Starting Anew

Brought Back Into the Light

"...Isildur?"

That was the name, the single word that Legolas had been missing throughout the months he had spent in Fornost. The final piece of the puzzle fell into place within his mind, completing the mystery of the man who was Strider.

"The descendants of the line of Elros, the first king of Numenor..." Legolas spoke almost without knowing what he said, the veil of memory finally broken. He recalled now the few lessons he had in fact received as an elfling on the history of Men, although he had been young and barely paying attention at the time. "...ancestors of Beren and Luthien Tinuviel, through the line of the kings of Men." Then, he remembered the conversation he had 'almost' had with Asvard, Issiril and Andris in the cave some days ago. "And bearers of the ring of Barahir, token of friendship from the hand of Finrod Felagund himself."

Beringil really did smile this time, his teeth stained red and his eyes nearly half-closed. "Now...you've got it...elf. T...Took you...long enough."

Elrohir and Elladan knelt on either side of the dying man, sorrow plain for all to see on their handsome faces.

"Take ease, Beringil. You have brought honor to your people." Elladan said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly.

"W...Watch over the lad for me...will you?" Beringil's voice was fading fast, little more than a murmur now.

"We always have, mellon." Elrohir's dark grey eyes were sorrowful in the darkness. "Estel will see his destiny fulfilled, trust us...and him."

Beringil suddenly squeezed his eyes shut in apparent pain, his breath coming in short violent gasps. "Aaaah...never had...a hangover to match this..."

Someone sniffled behind Legolas's shoulder, he didn't know whom. The rangers stood silently around, a single torch held aloft in the gloom over their fallen captain.

Leaning over, Elrohir placed a kiss upon the man's bloodied brow. "Rest then, ranger. And may you be blessed, as Elf-friend and brave descendant of Numenor."

Legolas was not in the slightest surprised that the son of Elrond would choose to bestow such a title upon the ranger in his dying hour. In his opinion it was an honor well earned. Beringil seemed to think as much, and with the slightest nod he closed his eyes. One breath, two...and then the captain of the Dunedain breathed no more.

They remained as they were for a long moment, silent in the darkness. Then, Legolas rose and went to stand once again at the edge of the pit. No doubt he would have suffered serious injury or worse if Beringil had not thrown himself headlong against the orcs when he had. He owed the ranger a debt that he could never repay. Somehow the shadows of the well did not seem so deep and impenetrable now though. She was there, lying in wait for those who loved her best to bring her back into the light once more. Legolas no longer feared what he would find when he climbed down a rope into that silent place. She was there, but not truly. In truth, his mother was beyond these shores, safe from all harm and sorrow now. And so was Beringil, even further beyond the world in the manner of mortals. It mattered not; they were at peace.

They buried the queen on a hilltop a league or so from Mount Gundabad. It was just a mountain now, no worse or better than any other. With the orcs routed from its tunnels and the armies of evil disbanded in this part of the world, perhaps one day the lands of Angmar might at last forget their days of darkness. Then again perhaps one day the forces of evil might once more rise in the north, but for now they would have peace.

Beringil was buried a few paces away at the queen's side. As Elf-friend and having saved her son's life, Legolas felt it was somewhat fitting that it should be so. With four brave rangers and one elf queen buried on that smooth hilltop, none of their bones should ever be alone nor forgotten.

Rising from where he had been kneeling at his mother's graveside, Legolas felt the cool metal of the ring in his hand press against his palm. The twin to the one his father always wore, he would bring it back to Thranduil in the Woodland Realm. Legolas hoped that his father would feel even a part of the sense of peace that even now was spreading throughout his soul. Before that though, he had unfinished business in Fornost.

Turning around, Legolas surveyed the group that stood upon the hillside at the gravesites. Andris's arm was bound up in a sling, Kaylen at his side. The young ranger was carefully keeping his eyes averted beneath his nut brown curls, but Legolas could tell he wanted to be looking at the woman beside him instead of respectfully at Beringil's grave. Elladan and Elrohir stood side-by-side, their identical faces illuminated by the tentative rays of sunlight as it tried to break through the clouds. Issiril, Asvard and the others all stood in silence, paying their respects to the fallen.

Meeting the eyes of his friends, Legolas smiled and shouldered his bow.

"Let's go home."

oOo