Closer

[legolas]

Author: Legolas

Email: [e-mail]

Submission title: Closer

Rating: PG-13

Genre: angst/drama/violence/character death

Summary: A slip of thought ends a beloved friend's life.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to Tolkien Enterprises, New Line Cinema and numerous publishers.

WARNING: Charater death

Dagor Bragollach
Nirnaeth Arnoediad

Review Closer here

[legolas]

Closer
By Legolas

"With a sigh
You turn away
And a deep'ning heart
No more words to say
You will find that the world has changed
Forever
And the trees are now turning from green to gold
The sun is fading
I wish I could hold you
Closer..."

--- RotK EE (Liv Tyler)

"Many have suffered a grievous wound injury, Aragorn." Gandalf said in his usual, slow manner.

Aragorn digested these words, taking this free moment to peer down the street. It was dusky, the stars above barely visible because of all of the smoke from the horrific battle earlier that day. Minas Tirith still remained a beautiful city. Scarred, yes, but still beautiful. The Ranger leaned, more into the white stone wall they stood against, still unsure of what to say.

"Many will not see it through the night," the wizard said, somehow knowing Aragorn was speechless.

"I have helped all who I can today - but yes, some will not see morning." Aragorn replied sternly.

"Eowyn - how does she fare? I have heard rumors that you brought her back to life," Gandalf asked, not meaning to sound as if he were mocking him.

"I literally did." Aragorn said matter-of-factly. "When I was brought to her, she hadn't been breathing for some time. She is alright now. Sleeping I believe."

"They say that the hands of a king are the hands of a healer - and you are a tremendous healer." Gandalf said casually.

"But I am not a king, Mithrandir." Aragorn said flatly.

The wizard merely shrugged. Quietly he walked off, disappearing into the smoky night.

Aragorn stood where he was, pondering the wizard's last words for a few moments. It was a riddle that was all too clear. Pushing that disturbing thought aside, he decided to check on some soldiers he had tended to earlier. Going down the narrow, cobblestone street where the wounded Gondorian men had been placed, Aragorn stopped here and there, observing every hurt that they had suffered.

Tenderly, Aragorn admired the dark hair and large silver eyes of theirs as he strode past. Some where smiling slightly, not minding their own pain because they knew it would pass with time. Others were grim because their injury was a little more painful and serious - their distress-filled eyes solemn, yet sparkling. The rest were not looking at all, sleeping or unconscious.

It would be a long night for some of them.

Just as Aragorn was leaving, someone from behind said, "Sir?"

He turned, expecting to see some Rohan guard or Gondorian soldier. He saw no one until he looked down. There, laying among the other soldiers, was one that cradled his left arm. Just by looking, Aragorn could tell it was badly broken.

"Yes?" Aragorn asked, kneeling beside the soldier. "What do you need?"

The soldier looked up with pleading eyes and answered, "I woke up here not 5 minutes ago and I believe that I was accidentally looked over. My arm is shattered - do you think that you could splint it for me please, sir?"

Aragorn nodded. "Of course."

Gingerly, he took the man's arm and began to unstrap the vambrace. Aragorn discarded it to his side and paused.

"Would you like me to take the rest of your armor off? In fact, I'll have to do it anyway - because the chain mail." Aragorn said.

"Alright," the young soldier said, slowly, a little surprised that Aragorn was willing to do all of this for him.

Without another word, Aragorn un-strapped the other vambrace, the rerebraces, then the layered pauldrons, gently running a hand over the smooth stop-ribs, raised pieces of metal atop each pauldron. They deflected certain blows to the neck from the side. Next Aragorn began on the cuirass, first the breastplate, then the backplate, falud and culet, un-strapping them all and placing them beside the pauldrons, vambraces and rerebraces in a large pile.

Neither soldier nor Ranger said a word.

Aragorn then removed the cuisses and apologized when he accidentally brushed him between the legs.

"That's okay," the soldier said, smiling. "Don't worry about it." Aragorn moved on and un-strapped the poleyns and greaves. He was done.

"This may hurt," Aragorn said slipping the mail shirt over the man's head. "Try to keep your arm still."

The soldier grunted as it went over, but made no other indication that he was in pain. In quick succession, his broken arm was properly tended to and splinted.

"Thank you Aragorn," the man said. "However will I repay you?"

"There is no need, Gondorian. Sleep now." Aragorn said standing. "Rest well."

Aragorn then left, striding down the street. Now it was utterly dark and he decided to head into the citadel. There he checked Eowyn and Faramir, who he had ordered to be brought there so they could rest properly.

At Eowyn's bedside was Eomer, her jumpy and tireless brother. He watched her with an unnerving gaze - almost unblinking.

"Eomer," Aragorn said, stepping inside the room. "You need to get some sleep."

Eomer shook his head. "Someone needs to be here when she wakes. Until then, I shall not sleep," he said, not even bothering to look at Aragorn.

"You will be here. Just sleep. Eomer, it will be awhile till your sister will arise. Hours. Please rest."

Eomer ignored this plea. Instead, he asked, "Aragorn. Those criss-cross marks on her arm - will those go away?"

Aragorn inwardly groaned at the man's intentness of his sister's current appearance.

"No, not right away. They will fade soon though," he answered.

"Oh, alright." Eomer said.

After a few moments of odd silence, Eomer said, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to properly thank you for all you did for my obnoxious little sister today. She is now all I have left - she means the world to me. Thank you so much."

"You are welcome, Eomer son of Eomund. I am just thankful she lives now," Aragorn replied, stepping out of the room and retreating down the hallway. He found a small bedroom with a washtub and built a fire in the hearth. He heated his water and searched around for a cake of soap. Aragorn found one a retrieved towels too.

After his water was good and warm Aragorn removed it from the fire and filled his washtub. He quickly removed his clothing and sank into the water, sighing contentedly.

This was his first bath since Helm's Deep, he realized. There would be a lot of scrubbing to do then. Aragorn set to work.

[legolas]

45 minutes later, after he was sure he was absolutely spotless, Aragorn got out. As he dried off, he stared at the dirty bathwater. It really was dirty bathwater.

The Ranger combed deftly through his tangled raven hair, being even more stunned by all of the teeth in the comb he had snapped and broken off. He dressed in his red undershirt and usual pants and then settled into the large bed.

Almost immediately he dropped off, yet was plagued by disturbing nightmares of the terrible day he had experienced. Aragorn slept restlessly for a few hours, but was suddenly awakened by some voice in his head. He understood not what the voice told him but it was hissing and low - growling at his ear.

Aragorn decided to walk around for awhile to make it go away, but it would not cease. He suddenly stepped out of the hallway he was strolling down and found himself in the throne room. It was dimly lit and foreboding - but something urged him to go to the steward's throne instead of turn back.

He went closer to the throne and saw that a small bundle rested in the seat. It was the palantir. Slowly, Aragorn unwrapped it and stared into it. The voice inside his head grew louder and the colors of the Eye rippled though the seeing stone's black, glossy surface.

Without a second thought he picked it up.

The colors formed the Eye! Its color rippled and pulsated just like the fire that wreathed it. A jolt like an electrical shock went though Aragorn and a white-hot pain shot up his arm.

He only gripped tighter.

There was a mocking laughter in his head and Aragorn realized that it was Sauron himself.

The image of the Eye changed to a pale woman lying in a bed with leaves swirling around her.

"I wish I could have seen him one last time..." a soft, weak feminine voice echoed hauntingly through his head. A flashback image of the Evenstar pendant shattering like glass against a white stone floor came back too. It was Arwen.

"She is dying... Elessar. Sauron hissed.

The picture in the palantir's ebony sheen changed once again, this time to reveal an even paler figure of fair skin and blonde hair. Bright blood was spattered everywhere and the figure's eye snapped open. They were ultramarine blue.

It was Legolas.

Aragorn went ballistic and drew Anduril, which, until then, he did not know he had with him.

"Long have I eluded you - no more!" he hissed, holding the legendary blade up t the fiery eye. The images faded and all that was there was Aragorn's own reflection, with Anduril off to the side, runes glinting.

Aragorn frantically dashed down the halls searching for Legolas. The image showed his on a white-sheeted bed, so he knew he was here somewhere. How could he of been so stupid as to of forgotten his friend?

Long minutes drug by until Aragorn opened a door and saw a familiar figure laying upon the bed. Something was terribly, terrible wrong though, because of the heart-stopping amount of blood - everywhere.

A horrible feeling told Aragorn he was too late.

For a reason unknown to him, Pippin was at the Elf's bedside, mopping up blood.

Without looking up Pippin said mechanically, "We just can't get the bleeding to stop..."

Aragorn rushed to Pippin's side. "Where's Gimli?" He knew that Gimli would probably like to be there if... Legolas was dying.

"He left the room when Legolas gained consciousness. He kept asking for you over and over and over - it was very strange." Pippin answered.

Aragorn took the rag Pippin was using away and said, "Go now little one, I will take over."

Without a word, the Halfling stood and walked across the room. At the door he stopped and turned. "He's dying Aragorn," he said. Then he left.

Instead of proceeding to attempt to staunch the never-ending flow of gushing blood, Aragorn asked, "Legolas?"

The prince's eyes were wide open and affixed on the ceiling. His face was blank and his skin was pale. His chest rose and fell slowly and shallowly to show he was at least somewhat alive yet.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked taking one of his cold and limp hands.

"Yes Estel?" A voice said slowly and softly. It was Legolas, speaking in Aragorn's head.

"I-I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For forgetting about you. I didn't even know you were hurt..."

"Ai. It is not your fault."

"But you're dying!"

"As I said before: it is not you fault. I would be like this right now even if you were here before, Aragorn."

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

"You shouldn't."

"I'm dying."

"I know. I will regret this moment forever. Legolas, I wish I could help... I'm so sorry I-"

"Shhhh, Ranger. It will come to an end. No more tears."

Aragorn sat silently, afraid to let go of Legolas' delicate hand. He watched as his friend's breathing slowed significantly and then stopped altogether. Legolas was dead.

Aragorn knelt at his bedside and cried, clutching tightly still Legolas' hand. For a strange reason, Aragorn felt closer to Legolas when he was dead than when he had been alive. The entire world seemed to stop. How could he have forgotten Legolas? Now he was dead and it was all Aragorn's fault. Many a time the Elf had suffered injury from battle and Aragorn had always been there - always able to heal him and always able to soothe his agony. All it took was just one slip of thought to end his life. Legolas was dead and he wouldn't be back.

With a sniff, Aragorn began to clean up.

Fin.