AN- Disclaimer: I own neither Middle Earth, nor the Fellowship. I do own Durandir and Elenloth.
Okay, Dairokkan. I will touch on that subject in this chapter, and I had based their breeding on the movies. But you let me give way to change. Thanks. I hate it when only you or Crecy review a chapter. Come on, guys, I only have three reviewers. Alaika, where are you? And the rest of you had better start reviewing. I look at other stories with 100+ reviews and sigh with sadness.
CHAPTER TEN
The sound of the heavy Uruks' footfalls. Gimli's heavy breathing and complaining. The almost soundless footfalls of Legolas and Elenloth. Aragorn's light tread, and Boromir's heavy stride. These sounds filled Durandir's ears as he ran along, following Aragorn as he tracked the fleeing Uruk-hai. His own breath was slightly ragged.
As it should be! he thought as he leaped over a rock. He had used shukuchi, fought several Uruk-hai, and then killed Lurtz, after being wounded. And even though that was several days ago, he hadn't had a proper rest since then. He was tired, hungry, and worn. He tripped lightly, his hand brushing the cool, coarse grass before he righted himself.
His shoulder gave off another painful throb. He gasped, and readjusted the heavy falchion so it was resting more comfortably on his shoulder. He glanced once more towards the now setting sun. They had been running all day, and they had only gained little ground on the Uruk-hai. As it had been for several days now. They had already entered Rohan, and Durandir was waiting for the day with the red dawn. He thought it was tomorrow, but couldn't be too sure.
The sun set and Durandir sighed with relief. Even though the sun no longer really hurt, it was still slightly disturbing for the sun to strike his skin. I wonder why I haven't been burnt to all hell? he thought as he skirted around a thorn bush. It was true, his skin was still the pale gold it had been when he had arrived in Middle Earth, despite the fact he had been in the sun for several weeks now.
His shoulder tingled unpleasantly. Why the hell won't you heal, ya useless shoulder? he asked himself silently. It was closed, yes, but it should have completely healed by now. Maybe the bone was damaged. He rolled his shoulders, and continued running. He looked back to Elenloth, and slowed down so his pace matched hers. "How are you doin'?" he asked tiredly.
"Better than you," she replied, laughter barely concealed in her voice. "I thought those of vampire blood were strong!"
"We are, but I worked my ass off trying to save you, remember?" he snapped back. She just laughed harder. A few of the Uruk-hai behind them overheard, and laughed as well. Durandir growled at them. "And what are you guys laughing at?" he snapped as Elenloth took a swig from her water flask.
"I'm sorry sir, it's just that even our females are doing better than you," the lead Uruk said. There was sudden and abrupt coughing and hacking from Elenloth as she choked on a mouthful of water.
"Females!" Durandir asked in shock. The Uruk-hai nodded. "How many?" Durandir asked, still shocked and confused. "I always thought that you were created by dark magic in the birthing pits of Isengard."
"A good twelve of us, my lord." The Uruk then paused for some time before continuing. The tattoo of pounding feet again filled Durandir's hearing. Elenloth had finally stopped coughing and hacking. "Yes, most of us were made in the birthing pits; some of us were born of human mothers, through rape. And this also makes us angry. Why must we be used for Saruman's trickery and warfare? Can't he just use the normal orcs and such? If I was just given the chance, I would not mind being able to just go off in my own little corner of the world, learn how to farm, and continue making my art pieces."
Elenloth laughed suddenly. "You are an artist?"
The Uruk looked at her with all seriousness until her gales of laughter ceased. "Yes, mistress of stealth and death, who would never stop hating my kind no matter what the individual is like. Yes, I am an artist, and several of my comrades behind me are. Others are writers and poets, and we all like music." He growled darkly, making Durandir wonder if he would soon have to stop a fight. "Though we will never be as good as the elf lords!" he ground out in a mocking tone.
Durandir suddenly perked up. "You like music? Good, I can teach you songs that will instill fear into the hearts of our enemies." He frowned in confusion. "What is your name? I can not keep calling you 'Uruk' all the time, now can I?"
The Uruk looked squarely at the half vampire, and when he spoke, it was with a clear voice. "My mother named me Matthiol."
"Very well Matt. I will teach you a simple beat, from a song that exists where I used to be from. It was a song by a band called Queen, and the song was We Will Rock You. It goes like this," he said, and smacked his hand twice against his shield before tapping it with his sword. Thump thump, crack! Thump thump, crack!
Aragorn's POV:
He slowed down, making sure his eyes missed nothing in the failing light, when Durandir's Uruk-hai began to smack a beat out on their shields. At first he wanted to tell them to silence it, but then changed his mind. It really wasn't all that bad to listen to, once you thought about.
Durandir's POV (the next day):
Durandir glanced about worriedly. They were passing through the rocky terrain in which they should meet Eomer and his group of Rohirrim. He knew that the headstrong man of Rohan would not take the presence of Durandir's warriors well. He would have to do something drastic to receive the shaky trust of Eomer, but that was better than being slaughtered by a bunch of pissed off horse men.
He paused by a stone, feeling its grainy texture beneath his calloused hand. He gasped lightly for breath as he watched Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli moved out from the cover of the rock outcropping, and then come running back in. "Everyone, stay still!" Aragorn hissed. A rumble was felt through the ground.
Durandir gasped again as the memory of Agincourt came rushing back. He thrust it to the back of his mind, praying to God that the screaming would not be heard in his mind, the horrible scream of both horse and man. "Do not go gently into that good night," he whispered, making the vampire holy symbol over his heart. A soft hand grasped his shoulder, and he turned to see Elen gently smiling at him. He reached up, and held her hand softly, finding strength there.
With a roar, the riders started to gallop by. Durandir gaped at the sheer power each rider seemed to possess as the column rode by. Fair of hair and skin, and each spear polished bright; 'tis no wonder the orcs fear these men of might! he intoned in his head, trying out his own little piece of poetry. Shield and bow of wood and sword and helm of steel; the wrath of these warriors many will feel. The strength and unity of horse and rider was simply amazing, and the column was tight, ready for anything. But maybe not this, he mused to himself, his lips twitching into a smile.
Aragorn stepped out from the rocks, and the Fellowship followed, Durandir motioning for his Uruk-hai to stay behind. "What news from the Mark, riders of Rohan?" Aragorn shouted out. The leader of the horsemen raised his spear, and the cavalry wheeled about, the ground shaking with the pound of hooves. They were soon surrounded, the spears pointed threateningly towards the small group. Oh yeah, we're fucked! Durandir though as sweat popped out on his forehead.
Once the horses stilled, a voice rang out. "What business does three men, two elves, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly, and you shall be spared!" The smell of horse and leather was everywhere, but Durandir detected another smell: death. These men had indeed fought a battle last night.
Gimli scoffed. Oh God, Durandir thought in exasperation. "Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine."
The man got off his horse, and walked to Gimli, giving him the evil stare. Gimli looked right back at him, unafraid. "I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground!" There was a blur of movement from Legolas, and the haughty warrior was looking right at an arrowhead.
"You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas snapped.
"Thanks, Dimli! Legolas, lower your bow, and Eomer," (the man started at the sound of his name) "for the love of God, not everyone who wanders through these lands are spies of Saruman. Aragorn, introductions please."
Everyone was looking at him in fear, and now the spears were equally divided between Durandir and Legolas. Aragorn quickly spoke up. "I am Aragorn, of the Dunedain, this is Boromir, son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor, and Durandir. Gimli son of Gloin, Elenloth of the Galadhrim, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends to Theoden king."
"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," Eomer said heavily as he removed his helmet. "Not even his own kin." He looked to Durandir with fear in his eyes. "How did you know my name, man?"
"I guess you could call me a prophet. And I am not of the race of man. Only half of me is."
"What is the other half? And how do I know you are a prophet for sure?"
"The other half is Vampire, my lord." Again the spears dropped to point at Durandir, and only fear kept them from being driven forward. "That won't kill me in enough time, and I am loyal to your cause," Durandir said calmly. "As to answer your other question, you came across a party of Uruk-hai last night, and ambushed them, killing them all. Your eyes only saw beings of darkness among them, and you killed them all." The Fellowship's eyes showed horror at this statement. "You lost at least two men last night, and though I can't remember the men's individual names, the horses' names are Arod and Hasufel. I won't tell the future, as that is shaky at best, but I am sure I got most of the details, am I right?"
Eomer nodded, and opened his mouth as though to say something, but closed it again silently. "And you are angry because you can only spend your men in one direction, but you know villages in other areas are being attacked, and you can't do a damn thing about it. I am here to change that."
"You and what army, vampire?" asked one of the men still on a horse. "And why do you wield the weapon of the Uruk-hai, yet wear the clothes of Elvin make?"
"I have been named as one of the Galadhrim, which in and of itself should prove I am a good man, and the shield and sword I picked up during a skirmish we had with the Uruk-hai. As to my army, well, it is not an army yet, but we have soldiers. Look behind you, and notice their crest."
The Rohirrim turned, and saw the thirty Uruk-hai all standing at attention, their shields held out in front of them. There arose a shout, but Durandir bellowed to Eomer. "We are loyal to you, and will be spent where you need us, whether it be to our deaths or no. Where will you have us?"
Eomer looked shocked, but turned to Durandir. "How loyal are they?"
"They would die if I so told them to, and they would take on the armies of Mordor by themselves, if it was so my wish. They burn with righteous anger towards Saruman, the traitor who would have them spend their lives like leaves in autumn. Do not make the same mistake, milord Eomer!" He watched as Eomer paled, the man's eyes widening as he saw Durandir's eyes darken to black.
The man nodded, and mounted his horse again. "The rest of you may have the three horses we have. Durandir, there is a village to the East of here that has called for aid. Unfortunately my men and I are needed elsewhere. If you could…?"
Durandir nodded. "Do not worry, we will not trust to hope. I know it has forsaken this land." Durandir paused, looking over the men staring at him with a mixture of awe, shock, and fear. "A poem to see you off, my lord?" he asked gently, remembering the Rohirrims' love of songs and poems.
Eomer looked at him in surprise, but nodded. "That would be much to be hoped for in these dark days, that I know for sure." The horses and riders quieted down as Durandir began.
"Fair of hair and skin, and each spear polished bright;
'Tis no wonder the orcs fear these men of might!
Shield and bow of wood and sword and helm of steel;
The wrath of these warriors many will feel!"
He could feel the riders' approval, so he continued:
"For they ride through both night and day,
And patrol the land where their word holds sway!
So look out dear foes, and fear the land that will announce them,
Thunder of the ground will hark the righteous: the Rohirrim!"
The riders gave a roar of approval, and Eomer shouted out to his men: "We ride north!" The horses rode off in a loud thunder, each rider now sitting taller in the saddle. The Fellowship watched the riders dwindle into the distance before they turned to Durandir, who started to sweat under their scrutiny.
"W-what?" he stammered, starting to blush.
"'Fair of hair and skin?'" Gimli snickered. If looks could kill, Gimli would be pushing daisies.
"I thought it was well spoken," Elenloth defended Durandir, and he turned to her, smiling charmingly.
"You would, considering your feelings for him," Legolas smirked.
Durandir felt his eye twitch. "Have a problem with my poem, toy maker?" he asked quietly. Before the now spluttering Legolas could reply, Durandir turned to Elenloth once more. "Elen, I need to speak with you. In private," he said to everyone else. He smirked when he saw the beet-red Legolas. Served him right!
Elenloth, what will your answer be? he thought next as the elleth approached him. He matched her pace, and the walked off behind the rocks, the grass rustling quietly with their footsteps. He stayed quietly for a few minutes, enjoying her silent presence. Elenloth reminded him so much of Mary, it sometimes hurt.
Finally, he broke the silence. "I will do as Eomer has requested, and move east, to liberate the village. I know that I am breaking off of the Fellowship, but those Uruks I have with me are not enough for the battles I see on the horizon."
Elenloth remained silent. "Elenloth, my love, for I know now that is what you are to me now; I ask that you accompany me." The elf gave a gasp, and stopped her slow stride. "I would be overjoyed, and would give me much comfort-"
"I'm sorry Durandir," she broke in. "I can't, for I see too much pain and sorrow in your immediate future. It hurts to watch you fight, for it seems that you slay for pleasure, not justice." She cried out as he slumped to the ground, hand clenched over his heart.
It burned, but why? He gasped with unshed tears. "Does this mean that you don't love me?" he hissed, part in pain, part in anger.
"No, my wanderer, I love you, but I cannot subject myself to the pain of watching you hurt yourself," he barely heard her say. The grass in front of his eyes was tinted red, and he found it difficult to breath. Why was he reacting this way? He stiffened as he felt soft hands grasp the sides of his face, rasping lightly against the thin layer of stubble now growing there. He wanted so badly to lose himself in that touch, but he couldn't. He watched with darkened eyes as she gracefully knelt in front of him.
"You could be my protector!" he argued, but stopped there, knowing she was right. He let a breath come out as a sigh, the heat of which caught in her palm, and reflected towards his face. They had to go their separate paths. He felt his heart harden, a tear slowly sliding down his face.
He stood, pulling her up with him. He pulled her into a rough embrace. "I promise, that if I am not vanquished upon the field of battle, than I shall meet up with you again when you are desperate for allies." He let her out some before capturing her in a deep kiss. His tongue clashed with hers wetly, and he enjoyed her lemony taste for the last time before he had to leave.
He pulled her into another warm embrace after they broke apart, trying to memorize everything about her. Her scent, that smell of the mallorn bloom with a hint of lemon. Her warmth of immortality, and the soft firmness of her body. He could not forget and lose himself in darkness while fighting. He had to come back to her.
Elenloth's POV:
Her heart felt shattered as he pulled away for the last time. Tears blurred her sight, and she watched his hazy shape move away. She could still taste him, a strong mint that she would remember for the rest of her life. Her heart gave a painful wrench as she heard him call out to his Uruk-hai. "We head east!" his tenor voice called out, and was lost among the baritone roars of the Uruks.
She gave a hard sob as her elven ears heard the trampling of feet disappear into the distance. She dropped to her knees in anguish. I'll never see him again! He'll die all alone now, and I will lose the one I am meant to love. What have I done? An important piece of her heart had been removed, and when she stood again, her face had no hint of mirth or warmth in it. "Let's go get the hobbits," she said hollowly, and slowly her feet moved numbly, out of reflex, not by will. She mounted the black horse in the same manner, and the remaining Fellowship rode off towards the spire of smoke in the distance.
AN (again)- righteo, we won't be seeing Durandir for a while, and most of the story will be in Elenloth's POV until he returns (if he returns). If you have noticed a change in detail in the last chapter, that's because my step-bro said I wrote too much like a summary and should flesh out more details. If you notice any blank spots, please tell me...