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Legolas had realized he was missing only when Gimli turned to him, wiping sweat and blood from his ruddy bearded face, and said, "Théoden owes Aragorn much for this. I believe we have secured an ally, laddie."
He had agreed, but it was only then that he noticed that Aragorn was not with them, nor with the King, nor with Gandalf... He had excused himself from Gimli's company and hurried away to check the halls filled with the wounded. The bloodied men had looked rather alarmed to see a dust-smeared Elf striding through their midst, peering into each face with a cold frown, but he had barely noticed their confusion. Because Aragorn was not among them. His itching curiosity morphing into concern, he jogged to where the Elves had been settled, wondering if perhaps Aragorn had gone to console them after the loss of Haldir. Again, he was disappointed.
He had been wondering back through the castle, anxiety now gnawing on his stomach like a monster, when he quite literally ran into Gandalf. The wizard seemed to breathe a sight of relief at the sight of him.
"Legolas, I couldn't find you," he said, lowering his staff. With his flowing white hair and robe he suddenly looked like one of the great wizards of legend, those which radiated power and confidence.
"I haven't found him," Legolas replied before the wizard could ask. "I have searched the halls of the wounded, the Elven quarters, he is not with Théoden... I do not know where else to look."
"Look?"
Legolas arched an eyebrow. "For Aragorn. I thought you were searching too."
Gandalf's eyes flickered and he looked around quickly, as if expecting Aragorn to appear out of thin air beside them. "I believed he was with the injured," he said, his brow furrowing. He shook his head. "That is indeed a concern. But I was not looking for Aragorn, I was looking for you."
Legolas stared at him, blinking. Gandalf sighed, casting his eyes skywards as if asking the gods for strength. Legolas felt rather as if he was being scolded by his father for arriving home days late after another reckless hunt.
"Legolas, have you been attended by a healer yet?"
"A healer...? No, that is not necessary. It is Aragorn I-"
"Then you must. Come."
Gandalf tried to take his arm, but Legolas pulled away, eyes narrowing angrily. "Gandalf, you are not listening to me! I am telling you Aragorn is missing!"
"And I am telling you, Legolas, that you are in need of attention. Have you not seen yourself?"
Legolas scoffed. He found Gandalf's concern almost patronizing. True, his ribs were still searing painfully from when he had fallen against the wall as he battled three Uruk-hai at once, and his head was throbbing dully from a blow he had taken near the end of the battle. But the gash at his hairline wasn't bleeding half as much as it had been before, and he was sure that no one could see him struggling with his side when he walked. In which case, he was perfectly fine.
Aragorn, on the other hand, was missing. And Gandalf seemed to be failing to understand just how serious this was. He was speaking again, talking about sending out a search party of men, but Legolas simply shook his head and turned away. His nerves were grating after the battle, after the rush of fear and excitement, and he was growing dangerously close to losing his temper. It was something which very rarely happened, and he certainly didn't want to make an occasion of it now. Instead, he strode away towards the huge, half-demolished entrance to Helms Deep. Gandalf called after him, but a man was trying to tell him something about King Théoden and he was forced to let the Elf go.
Legolas stepped out into heavy, damp air which smelt of gunpowder and blood. For a few moments he stood motionless before the doors, gazing out across the devastation before him. He felt no sympathy for the Uruk-hai, but for the men and Elves strewn amongst them his heart ached. But there was no time for the dead now. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and began to search. Even with his Elven sight, it was impossible to identify a single one of the blood-spattered corpses below him. So he did the only thing he could do.
He began to make his way through the destruction, examining every face he passed. He tried not to let the masses of bloody faces sway him, but he couldn't help but wonder what he would do if he did encounter Aragorn's corpse. Aragorn must be alive. There was no way on earth that they could complete this quest without him. The Fellowship, though broken, could not take another death...
A sudden movement to his right caught his eye, and he span around, tearing his twin knives from his belt. A figure was staggering in a wobbly line across the battlefield, clutching one arm, hair wet and straggling about his face. But still, Legolas recognized him at once. What shocked him was that he had not even heard the man, hadn't sensed he was there... he must just be tired.
"Aragorn!" he cried, allowing relief to sweep away his surprise. He started towards the man. "Aragorn, mellon-nin!"
Aragorn didn't seem to hear him. He was still stumbling drunkenly through the remains of the Uruk-hai, one arm hanging useless, blood spattered across his clothes and skin. Legolas broke into a run, his instincts prickling. Aragorn must be wounded badly to be so confused that he could not hear his friend's voice.
"Aragorn!" he shouted again. "Estel!"
Aragorn tripped on something, fell to his knees. He struggled upright once more, gasping, his eyes unfocussed and glazed. His lips formed a word that Legolas couldn't hear. He took a few more steps, and then dropped to the floor with a dull thud. And this time, he did not get up again.
"Aragorn!" Legolas sprinted the last stretch of corpse-strewn ground between them with a burst of energy, terrible retching, choking sounds screaming in his ears. "Aragorn! Estel!"
He threw himself to his knees beside the shuddering man, grabbing him none too gently by the arms. Blood and saliva were dripping from Aragorn's mouth, clogging his throat as his shoulders heaved. His eyes flickered half-open, blind to the world. His trembling fingers pushed weakly at Legolas' grasp, and then without warning let out a groan and fell still, his eyes rolling back in his head. Legolas let out a cry of horror, his fingers digging right into Aragorn's jerkin.
"Aragorn, mellon-nin!"
Aragorn gave no response. His face was ashen, blood trickling slowly from his mouth in a terrifying scarlet stream. He hung limply in Legolas' grasp, and blood was roaring in the Elf's ears so loudly that he couldn't tell if he was breathing or not... Sheer, blind panic tore through him, and Legolas shook the man as hard as he could. Elvish spilled from his mouth in a stream of fear, and he suddenly didn't care if he sounded weak or childish. He just needed Aragorn to wake up, now.
"Estel! Tíro nin, iallon achen!"
On some level Aragorn must have heard him - the man's eyes cracked open, glimmering dimly in the half-light. Legolas leant closer, searching his face urgently, begging for some sign of recognition.
"Estel?" he repeated. "Estel, do you not hear me?"
Aragorn blinked. There was a long pause, in which confusion ran over the man's face, and Legolas' heart thudded. And then, suddenly, like an answer from the gods, Aragorn spoke. It was just a single word, and Legolas had never heard his voice so weak and agonized before, but to the Elf's ears it was everything.
"L-Legolas?"
Legolas let out a huge sigh of relief, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to regain control. He took a few deep breaths, and then forced himself to smile.
"Are you trying to worry me to death?" he said, smirking.
"I... I had... t'find... you..."
Legolas stared at him. Had Aragorn been wandering the battlefield, half-conscious and covered in blood, in search for him? Humans... "Indeed? I thought I was the one trying to find you."
Aragorn's eyes suddenly began to slide shut, and Legolas felt that irrational panic once more. He shook the man again.
"Aragorn, no! You must stay awake, you must!"
Aragorn winced, shaking his head slightly. "Legolas... Díheno nin... I-I can't..."
Legolas blanched. Never - never - had Aragorn ever admitted defeat, never in all the long years Legolas had known him. He had always been determined to fight to the end, to keep on pushing no matter what. But now... Now he needs me, Legolas told himself fiercely. Now he needs reminding. Making up his mind, he rose to his feet, taking Aragorn under the arms and dragging the man up with him. Aragorn coughed and struggled weakly, his legs offering no support whatsoever. Gritting his teeth, Legolas tightened his grip and threw an arm around Aragorn's shoulders, doing his best to take his friend's weight. His own head span sickeningly, and he was forced to shut his eyes for a moment and steady himself.
"You must try," he hissed, almost to himself. He opened his eyes once more. "Come."
He felt Aragorn tense slightly beside him, try to straighten his legs, but at once they buckled. Legolas began to move anyway, half-carrying, half-dragging Aragorn at his side. After only a couple of steps, Aragorn suddenly slumped heavily against him and Legolas staggered to the side, clutching at his friend's jerkin in a desperate attempt to keep them both on their feet. Aragorn's hand clenched on his jacket, his head dropping against Legolas' chest. Legolas' ears caught a barely audible apology, whispered through cold lips.
"Avo drasto le, Estel," Legolas murmured, even the world was blurring and shifting before his own eyes. Dark dots were stabbing at his vision, and his head was throbbing furiously.
"Ni sí an edraith achen..."
Aragorn was so heavy. And Helms Deep seemed to be so very far away... Legolas sank to his knees, still holding Aragorn tightly. He just had to clear his head, take a moment to calm down, he would be fine... And then, from somewhere close by, came a rumbling snarl that sent chills down Legolas' spine. The Elf lifted his head, panting, squinting through the haze hovering before his eyes.
It appeared Aragorn had not been the only survivor.
A few meters away, one of the monstrous Uruk-hai was crawling unsteadily to his feet, snatching up a rusted, bloodstained sword on the ground. Legolas' stomach jerked. The Uruk-hai was wounded, blood dripping from its chest and cheek, but it was in a far better condition than Legolas was. But there was no one else here... Legolas cursed himself, cursed the Uruk-hai, wished he had listened to Gandalf or at least collected Gimli before rushing out to look for Aragorn alone.
Too late now.
With a groan, Legolas heaved Aragorn from his shoulder and laid the man down as carefully as he could on the ground. A single glance at Aragorn's face told him that the man had slipped unconscious once more. Legolas swallowed hard, trying to force away the pain flickering in his head and ribs. He was out of arrows, and his bow he had left somewhere in Helms Deep with Gimli. Why hadn't he thought to bring it with him? He pulled the two knives from his belt once more, rose to his feet, and strode forwards to meet the Uruk-hai.
They met with a clash of steel, and at once Legolas felt his arms tremble under the strength of the monster before him. It let out a barking snarl, its face contorted with rage, its eyes glowing hungrily. Legolas couldn't attack, couldn't gather the strength to push it away. All he could do was hold his ground against it, staring up into its evil face, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. The Uruk-hai must have sensed his weakness, because a horrible grin spread across its face. It twisted sharply, and Legolas stumbled backwards. He made a clumsy lunge for the creature's neck, swiping his knives upwards, but the creature simply made a fist and hit Legolas hard in the face. The Elf felt blood burst from his nose, felt the ground slam into his side. He scrambled to his knees, his head screaming in protest, the world spinning.
The Uruk-hai had moved past him, perhaps thinking him finished. It looked around, its great gaping mouth hanging open. And then it did the worst thing Legolas could have thought of - it moved towards Aragorn, living its sword.
"Baw!"
The shout tore past his lips, and Legolas surged up to his feet with a sudden strength he didn't know he had. He raced at the Uruk-hai and, before it could even turn around, plunged both of his knives into the small of its back. It let out a harsh scream and wrenched away, gurgling disgustingly, and then twitched and dropped to the floor. Legolas stared down at it, forcing himself to breathe, doing his best to calm himself. Done. It was done. Now he had to get Aragorn to Helms Deep, had to keep moving...
Come on...
He shut his eyes, and then tore his knives free, pushed them into his belt, and moved slowly back over to Aragorn. He knelt beside the man, barely managing to focus on him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
"Estel... Aragorn, can you hear me?"
Aragorn made no response. Legolas gathered himself, and then took hold of the man once more and pulled him up. This time, it was a good few moments before he could make himself begin to move.
By the time he reached the doors of Helms Deep, he could no longer insist that he was 'fine'. His legs were barely supporting him any more, and he could feel sweat standing out on his forehead. Aragorn was a dead weight, and the only thing that let Legolas know that his friend was still alive were the shallow, rasping breaths pulsing against his neck. That was the only thing that made him keep walking, the only thing that kept him focussed. If Aragorn's life hadn't depended on him, he honestly would have given up long ago.
So when a small group of people hurried through the partly demolished doors to meet them, Legolas couldn't help but groan with relief. He heard a loud, alarmed exclamation that could have come from no one other than a certain dwarf, dimly saw someone stride forwards and reach for Aragorn. He couldn't quite identify who it was, and tightened his grip on the man as the stranger tried to pull him away.
"Legolas, let him go," a quiet voice said. "I have him."
Éomer? Legolas hesitated a moment longer, but then slowly released his hold and allowed the other man to shoulder Aragorn's weight. People were talking, someone was shouting orders. A flash of white caught his eye, and Legolas blinked as Gandalf came into sight before him. The wizard had taken hold of his arm, holding him tightly, as if he expected the Elf to suddenly keel over. Well, that wouldn't be too much of a stretch of the imagination...
"Legolas? Legolas, look at me now."
Legolas narrowed his eyes, managing to make eye contact with the wizard. He swallowed hard, the world swinging dizzyingly around him.
"Gandalf," he murmured. "I believe... I may be in need of... of help..."
Then the world suddenly surged black, and he felt himself pitch forwards into nothingness.
Elvish Words
Tiro nin - look at me
Iallon Achen - I beg of you
Díheno nin - forgive me
Avo drasto le - don't worry
Ni sí an edraith achen - I'm here to save you
Baw - no
Didn't think this chapter went quite as well as the last one, but I wanted to get this one up to clear my head before Monday. Hope you enjoyed it.
Reviews are welcome.
SUPRNTRAL LVR.