Hey!
I'm sorry for the long wait. As I said, university started again, and we have loads of assignments to do - and then I even forget about the studying. Ever tried to transcribe an ancient text? Don't even begin with it, it will take you hours just to read one page!
BETA: thewayfaringstrangers
Angelfabeth: That's a long time! How are you today? :) Thank you for your review on Alfirin, I loved it! :)
Applejackisthebestpony: Thank you! :)
BagginsPotterPevensie: Indeed, welcome back! :)
TheButterfluCurse996: Thanks! Yes, I wanted something different ;)
Ynnealay: Iris... yeah... my secret :P In my head she's sometimes a bit of a Mary-Sue, but I never write stories about her like a Mary-Sue :P She just like a character I can use everywhere I need one :P
(…) I deem it now necessary to include below an extract of an ancient text that has been found in the library of the White City itself, in order that the reader may learn the precise circumstances of his death and that he may see and comprehend what consequences this had upon the actions and decisions of Elessar, I, the founder of the 2nd Numenorean Dynasty of Gondor.
(…)It was a strange sound to hear. Amidst the whistling arrows and cries of pain of the dying men, a clear laughter stretched out towards the sky. Merrily, it defied the hoarse horns, dancing around them, before bursting into small echoes, that brought hope and a smile to the faces of the soldiers.
War had come back to Helm's Deep. And once again, the Rohirrim had to send their boys and soldiers to Helm's Deep, to fight for the survival of their country.
But the fortress stood stronger now, Legolas mused, when the smile upon his lips began to fade. He looked to the silvery knights upon the Walls. Gondor had come, finally fulfilling their ancient oaths. The White Tree now stood proudly next to Rohan's Horse, perhaps fouled by the black smoke, but not yet conquered.
The Dwarfs too, had come to Rohan's aid. With their glimmering armors, they looked like a sturdy metal wall to fill the breach that Saruman's foul sorcery had created in the Walls. Legolas had to revise his previous assumption about the stout creatures. Though they loved their palaces and mountains above all else, they did care about Middle-Earth, and now they had come to offer their lives for Arda. Gimli was amidst them, surely rejoicing in the sheer number of the attacking orcs. He would have a high score later on –though Legolas was determined to win the challenge this time.
But then he would have to get off these walls somehow. The elves of Mirkwood had been placed here, so that their accurate arrows could fly unhindered to the dark foe. They had to support the dwarves and men below, closing the orcs in on three sides.
But it seemed their plan had back-fired on them. The stream of orcs was endless, and even though they weren't particularly good shooters –that's an understatement- the sheer number of arrows made it almost impossible to stretch his head above the protection of the Walls. Only every now and then, one of the huddled elves quickly let loose an arrow, but always without aiming –there simply wasn't enough time for that. It was frustrating!
"Such dark thoughts suddenly, Legolas." A gentle voice broke his thoughts. The elf quickly took on an innocent expression and turned to the owner of the voice. Aragorn was leaning against some debris, looking attentively at the archer. A dirty eyebrow was raised, even though it was barely visible behind the grim and dust on his face. Over his cheek, a tickle of blood was running down–an arrow had grazed his head lightly, without doing real damage. Legolas smiled a little sadly.
"I fear the atmosphere doesn't really invite light thoughts, my friend." With a vague gesture, he motioned to his surroundings.
"Look around you! Doesn't this make you recall our previous battle? Once more the valley is filled with Orcs. Once more arrows and rain claim the air. Once more our people are dying! It seems almost like Haldir's death and that of so many others was in vain." The last words were whispered sadly. He bowed his head. Almost immediately, a gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder.
"Now now, my friend. Do not despair. In the woods of Ithilien, many fell under the heavy cloak of fear and darkness, and almost all of them were lost to us. But those who could still see the stars, still contemplate about the beauty in Middle-Earth… They saw the dawn again. For dawn will come, Legolas. You just can't seeher." Faramir's clear voice soothed him. He smiled a little.
"Those who perished hadn't such a loyal friend as you around, Faramir, else they would certainly not have given up. Thank you." Faramir's eyes shone as Legolas referred to him as a friend. Even though their bond wasn't as deep as that of Aragorn and Legolas, even though it wasn't forged in danger and darkness, there was a friendship growing between them, carefully yet steadily. A snort interrupted them.
"Are we going to arrange a marriage, or are we going to shoot some orcs?" Aragorn grinned. He wasn't jealous in the least, but his friendship with Legolas had been formed through insults and playful quarrels, and he found the mutual words of respect and amity most amusing. Legolas laughed too now.
"Perhaps we could set aside the human rule that one can only marry one other. What do you think, Faramir? You and I and Eowyn in Ithilien? But if you snore, you can sleep on the couch." Faramir looked absolutely horrified about Legolas' proposal, making it hard for the two friends to keep on a serious expression. Aragorn however, couldn't avoid a twitch upon his lips, while Faramir was desperately trying to find a diplomatic answer.
"Legolas I… I would never… I mean… Eowyn…"
"I don't think Eowyn would mind if I borrow you so every now and then." Legolas succeeded in keeping on a serious tone and face. He looked as if he really expected the Steward to consider his solution, but in his eyes, the laughter shone untamed.
"I don't think… Eowyn wouldn't like that…"
"Ah alas! Is the White Lady so cruel that she would leave a sad elf alone, without any comfort?" Faramir turned into an interesting shade of purple.
"Yes! I mean no! I…" That did it. The two friends burst into laughter, grabbing the walls not to topple over, leaving Faramir to stare at them bewilderedly. Then realization dawned.
"You were… You were just laughing at me!" he sputtered undignified. Legolas just nodded, for he had no more air to utter something. Next to him, Aragorn clamped his belly while tears were streaming down over his cheeks. And every time they tried to calm down, only one gaze at the steward was enough to make them start laughing again. Several archers were looking at them already, most of them with a grin of their own upon their fair faces. It seemed as if a wave of hope had conquered the wall, and the arrows now flew more often and more accurately.
Faramir had no idea whether he should laugh with them, or be indignantly. In the end, he just grinned sheepishly, and waited for the two to calm down. It worked. Eventually –after quite some time- they managed to look at the Steward without starting laughing again, even though Aragorn coughed from time to time in what looked suspiciously like an attempt to hid his grins, and Legolas' lips did not loose their smirk. Faramir scowled.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. How could I know about the customs of the elves?"
"Well, you live with them, for one."
"I do not live with them, I live next to them."
"What was the saying again? Better a good neighbor than a distant friend?" Aragorn pretended as if he was really thinking.
"By which you mean you are not my friend, my lord?" Faramir asked drawling.
"I wouldn't call Gondor distant, bur perhaps you should borrow a horse from Eowyn."
"Why?"
"Then perhaps your journey to Minas Tirith won't take a week."
"That was one time! And only because this elf here," Faramir glared at Legolas, "was so distracted by everything he saw, I had to literally drag him away from each single tree he met on our way!"
"I had to distract my senses in some way from your horse-smelling clothes and your love-sick sighing." Faramir opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again as nothing came to his mind. After a while, he had to content himself with a weak;
"I wasn't that bad."
"Oh yes you were! She's so beautiful, don't you think, Legolas? What should I give her? I have no experience with women, Legolas. What should I tell her? What does she like? I do not even know her favorite color. Oh Valar, she's so beautiful!" Aragorn was laughing again, but this time, he stood up for his steward. He slapped the elf gently.
"Come on, Legolas, give him a break!" Grinning, the archer threw his hands in the air.
"Fine, fine! Don't worry, Faramir. Aragorn used to be as bad as you were. And I trust you do have experience with women now?" The Ranger growled.
"Legolas!"
"I'll be silent, I'll be silent!" he laughed. "Shall we concentrate on the Orcs instead?"
"That would be the first good idea you've had this night." Legolas snorted.
"You underestimate me."
"Perhaps, perhaps," Aragorn retorted lightly, watching how the elf took his elegant weapon and placed a beautifully carved arrow upon the string. Legolas raised an eyebrow.
"Not going to lend me a hand in killing these creatures?"
"Nope. I'm going to wait a little, I think. I don't have too many arrows left. I want to spare them should the need arise."
"Fine for me." Legolas positioned himself next to a little breach in the wall, so that he would be able to quickly loose his arrow and hide again behind the stones. Just before he did, however, he turned to Faramir.
"Just for good measurement, we do not take two or more women." Faramir grinned.
"Aye, but now the question is, do you have a woman?"
The answer never came.
Instead, a startled cry arose. As if he was struck by a cave-troll, Legolas was thrown backwards from the wall. Before Faramir's eyes, time slowed down. With terrible clarity, he saw the body, tumbling in the air. The golden hair trailing around a white face. The slender fingers, slowly releasing the bow. The wide open eyes. For several meters lower, he fell, until the rocky ground caught his body. There he lay unmoving.
For several moments, they could not move. Then, a mighty roar broke the shocked silence.
"Legolas!" Within a few seconds, Aragorn had descended the stair and was kneeling next to his friend. Somehow, Faramir's feet had carried him there too –he didn't remember how he got there. All he could see were the broken eyes of the elf, and the shaft of the arrow, protruding right between his eyes. Faramir doubted whether the elf had ever known the cause of his death.
Next to him, Aragorn broke into silent sobbing, cradling the broken body in his arms, as if he wanted to protect him from the cold arms of Mandos. Tears streamed down over his face, but he did not speak. Only a faint whispering, an echo of an old elvish lullaby left his lips, solely destined for ears that could not hear him anymore.
Mutely, Faramir placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Legolas' face. Upon his lips, a faint ghost of a smile was still lingering. He thought of Gimli, how the dwarf would come to them after the battle to boast with his number of kills. How he would ask for the elf, to compare their scores. How they would have to tell that Legolas, Prince of Mirkwoord and Eryn Lasgalen, was dead.
There would be no more laughter on the walls that night.
*Hides, voice rises from under a table*
Yeah... well... He isn't dead!... Well perhaps he is... Don't kill the author please!*
xXx Archiril
xXx Archiril