"YOU...SHALL NOT...PASS!"
The Balrog lunged forward towards the wizard, and Legolas watched in shock and amazement as the stone bridge beneath it crumbled. The elf sighed with relief, only now realizing that he'd been holding his breath. The terror had run deep in him, for his mother had told him stories of the Balrog many years ago, when he was young -- stories that still kept him awake at night. And despite the many foes Legolas had faced in battle through the years, none had chilled his blood as this great figure of shadow and flame here in the darkness underground. But that figure was now gone, plummeting out of sight, and all Legolas's fears were now abated.
He saw Gandalf turn from the brink, clearly satisfied that this foe was beaten, and Legolas followed his lead. With the Balrog gone, the goblins would no doubt be returning, and Legolas had a job to do, protecting the fellowship. The elf turned and began up the stairs, hoping to reach higher ground where he could take aim at any new threats that might arrive across the chasm.
He'd only gone a few steps when he heard Boromir yell, "No! No!" Legolas turned in time to see Gandalf being pulled over the edge, the Balrog's fiery whip pulling him down into the abyss.
"Gandalf!" Frodo's voice came to Legolas as the elf was gauging the distance, judging it would take several seconds to sprint back down the bridge, and by then Gandalf would be gone. So Legolas stood, frozen, watching in horror as Gandalf all but disappeared over the edge.
Yet he hadn't fallen completely. The wizard's fingers grasped at the crumbling ledge, struggling for purchase. Legolas now regretted not running back the instant he'd seen Gandalf fall, for, if he had, he'd now be at the wizard's side, able to pull him to safety. But instead Gandalf was all alone on the precipice, with no hope of holding on for long.
Legolas knew he'd never make it to Gandalf's side in time. And so did Gandalf.
His eyes met Legolas's for a moment and then glanced away as he merely said, "Fly, you fools!"
And then he was gone.
"Noooo!"
Frodo's cry came to the elf as if from under water as Legolas continued to stare at the place where Gandalf had been. If only I'd run back, he silently chastised himself. If only I'd been there to save him.
If only I hadn't been so scared.
"GAN...DALF!"
Boromir's cry as he held tight to the struggling Frodo somehow penetrated Legolas's mind, reminding him that he was not alone, that the rest of the fellowship still needed to escape this darkness, to flee from the goblins that were already massing along the far ledge. Legolas grabbed his bow and sprinted up the stairs, herding Gimli and the other hobbits in front of him.
We must fly, thought Legolas as he ran. Gandalf is right.
Yet Gandalf 'is' no more.
But this idea was still too much for Legolas to handle. So on he ran, helping the others up the stairs and across a broad hall. This hall was evidently the main entryway to Moria, filled with elaborate carvings and beautiful decorations. But none of the Fellowship took the time to notice as they ran mindlessly to the gate, running away from the darkness and terror, running towards the openness and light.
After the black of Moria, even the clouded light of the sun seemed blinding, yet Legolas ran on unseeing. Something in him wanted to get as far from the darkness as he could, so he leapt across the rocks, taking long strides to put as much distance between him and the Moria gate as possible.
Soon he stopped, realizing that he should ensure that everyone else had made it out safely. He turned back, mentally counting the members of the company to make sure all were accounted for, a task he'd assigned himself when they'd set out on the quest.
...5...6...7...Who's missing?
The answer to this question came like a blow to his chest, and Legolas almost stumbled from the weight of it. He looked up at the sky, trying to get his bearings in this new world without Gandalf in it, but the light only seemed to illuminate his grief even more.
Gandalf is gone.
Gandalf is DEAD!
For if Gandalf had survived the fall, then so had the Balrog, and Legolas's mind would not allow such a possibility.
Gandalf is dead.
But what exactly did that mean? Legolas was not accustomed to death, or at least not as it applied to him and those he cared about. Sure, he'd killed plenty of orcs and goblins and other foes in his day. In fact, only a short while before he'd shot the fatal arrow into the mouth of the cave troll.
But it had been hundreds of years since Legolas had lost a friend in battle, and he was having a hard time comprehending it.
Gandalf is gone, Legolas repeated to himself, as if the repetition would somehow help it make sense.
Gandalf is gone.
The gentle guide who'd led the fellowship thus far. The great wizard who'd felled the Balrog. The kindly friend who'd shared amusing stories around the campfire. All of these were now gone.
And not only was the spirit gone but the flesh as well. Legolas remembered catching the wizard in his arms, steadying him after leaping across the gap in the Moria stairs, and he now realized he'd never again hold Gandalf in his arms.
And although it felt like hours...days...years since he'd embraced the wizard, Legolas suddenly realized it had been less than an hour since they'd fled down those stairs. Less than an hour, and everything had changed. A single crack of a whip, and Gandalf had been pulled from them forever.
If only I'd stayed behind, Legolas chastised himself yet again. If I'd stayed by Gandalf's side, instead of fleeing from the Balrog, I could've been there to catch him.
Like he'd caught him on the path of Caradhras, when the mountain had collapsed upon them and Legolas had instinctively pulled the wizard from the edge, saving him from certain death. Legolas realized that, until now, he'd never really considered the possibility of Gandalf actually dying, or any of the fellowship, for that matter. After all, Legolas felt he was there to protect them.
But he hadn't been there. And now Gandalf was gone.
"Legolas."
The elf was startled upon hearing his own name and looked blankly towards Aragorn, who continued, "Get them up."
Get them up? It took Legolas a moment to realize that Aragorn was speaking of the other members of the company, who'd collapsed upon the rocks nearby. The elf stood for a moment, looking around, taking them all in. To his left, Sam sat by himself, crying. To his right, Boromir was comforting Gimli. And in front of him, Merry cradled a sobbing Pippin in his lap.
They've lost him, too, Legolas suddenly realized. Gandalf is gone from all of us.
But Aragorn had told him to get them up, and something in him made Legolas mindlessly follow those orders. He walked over to Merry and Pippin, extending his hand.
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake."
As Boromir spoke, Merry turned his tear-stained face up towards the elf, extended his arm, and took Legolas's hand.
But Legolas realized he couldn't help Merry up, not whilst Pippin still lay there.
The elf looked down at the young hobbit in Merry's lap, who clutched his sword to him as his body shook with sobs, and Legolas was overcome with pity.
"Fool of a Took. Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity.” Those were Gandalf's last words to Pippin. A brutal scolding, although deserved. But now it would forever haunt the young hobbit.
Legolas was suddenly glad that his last memory had been of catching the wizard in his arms -- although now bittersweet, at least the elf wouldn't be awakened at night with the echo of harsh words.
"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs."
Legolas heard Aragorn's words and suddenly remembered that the fellowship was still in danger. And now the elf fully comprehended the seriousness of that danger, for he realized his companions could actually be lost.
"We must reach the woods of Lothlorien."
Lothlorien. Legolas had long wanted to see the Golden Wood, to take in the beautiful mallorn trees and raise his voice in song with his elven brethren. But Legolas no longer had any songs in him.
And even if we make it to Lothlorien, Gandalf will still be dead, thought Legolas, making the elven paradise no longer seem so idyllic.
"Come, Boromir. Legolas. Gimli, get them up."
Legolas looked up when the dwarf's name was called, suddenly remembering his friend's grief. After all, the fellowship had just emerged from a tomb of hundreds of his kin. How can Gimli be expected to help the hobbits when he himself has lost so much more?
The elf, still holding Merry's hand, turned his head to look at his dwarvish friend, who was sitting on a rock next to Boromir.
It should've been ME comforting him, Legolas thought, reprimanding himself for his own selfishness. I should've been there to hold Gimli as he cried for his fallen brethren.
Legolas caught his friend's eye, intending to convey his sympathy through his look. But instead, it was Gimli who nodded back, giving the elf a comforting smile as he stood up.
Legolas was overcome. Gimli was grieving for hundreds of loved ones, not just for Gandalf, and yet he had somehow succeeded in comforting Legolas.
Legolas realized he must try to do the same for the hobbits. He heard Aragorn calling for Frodo and saw that Sam was now standing, so Legolas turned his attention back to the two hobbits that lay at his feet. He crouched down and, with his free hand, tenderly covered the hand that was grasping Pippin's sword.
"Don't grieve, Peregrin," Legolas said kindly. "Gandalf really did care about you."
Unfortunately, this had the exact opposite effect from the one he intended, for Pippin burst into a brand new fit of tears.
Legolas was so confused by this response that he pulled his hand free from Pippin's as if it'd been burned. Merry freed his own hand from the elf's and leaned over his cousin, whispering soothing words in Pippin's ear as he cradled him in his arms.
Legolas stood up awkwardly, not knowing what to do. He had little experience with his own grief, and even less with that of others -- it was no wonder he was failing so.
Whereas Boromir was a veritable expert on grief, having spent most of his life fighting the forces of Mordor. So Legolas was not surprised when the Gondorian approached their motley crew. Kneeling down in front of Pippin, Boromir brushed a tear from the hobbit's cheek as he said, "We can grieve when we are safe, little one. But Strider is right -- we must now flee."
Pippin looked up at Boromir and gulped hard. And then, like a small child, he reached his arms up and wrapped them around Boromir's neck as the Gondorian picked him up, cradling him in his arms.
Legolas realized that, with Pippin off his lap, Merry could now stand. But before the elf could offer him a hand, Merry was up and following close upon Boromir's heels, as if he could not bear to be separated from his cousin.
Watching the threesome walk across the rocks, Legolas was about to follow them when he suddenly felt a presence at his side. Looking down, he realized that Gimli was standing beside him.
"Let us go find your brethren," Gimli said, looking up at his friend. "Let us hope they have fared better than mine."
Legolas nodded. "I am sorry for your loss, my friend."
"And yours," Gimli said somberly, and Legolas thought again of Gandalf. To leave this place without the wizard was admitting that he was really gone, and Legolas still wasn't certain he was ready for that.
But Gimli knew what had to be done. Glancing away to where the others were now descending the rocks, Gimli said, "Let us not fall too far behind. Our strength is in our fellowship."
And even though their fellowship was now short one wizard, Legolas knew Gimli was right.
THE END
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