* All these characters and places belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I am lucky enough to be able to write about them. *

Across the stony, desolate landscape of Dagorlad, two armies prepared to face off. One poured out through the huge gaping doors of the Black Gate. Ten times the size of the other, it was wreathed in smoke and a foul stench.

In front of the smaller army, a figure walked forward, the upright sword he carried now slowly sinking to his side as he appeared to be listening to an unseen voice. Those behind him stared, wondering why he had lowered his weapon and what he was hearing. Then he half turned to his troops, raising the sword once again, and smiled.

“For Frodo,” whispered Aragorn, and he charged the forces of Mordor. For a few seconds, everyone hesitated; then Merry and Pippin ran after, followed by the other members of the Fellowship and the Armies of the West.

It was a terrible battle as Easterlings, orcs and hill-trolls fought furiously against Aragorn’s forces. In the grey skies overhead flew the giant fell beasts of the Nazgûl, their screams bringing terror but before they could wreak havoc on the ground, giant Eagles flew up to meet them in a fierce air battle.

Legolas had fired his bow until the fighting became close quarters, then brought his knives into play, slashing the enemy soldiers. The battle continued to rage when suddenly the Nazgûl flew off towards Mt. Doom. At that moment, Legolas saw Aragorn flying through the air, propelled by a blow from a troll-chief. “Aragorn!” he shouted as he desperately fought to get to his friend. He could see the hill-troll stomp on the Ranger in an attempt to crush him.

It happened without warning. Legolas shoved yet another orc out of his way when one he had not seen stabbed him in the chest. The Elf gasped, “Ar-” and dropped like a felled tree.

The battle was over. The Ring was destroyed, the realm of Sauron ended, and the surviving forces of Mordor had scattered. Aragorn stood watching Gandalf fly off on the back of Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles, hoping to find and rescue Frodo and Sam. He looked around, seeing a great chasm where once the Morannon had stood. Gazing across into Mordor, he could barely see the smoldering ruins of Mt. Doom many miles away.

Thanks to Frodo, Middle-earth had been saved, but life went on. There were wounded to tend, camp to set. He could see Éomer organizing the Rohirrim and Prince Imrahil doing the same with the Gondorian forces. Where were Legolas and Gimli, he wondered He finally spotted Gimli with Merry and Pippin. But where was Legolas? When Aragorn could not see the Elf standing anywhere, he began to look at the fallen bodies. So many lying on the ground, wounded, dying, dead, Gondorian armor, Rohirrim armor, men, orcs, trolls, all stained with blood, red or black. Suddenly he spied a green tunic partially covered by a grey elven-cloak, and golden hair.

“No,” he whispered. “No!” as he stumbled to the spot. Falling to his knees, he reached out and gently rolled the body over.

It was Legolas. Seeing a wound right to the heart, Aragorn knew his friend was gone. “No!,” he screamed and pulled the Elf into his arms. Tears streamed down his face as he hugged the lifeless body to him and rocked. “It can’t be.”

He vaguely heard footsteps running toward him, and then Gimli’s voice said, “Ara-“. There was a stunned silence and then the Dwarf roared, “No!” and dropped to his knees. “Legolas! Legolas!”

As the doughty warrior wailed, Aragorn continued rocking the Elf’s body. Eventually Gimli put a hand on the Ranger’s arm. “May I -?” Aragorn looked at the grieving Dwarf and gently released Legolas to him. Just then Merry and Pippin stumbled up and knelt beside their friends. Aragorn saw their tears and put his arms around their shoulders.

Éomer walked close and then stopped, stunned to see Gimli holding Legolas, Aragorn and the Hobbits kneeling beside him, tears on all their faces.

Gimli cried, “Legolas! You can’t die now. You can’t die, you stubborn Elf!” Merry put his arm around the grieving dwarf.

Aragorn got to his feet and looked around. Although he felt as if he had been speared in the heart by an orc, he knew he had things to do, to check on. But what were they? He tried to focus on what needed to be done, but one thought kept screaming in his mind – Legolas was dead. Dead!

He caught a glimpse of Prince Imrahil and it came rushing back, what he needed to do. He wearily made his way to the other man. The prince took one look at the Ranger and asked, “What’s wrong, my lord?”

“Legolas has fallen.” Fallen, fallen, fallen, echoed in his mind.

“I am sorry, my lord,” replied the prince.

Aragorn nodded, and continued, “I want to move the army closer to the woods of Ithilien, away from this foul place, as soon as possible..”

“Yes, my lord. I’ve already assigned men to collect the wounded and start burial detail. We’ll have tents set up for those too badly wounded to move. And we should have meals within the hour.” Prince Imrahil paused. “Is there anything else?”

“No. Wait, bring me casualty reports when you can. I’ll be . . ,” Aragorn’s voice trailed off.

“I understand, my lord.”

As Aragorn walked off, Gimli looked at the lifeless body in his arms. ‘Stupid Elf’, he thought. ‘The minute I turn my back, gets himself killed. Couldn’t do anything right without my help.’ At that, he burst into tears again.

Images of their journey raced through his mind. Their dispute outside the gates of Moria, then Legolas pulling him away from Balin’s tomb. On the banks of Nimrodel, the Elf making the first gesture of friendship, then the two of them exploring the woods of Lothlórien together. As they chased across the plains of Rohan, it was Legolas who made sure he did not fall behind. It was Legolas who aimed his arrow at Éomer when the horseman threatened him, the only time during the journey the Elf had lost his temper. After the battle of Helm’s Deep, Legolas was so glad to see him, he did not even grudge losing the orc-killing game.

Well, now there was one less Elf to torment the Dwarves. Still, Legolas would have appreciated the grandeur and beauty of the Glittering Caves – but they would not be returning there now.

Gimli vaguely felt the hobbits hovering at his side. He finally raised his eyes and found them watching him, tears streaming down their faces. Freeing one arm, he hugged the closer hobbit.

“He was so kind to us,” whispered Merry.

“Yes,’ said Pippin, “and he was always singing. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“Aye, and just as the quest was fulfilled. He would probably have said it was worth it.”

Aragorn returned to Gimli’s side. The Ranger thought, ‘Who would ever have thought a Dwarf would be so distraught over the death of an Elf? And what am I going to tell his father?’ Looking at Legolas’ face, he said, “He is as fair in death as he was in life.”

Gimli drew a shuddering breath and replied, “His spirit was even more fair. Just before the battle, I said to him, ‘I never thought I’d die fighting side by side with an Elf’, and he asked me, ‘How about side by side with a friend?'” His voice broke, but he continued, “It was the last thing he said to me.” He bowed his head and let the tears fall.

“Legolas, it is not yet your time. . . Legolas.”

The Elf heard his name as if from far off. He opened his eyes and beheld a great hall. Someone moved toward him.

“Legolas, this is not your time. Behold!”

The being waved a hand and he saw a battlefield. Men were walking to and fro amid fallen bodies, and then he saw a small group. He recognized his friends, Aragorn, Pippin, Merry and Gimli – holding his body! He could see tears and grief on their faces and hear sobbing.

“Such comradeship and love between an Elf and those not First-born has never before been seen. It is agreed. You must go back.”

Pain, pain was his next thought. He was being held by someone and could hear gentle sobs. He needed to reassure them.

Pippin looked at Legolas’ face. It seemed so serene and fair in death. He picked up a Elven long white knife and began cleaning it. Then his hand faltered as he thought he saw the Elf’s eyelids flicker. “I’m seeing things,” he thought and wiped the tears away. But no, there it was again.

Startled, he jumped to his feet, and started shaking Aragorn, screaming, “He’s not dead! He’s not dead!”

The Ranger grabbed the distraught Hobbit. “I’m sorry, Pippin, but -”

Then they heard it. A gentle whisper, soft as a spring breeze. “Aragorn.” They all stared at Legolas. Had they really heard his voice?

Aragorn’s heart stopped, then started again for indeed he saw the Elf’s eyelids flicker. “Legolas?” he asked in a voice filled with both hope and doubt.

Legolas opened his eyes. They were clouded and filled with pain, but there was no doubt the Elf was alive.

“Legolas, you – you’re alive!” the Ranger gasped.

The Elf focused on his friend. “Yes.”

“But – you died!”

Legolas closed his eyes. “Yes.” He was silent for a moment, then faintly asked, “Is that why Gimli is holding me?”

“Why, you pointy-eared Elvish princeling, I – I – oh, laddie, bless you! Bless you!” Gimli cried as he gave Legolas a dwarf-sized bear hug.

The others were speechless with delight as they knelt there. They all wanted to touch him, to reassure themselves he was indeed alive. Finally Merry noticed something and tugged at Aragorn’s sleeve. “He’s bleeding.”

“Gimli, lay him down. Let me see. Yes, it is bleeding. Quick, get some bandages. We need to stop it.” Bandages were brought and the Ranger worked to staunch the blood flow.

Aragorn carried his friend to a tent, followed by Gimli, Prince Imrahil and a dozen others all offering to help. He glanced down at the Elf and smiled, and received a weak smile in return. As they reached the tent, Gimli said, “Gandalf returns.”

The Ranger turned and saw the Eagles landing. Two of the giant birds were clutching something, or some one in their talons. He told the others, “Go help Gandalf. I’ll be there once I get Legolas settled.” Aragorn entered the tent, knowing they would take care of things. Laying Legolas on a cot, he removed the Elf’s outer clothing and straightened his hair.

“Let me take another look at that wound,” he said as he gently moved the bandages aside. It was a horrible wound, and he shook his head, murmuring, “This should have killed you.”

“It did,” Legolas whispered.

“I don’t understand. How – why? No, no. Tell me later if you can. You must rest now.” Aragorn stood and looked down at his friend. “I have to see Gandalf, but I will return as quickly as I can.”

Legolas weakly reached up his hand and Aragorn grasped it. “Go. I will be here.”

Aragorn exited the tent to find a small group headed his way. As they drew closer, he realized Gandalf and the Prince of Dol Amroth were each carrying a hobbit.

“Aragorn,” called Gandalf. “These two hobbits need your care now.”

“Put them in this tent. Then I will have all three together where we can keep watch.”
Gandalf looked at Aragorn. “Who -?”. Then he glanced around. “Legolas?” he asked, shock and disbelief in his voice.

“Yes,” replied the Ranger as they entered the tent. He and Gimli, with the help of the younger Hobbits, quickly set up two more cots. He then sent Merry to get hot water, “As hot as possible, Merry. And bring my saddlebag; there’s some athelas in it.”

As Merry exited the tent, Frodo and Sam were put to bed, and Aragorn tended them, noting how exhausted they appeared. He gently cleansed their wounds. Merry had returned by then with a kettle, bowls and the saddlebag.

Aragorn took three leaves of athelas, breathed on them and then crushed them. A sparkling freshness filled the tent, and the others took a deep breath, a feeling of hope returning. Then Aragorn cast the leaves into the bowls of steaming water, placing one bowl by each patient. Quiet joy now filled the tent as the athelas released its savor.

The Ranger looked at the three sleeping. “They will rest now.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I need to see how things are going elsewhere. Gandalf, Imrahil, Gimli, I will need your assistance.” They nodded. “Merry, Pippin. I want you to watch these three. If anything goes wrong, come find me at once.”

Merry nodded but Pippin asked, “Are they going to be all right?”

“They have gone to the very brink of death, Pippin, ” replied Aragorn. “Hopefully, we got to them in time. Frodo and Sam will need much care and rest. But I hazard that Legolas will be up quicker than any of us would think.”

It was evening and the members of the Fellowship had gathered in the tent housing their three wounded friends. The Hobbits soon fell asleep, exhausted after the long, trying day. Conversation eventually died down. All was quiet and then Gandalf asked, “Aragorn, what happened to Legolas?”

Aragorn looked at the wizard, a puzzled look on his face. “He was stabbed in the heart. When I found him after the battle, he was dead. Even he says he died. Yet, he came back to life before our very eyes. I don’t understand.”

A rustling noise caught their attention and they looked to see Legolas struggling to sit up. Gimli ran over and tried to push the Elf down but he grabbed the Dwarf’s arms. “Help me to sit up, Gimli. I would like a drink of water.” The Elf’s voice sounded stronger than before, and Aragorn gave a sigh of relief.

Gimli sat down so Legolas could lean on him, and Aragorn offered the Elf a cup of water. He took it, but it became apparent that he had not strength to lift it, so Aragorn guided it to his friend’s mouth. Legolas drank some and then rested against the Dwarf. “Thank you, my friends.”

Turning his head, he looked around the tent. When his eyes fell on the two small figures in the other beds, he looked back at Aragorn. “Frodo and Sam?”

“Yes,” the Ranger replied. “They destroyed the Ring, the quest is fulfilled. Gandalf rescued them with the aid of the Eagles, and just in time too. They are hurt, terribly exhausted and Frodo’s finger was bitten off. It will be some time before those two can leave their beds.”

Legolas nodded. “How are your armies faring tonight?”

Aragorn shook his head and smiled. His friend had died in the day’s battle, had come back to them and yet was concerned for everyone else. “We lost many, but the wounded are being tended. Within a few days, I want to move this camp to Ithilien. I think you would agree the wholesome airs of those woods would go a long way in restoring bodies and spirits.”

The Elf replied, “It would be good to be in those fair woods.”

“Legolas, what happened to you?” Gimli burst in. “Don’t misunderstand me but – you were dead! How came you to return to us?”

“I was told it was not yet my time,” he answered.

“‘Not yet your time?'” Gandalf questioned. The Elf nodded. “What else can you tell us?”

“I was in a great hall. There was someone there, but I could not see who. I heard him say . . ” he paused, “it was not my time. It was agreed I had to go back. There was something else, something about comradeship . . .” his voice trailed off.

The wizard pondered for a few moments. “You were in the Hall of Mandos, and the Valar sent you back, that much is clear. But why?

“Lúthien and Beren were sent back because of their great love and sacrifice. And that may explain your return. The Fellowship was formed to take the Ring to Mordor, to cast it into the fires of Mt. Doom. But along the way, men, hobbits, a dwarf and an elf learned to work together toward a common goal, forgetting differences and old arguments, and became friends. The loyalty, comradeship and yes, even love, each of you has shown for the others, has reached the hearts of the Valar. This is their gift to you. To all the Fellowship.”

There was silence for a few moments, then Aragorn said, “Legolas, I am glad you are back. Now we must hope Frodo and Sam will recover soon. Our victory will be the sweeter with their return.”

“Yes,” agreed the Elf, the Dwarf, the wizard, and a very sleepy hobbit who had been eavesdropping.