Warning: Again this is still rather dark (Bara-dur is called the dark tower for a reason), but I am not going to be super graphic, since I dislike that kind of stuff.
Chapter 10 – By the Grace of the Valar
Legolas sat up painfully as his pleasant dream faded away, he was surprised that he had been left alone for so long. However, he was profoundly gratefully to whatever vala was responsible for the respite, for although his spirit was still strong his body had been near collapse.
As he sat a pale light shone through a chink in the wall. He pulled himself to his feet and pressed his eye to it. Far above, between ragged shreds of cloud and mist, a single star looked down upon him.
It was the most beautiful sight of his long life, an answer to his wordless pleas for light in the deepening darkness.
He settled back against the wall so that he could see the radiance for as long as it remained, and even after it faded it gave him hope. He thought of his friends, the Fellowship beneath that same light and wondered how they fared, of his father and sister, faraway in Mirkwood and his mother who he had thought to see soon.
With renewed hope, his strength returned slowly, for he did not wish to perish here unless there was no help for it. For the sake of his friends, his family and himself, he would fight to remain alive, for he was not yet weary of Middle Earth. He wished to see it shadow-free and fair, to watch his friends marry and dandle their children. To see his sister, a mother and hold his nephews and nieces as he had once held her.
He desired life with a passion.
He found his cast-off tunic in one of the corners and slipped it on, trying not to look at his damaged hand. There was little he could do for any of his injuries save gather up his strength and trust them to heal. But his hand, his hand was alas, beyond any skill that he knew of. He could but hope that they would not re-break it yet again, though he doubted that his wish would be fulfilled.
He was sleeping lightly when he heard it.
A shrill shriek of pain and malice born upon the wind in its last despair. Bara-dur strained under the anger of its master, the walls shifting dangerously, the tiny crack vanishing as though it had never been.
Far away to the West, the sun shone free and bright as the men of Gondor and Rohan rejoiced at the fall of the Witch-King. A young maiden, fair and pale lay like a broken lily upon the field while beside her, Merry of the Shire blinked at the sun.
The tide had turned and the sun shone upon their swords as a new ally joined the fray. Upon the wings of the wind they came, Aragorn, leading them through peril and out of forgotten legends. Over the black ships, the banner of the tree and the stars, silver fire against black glinted in the sun.
They came driving all before them, the rightful king and his kin, the Dunedain of the North, Elladan and Elrohir of Rivendell and Gimli the Dwarf, while behind them the dead swept spreading dread among the servants of the dark lord.
Sauron watched, his rage boiling over as he saw his great plans once again confounded. His wrath was boundless, not for some affection to the Lord of the Wraiths or his dead armies, but for his defeat. Deep it rankled, as he ordered his men to bring the captive before him.
Legolas waited in the dark all unknowing of the great victory of his friends. He knew only that a great evil had perished and he sang softly of joy and love and hope beyond the power of evil. He sang on even as he heard the heavy steps approaching.
He knew that it was likely that he was going to bear the brunt of Sauron's anger for whatever had occurred but he simply could not forget the peace that had flooded his mind with the dying of that cry. The men stopped outside the iron grate, listening in growing astonishment at the sound that filtered through the stones. Legolas' voice was far harsher than normal but still fair and pure.
The men in Sauron's service had left behind such things long ago when they had first fallen into the darkness. Some, ensnared by their lust for power, others captured unwitting and succumbing to the force of the dark lord's will.
The song stung them, reminding them of far gone times, when they had been happy and free, it twisted their hearts within them and fought with the darkness in their souls, imparting untold pain. Wrathfully they threw the grate open and seized the elf, gagging him so that they might not be pained by his voice.
They led him to a different room this time, so small that the flames of the lidless eye nearly filled it.
Again he stood before him.
His spirit had hardened, the long hours of peace in the darkness had strengthened him and though he did not wish to hasten his punishment he was no longer utterly hopeless. He had fought the pain before, with a strength born of his desperation. Now, he stood calm in mind and body, determined to endure whatever the fallen maia had in store for him.
Sauron's anger filled the room, his disembodied voice striking the walls and roaring back shrieking as Legolas was forced to his knees before the throne. He fought as well as he could, bound and bleeding that he was, but his face was calm and his eyes serene.
"You see the folly of defying me, prince. Spare yourself further suffering." it coaxed as the men removed the gag that bound him in enforced silence.
Legolas laughed, the clear sound echoing sweetly about the tower, startling all who heard it.
"Seek news of your trinket elsewhere, Annatar." he said scornfully, "I see that you have failed in some great undertaking and will take your anger out upon me whether I aid or thwart you. My answer remains unchanged."
The walls reflected the deadly light as the flames flared outwards, holding the prince within their embrace for a moment. He gasped in agony as they withdrew leaving him trembling upon the burning floor. His face was twisted in pain, his skin seared by the evil fire, though his resolve remained unchanged, hope he held and for hope he would defy the fires of Orodruin itself.
Slowly, he raised his smarting face and stared up rebelliously.
They left him alone less and less as the days dragged by, and still he clung to his hope. In the endless night he dreamed of spring anddays filled with laughter before the ending of the Watchful Peace.
Elladan and Elrohir ran forward as Legolas entered the courtyard, their dark hair streaming behind them. Upon the steps, Elrond and Celebrian stood, a tiny elf maid between them. Her shadowy hair hung to her hips and her eyes were grey and shining.
"Arwen" called the twins running back for her "come greet our guest." Elladan swung her up in his arms as the prince strode forward. A clear laugh rang out as Elrohir stole her from his brother and brought her smiling before Legolas. He bowed and kissed the tiny hand.
"My lady" he whispered into her delicate ear "Your wish is my command"
She curtsied back, "Anything that I wish?"
"Within bounds of reason. I promise."
She waved him goodbye as he left for the Greenwood later in the month.
"By careful, my Lasse" she called, her girlish voice carried upon the wind, as he turned back to bid his gwathel farewell.
Surely Lorien himself, sent him aid in the dark watches of the night, for he never failed to wake, refreshed and hopeful, while Sauron wondered angrily at his inability to move the elf. After the first day he had never wrung another cry of pain from the stubborn creature, no matter what he ordered done to him.
The men of the West marched swiftly into the shadow of the east, driven by a urgent feeling of haste. Before all rode Gandalf and Aragorn, the elven twins beside them.
"Some evil has shadowed my heart for many days" said Elladan the night before they came to the black gate.
"As it has mine, also" said Elrohir and Aragorn together. Gandalf looked at them, fear in his eyes.
"You have some measure of foresight" he muttered, his keen eyes upon the three, "yet I do not feel that the ring has been recovered, we would surely know."
They discussed ideas and plans until the dawn broke, while two hobbits climbed ever nearer to the cracks of doom and a fair elven prince lay flung in a tangled heap of bruises and welts before the throne of the dark lord.
They marched on into the day, drawing ever nearer to the Land of Shadow.
They stood small and wearied before the Black Gate, but proud and strong. Fair and defiant, their horns rang out as Aragorn called upon Sauron to render justice for the wrongs he had committed.
And the Black Gate swung open.
Nota Bene: Gwathel means sworn/foster sister, obviously the flashback is set before Erynel was born.
To Reviewers:
bella13446: Definitely not, most of my friends think the same. I am sorry to say that the word heart wrenching fills me with an unholy pride.
Pip the Dark Lord of All: You were almost crying? I really should feel bad about that, but I can't...
bettsam0731: Ohhh...he will shoot again. There is always a handy maia called Gandalf :)
gginsc: Gollum will die, Sauron will fall...but NOT Legolas. I refuse to kill him!
Just A Reviewer: Ahhhh, I don't normally get this angsty...but sometimes its necessary. Oh yes, the Valar don't come swooping in to throw Bara-dur down, but they do care about Middle Earth. Nope, no permanent damage...thank heaven for elven healing.
Guest: Don't worry, I am anything but annoyed. In fact I totally agree with you, in general. I have been trying to skirt the captured by orcs routine...
Of course it was kind of necessary for this but this is the only time I've done it, however, I tried to make the main conflict with Sauron. Hmmmm...I can't promise he will take out all of Bara-dur...but he won't be entirely helpless either. I hate Legolas-recovers-for-several-months fics.
Yes, he fights in the battle before the Black Gate.
I should get the next chapter up tomorrow...
Shire Rose