by Arianid Morningstar
His mind wandered back to the paths of Amon Hen. There had been a great
battle there, he recalled, and many an Uruk had been slain. The brawl,
however, had not been without a price. The two youngest hobbits were
taken by the surviving orcs, and Boromir, the Son of the Steward of
Gondor, lay wounded among the corpses.
In the high noon of that exhausting day, he had placed himself gingerly
on a rock over looking the River Anduin. Noisily, the dwarf Gimli had
come up, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Good day, Master Dwarf." The elf had said. Gimli eased himself down beside his friend.
"Many victories, many losses." The dwarf sighed. "I suppose as early as
we can, you, Aragorn, and I must go off to rescue the halflings.
Aragorn is now saying his goodbyes to Boromir." He had turned to him,
an inquiring look in his eye. "Yes, there is no hope for the young
Boromir." Without warning, the dwarf let out a loud, unruly sob and
cried. When he had looked to see if Gimli would recover, Legolas saw
tears like dew covering his friend's face. He let out a heavy sigh and
stared out at the relentless current of the river.
"Why do you not cry, Master Elf?" Gimli broke the reverie.
Legolas turned to him again. "I do not like to cry, Gimli. I let my emotion grow inside me."
"Because crying lets all onlookers see into my soul. I do not like that
publicity. I'd rather let my feelings be a secret between me and the
"You are very soft-spoken, Master Elf. Is this the reason as well?"
Legolas smiled slightly. "Perhaps."
Now, as he wandered through his memories, he eventually arrived at the
beaches of Western Middle-Earth. Legolas sighed. He wished to go on, to
have rest on Distant Shores. But still...
...there was something in the way the surrounding hillsides of
Middle-Earth covered him as they themselves were covered with dappled
summer sunlight. For a second, he doubted if he could actually place
his trust in the call of a gull.
"Last call!" A voice from the crow's nest called. He let out a shaky
sigh, surprised at its unstability. Just as his dwarf friend from
younger years had, he unpredictably began crying.
And as the shores of Middle-Earth faded into the distance, he shed bittersweet pieces of his soul.