Note: Having withdrawal symptoms. Here's a little songfic… Now, I don't care if I get flamed for how "horrible" and "crude" this is. This time, I'm gonna laugh… and write more. So go ahead. Give me your best shot.
Disclaimer: I don't own LotR (May Tolkien rest in peace) and I don't own The Cranberries's song!
Zombie
By boybeater3736
'In your head
In you head
Zombie, zombie, zombie
Hey, hey, hey
What's in your head?
In your head
Zombie, zombie, zombie'
- The Cranberries ("Zombie")
"Legolas's dead." Eomer said flatly.
The night air swept around the two men, creating a whistling noise as it caught in the tents. Stars shone dimly because of the smoke from the previous battle. Aragorn stared in disbelief at the always-solemn man of Rohan. He wasn't able to speak; nothing would come out of his mouth.
"Does Gimli already know?" was all he was able to manage to get out. He would hate to have to tell the still unbelievable news to the Elf's stead-fast friend.
"He was the one who came and get me when Legolas fell, Aragorn. He knows." Eomer said.
"Fell?" Aragorn sputtered.
"Fell." Eomer repeated. "He fell over."
Aragorn said, "Can I speak with Gimli? Where is he?"
"The Dwarf refuses to speak, even with you."
The street of Minas Tirith that the two conversed on was abnormally silent. There were many a wounded man lying about, but all was silent. It was as if the whole city had been suffocated with doubt. Aragorn fought the urge to grab Eomer by the color and shake him so hard he would tell the truth… but he resisted. It seemed like a nightmare, yet for some reason it felt highly true. But it couldn't be. Legolas could not be dead!
"Can I see him?" Aragorn murmured.
"Excuse me?" Eomer said patiently.
"Can I see Legolas?" he repeated, a little louder.
"If you would like," Eomer said, "follow me."
Eomer lead Aragorn down the narrow street, passing many sorrowful scenes of the carnage of war. Casualties. Burning. Tears… Aragorn tried not to take notice of this, but, as you may perceive, it was very difficult. A thick heaviness seemed to be in the air that made it uncomfortable to breath. Fresh air was what was needed. Fresh air and water.
Suddenly, Eomer stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. Aragorn had expected to go further, but no, there Legolas lay, sprawled slightly in the street. His eyes peered skywards. They were not glazed though, nor glassy looking. Just open eyes looking into the dark and smoky sky. From where Aragorn stood he could see no blood… no broken bones. A limp body that breathed no longer was all that was there.
"At first the Dwarf said he was asleep. I hurried to check him, remembering that Elves sometimes slept with their eyes open. I knew that I should have come to get you. You at least might have known what to do. I know not why Gimli came for me. He just did." Eomer explained.
"Did Gimli specify how or why or when he fell?" Aragorn asked anxiously, not taking his eyes off of Legolas's body.
"No. Not at all." Eomer whispered. He seemed to be deep in troubled thought too.
Aragorn cautiously knelt down, as if he expected Legolas to suddenly jerk awake. He felt for any sign of life- pulse, heartbeat, and breathing. Wherever he looked, he found none. The doubtful reality was sinking further in and further in. It was getting more and more painful. He also checked for bleeding and broken bones. Nothing. Legolas was dead. His usually warm body was growing cold… a sure-fire sign of death.
Later…
Aragorn gently set Legolas's body down by a group of other deceased soldiers' bodies. Two young women stood not far away, lamenting the death of a brother or husband. Neither of them looked old enough to have a son by any of the soldiers' ages. Tears were clear on their faces, beautiful dark hair like Aragorn's tangled and matted from obvious trauma and a painfully sleepless night. Gimli was close beside Aragorn, staring off into space.
Aragorn realized that ever since Legolas died he hadn't shed a tear. Not one at all. This made him horrible guilty for his friend's death, so, yes, now tears were silently falling.
So guilty…
A Few Minutes Later…
As the flames rose into the air, snaking and biting at the dry and bloody grass of the battle field, Gimli finally spoke for the first time that day,
"Aragorn…" Gimli whispered hoarsely, "He was exactly like a zombie. Like some sort of apparition that I couldn't believe. It was so horrible…"
Aragorn thought that "zombie" was a little harsh but he said nothing. He had fallen into a silence spell again, and this one was much, much harder to pull out of.
"Maybe like a wraith, Gimli." Was all he said.
"Maybe," Gimli whispered as an afterthought.
"Nah," Aragorn suddenly said, louder. "a zombie works just fine. He looked like the living dead to me."
"I suppose." Gimli agreed half way.
Embers flew into the chilly March air, in contrast with the dusky sky. It was beautiful, all those pink, navy, and purple colors mixing with fluffy clouds. Stars were beginning to show, a signal that it was time to head back.
"I'm gonna head back." Aragorn said, turning to leave. "Are you coming Gimli?"
"No," was Gimli's simple answer.
"You sure?"
Gimli replied firmly. Aragorn heard the potential crack, even though his voice was strong, "Yes, laddie, go on."
Aragorn looked away from the scene of the Dwarf standing by the burning pyre, turning on the intense heat. It had been warm, but now it was bitingly cold. Aragorn left, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.