Answering the Call

Legolas

Legolas stepped out onto the rock that allowed him to see all the land about their camp for his watch. While he maintained vigilance of his surroundings, after a time, his mind meandered back to a thought that had been niggling at him throughout the day. Something had begun to surface before he was interrupted by duties to the Fellowship. Where had his thoughts been?

Lórien. And Imladris. And Mirkwood. Mirkwood was the only realm of Elves so beset by darkness. How was it Elrond and Celeborn and Galadriel were able to protect their realms so effortlessly? He did not understand. His father was a powerful elf. What could he lack?

That was where his thoughts had been headed. Perhaps the lords of Imladris and Lothlórien were aided somehow. A special aspect of the land might enable them to repel Orcs or shielded their land from the creatures. Were those lands more powerful than that of the Greenwood?

It was far more likely their aid came from another source: the Elven Rings. All were powerful enough to wield a Ring and not be controlled by It. Legolas had always been certain Mithrandir wore one. Another he had surmised was in Elrond's possession. Of the third he had been less sure.

Until now.

All that he had seen and felt while in Lothlórien now made sense, as parts of a puzzle he had only begun to ponder fell into place. He was sure now how it was these elves maintained peace in their realms. They wore Rings of Power.

A flare of anger swept through him. How dare they? How dare they wield the Rings, protecting their realms and their people from harm, while watching the elves of Mirkwood fight for their survival? All these centuries of struggle, so many lives lost. Why had not an elf as powerful as Thranduil been given a Ring of Power? Surely he had a greater need for one than the others did. They had been stalked and killed by orcs and deadly spiders for hundreds of years. And yet it did not have to be so.

A thought flitted across his mind then. Still taking shape, the nascent thought held an idea, a vision of possibility, for his land, for his people. And it held desire.

As Legolas stood on watch at the shores of the Anduin, his mind drifted to his homeland. Gradually, the vision in his mind changed. He saw his forest free of spiders, orcs, and wargs. He saw his land flourishing and his palace shining as the jewel of the Wood. The trees no longer chanted a sorrowful song. Elves walked freely without fear; they were safe and at peace. They held feasts, where his friends and family were always by his side. The elves showed their gratitude towards Legolas for bringing this peace to the Greenwood by planting trees, bringing him gifts of metalwork and even jewels bought from the dwarves. His people pledged their loyalty to him, as did elves of other realms. In return, he kept them all safe. He kept them all free. He kept them all.

Legolas was jolted from his reverie by those last thoughts, once again seeing the waters of the Anduin flowing past them as it made its way south. From where had such thoughts come? He held no desire to control the elves of Mirkwood or have the fealty of all Elves. He certainly had no desire for dwarven jewels and trinkets. All that he desired was that Mirkwood be free. He would do anything to attain that. Anything. Perhaps taking control was necessary. At least then he could be sure they were all safe. No one would have to die.

As he toiled on the journey towards Mordor, his people might even now be falling to the pressing darkness of Dol Guldur. With the One Ring, he could make his land safe. Of course, he did not need the Ring; he did not desire It. But he could bring to his father the tool to free their land and recompense their years of battle. Bringing home the Ring would enable them to free their people. It was the most fitting course of action.

He was wrenched from his musings once more, this time seeing before him the hobbit Frodo looking up at him with fear in his eyes. At first confused, horror gradually stole over him as he realized Frodo's terror was for him—and the hands that were wrapped around Frodo's neck and the Ring. As the hobbit's face slowly turned red then blue, Legolas felt a sharp pain to his head, and then he ceased to think of anything at all.