“My Brother”
Rachel, The Lady Tiger
[email protected]

Rating: G

Summary: Movieverse* I’ve had the first half of this written since December of last
Year, when I saw The Two Towers for the first time. I thought that Legolas looked so stricken when he discovered that Aragorn went over the cliff. So I wrote this little vignette of what he might have been thinking. I don’t think that its one of my best works, but I hope you like it anyway. With that said, if you have any comments, criticisms or even flames, please email me at the above address. I would love to hear from you, and what you think. I want to be a better writer, but to do that I need your input. So please help out this old college elf-fangirl.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Lord of the Rings or any characters thereof (mores the pity). If I
did, then I wouldn’t have ended The Return of the King in such a heartbreaking way. So there.

You are gone. My friend. My companion. My brother. The man who I trusted to fight beside me, and watch my back as I watched yours.
I didn’t see you fall into the cavern. I only heard what that vile Orc’s last words were, and had only my warrior friend’s absence to believe. You did not return with us to the people of Rohan, nor journey with us the rest of the way to Helm’s Deep.
Still, I could ignore all of this if not for one thing. The proof in my hand. You, Aragorn, would never relinquish the Jewel of Arwen if breath were still in your body. You treasured it above all else, and the fact that it was gripped in the foul hands of an Orc was enough to convince me that my brother was truly gone.
My brother. Even though we were born of different worlds – you of Men and I of the Elf-kind – we were as close as any two souls birthed from the same mother. We have been apart, but never truly separate. My heart wrenches again at that thought, for now we truly are apart, divided by Death. Aragorn. How I miss you so.
I remember the day when we first met. You were but a small boy of Men, and I a Prince of the fair Elven kind. You never showed me the respect my title and privilege gave to me by right, but then what child honors his brother? For my brother you were even before I knew the meaning of your name.
Estel. Hope. Elrond, your adoptive father, knew the significance that name would have.
The Elves took you in, and you learned our language and our customs, even as you remembered your own. By heritage you were King, by choice a simple Ranger of the Wild, and content to be so. Strong, brave, true, just, and compassionate, you followed the footsteps of your forefathers’ strengths, but never fell into the traps of their weaknesses. We stood beside each other and fought with one another, always recognizing the bonds that held us together.
When you met Arwen, my heart rejoiced, both for you for finding a love that happens only once in a thousand years, and for myself, for through your happiness I found my own. This love made my heart lift to the stars, while at the same time saddened me, as well. You were Mortal; not a mere mortal, as some would believe, but a mortal nonetheless. You would have grown old, and the hands of Time gripped you firmly, while leading you unto Death. Time cannot touch the fair granddaughter of the Lady of the Light. And yet that never seemed to stray the attitudes of your hearts.
A harsh breath sound in my ears, and it is almost a sob. A moment, and I realize that it is my own pain that I am hearing. I clutch the Evenstar tighter. It seems that the Fates of Time led you unto Death even earlier then could be foreseen.
Never again will I fight by your side. Never again will the fair Arwen know your touch. Never again will the Kings of Gondor rise to reclaim the throne that could save this world. Oh, my friend. My brother. As much as your death pains me, as much as it fills me with grief and sorrow, today Middle Earth has suffered a much greater loss then can be conceived.
Today, the one man fell into shadow that had the power to unite nations, and sweep away this darkness that threatens our land. You were the one meant to reclaim Narsil, the Broken Sword, and once more lead Middle Earth into its finest victory. You, my brother!
But it is now not to be. We have lost our Estel – we have lost our Hope.
I straighten, and look at the bowed head of the Dwarf beside me – the Dwarf that you made me see as a friend. We may have lost you, my brother; we may have lost our Hope, but we will fight on. We will honor your memory and your sacrifice even unto our own deaths. We would be betraying you if we would not. I will not betray you, or the gift that you have given us. We will fight!
With this resolve in my mind, and start for the stair, intent on finding the King of Rohan. I will honor your promise to Mithrandir, in that this fortress will not fall before the fifth day. I will see to that.
A clatter and shout makes me pause. What is that at the gate? Who is that? It is…? It cannot be… My brother! You have returned! Time has not led you unto Death yet, my friend! I stop for a moment, both to collect myself as well as to let the others greet you first. When I feel that I will not lose my grace and dignity, I stride forward, and block your path quickly.
“You’re late.” The words are out before I can stop them, but the glint of amusement in your eyes lets me know that you are indeed well – not unhurt, for I can see that you are scraped and bloodied, but your soul is light. “You look terrible.”
You grip my shoulder, smiling, and prepare to move off on your purpose. But I stop you once more. Opening your palm, I place the gift of Arwen Evenstar back into your hands.
Death has not claimed you yet, my brother. You will live to fight again. Arwen will feel your touch once more. The Kings of Gondor may yet again rise to unite the race of Men, and vanquish this growing darkness completely and for eternity. And I…I will see it all happen. I will be the one to witness your rise to glory. I will see your greatness displayed in this world. I will be watching you.
My friend. My companion. My Brother.