.

Legolas stiffens his jaw. "I do not."

"Then you are to duel Nînthel in battle," Elu replies, "as you are just beneath her rank and she is chief of seeing your sentence through." He takes a pause, his eyes soft and sad as they look upon Legolas. "Do you accept this duel?"

There is a long moment of pondering, bargaining, going back and forth between choices. Perhaps it would not be terrible to experience his first death, to know what it tastes like in his throat, to know how Aragorn felt before he became the water and the shell. But this would mean leaving the shell behind with his body as well, and it would mean never seeing the lands of Shfashara again if he is still to be banished. Being reborn in Valinor would only make him wish to return, to see Gimli and Ulvinowyn, to travel with them until they too become the waves he speaks to, and if he is not to return, how is he to know where they have gone?

So he accepts, and Elu gives a firm nod and instructs him to follow in his path. Legolas and Nînthel are to be both armed with a single sword of the same make and blade. He hands him the weapon in its sheath, helping him to strap it over his back where his quiver and bow usually rest, and then he places his hand firmly on Legolas' shoulder. His expression is sincere and not as placid as it typically stands, and there is fear behind his eyes.

"No matter the outcome, I am afraid we will not meet again," he says, "lest I fall wounded and die to be reborn once more on the shores of Aman myself. But, no matter how many times I am to die, I will always return home. I am sure that you would leave Valinor swiftly as well, and it is likely I would not find you. You are a free and quick soul, Legolas. I cannot catch that."

Legolas nods. "There is a great hesitance in your stance, Elu. I would never blame you for my sentence, if you are looking for forgiveness," he says. "I will remember you well, among others. It will be a comfort alone to know that you live somewhere in this world, even if I cannot see you in front of me for the rest of Eternity's time."

But Elu looks gravely at him still. "Forgiveness is not my aim," he says. "I do not need your mercy. I trust that it already exists."

Grief warps onto his lips; a grief that amnesty cannot heal.

"I wish for you, Legolas," he says. "I wish for your life and your freedom, and I wish for your company. You hold a brightness I have been reaching for since you arrived. You turn nights to moonshine and waters to song." Gently stroking his face and knowing it may soon be riddled with blood, he takes a quivering breath of remorse. "If things were different, if times had changed, I would be happy to follow the kudu by your side until the death of time."

Legolas' eyes become wide in emotion, and he is now painfully aware of his potential end. "You have your wish, Elu," he says. "Not for long, but it is true that you have me now."

Elu only dips his head and pulls away, guiding them both back to where Nînthel awaits, a crowd having gathered before them. Legolas sees Gimli standing within it, and he begins to feel a great deal for the dwarf, understanding that, just like Aragorn, he will lose him as well. If only he could sail with him forever, and if only he could run through the forests with Elu, and if only he could fight at Aragorn's side, but he feels now that it may never happen again. Although he may be immortal, it becomes clear now how mortal he really is.

He lifts his sword in preparation. As Nînthel makes her first move, Legolas wonders what it truly is to end. He awaits some sort of darkness, a silence, tranquility on his own soul, but as their blades meet, he doesn't receive it.

Perhaps it is because hatred doesn't drive his weapon nor its point, and anger doesn't strengthen his hands, but it seems forgiveness is fighting on his side, and mercy is driving his lifeline. He smells blood, but it is not his own, there is impact, but not upon his skin.

Nînthel falls to the ground, and he watches her poor body hit the grass, feeling his sword lift itself above her neck as he looks down and prepares to swing.

But the blade never comes down.

He watches the elf below him, seeing now the impact he may have if he removes her life from her, even if it is only temporary and she will live again. He sees her like he sees the animals she hunts, and he looks upon her eyes and knows he cannot drain what is in them. It is not his job to enforce death. Endings are not his jurisdiction.

He drops his weapon on the ground, his hands traveling to cradle the shell hanging around his neck. Instead of killing Nînthel then and there, he feels mercy take over his heart, and instead, he sings.

He sings a song of unity and empathy, a song he used to sing in Mirkwood since he was small and new to the world. He sings that he cannot kill Nînthel, as they are brothers of the wood and the earth, and her brother is just as good as his own. He cannot turn his back on another life. Not like this. In the light of the sun, he feels the trees and grasses sing with him, and the shell quiver beneath its melody.

Longil, upon watching the battle come to a close, steps over to Legolas in defeat.

"You are no longer to die, otheren," she declares. "I would not wish to wage war on your father regardless. But your mercy has shown me honor, and I do not believe a life should be taken where one is spared."

Legolas dips his head. "My gratitude," he replies, although he feels he is not free of her judgment.

"You are still to receive banishment for the next hundred years," Longil adds. "Our ship to Valinor is to leave in two weeks' time, and you with your companions are to leave upon it."

She then orders that Nînthel is to be taken away and tended to, and the crowd disperses.

At nightfall, now given permission by Elu as he steps up to take Nînthel's place, Legolas goes out to the river again and washes the blood out of his hair.

➵