Following the fact that he knew he had given up his life for his beloved, it was quite an unexpected experience for Legolas to discover he was waking up. He blinked at the unfocused form he saw, which might or might not have been Gandalf’s. A mutter broke from his throat, which felt equally broken, but the Elf himself could not decipher what it was he was trying to say. Nor did he have any other indication, as his thoughts were as painfully heavy as tumbled down mountains.

Perhaps he was numbingly trying to reassure himself he could speak, as the pain that coursed through his whole body made the question of whether he was alive a redundant one. He had no pretence about having the strength, physically and mentally, to try and make the necessary conclusions.

Gandalf laid a calming hand on his shoulder. “Hush, my dear boy, you must rest now. I will tell you of all in due time.”

The words were a permission for Legolas to quietly succumb himself to the all-encompassing ache.

Days might have passed by as Legolas sank in and out of consciousness, always too torn to be anything but oblivious to reality.

Slowly, it had gotten better. Instead of being lost in an overbearing haze, he would simply float in a state of pleasant detachment. That was until his thoughts started to show a logical pattern once more and questions which formerly hovered at the margins of his mind now became unavoidable. Worse yet was the fact that their rational succession led to one mortifying conclusion.

His eyes opened with a startled surprise to find Gandalf at his side. Their plea made his words unnecessary. The Wizard confirmed the assumption that they held with a nod. Then a mischievous smile lightened the age-lined face.

“Come now, my boy, surely you did not think that would be the end?”

Again silent, Legolas provided his devoted caretaker with an answer expressed through a concentrated look containing all of his fears.

Gandalf sighed. “Most likely, it would not please you if I say that the time for long explanations has yet to come. Very well, then.”

He sat down at the Elf’s side. “Estel insisted on trading his life for yours, as you have already guessed. The exchange he asked of me was not in my power to give. Mine was only the task of delivering his being to those who could grant his request. His love was tested, the purity of his heart gauged, but no exchange was made. Both lives have been saved. Once you have both rested enough, you will join each other again.”

Legolas had not known such a sense of profound gratefulness might exist. He knew that he would never be able to make out a meaning and purpose to his life without the man, and that he didn’t have to seemed to him, at that moment in time, to be the definition of bliss.

Gandalf’s sad nod to himself went unnoticed by the Elf, for he would have never guessed the Wizard’s thoughts about the more difficult trials that love must face, which have naught to do with the simplicity of death.

To be continued...