This story has grown out of the wish of exploring the Southern Lands - Harad - and its people, who often get this touch of evil and darkness, as could be suggested by the lack of differentiated information in the books and the images in the movies. Because I so love Tolkien's universe, I wanted to discover their beauty. I wish to draw some light into the unknown Lands of the South.
And I wished to give Legolas a Lady, since Aragorn got his. I took up the challenge to write a character who would have somehow an impact, and yet, who has to be fleeting, just brushing past, without changing nor capturing the free spirit and independence of the elf, nor the course of the real story. It is supposed to be only a small sidestory, not to disturb Tolkiens masterwork. It is thought to be filling in between, like an events untold. A small tale inside the events of middle-earth, around and during the time of the quest. It plays stretched over a longer period of time, settled between different events.
I was not planning to post, but then I decided otherwise. However it came out, it was fun writing, so maybe somebody might enjoy reading.
There is a bit of everything in it. Adventure, Friendship, Family, Romance, a lot of H/C and Angst and Drama... a scene with sexual content was not planned but just happened spontaneously :) Though I would say that it is handled very discretly and sensitively. There are flashbacks and references of abuse, though not graphically depicted. To be on the safe side I would rate it M.
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When Aragorn and Legolas speak together alone, or elves speak together, they speak elvish. Even if I write in english, because of understanding, and because I have very, very poor knowledge of elvish :)
English is not my first language, so if there is mistakes in vocabulary and grammar, it might be due to that. I tried my best to make it rich in vocabulary according to my knowledge and possibilities.
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Everything of Tolkien's fantasy world belongs to him and so do his characters. I own nothing apart from the OC's and my interpretation of the Lands of the South and the events I have invented.
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The first five chapters 'The Desert' are pre-LotR, and for all who know Cassia & Siobhan's Mellon Chronicles, settled some few years after the MC's The Stars Of Harad. Thanx to Sio for answering my Mail and allowing me to make reference. For whom does not know that series: It doesn't matter for the story, although I can only recommend to read them ;)
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The Desert - Storm
The sky turned dark like the night, the temperature dropped, suddenly. The wind lashed the sand in billows against anything in its way. It whipped into their faces they tried to protect with their cloaks. It entered into the nose, the mouth. It pierced through the fabric of their clothes and it pinned like tousands of needles on the skin.
Aragorn and Legolas had been heading north, following a dry streambed on its lowest point, a sandy valley at the border of the desert. They had been journeying thus for some time, as the storm came up.
First raindrops falling from the sky not even wetted the sand, evapourating by its heat, before they could reach the soil.
The thick drops increased, soon hitting the ground with small splashes, sounding like slaps on the sand.
The cliffs behind the streambed grew black and strong towards the darkgrey sky.
Sudden lightnings reached down like slashing fires into the earth with deafening sounds of explosions, turning the fictitious night into dazzling light.
Legolas' instincts screamed to him, as he looked about, trying to evaluate the unfamiliar climatic change. He frowned deeply.
"Aragorn, we have to get out of here!" he shouted against the noise of the increasing storm, "I fear the water will fload this place!"
He knew not if Aragorn had heard him, since even his elven ears could barely hear his own voice. Eather he had heard or he had had the same thoughts, because Aragorn was already running towards the boulders and rocks bordering the streambed, preceding the vaste, rocky massive behind.
Then it happened as if the sky had opened up to empty itself; the rain poured down in streams. The friends couldn't see but an armlength ahead as they reached the first boulders. The sand had turned into mud under their feet, and rivulets of brown water ran their ways over the muddy and stony ground. Aragorn and Legolas were completely entoured by a curtain of water, dripping wet withing a breath. The water raged, and the lightings in the sky left the earth grumbling under their feet.
Legolas nimbly climbed over the stones, reaching towards the border of the valley, where they could make for a higher level. He looked back to make shure Aragorn was following, content when he saw him right on his heels, climbing and stumbling non so nimbly, but keeping up.
Aragorn looked back. The streambed bore already a considerable amount of dark, muddy water. It was then, that his foot slipped on a mudcovered stone. He reached out with his hands to get a hold on the rocky surface, but could find none. His foot slid into a deep fissure between the stones, followed by his leg, his head hit heavily onto the stony surface. Pain slashed through his temples and his vision burst into a bright light, that was not a storm's lightning. His senses robbed from him, he lay motionless for a short while. Blinking in pain, he felt terror as awareness sunk down on him, that from where he was, he couldn't move again by his own power.
As Legolas looked back, he realized with a start, that Aragorn was no more following. Through the pouring rain, he could barely make him out, down on the lower level. He scrambled back as fast as possible.
As he reached him, he saw the head wound decorating the man's temple, and the glazed agony in his eyes. He brought his face close to his friend's, speaking into his ear in a comforting voice, hiding his own fear. "Aragorn how badly are you hurt?"
"My leg got a nasty scratch... on the sharp stone... I could feel it... as I slipped... Apart from that... just a concussion... I think..." The words were slurred. He grinned, but it was more like he was gritting his teeth in pain.
Legolas inspected the incident, trying to shift the stones that pinned the leg in place. If they just moved half an inch, it could be enough for Aragorn to pull his leg free; but even with elven strength, they were unmovable.
"Clumsy human," he gently said, ruffling his friends hair reassuringly, "listen, I cannot move these stones with my bare hands. I need to find something for leverage."
Aragorn nodded, fearfully glancing onto the climbing water. The movement made pain explode behind his temples again.
"Please try and stay conscious. I'll be right back!" With that, the elf started to climb towards something Aragorn's clouded eyes could not make out.
The rain was pouring on the ranger, cold and unmerciful. Aragorn had started to tremble all over his body, the wet chill creeping into his bones, his head throbbing, the water level mounting at a worrying speed.
Aragorn's thoughts trailed off to how they had managed to get into such a situation once again, trying to escape the pain in his head and the panic.
After some years he had not seen the family who had so warmly accepted him when he had been captured and sold as a slave in Harad, he had felt the urge to visit them. They were now a free people and he needed to see how they fared and if, hopefully, they were safe and keeping their hard won freedom. Legolas had not hesitated to accompany him once more. It had been a joyful reunion. They had spent a wonderful time with the tribe; helping and participating in their everyday life, helping the shepherds on the fields with the mûmakils and spending the evenings in talks and music, with the rhythmical, uplifting songs of those people, who had once been a slaves.
Life for them had gone on quietly, the overtaking of control through the evil powers was concentrating on other regions. Aragorn and Legolas had sent prayers of thanks to the Valar, for keeping their family safe through these times, and a prayer of pleading, that it might stay that way for the time to come.
Parting had been difficult and emotional, as it is, when you bid a farewell to a loved ones, without knowing when, and if, you would ever see them again.
Soon, they had been on their way with their horses. They had taken the way of the grasslands, through which they had travelled before, but the many signs left behind by recent Orc encampments and a sudden warg-attack, they fortunately managed to fight off, but had caused their horses to shy and take flight, made them change their route.
That's how it came they where journeying at the border of the desert, on foot, following the dry streambed northwards. - And here they were now, once more in trouble.
Aragorn realized with dread, that the water was already creeping up his body. It violently pulled him out of his musings.
Where was Legolas?!
He could not see him through the pouring rain. Trapped as he was, with the water level rising at a threatening speed, his senses dulled in pain, Aragorn couldn't help panicking. He called for his friend in alarm.
"Legolas! Legolas! Where are you?! Legolas!"
He couldn't see, he couldn't hear. It seemed to him, like the rain and the pain were swallowing his own voice.
Finally, after what had seemed to be an eternity, all of a sudden, Legolas appeared over him, since he could only see him as he was already close by. He was holding a branch in his hands.
Legolas quickly took in the gravity of the situation. He had to hurry moving something, or Aragorn would drown in the streaming water that had now climbed up to his chest. He pushed the branch between the stones and attempted to loosen them with the force of leverage.
He had injured a living tree to take its wood. It had been the only possibility to stick on hope to save his friend. He had begged the tree for forgiveness, and the tree had offered its limb readily. The life essence in the fresh wood kept it elastic and strong, preventing it from breaking under the heavy pressure.
Like a ray of hope in the dark, clouded sky, with Legolas' effort, one stone shifted slightly. Though, it had not been enough. Aragorn tried with all the strength he could bring up, to pull his leg free; it was still impossible.
He felt cold, so terribly cold! - He was strained from the chill, the effort to pull himself free, the throbbing in his head and the panic. The rain turned into hail, beating down violently on them; icy bullets shooting from the sky. Aragorn tried to protect his head with his arms.
Legolas plunged into the torrential water, that was now at the level of the man's shoulders, to get down to the pinning stone-boulders. The thought to take his soaked cloak off, to throw it over the man's head, as a shield from the fury of the storm, flared up in the elf's mind.
'There is no time!' his reason screamed.
His hands tightly clutched the wood, his mind aware, that if the water ripped it off, he would see his friend die.
He was holding on to his elven strength, fighting against the streaming water, pushing and pulling against all reason, because giving up was no option, no matter how futile everything seemed to be. Resurfacing to draw breath, out of breath, he plunged into torrid water repeatedly. The panic and the horror, the fear to lose his friend, giving him a strength he did not know he possessed.
And then, when all struggles seemed in vain, the stones shifted under the pressure.
Resurfacing, cut of breath, panting, lungs burning, Legolas brought forth a strained shout: "Aragorn, pull!"
But Aragorn had no more strength to free himself. - He was cold he was ill, bruised, exhausted, he was coughing, swallowing water that had reached the last level before drowning him.
Legolas scrambled out of the stream, wrapped his arms aroud Aragorn's chest and pulled him, with a still incredible strength, onto firm, stony ground, falling backwards against the rocks.
They lay against the stones, numb, the elf's arms wrapped around the man's chest, holding him tightly against his own body, as if he feared the stream could snatch him and carry him away.
"Aragorn, can you walk?" Legolas asked softly into his friend's ear, as soon as he had caught breath again.
He felt how the man was trembling in his grip. Aragorn didn't answer, and as Legolas eased his grip on him, he rolled over and tried to get up, but found himself unable to do so on his own.
Legolas gently helped him up, lifting his friend's arm over his shoulders, holding it by the wrist and bracing his other arm around the man's waist. They partly stumbled, partly climbed over the rocks; Legolas more carrying Aragorn than sustaining him.
With his friend's body shuddering, trembling and crumbling under its own weight, Legolas gathered all of his elven strength once more, to compensate for the human's weakness. At times he slipped on the stones and hit his knees or his wrist, as he kept himself, and most important Aragorn, upright. He ignored the pain slashing through his joints and tearing his skin, as it slid on the sharp rock.
After an exhausting, agonizing climb, he found shelter in the entrance of a cave in the rocky massive they had seen, black against the horizon, and that had seemed unreachable. Legolas had been spurred on by fierce determination, in awareness of his friend being in utmost danger and need.
As he laid his friend down, he found him non-responding. His pulse was far too slow, his skin cold and unnaturally pale, his lips had taken on a bluish tinge. Aragorn was critically undercooled.
He had been under the chilly, streaming water that had threatened to swallow him, he had been dragged by Legolas himself under the pouring rain, unmoving, with his system already drawn by the concussion. As the rain had stopped pouring its chill, the night had already claimed the day with its own, cold darkness, the clouds blocking out the shine of the moon and the glitter of the stars.
'I have to warm him.' Legolas thought in alarm.
Their clothes and everything they carried was dripping wet. No way to make a fire eather. The only source of warmth Legolas could think of, was his own elven body. Though exhausted after the ordeal - since not even elves could keep up against everything - but barely affected by the rough weather conditions and temperatures, his body was still warm.
He laid out a bedroll, gently eased down Aragorn on it and peeled him out of his soaked clothes. Then, he freed himself from his own garments that were clutching to his skin. He lay down close to his friend and wrapped the wet cover around them both; slender arms closing the cold, shivering body against smooth, warm skin. Aragorn was barely conscious. Instinctively he huddled even closer to the source of warmth, and moaned softly at the pleasant feeling of life envelopping him and reaching under his skin.
Legolas held his friend all through the night, keeping watch over the state of his vitalities. He was listening intently to the slow, ragged breathing and the too sluggish pounding of the heart he was feeling against his body. Only as Aragorn's body had slowly warmed up, and his breathing and pulse had stabilized, Legolas gave in to his exhaustion and allowed himself to rest.
He awoke in confusion, feeling wet but hot now. The sun brushed the entrance of the cave. The air he breated was warm, getting to hot. Though, the heat he felt, was coming from another source. With dismay he realized, that it emanated from the the body he was holding tight. Aragorn had gone from undercooled to feverish. They were both wet with perspiration.
Legolas looked at the face close to his own with anxiety. His friend's eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed with fever. He shifted uncomfortably in his feverish dreams, moaning softly. The fast, ragged breaths sounded painfully whistling. Legolas sighed in worry. He freed himself from the tight embrace, opening the cover to allow the overheated, feverish body to cool down.
The cold and the wet, in addition with the concussion, had been too much for a human, even for one with Aragorn's strength. Illness had claimed him, had infected his lungs. The fever was high, much too high, his skin clammy.
Legolas knew not much about human sicknesses, but he guessed, from the way Aragorn was breathing, that his lungs were affected, and it was serious. He saw the pain in the human's face with every breath he took.
How should one lower a fever in the heat of the desert day?!
'The stream of last night!' It shot into Legolas' mind, 'It might still be there!'
He hurried to the entrance of the cave. The sun had already climbed a good level in the sky, its light making the sand glitter. As Legolas looked down into the ravine he could not see a stream, though, standing water was resting in the deeper sections of the streambed, forming wide pools of clear water. Quickly he was on the descent to reach them.
Fast and furious the water had broken into the dryness of the desert. Unmercifully, with ferocity, it had threatened to swallow them. Precious and quiet it was lying now, glittering like crystal in the warming sun. - Water to drink, water to heal, water to wash the heat of a fever away, water to stir athelas on a fire, for a weary body strained with illness to revive.
The day had turned from warm to hot. Outside the cave Anor was burning in all its brightness from the sky.
Aragorn's usually strong body weak, ill with fever and a burning lungs, Legolas' mind sick with worry, trying to cope with the unfamiliar climatic conditions. He had freed Aragorn's body in the morning to allow the heat to leave, had cooled it with the precious water.
As the heat and the dryness got to a level that perspiration would dry before even showing on the skin, he envelopped him into their shirts, light fabric, to avoid dehydration, patiently moisting his lips and trickling water into his mouth.
Never resting, fetching water again, climbing rocks in the shimmering heat, making fire, changing Aragorn's bandages, stirring athelas, checking his friend's pulse repeatedly, feeling his brow for the temperature, speaking soothing, comforting words to him; Legolas cared for his friend with selfless dedication...
...until he himself collapsed. The world around him started spinning and disappearing from his sight, covered by large, black spots dancing in his vision.
Only then he realized, that he had not drunk anything since the day before, with the extreme physical efforts he had taken upon himself.
Only then he realized, that his knees and hands were bleeding from climbing the rocks repeatedly.
Only then he realized, that he was exhausted and drained.
Aragorn would have long time forced him to rest, if he had been in any shape to do so.
Legolas lay for some time sprawled on the floor, breathing in the athelas that was spreading in the cave, because he simply could not rise anymore.
As he had regained some energy, breathing the soothing, fragrant herb, he crawled over to the waterskin, and drank in long gulps. The water was feeling pure and refreshing in his burning throat. He never had drunk a water that tasted that good. Slowly he got up, and began to clean and bind his own wounds. He had to take better care of himself, if he wanted to be of any help to Aragorn.
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The days went by. The elf cared for the human with dedication. He had struggled against the fever and the infection, close to despairing, because he was at a loss as to what to do when the man was seeming not to get enough air into his lungs. Aragorn was the healer, and would most likely have known, but he was in a semiconscious, delirious state. Legolas just did what his instincts told him.
The days were hot and dry, the nights chilly. After two hard days of worry and struggle the fever dropped, and Aragorn's breathing stabilized. He finally slept calmly, no more shifting and trembling. Legolas allowed himself to lie down beside his friend and rest in relief.
The morning after the third night, Legolas awoke by the movements of his friend stirring beside him. He turned his gaze towards the ranger who was blinking the sleep away, trying to clear his dazzled mind.
"Legolas? Where are we? What happened?" the man asked confusedly, in a hoarse voice, trying to push himself up on his elbows, failing in strength.
"Hush, take it easy my friend. You shouldn't force too much upon yourself yet. You have suffered a major concussion and just survived a serious lung infection. You were very ill, Estel. I've feared to lose you more than once."
Legolas laid a hand on Aragorn's chest to gently hold him down.
Aragorn looked around in the entrance of the cave, were the bright sunlight was shinig in, his face frowning, his questioning gaze seeking his friend's eyes for explanation.
"If you find shelter in a cave, it must be serious, and no other options left..." He smiled faintly. He could not remember how they ended up here.
"We are just in the ENTRANCE of the cave," Legolas corrected, "And yes, there WAS no other option."
Legolas recounted all that had happened.
Aragorn sighed deeply as he had heard everything. "Here we are again, mellon-nìn! How on Arda do we always manage to get into such situations!?"
Legolas sighed as well, shaking his head and smiling at his friend. "I just thank the Valar that it is over now and you are recovering. That is all that matters."
Aragorn grinned tiredly, "We are not home yet, my friend. Thank the Valar, but wait to say it is over..."
Legolas sighed again. "Yes, mellon-nìn. How could I forget! Walking with you that far south, and thinking we would make it home without any more trouble, is quite improbable, if not impossible!" he teased, the relief and the release of tension from the last days clearly hearable in his musical laughter.
"I fear you are confusing something. How many times did I get you out of trouble?" Aragorn countered. Legolas ignored the challenge.
The sunshine was lighting the entrance of the cave, and Legolas helped Aragorn to move away from where the sunrays would soon fall, further into the shade.
"Wait here, mellon-nìn. I'm going to fill the water skins. The day is getting more and more hot," Legolas remarked, already in motion.
"And were should I go in my present state, gwador-nìn!" Aragorn countered.
"Oh, with you... One never knows what you are capable of. Further trouble might be waiting behind the next rock already," Legolas stated with a dry grin.
He could not guess in that moment how true his last statement would prove, sooner than he had expected.
Before he began the descent, he paused in the exit of the cave, peering down into the ravine in astonishment. What he saw, left him overwhelmed.
"The desert... since we entered it, it has not ceased surprising me; the burning heat of the day, the freezing chill of the night, all-claiming dryness flimmering in the air, and the next moment water in streams drowning the sand. See now! In the seemingly waste lifelessness, life blossoms against all expectation. What a beauty to my eyes!"
"By all the beauty that your elven eyes do see, you can't deny, that it is also a bloody trap," said Aragorn wearily.
"Oh that it is," smiled Legolas, "but still... I'm in awe!"
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When Legolas left, Aragorn couldn't resist. He slowly crawled towards the exit of the cave to see with his own eyes. What he saw left him open-mouthed.
Ponds of crystal-clear water pooled in the previously dry streambed beyond. All around, green plants grew and coloured flowers were crowning them. Bushes between the rocks, that previously had seemed drying and dying, were now green with tender, slender leaves.
Aragorn watched the spectacle presenting itself to his sight for a while, unable to draw his eyes away. Just when he realized how heavy the sun was beating on his still aching head, he pushed himself back into the shady, protecting cave once more. He was still coughing at every effort and the movements hurt.
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Legolas returned with the filled waterskins. He sat down, his back against the rocky wall on the opposite side of the cave. His eyes did not meet Aragorn's. He did not speak, staring at something not physically existing in front of him. His breathing was shallow and fast, his body tense. He was in obvious distress.
Aragorn frowned. "Legolas? What is it?"
Legolas stared at Aragorn at the question, his eyes wide and hard, filled with a mix of anger, anxiety and concern.
"Orcs!" he hissed, "I've seen orcs and men. Evil is camping in this place! They have prisoners. Children laid in chains! Human children of about a seventeen summers. What they are doing with them... - I've heard it. I've seen it. It is horrible! I must stop them Aragorn!"
Legolas' voice bore a hard, sharp touch, to cover his jumble of emotions, caused by a memories long buried, but not forgotten, where he himself had been a victim of abuses now again inflicted to other children.
He couldn't allow... just couldn't allow that to go on!
Aragorn knew how close this was going to the prince. "We will stop them, gwador-nìn. We will stop them, I promise!"
"You are injured, you cannot fight," Legolas protested, "You need rest. - They are many!"
"I'm already better," Aragorn assured, "And if they are many, don't even think once, that I'll let you go alone!"
Aragorn glanced at the elf with seriousness, "Legolas, just keep an eye on them. Make sure that they are not leaving without us knowing. I only need some small more time to recover and then we will find a way to free them. By the Valar, just promise me you won't pull any stunts on your own!"
He could see the anger that burned in the elf's grey-blue eyes, as he clasped his forearm and got hold of his gaze.
"Legolas, please promise me!" he insisted.
Legolas sighed deeply, calmed by his friend's touch. "I promise," he whispered, allowing his tense muscles to relax a little.
From then on Legolas did not fetch water in the daytime again, but used the cover of the night for that purpose. From time to time he climbed over, closer to the bigger cave, where the men and the orcs were camping. He surveiled the cave from behind a rock, listening intently. His keen elven ears and eyes picked up sounds and motions about the going on's in the cave and the intentions of its occupants.
Everytime he came back to Aragorn he was in obvious distress anew, as if he was reliving a traumatic experience, he had thought definitively past.
Aragorn worried more and more about his friend's condition. Legolas seemed to never even relax anymore, every muscle of his body was tense. He couldn't find rest. He cared for Aragorn, changed his bandages, gave him water to drink. He changed his own bandages; just to keep himself busy. That done, he sat against the stony wall, rocking forth and back, staring at the opposite wall.
Aragorn observed his friend intently. "Please, tell me what you have seen and heard, my friend. What is disturbing you to this state?"
Obviously it was a big effort for the elf to speak. Though maybe, if he told Aragorn, he would not have to carry the terrible knowledge of what was going on alone.
"The men are northeners. They are fairskinned and they are speaking westron. The children are lightly darker skinned. I heard how they were insulting them as dirty Haradrim, who deserve that way of treating, because they are lesser than animals. They are beating them... I heard how they slapped them... I heard the distressed wimpering and the suppressed screams, not to awaken any more reason for further beating. It seems they have order not to leave visible injuries, since the Lord they are headed to wants them untouched... for his own USE."
Legolas spat the word with disgust. All the music and fairness was gone from his voice; His words hoarse and hard, full of anger, his grey-blue eyes piercing, hate burning within.
"They are touching them... They tease them anytime they feel like - men and orcs. I've heard sounds of greediness and lust... I've heard who seems to be their boss say that they can play with them as it pleases, they should just make sure not to injure their virginity, that one is to be left for their lord."
Legolas paused. He set his jaw before he hissed, "I will kill them all! Cursed sprawl of Mordor!"
Aragorn's stomach clenched at Legolas' words. All this was happening very close to them. He witnessed his friend's reaction to a nightmare he was in a way reliving. It was unbearable for the elf to leave those children to their fate any longer. Though, they wouldn't help anybody if they rushed into attack and got captured. They were significantly outnumbered. It would have been folly! They had to act with caution, await a good moment. Besides, Aragorn was in no shape for an open fight at the moment.
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