Chapter 7
Legolas
The army marched upon the Black Gate. I rode at the head with Aragorn, Gandalf, Éomer, and a Gondorian soldier. The Black Gate sucked in all light, leaving us alone in its cold, dead, dark presence. I laid a shaky hand on my bow. I would not be able to kill her. I only hoped she would kill me first.
Gimli squeezed my shoulder from his spot behind me. "You can do it, laddie."
"No, I cannot," I whispered quietly enough that the ears of a dwarf would not detect.
"Where are they?" asked Pippin.
Aragorn looked towards me uncertainly. I nodded. He pushed his horse towards the doors; we followed. Aragorn examined the gates as we came to a stop. There was no movement or sound from behind them, not even a breath.
Aragorn yelled up to the nefarious walls. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"
The doors creaked open with a massive groan. I pulled back the reins as a dark figure rode through the small opening. I peered beyond the horse and rider, attempting to catch sight of her. Foggy mist disguised whatever lay beyond him.
"My master Sauron the Great bids thee welcome." The rider hissed. "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" His lips were cracked open, revealing sharp teeth covered in black blood with every word. He had no eyes; they were covered by an iron helmet that stuck in violent spikes at the top.
Gandalf spoke, "We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this. The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."
The rider smiled hideously. "Aha! Old Greybeard! I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He held up an object of pearl-like radiance: a shirt of mithril that was owned by Frodo.
"Frodo!" Pippin yelled.
The vile creature threw it to Gandalf.
"No!" Merry yelled.
I cursed quietly as tears formed in my eyes. A simple Hobbit forced into the thick of the war and tortured. There was no hope without him. I would have to kill her or let her destroy my dear friends: those I had sworn an oath to.
"The Halfling was dear to thee I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did Gandalf, he did."
I breathed deeply and glared at the thing. He turned to me; it seemed as if he could hear my hatred.
"And I'm sure you're also here for the Master's prize? Oh yes, he had much fun with her. She mentioned a lover. The Master was not very happy with that, it seems as if she has not been faithful to Him. Such a pretty, little thing. The spirit of the elf is strong. She fought so hard to defeat the Woman, but she is ours again."
Aragorn rode in front of the thing, breaking my sight of him. He watched Aragorn as he approached him. "And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a King than a broken Elvish blade."
He swung his blade suddenly. The head of the thing rolled from its wretched shoulders and dropped to the ground.
Gimli grunted. "I guess that concludes negotiations."
"I do not believe it. I will not!" Aragorn said turning to us.
The gates creaked open.
Aragorn glanced behind him and gestured forward. "Pull back! Pull back!" We galloped to our army.
When I turned, she was there. It was only her. She had a boot on the head of the thing Aragorn decapitated. "Cannot say I'm surprised. The mouth always spoke too much," she mused. It was Rávawendë; the Woman had not abandoned her vessel. She wore a curious choice for battle: a black dress, but she had her quiver and her bow. I kept her knives in my saddlebags. They were retrieved from the field after I was carried from it.
I dismounted from Arod, leaving only Gimli on his back. I reached behind my head and put a hand on the hilt of my knife defensively. A cloud of black smoke shot across the field like a ghost, and her face was inches from mine. "Miss me?" She smirked.
I pulled a knife and swiped at her. I knew she would get away. A shadow flashed across the field, and she stood far away from me again.
"Can we not be civilized?" she asked with a smile. "I know I said you would never see this body again," she said as she moved back the material of the high slit in her black dress, "but I've grown to like it. It's…sexy.
"But I suppose, for the celebration of my imminent victory, I will allow you to have the elf." She flashed to me again. Her face pulled in a nasty scowl and she growled close to my face, "So you can watch her die."
As I watched, thick, black smoke seeped from her body, pouring out of her mouth, her pores, and her eyes. It dropped heavily to the ground and moved upwards behind Rávawendë's body. Rávawendë fell against me limply. I caught her waist and lowered her to the ground gently. She did not shiver, she did not breathe, she did not move at all. She was dead.
A gray hand touched her forehead. The Woman of Mordor knelt before me. By the looks of it, she was no taller than any man in our army. Or perhaps she was and she used her chosen height to deceive her victims. "I may have killed her a few times," she laughed awkwardly. "I'll fix that."
Her hair was black; her skin gray; her eyes were on fire and her skin was ice. And the most shocking thing about her was her sickeningly casual disposition. As she touched her forehead, Rávawendë gasped to life.
She gulped for air and looked around frantically. "Rávawendë?" I stroked her cheek.
Her eyes paused on my face. "Who are you?" she asked.
I pulled my hand away. It was like a stab in my heart.
"Yeah," the Woman sighed. "She probably doesn't remember the past –" she counted on her skinny, claw-like fingers, "– three thousand years."
Rávawendë crawled against me fearfully at the sight of the Woman, but she did not scream.
The Woman sighed with a smile at Rávawendë. "Oh, well. Bye," she shot through the opening in the gates.
I helped her to her feet. She still looked around disconcertedly.
Gandalf dismounted and outreached his hand to lay two fingers on her forehead. She caught his wrist. "Who are you?"
He smiled. "My dear Rávawendë, I am one of the five Istari sent here to fight the power of Sauron. I am the Maiar called Olórin. I can help you remember."
She let go of his wrist apprehensively. When he pressed his fingers to her forehead, she nearly fell to the ground. I caught her by her elbows and held her up. She gasped for breath and looked at Gandalf.
"My brother…" she trailed off. She looked up to the Eye, which scanned the field from its high tower. Either she did not remember the most recent events, or she did not care. I did not feel anger for it; she could not care for the love of a silly, young elf.
She gulped and nodded. There was no time for grief.
"I have your knives." I pulled them from Arod's saddlebags.
She took them from my hands. "These are different than what I remember. How many years did I miss? Three thousand, she said?" She groaned and rubbed her forehead.
"Yes," Gandalf answered. "This is Aragorn, heir of Isildur, and the one behind you is Legolas, son of Thranduil."
She spun around to look at me as Gandalf continued speaking. There was deep pain and betrayal in her eyes, but she smiled. Her skin glowed a pearl color, her eyes a bright silver, the same as her hair. She looked like pure starlight. It was as if every darkness was cleansed from her body.
"This is a diversion," Gandalf said quietly. "The Ring may be on its path to where it was created."
The gates groaned open, leaving no more time for speaking. I helped Gimli down from Arod's back and slapped him on the back. "Auta!" (Go) I yelled, sending Arod to safety.
When I looked towards the gate, there were hundreds of orcs through the gate.
"Hold your ground! Hold your ground!" Aragorn pulled Brego to face the frightened men. "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers. I see it in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!"
My heart pounded in my throat.
"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!" Steel rang out across the field as the men pulled their swords.
Rávawendë looked at me as she sheathed her knives and pulled her bow. "You look like your father. I hope you fight like your mother."
"I do." I smiled sadly. "According to you."
"My head hurts." She whimpered suddenly and her eyes filled with tears. "What am I wearing?" She pulled at the black dress.
"I believe the Woman wanted to expose you," I said.
She smiled through the tears. "Sounds like something she would do."
Aragorn dismounted and led Brego to us. "Rávawendë, take Brego and run. You are in no state to fight."
She nodded and took the reins from his hands.
Rávawendë
Thranduil's son gaped at me as I took the reins and walked away. I quickly let go of the reins, slapped the brown horse on the back, and said, "Auta!" (Go)
I turned back to the man, Aragorn. "Now I am trapped here."
I found a spot next to Thranduil's son.
"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf," a dwarf grunted.
Thranduil's son looked down at him and smiled. "What about side by side with a friend?"
The dwarf smiled. "Aye! I could do that."
I noticed two tiny men standing near the dwarf. "Hobbits in battle? It is strange times."
"Yes, it is," Legolas sighed. He put a hand on my waist – in a quite intimate fashion – and faced me. "I know you do not remember, but…" He sighed shakily and gently kissed my forehead.
I gasped in shock, but his intimacy felt so familiar from his side that I wondered what happened over the past year, then I remembered what the Woman was like, and thought better than to think on it.
He dipped his head as the general overlooked the scene of the orcs that surrounded us. I did not stop Legolas when his lips pressed against my own; I only let him. I did not want to stop, but I had to. I could not betray his father like this. He stroked my cheek; I pulled away.
"I am sorry," he whispered, "but before she left your body, we–"
"I do not want to know what I did," I whispered gently. I caressed his cheek as tears formed in his eyes. "Whatever happens in the future is all that matters. You obviously love like your father, now prove to me that you fight like your mother." I kissed his cheek and patted his chest before I turned away.
Aragorn made his way towards the other side. I loaded my bow.
Tears were swimming in his eyes when turned to us. "For Frodo," he whispered.
I had no idea who Frodo was, but he sounded important. So, as he held up his sword and charged at the opposition alone, I ran with him – after the two hobbits who charged first.
She was there. I was not her target. She wanted the man, Aragorn. I would not let her have him; she would not win this fight. I fired my first arrow at her. She did not see it coming; it stuck in her shoulder, but as she pulled it out, blackened with thick blood, she simply scowled and found me in the army.
Her appearance warped in thick, black smoke, and she shot towards me, weaving through the men and orcs. I pulled my knives. She materialized behind me and hissed in my ear, "I underestimated the wizard." I spun around and missed her. She appeared behind me again. "I thought I would leave you a babbling, miserable mess."
"The wizard refreshed my memory; he told me some interesting things." I attacked again; I missed her again.
She materialized to my left. "He told me about my brother, everything that occurred after the battle." Attack; miss. "But, nothing more. You underestimated me."
A loud screech distracted the both of us. Dark beasts circled in the air above us, bearing even darker riders: Ringwraiths. They would slaughter us. Then, I saw the source of the screech: an eagle intercepted one of the Ringwraiths, clawing with its talons.
"The eagles!" I heard a hobbit over the roar of battle. "The eagles are coming!"
I turned and smirked at the Woman, who was staring fearfully at the sky. She growled at me and made a fist. Fire ran through my veins. I screeched in pain.
"You're strong," she mused. "Legolas could not handle much. How about a little more?" She closed her other fist.
I fell to the ground gasping and shrieking. I could not breathe; I could not move. My heart froze and ice began to move outwards.
"Rávawendë!" I watched as Legolas struggled against the others to get to me.
"I told you he would watch you die," she snarled. "He was supposed to be your child, and look what happened, you fell in love with him. That was not me, sweetheart."
I looked out to Legolas, who was still furiously shoving through.
Her eyes darted towards the gates, lessening the pain with her distraction. The Ringwraiths turned with her, flying towards whatever beckoned them.
But, as a screech came from the tower, and the others began chanting the same name Aragorn fought for, I laughed through the pain. It was over; it was supposed to be over. I believed this as I watched the orcs flee in fear as their master's tower crumbled with the rest of Mordor.
Hopelessness and realization filled her eyes as she looked upon the mountain. For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of virtue in her fiery eyes, dark hair, and grey skin, but then she looked upon me with the same eyes I saw three thousand years ago.
She looked furiously upon me as I laughed. Legolas was looking upon the mountain. "He's looking away." I cackled. "Bitch." She snapped her fingers. There was a scream, and everything was gone.
Sequel coming soon. (Next couple days)
