Fallen Hope by Ritsuko Pairing(s): Legolas/Aragorn Rating: G Summary: After the Warg attack, Legolas contemplates Aragorn's 'demise', and thinks of the things he never got to say. . . Disclaimer: All characters are copyright J.R.R Tolkien (God), and are just being used for fun, not profit. If I wanted to make money, I'd just breakdance. Authors Note: I have also put this piece up on ff.net. . . so just telling you, Sakura Megami is also one of my pen names, so you don't think I purloined these pretty boys! This was originally written for Lorien's fanfic challenge. . . hope you enjoy!

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It seems I can't focus. I ride with a company of men for Helms Deep, trying to look ahead to see any sign in the distance that there might be something left in the world that is pure and good, that shall not be overcome by the taint of Sauron, but I can't see anything clearly. The countryside is a golden-brown blur; the snowy horse I ride is like a giant blind spot in my vision.

The feeling will not dismiss itself from me, that initial shock and dread. Again the scene repeats itself over in my head, with maddening clarity: The Orcish rider coughing blood, yet cackling gleefully while I screamed he was a liar. . . running up that hill only to see it break into an all to steep cliff, the churning river below too far down and too swift to give any hope of survival to one wounded man. . . But he is a king of men. . . The King of Men! My fists clench uncontrollably as I feel the salvaged pendant's intricate edges bite into my palm, hard enough to draw blood. He. . . he cannot die. Not when we need him. . . not when I need him. . . . not when I couldn't even tell him. . .

Gimli, who has been somber until now, squeezes my shoulder from his perch behind me on the horse. "Are you okay lad?" The silence that answers reveals what an entirely ridiculous question that was. How could any of us be okay? Aragorn was the tie that bound us together. Not Frodo, not Gandalf, not the ring. . .

Shaking my head sadly, I look over my shoulder into the dwarf's concerned eyes. Perhaps I am the only one who feels this way? Or have I just let my emotions get the better of me? "I shall be fine, Gimli. . . I just need to think. . . after all, we are an elf and a dwarf amidst an army of men now, without our human guide and friend. I just don't know what we should do. . ." He nods grimly at my words, and surveys the Riders of Rohann. It is strange territory indeed. How can I ride with their pompous king, who will not even bury his own people? Had he given his men that amount of care, I might have been able to scale the cliff, find some trace. . .

Cursing lightly in Elvish, I spur the horse faster, letting the world around me kaleidescope into a world of mishapen color. Tightening his grip on me from behind Gimli also curses, but I am beyond paying attention to it. The colors mix and twist into halos of earthen tones, but I can only see the face of Aragorn. How can he be dead? When we have suffered so much together? Bearing the ring so far, to have Frodo leave us? Losing Gandalf? Trekking for days without rest to save Merry and Pippin? How can such nobility be slain by one Orc?

Tears fill my eyes, as I barely open my bloody palm to see his pendant. . . Arwen's pendant, given to him as a token of love, a symbol that promised an eternity. If he only knew. . . who will tell her of the end of his mortality? Will I have to hand it back to her, with a sorrow in my eyes, and will she see that sorrow for what it really is? Will we share a moment of knowing that the one we care the most about in all of Middle Earth is dead?

No. . . I don't think I can be the one to face her. . . to tell her the one she loves is gone. . . how can I tell her when that constant love wrenches at me even when I have seen Aragorn softly touching that pendant, honoring that love from miles away, while sitting thoughtfully in the firelight, or running across hilly terrain in search of kidnapped Hobbits? Suddenly I loathe it, a feeling that has never come to me before and I want to cast this trinket away with all of my might. How can a silly girl like Arwen even begin to understand the meaning of love? She who recieves the adoration of the Elves for being so like Luthien, the beautiful Evenstar. Perhaps that is why I am angry, and jealous; her fate would have been the same. If Aragorn were here, and survived all of the trials ahead. . . would he take her as his bride? I have seen the way that Lady Eowyn gazes at him. . . and I can't help but in those moments feel kin to that human girl, knowing full well the love that she feels for him is like my own; worshipping from afar, and fearing the worst outcome, being shrugged off, laughed at, or looked upon with cold eyes. How can I tell my companions? What would they think? What would they say? Though I hardly care; I would walk to the Black Gates of Mordor and scream my feelings at the top of my lungs if it would bring Aragorn back.

My grip loosens on the pendant, and amidst all of the world that is a blur, I watch its constant sparkling light start to fall from my grasp, to be lost in the dry earth of Rohann, trampled by the Horsemen throughout this age and the next. It is in this moment, that Gimli suddenly pitches from the horse, and falls to the ground, spouting curses all the way. Quickly I reign in my steed and turn back him, as the riders approach.

"Are you hurt, Gimli?" I ask, worry creeping into my tone. He looks very tired, and lost in thought. Here I have been thinking entirely about myself, and how I am affected. But I was not Aragorn's only companion. Glowering up at me, he can't only ramble on in a new batch of curses.

"Aye Legolas, of course I'm fine! I get pitched by that damned beast and luckily land on my head! Maybe in a couple of minutes I may actually see straight again, not to mention calm the bells going off in my bloody ears!" The dwarf grumbles, as he rolls onto his back staring up at the sky. The Riders stop to see if everything is alright, but I nod to King Theodin. "We just need a rest here, do not worry, we will catch up to you." The King nods back gravely and spurs his men on, eager to see to the women and children at the fort. Soon they are just hoofbeats riding the wind.

Slowly I dismount and walk over to Gimli, who, by this time has taken his helmet of and is rubbing his temples. "You know, dwarves have no need for horses. They're too large. And smelly." He looks at me. " And they don't do well in caves." I let out a little laugh and he smiles wryly at me. "It's good to see you smile. Now will you tell me what's plaguing you?"

Suddenly I choke on the air I've started to breath, and quickly look away. "How can you ask a question like that? We've lost Aragorn! Ever since we departed Rivendell, we have been plagued by troubles, and our friends keep falling one by one. . . I don't think. . . don't think that I've ever felt so helpless, Gimli. We've lost so much. . ." I falter, crouching next to him as his gaze searches my face. "And. . . there are some things we'll never get to say. . ."

"Lad, if there's one thing that you must keep in mind at a time like this, it's that you must never lose hope. Things may look their darkest, but somewhere, a light will shine through, sure enough." The dwarf smiles up at me. "Think about it. Master Merry and Master Pippin. They could have been killed by Orcs, Uruk Hai, Men, even trees in that cursed forest, but we know they are alive and well. And with that. . . how would we know they were alive, had it not been for Gandalf? Whom we thought was gone and dead? Who also fell, and we had no way of seeing the outcome?" One of his hand rests upon my boot, patting it reassuringly. " I just think that we should save a little hope for Aragorn."

For a moment I am stunned, having heard such deep thoughts from Gimli, and find that I can only smile through damp eyes. "You are right, dwarf. He deserves at least that."

He smiles sarcastically and hold his other hand out. "Good. Now let's get back on that nightmare of a horse and catch up with these humans. . . I daresay you can catch up without riding like the wind, elf?" Grinning, I grab his hand and pull him up, only to realize when he is walking to the horse, there is something in my hand. Slowly, my fingers retract to show the pendant, sparkling as beautifully as before. My fingers curl back around it as a smile tugs at my lips. I still worry that he is dead, and that my feelings may not be known. . . but as this jewel sparkles beneath the folds of my fingers, I can only think that Arwen has hope too. . . that her love will come back, that he will honor their promise. Deftly, I swing into the saddle, and spur the horse in the direction of the Riders.

If she can have hope that he will come back for her love, then I shall have hope that he will come back to someday learn of my feelings.