Fan Fiction ❯ My Heart Shall Weep ❯ One-Shot

Author's Notes: I tried my best to stay as true to the character as possible. I was inspired after watching the movie and noticing how Legolas reacts when Gandalf falls and then when Boromir dies. I wondered what must be going through his mind, because since he is an elf and therefore immortal, death is rather foreign to him.

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to Tolkien. I'm merely a curious fan who wanted to get inside the mind of our beloved elf. Please be gentle with reviews, this is my first posting!

My Heart Shall Weep by Angeli

~*~

Horror.

Shock.

Fear.

Devastation.

Pain.

I have never felt these emotions, though vividly have they been described to me in long ago forgotten memories in the happier places of the world. But vivid descriptions fall far from the ruthless reality.

It was as if I stood on the edge of a most horrible nightmare, for all taking place before my eyes could not possibly be reality. It was too terrible, too painful to be really happening. And the pain that tore at my heart was only worsened by the fact that I could do nothing.

Nothing!

All these long years I have been the warrior, the defender, the strong prince. I do not know these helpless feelings, for never have I stood helpless, not even in my darkest of dreams.

And never had I felt so crushed, for hope had stubbornly remained in my heart since the first cruel beats had sounded upon the drums of the orcs. Even when it seemed that our beloved Ringbearer had been slain by the cave troll. Even when the aged stone steps we had rushed over in descent snapped like twigs in the autumn, seeming to doom Frodo and Aragorn's fate to the hungry fires below. No different was it moments ago, when Gandalf had turned to face the Balrog alone. After coming so far and surviving so much, why now should I lose hope?

Yet, as the vision passed again through my mind of the aged wizard's face just before he fell in surprise and shock into the infinite void below the bridge of Khazad Dum, I felt the fingers of sadness claw again at my breaking heart.

I could do nothing

Confusion filled my soul then, and with it came the questions. Why now? Why Gandalf? Oh, how the pain grows! I feel as if my heart is failing under the weight of a deep and unending despair that I never knew one could feel, most especially an elf. I had enough sense left to run the remain path out of those horrible mines, with the others following somewhere behind me. Yet, though my feet ran as swiftly and gracefully as always out of the passage, my heart lingered at the bridge. My longing to go back and try and save the wizard would not die. Indeed, it grew with every step I took. I was so confused.

Mankoi?

Why?

It was then I heard Frodo's anguished shouts echoing behind me into the dark of Moria as he was pulled away from the bridge. I closed my eyes for a moment, his screams of disbelief slicing like knives into my soul.

Gandalf…Mithrandir…

Gone.

I walked slowly from the passage, from the darkness, and from the deep fires of the damned mines of the ancient dwarves. Every stumbling step I took drew me one step farther from him. Confusion now bore down upon me like an unmerciful storm, and turmoil brewed within my breaking heart. I took one last step and halted, for my feet would carry me no farther. Oh, I was so confused! How could this cruel happening not be just a fading dream? Would I not wake up to find that he was sitting again in front of one of our risked campfires, smoking silently as he watched over our sleeping forms in the night? What was this pain that ripped at my very soul? Is this what my father had called grief in his stories? Grief seemed like such a small and inapplicable word when brought to describe all the emotion coursing through my being. I had never felt so alone, so helpless, so afraid, so sad, and so angry in all the years I had spent on Middle-Earth.

Idly I turned my face to look at my companions. Sam sat closest to me, and had collapsed upon the smooth rock we were standing upon, head in his hand, tears running in streams down his round little face. His eyes were a puffy red when they were open, his face streaked with dust and dirt from the old mines. I looked beyond him to Merry and Pippin. Pippin had fallen into Merry's lap, his body shaking uncontrollably. Merry wept with his eyes shut tight, though his tears fell with an air of silence as he held tight to the hobbit trembling in his lap. Behind me I could hear the angry shouts of Gimli as he struggled against the arms of Boromir, trying to run gallantly back into the mines and defeat the danger that still lurked within.

My heart twisted further at the sight of my suffering friends, and I quickly turned my head away from them all. I felt as if I were being torn from the inside out, so deep did my pain run. But I did not understand it! Never has this plagued me before. Suddenly I fell something trailing slowly down my cheek, a warm liquid falling from my eyes. I blinked several times, feeling water gathering at the corners of my eyes and falling. Could it be?

Tears.

My confusion increased. I shed tears in laughter only! Yet now they fall freely from my eyes…how deep does this sadness run? I feel as though it could go no deeper within me. To cry in grief…so foreign was that to me I nearly gasped when I realized what was happening to me, and I reached a hand to my face in shock. I closed my eyes, searching my fear and sadness. I felt so useless! So alone!

Somewhere in the distance I heard my name being called. I turned my head at the sound but it took a while for me to understand it was Aragorn calling my name.

"Legolas, get them up."

I turned completely around, letting tears continue to slowly fall down my face, and stared at the ranger in bewilderment. Get them up? Did he expect me to so easily dismiss these feelings? This tearing away of my heart? Did he expect that of all of us? Confusion welled up again within me, but slowly I took a few steps toward Pippin and Merry, walking at the slowest pace I had ever walked, for I was still in shock. Images of Gandalf's face just before he fell kept running through my mind over and over as a cold wind rushed passed me.

"Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up!" Aragorn repeated, pulling Sam to his feet gently but firmly. I took another few slow steps toward Pippin and Merry.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir cried, his own eyes filled with unshed tears. I turned to Aragorn, stopping again, and watching him. How could he so easily dismiss his grief? Were these feelings nothing to him? I decided quickly that this is why I did not fully understand humans. One fought for a moment of peace so he could properly grieve, while the other was eager to leave.

"By nighfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn replied, slightly agitated, and I turned away again and forgot to keep listening as I gently lifted Pippin from Merry's lap and helped him to his feet, not meeting his tear-stained eyes. Merry stood of his own accord, catching my eye and looking at me as if he expected that I could give him a sign of hope. I turned away again.

Just then I heard Aragorn calling to Frodo, and I realized I had missed him coming out. My eyes searched the rocks and I found him far out from the rest of us, walking in the same stumbling manor I had walked, his back to us.

"Frodo!" Aragorn called, and the young hobbit stopped. Slowly he turned his head to meet the human's call, and I felt my heart begin to break all over again. Of all of us, no one had more reason to feel this "grief" I was having difficulty understanding than Frodo. He stared at Aragorn with a look that made the tears fall fresh from my eyes, a look of a sadness more pure than could be accurately described, of a pain that ran deeper than any of us could venture to guess, and of a look of almost incurable loneliness. He did not speak, nor did he sob. He was far away and not easy for the others to see closely, but I could see his face painfully clearly in the light of the dying day.

I watched in agony as a single tear fell slowly down his pale, dirt-stained cheek. A single tear. No cries or trembling. Just one single tear in lament for the loss he would never be able to put into words. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, weeping silently to myself. I turned my head back to look up at the passage to we'd just exited from.

"Curse the name of Moria!" I cried silently. "Curse the name of the wretched hell that takes from us Gandalf the Grey!"

I closed my eyes and mumbled quietly, slipping into my native tongue. "Mornie utùmië."

Aragorn, being the only one who could understand my language, turned to me and stared into my eyes. I hid nothing from him, wondering if he could see my confusion. I felt his strong hand on my shoulder. "Do not let hope die, Legolas. It remains still."

I said nothing, for I could not yet see the truth in his words. I looked on Frodo again, who'd moved back closer to us. "Oh little one, who am I to complain of my grief? How great you suffer today…" I remained silent as these thoughts ran through my head.

"Come, we make for the woods of Lothlorien," Aragorn urged me forward gently, and slowly I began to move, following him. I spared one last lingering glance backward at the passage leading back into Moria.

"Quel esta, hodoer. Coramin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au', » I whispered, bowing my head.

Rest well, wise one. My heart shall weep until it sees thee again. With that I turned, praying I would never have to lay eyes upon the caves of Moria again.