Destination

Mellow Soulmate AU.  It's all about the glass before half-empty or half-full, at least in principle.  If only the world were truly that simple.  This story is all about thee aftermath of "Shadows" from Legolas' POV instead of Thranduil's.  Basically a continuation story.  It is, however, also closely related with "Rain".  I'm just really tired, so it's barely edited.  Bear with me.  Takes place somewhere on the Straight Road between Middle-Earth and Valinor.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of the Rings

Pairings: implied Haldir x Legolas

Characters: Legolas, Gimli (mentions Thranduil, Valthoron (OMC) and Haldir)

Warning: non-canon compliant, movie-canon character death, implied slash, depression, homesickness

Song: For You Only

Words: 1,002
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destination (noun): the purpose for which something is destined; a place to which one is journeying or to which something is sent
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/destination

Never had he been so far away from home.

So far from the thick, honeyed smell of the trees rising into the recesses of the sky.  Or from the damp smell of the earth and moss bedding that formed the forest floor.  Or from the thick, filling incense of a thousand secretive flowers sprouting their petals in the darkness.

Longing ached within the cavity of his chest, throbbing fist closing tightly around his heart until his breath came short and jagged with agony.

So badly did he want to speak the damning words.  So badly did he want to turn this ship around.

Run back to his father's warm embrace and his brother's crooked, affectionate smile.  Huddle close to them by the fire in the cavernous halls, so very warm and safe, and never, ever allow them to release him ever again.  Forever, they would stay wrapped together, the broken shards of a family that had never been more than a warped piece of glassware to begin with.  Twisted and wrecked by clumsy hands.

But still a family.  Still something beautiful, if one dared look closer.

So badly...

"Are you alright, laddie?"

The voice was familiar, though its timbre had changed over the years.  At his elbow stood Gimli, ever the faithful friend and confident, ginger hair long gone whiter than the snow upon the mountaintops.  But his eyes were still the same penetrating blue, searching deep and tearing him open at the seams.

He could never hide things from Gimli.

"I am homesick."

The heavy hand that rested upon his forearm patted slowly, soothingly. "Staring to the east will not make things better.  Perhaps some sleep would do you good.

"At the very least, look to the west."

To the West...

No matter the longing in his breast for the familiarity of home.  For the scent of oak and the rustle of leaves and the changing of the colors in the autumn and the blooming of young blossoms in the spring.  No matter the wistful memories of his father and brother left behind...

The West called.  And one did not ignore the call of the West.

Like a siren, the ocean sang all around, as though echoes of bliss rode upon the waves toward the land of the suffering and the dying and the dead.  And only Legolas could hear its sweet melody, ravaging his spirit and raping his ears until it consumed everything he had to give.  Every ounce of his thoughts.  Every ounce of his attention.  Every ounce of his devotion.

He needed to reach those far shores.  Like he needed air expanding his lungs.  Like he needed water cooling his throat.

To live.

"Look to the West?"

"Aye." The old dwarf was watching him, wrinkled face frowning, calculating light in eyes that had lost none of their incisive sharpness with old age. "Mayhap, if you looked toward the destination, you might find some reason yet to be happy.  For you were not happy at home."

It was true.  He had not been happy in Mirkwood, not after hearing the sea's song.  He had not been happy in Ithilien, so close to what he desired with every ounce of his body and yet so far away.

He was still not happy, because the itch was ever-present.  He wanted and needed to place his feet upon those sands.  To dip his toes in the rising tide and curl them in the soft grains.  To look out over the curves and troughs of the water knowing he was where he belonged.

Where he belonged.  Where he would be fulfilled.  Where he would be happy.

And was there not yet something waiting for him upon the other side?

A handsome face immediately came to mind.  Soft words exchanged over the gentle embrace of hands as they walked through the golden mallyrn together.  Never even had those lips brushed against his own, but the prince could picture it.

Finally feeling breath against his own.  Finally knowing it wasn't all a drunken dream.

Finally.

"When did you become so wise, Master Dwarf?" The elven prince sighed. "Many thousands of years of age I hold over your head, and yet at the mere age of two-hundred and sixty-two you still manage to make me feel like a stumbling, blindfolded elfling trying to navigate his way through a maze of caverns.  From whence did such wisdom originate."

"Maybe we mortals, who can never look back, simply learn to look forward instead."

Because we are not young forever.  We close our eyes for but a moment and suddenly we are old and gray and shriveled.  And, for we who have not the blessing and curse of eternal youth, there is no road back to the days when the blood was fresh and the spirit young.

One must look ahead and live their lives.  Because a life in the past is no life at all.

"Such a trap we elves fall into so easily, looking always toward the past."

But he had Gimli.  He was going home.  He was going to those arms and that embrace and that smile.  And, no matter how he would miss his father and his brother...

It would be different.  Disheartening.  But one day they would sail, too, and their tiny family would be pasted back together.

And, finally, that happiness might be attainable.  Finally, he might lift those shadows over his heart and be able to laugh and grin and joke as once he had been able in the days before he knew murder and war and heartbreak and death.

It would be a long road.  There would be lonely days.  Painful days.  Many, many days of waiting and waiting for a dawn that might never come.

But would the destination be worth the wait?

In the end, if he looked instead to the West and forgot about the trees...