Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of it's characters...sadly including Legolas...
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Chapter 3: Angsty Aragorn Awaits An Apology…
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"…naga da'gathiar, himself…Why must he always be so stubborn?" Aragorn lamented to the empty room in which he paced. It was the one Theoden had assigned him on their arrival, though he shared it with his companions, the silent Dwarf who sat whetting his axe-blade with a reproachful look on his features, and the absent Elf.
He sighed, it was not Legolas's fault truly, Aragorn understood the horror he felt; seeing children being sent to battle…it was sacrilege to the Elven way…Elflings were rare and protected fiercely from the outside world. To stand by and watch so many Youths fitted with armor too large, shields too heavy…and weapons they could not wield…it would have burned the tender heart that beat beneath the warrior's exterior…
Suddenly Aragorn, Estel of the Elves, felt weary and sorrowful; to yell, to rebuke his soul's brother was painful for him also and should not have occurred. He would to find the Archer so as to apologize…
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The man's demeanor changed in an instant, and he knew a decision had been made.
"Ah, Laddie…it seems you have realized your foolishness, will you finally go and make peace with the Bloody Elf? This is straining us all, and we can't afford to be at odds with one another…ah, Laddie…I should probably mention something…" the gruff voice faltered, as if uncertain whether the information was worth confiding or figment of twisted imagination on his part…
"The- The Lady Eowyn has taken to being…being quite…aggressive towards the Elf, and there is no cause that can be found…be wary when you search for him….If he is concealed from her wrath, do not call attention to the location…he will kill you himself before she steals his immortality with cold, hard steel…" he added, looking earnestly at the man, who nodded in thoughtful acknowledgement.
"I shall be wary, my friend, fear not for me…I shall be f-…" he started, but was cut off, "Do not speak that word, or I shall have to cut you to size, Laddie! The last time you uttered such a fallacy, we thought you dead! Just…stray from the Lady's path, we could not bear your death a second time…" yelled the Dwarf, quieting slowly and calming.
"I promise you Gimli, I shall return whole and breathing or my corpse shall submit to your vengeful tirade." Aragorn smiled, nodded and ducked out the door before Gimli could retort the obvious friendly insult hidden within honeyed words…
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Being raised by Elves gave him insight into their strange ways and innermost natures, especially that of Legolas, but it was still hard to discern his trail in the myriad of footsteps and paths trampling over one another in the dust and stone of the Fortress.
Large, granite bricks of Helms Deep seemed to withhold the secrets of time immemorial and mocked him with their silence, taunting the Ranger with information he longed to possess and was denied. Where was his brother?
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Upon the steps to the main chambers lay a familiar looking shaft, green-fletched and sharp as a razor's edge; lay an arrow of Mirkwood; rocking softly in the wind that skipped icy chill over them all, and making a soft tapping noise upon the bare, grey stone.
He hurried to it, examining where it had fallen, the direction it faced and ran through hundreds of scenarios in his mind that would account for Legolas missing one of his most treasured weapons; for the Arrows of Mirkwood fall even more rarely than the Leaves of Lothlorien…
It was cause for concern; his heart constricted in fear…but he stood and faced left, watching the walls with avid intensity…searching for what he knew to be there, concealed…and his patience was rewarded.
There, hastily concealed under a tatty old tapestry which obviously did not belong, was a doorway; the entrance was dank and dreary, a cold draught beckoned the Ranger down into the dark well of stairs. Aragorn grasped the arrow-shaft firmly in a battle-calloused hand, breathing deeply to allow his mind a moment to process everything; could Legolas be down there?
It was not impossible, but…why would he go willingly into somewhere so enclosed…unless…
Unless it was someone whom he trusted, or wished to speak in confidence; the Elven Prince had always been too obliging, it was both a gift and curse, he would never speak as to his discomfort if he was needed…
Which bespoke another question, to whom did he provide counsel? Who did he follow into these depths…and where did he now reside?
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Malevolent eyes stared at the passage; hatred like cold fingers gripped her heart and squeezed, tighter and tighter, until it burned as a flame in her eyes.
Oblivious to the animosity and hope, the object of her thwarted desire set forth to rescue his 'Gwador-nin', and she watched, flame flickering…before moving forwards and calling, "My Lord Aragorn, might I speak with you…?"
He turned in surprise at her soft voice, hand half-raised for the torch burning brightly in a nearby bracket; to start at the earnest look she had plastered all over her features, "Eowyn! I not the knowledge you were there, you should have been born a Ranger…so light is your tread!" he smiled.
She forced her mouth to reciprocate, "What is it you seek, My Lord?"
Aragorn seemed to halt, eyes flashing as he gauged what was safe to say, but then confided, "My companion, Legolas, has become missing; there was an argument, and I must apologise for my behavior…" Storm-grey eyes averted themselves from her own, and anger flared briefly in her own, but had cooled to something that passed as sympathy, afore he had turned his gaze upwards again…
"Oh, My Lord, how terrible! Do you not know where he could have gone…? Pray tell me, what did you quarrel over…?" she asked, ears straining for the faintest hint of argument she could use to force them apart…
His reply was unexpected at best, and she found no reply as he simply stated, "The Men. He- he could not understand how children could be sent to battle…or the old, and those untrained…and I know he questions the ways of man. For Elves discern not over gender, I believe he was surprised how able-bodied women were sent to hide when they could also wield a blade; as I personally swore to, after witnessing your skills."
Eowyn smiled genuinely under the praise, beginning to feel she had misjudged them both; especially the Prince…
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Her smile was as false as Saruman's, his instincts buzzed on high alert at her presence but he remained calm, and tried to turn her from the dark thoughts that plagued her. It worked for the most part, Eowyn stopped bristling like a cornered animal and smiled genuinely at the praise of her skill…
Gondor's future King felt it was right to ask, "My Lady, would you accompany me down into the depths of Helms Deep, I fear he is hidden in the recesses of this place…" She baulked, as he knew she would, her face betrayed something akin to fear and guilt…
She knew where Legolas was, why did she not speak…?
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Yes, I didn't rescue Legolas yet, would the story have been very good if I had...?
I have tried to keep the characters as true as possible, but I understand Eowyn is not like this, kind of a Dark!Eowyn fic. However, this is how I see her reacting if she truly had taken that scene to heart and misconstrued it.
Watch the scene in the movie and decide for yourself, it's hilarious...
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