For Elves, the Bell Tolls
It was hardly fair that when he had an entire army at his disposal, all of the Middle-Earth at his feet, that he and his friends were the ones fighting the battles. It was hardly fair, but Aragorn had long since accepted that Life wasn't fair. Besides, neither him nor Legolas minded the occasional battle with a stray Orc.
It was a little strange, though, to fight an army of them.
Things had been relatively quiet the past five years, nothing with an uprising of this sort. It wasn't like they didn't have their problems- oh, they had many problems throughout the years. It was just a little strange, though, that a band of organized Orcs, completely blood-thirsty and out to seek death of the King and his Court, were attacking now. Now, of all times, when things couldn't have been quieter.
Alas, what did he expect? Life, just as it was unfair, had a tendency to never stay calm and cheerful for long. While these attributes were nice once in awhile, it set up for a very dull existance.
"Estel!"
Legolas's warning wasn't needed; he was far too aware of the Orc to his right. He ducked nimbly out of the way, flipping Andúril over in his fingers and plunging it into the cankered flesh before him. He'd backed away in a flash, his blade whizzing out to cut down another of the beasts before the other had even fallen to the ground. Then, his sights were met with a break in the fighting and he and Legolas were back-to-back.
"You needn't yell, Greenleaf. I am aware of what's happening." He could feel the Elf's hard breathing, the quick rise and fall of tense shoulders against his. The soft sound of an arrow traveling through the air was the response, followed by the ever-familiar scream of a wounded Orc. Aragorn smiled, only the slightest passing of any emotion breaking his face. He'd learned something else through the years, and that was never to doubt an Elf's aim.
A hand clamped at the back of his shirt and pulled him to the ground as a line of arrows shot over, slicing the air in precisely the spot where his chest had been moments before.
"Sometimes, I don't think you do."
Legolas slapped him on the back and had pushed off from the ground, sliding into a forward somersault. He was back into the action, then, and Aragorn wasn't about to let his friend claim glory and call cowardice.
Three more Orcs were felled by Andúril before he got a glimpse through the small group that had converged on him. Legolas was behind, aiming at one of the Orcs in the group, bowstring taunt. That smile almost reached Aragorn's face again; never doubt an Elf's aim.
The distraction that was Legolas's arrow piercing an Orc's ear gave Aragorn the advantage. Black blood coated not only the blade but his hands. It made him wonder, for only an instant, if he were a good King. To have his hands stained with the blood of the enemy. It wasn't by choice, but it wasn't an act of savagery. All Aragorn knew was that he had tried, tried to be someone that all of Middle-Earth could rely on.
He noticed out of the corner of his eye, Legolas stagger. Concern coloured his emotions as Elves didn't stagger. In the next moment, however, the blonde had launched back into battle and Aragorn saw no more of him.
It really wasn't that bad. The battle had been ongoing for awhile now, and Orcs were rather stupid creatures. It wasn't as if they gave a second thought to cut and running, their only primary thought being attack. Still, a battle was a battle and someone like Aragorn should have known that you couldn't walk away from battle entirely unharmed.
Picking his way through Orc corpses and his own wounded men, he found himself to Legolas's side quickly. "Ready to go back, Las?" When he didn't receive an answer, he touched his friend's shoulder lightly. "Legolas?"
"I'm not going back, Estel." His voice held the qualities of someone forcing a statement, a positive statement. A statement without fear or anger or hurt. The blonde turned and Aragorn saw for the first time the blood that stained the Elf's traveling coat. It wasn't the same black blood that stained his own hands.
"What happened?" In all entirety, it was an obvious question. It didn't matter what had caused it: an arrow, a sword, a dagger. What had happened had happened, and that was that the blonde Elf had gotten wounded on the battlefield.
"Stray arrow. One of the Orcs made an... elusive watchpoint on the overhang. My attention... was, unfortunately... far from there." The Elf flinched, raising a hand to cover a cough. When he pressed it to his chest, it was already covered in blood, a shining beacon to inner damage.
Aragorn had had a few of these moments in his Life. Where, faced with the inevitable, he was calm. He shouldn't have been calm. He was. He gently caught the Elf when he staggered and helped him into a sitting position, the latter staining his own snowy white hand with the body's essential fluid. Aragorn, especially with Legolas being his truest mellon, should have been doing something to attempt a few extra hours, days, or weeks on his friend's life. He wasn't. Only because Aragorn knew that Legolas was facing Death head on, a small smile lifting his blood-splotched lips.
"Ná Elbereth... veria le... ná elenath dín síla... erin rád o chuil lín," Legolas muttered into his ear, shifting against Aragorn's shoulder as he closed his eyes. Aragorn kept his hands on the Elf for a support, gently guiding him in the general direction of the Halls of Mandos without moving a muscle.
"Calo anor na ven, Legolas," Aragorn responded quietly. The familiar feel of breath against his neck, the soft brushing of his hair with the exhaled puffs of air soon were gone. He hadn't expected them to last much longer; the shallower they morphed had been only seconds ticking down an internal clock.
Aragorn stayed simply like that, with Legolas's body in his arms. He himself was battered, bruised, beaten. He was bloody and torn up, his own body aching for a moment of rest. But first would come Legolas. He would sit with him, for only a little bit. For only a few more hours, he would sit with his friend.
"Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham."
Mellon - Friend
Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín - May Elbereth protect you, may her stars shine on the path of your life
Calo anor na ven, Legolas - May the sun shine on your road, Legolas
Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham - My heart will weep to the time when we will meet again
Notes:
Estel- Secondary name for Aragorn
Andúril - Aragorn's blade. Also known as Sword That was Broken, Sword Reforged, and Flame of the West
Greenleaf/Las- Secondary name for Legolas
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