AN- Sorry this took awhile. I just could not get into my writing zone recently. Anyway, here is chapter twenty-one (wow, it seems like just yesterday that I was writing chapter five...) and I hope you guys enjoy.
Disclaimer- I don't own LotRs. Ho-hum.
Read, enjoy, and please review.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The dragon slowed down when she reached the plains in front of Edoras. Her wings flared out to the sides, and she landed hard on the ground. Durandir slid out of his saddle, feet bouncing on the Rohan turf. He rubbed the side of Cerul's neck in appreciation. "I thank you, for being a good friend, and getting me here quickly."
Cerul turned her head around, and nudged his chest gently. "Don't worry about your love. Even if she does not harbor feelings towards you anymore, you just have to court her again." Trust a dragon to get right to the heart of the matter.
Durandir sighed, rubbing the hard plate between her eyes. She thrummed with pleasure. "How do you know that she will have me?" he asked quietly.As much as he wanted, he could not get the tight feeling in his chest to go away.
"Because spells like that have to come from feelings that could happen. If Elenloth couldn't or even wouldn't love you, than the spell wouldn't work on her."
Durandir sighed, and rubbed his face wearily. He hadn't slept in four days, and was getting a little twitchy. Again his hand swept over the short facial hair that was growing in, the short bristles scratching against his hand. His hair was also getting long, and he also might let that grow out, so he might fit in more.
He stood straighter, and looked Cerul in the eye. "Go ahead and eat. I would suggest eating in the mountains. The Rohirrim won't care as much then." The dragon growled out her thanks before she took off, heading for the mountains on the horizon.
Durandir watched after her diminishing form wistfully, hand resting casually on his sword hilt. He shook his head, remembering the wicked fast ride to Edoras. Turning, he headed towards the city on the hill. He wondered where his Uruks were, for they should have arrived by now. Before they had left for Isengard, he had told Matt to head for Edoras with the Rohirrim. Maybe they were just taking their time.
A wave of pain descended upon him with a rush, and he gasped. Damn, no matter if he was a vampire or not, his head still ached. And it would take at least another hour until James's powers shifted over to him. Personally he couldn't wait. Extremely accelerated healing was a very good thing.
As he trudged closer to the capitol, he rolled his shoulders, trying to get the kinks out. I wonder how quickly I'll heal at first. Probably not fast, for I'll get the power as though I've only just gotten it. Therefore it will be very weak. But hey, with practice, it will get stronger.
He trotted up through the gate, and walked up the well-worn path up to the Golden Hall. As he walked up the stone steps, the Rohirrim Royal Guards snapped to attention. Out of reflex, he too stood at attention and brought his hand to his eyebrow to salute in the fashion of the American army.
When one guard quirked his eyebrow and the other smiled gently in amusement, Durandir dropped his hand, and stared at the two coldly. Not threateningly, just coldly. One coughed nervously, and Durandir stepped forward, his cloak whipping behind him. He entered the hall, and was met with a wall of bustling noise. He looked around in interest, enjoying the view of the great hall for the first time. It was larger than he thought, and people were moving about in preparation for the party. Including Elenloth.
He just looked at her in shock before he approached her, moving through the crowd quickly. He grabbed her arm gently, and she turned towards him, slightly startled. Everything slowed down, and it felt like an icy ball dropped into Durandir's stomach. Now was when Durandir would see if Elenloth still loved him.
"Oh, Durandir!" she said, face brightening. "I didn't expect you back so soon." She started forward again, and brought the stack of plates she had been carrying to a table. She wiped her hands on the small cloth she had tucked into her belt, and turned back towards Durandir. "How are you? You look ill."
He smiled at her, fully appreciating her elvish beauty. "No, I feel fine. I'm just amazed that you could bear to walk around with your wounds. Don't they hurt?"
"Ah, Eru blessed me today. My wounds healed much quicker than usual. They healed almost as fast as a wound of yours would." They started heading for the door, skirting groups of people. It all made shocking sense to Durandir.
"It has got to be a bond." They stepped out of the hall and into the cooler outside air. Durandir followed Elenloth to the edge of the massive stone platform that the hall sat upon. He blinked when he saw the sight before him before smiling. There, on the plain before him, stood two hundred five-man tents. Legions of Uruks moved among the tents, most pulling off heavy armor, some wrestling, others just loafing around.
"What kind of bond?" Elenloth asked, as she turned to face him, auburn hair whipping away from her face by the wind, grey eyes curious and bright.
"A bond between vampire and his love, generally made after the vampire feeds on that person. It is extremely rare and it allows the loved one to feel the pain of the vampire, and to receive his healing capabilities. I know that it isn't like an elven bond, which is much more powerful." He gave a small humorless chuckle. "Knowing how much pain it has brought you, I wish I knew how to stop it." He said all this bitterly, blaming himself for hurting Elenloth.
He sighed, and looked off into the distance, staring at the mountains that bordered the plain. A soft hand on his arm turned him around, and Elenloth's calm and solemn gaze let him be at peace from his self-anger. "Don't wish that, Durandir. I am personally glad that I can feel what you feel, for that at least lets me know when you are wounded. This way, I know for certain that you aren't hurt, and won't have to worry if we are separated again."
Her brilliant smile lit up his gloomy mood, and he smiled back at her. "Okay."
Later that night:
Durandir sat quietly next to Elenloth, and watched as Theoden stood up from his throne, holding the goblet Eowyn had just given him. There was a loud rustle as everyone else in the hall stood as well. "Tonight, we remember those who gave their lives defending this country," the old man said solemnly. "Hail the victorious dead!" he called.
"HAIL!" everyone shouted out. Durandir joined them in their drinking, letting the smooth ale wash down his throat. At least he could drink and eat, even though eating anything solid was uncomfortable. Any full blood could only ingest blood.
Durandir slowly set down the cup, and as the solemn moment passed everyone exploded into the noise of a full out celebration. Everyone except Durandir. He always felt slightly down after a battle, no matter what happened during the conflict. Helm's Deep was no exception. As he looked around at the people having some good, old fashioned, 'we kicked their asses, let's celebrate' fun. So many young men, so many new widows. Why do we even have to fight? Durandir had never really wanted to fight, that was just a façade to put on for other people. Yeah, he was sometimes slightly too violent, but that was his vampire side. He looked over to Elenloth, who was talking happily with Legolas. She helped him realize that fighting was not the only way; she helped him nourish his human side. For that, he owed her everything.
Someone bumped into him, hard enough to make an ordinary man stumble, but he just absorbed the blow. He turned, and grabbed the shoulder of the young man who had fallen into him. "Oh, sorry sir, I didn't mean-" the young man started, and then his eyes widened as he realized just who he had bumped into. "Oh, sweet Eru. Um, sorry? I-I really didn't mean to do that, sir," he started stammering.
Durandir just held up a hand. He hated how being stronger and different made everyone afraid of you. "It's alright. Don't worry about it; I'm not going to die or anything," he grinned.
The man gave a nervous, very nervous, grin, and turned to leave. When he was about two paces away, he turned, face curious. "My lord, what was that game you were teaching the Uruk-hai?"
Durandir sighed, rolling his eyes. "First off, I'm no lord, mate. Second, that game is football. It's a sport where I come from, and a lot of fun." He grinned, and watched as the man's eyes flicked down to his elongated canines. "I'll teach you if you want."
The man grinned, and held up his hands. "I thank thee for your offer, but I'll decline. It looks brutal enough when I was watching."
Durandir nodded, and started chuckling in agreement. "That's certainly true. Getting tackled by a six-foot tall Uruk definitely hurts. And by a four-foot-six dwarf, too!" he added, glancing over to Gimli, who was setting the rule: "And no regurgitation!" for the drinking contest. The little guy was great at football while playing defense. Durandir himself couldn't count how many times he had been tackled by the smelly dwarf. Including that time where he had run on top the struggling defense and offense lines, only to get clothes-lined around the ankles by Gimli. He spun hard, and hit the ground brutally, still clutching the football. Then he heard a sentence he would come to wish that he had never taught the dwarf. "DOG PILE!" Last thing he saw was seven Uruk-hai and a dwarf launching through the air at him…
The man looked confused about something. "But where did you get the ball? I've never seen anything like it before."
Durandir answered neutrally. "I made it." It was true, he did. But by accident really. He had been walking among his troops, right after he realized they had nothing to eat, which was actually not true. They had collected plenty of dead Uruks from the battle that they could feast upon. Durandir nearly threw-up at that. But he had been walking among his troops, and had wished he had a football. And suddenly he was holding a football, and had suddenly felt very weak. At first this had been very confusing, but then he realized it: James had the power of creation, and Durandir took that from him. Anything he wanted, if he could think of it in detail, it was his. And considering how long he had been in the military, he knew over one hundred infantry and infantry support weapons in great detail. Immediately plans for the future had sprouted up. His infantry would be the absolute best someday, everyone would see. He would become a great asset for the Gondorian Army.
His thoughts came screeching back to the present when he heard Elenloth tell someone to go away in a very exasperated voice. He apologized to the young man he had been talking to, and made his way over to his love. A very large and very drunk man was bothering Elenloth, right in plain sight of Eomer. Moron.
"I jus' wanted to dance with ya!" the man said angrily.
Durandir considered killing him as he drew up behind the man, but that would probably annoy Elen, and piss off Eomer. So he laid an amiable hand on the man's shoulder. "Hey, mate. The lady said she doesn't want to dance with you. Let me go get you a drink instead."
The man turned on Durandir, frowning in drunken belligerence. He looked Durandir up and down, sizing him up. Evidently he was so drunk he didn't recognize the half-vampire. Poor bastard. "I don' wanna!" he sneered. He tried to turn away, but Durandir's hand on his shoulder held him like an anchor.
"Okay, don't get a drink, it doesn't matter to me. But I am asking you to leave the lady alone."
Eomer started to approach, but Durandir gently shook his head at the young marshal. "Oh, so you wanna fight?" the drunk man shouted as he swung a meaty fist at Durandir. Durandir caught the fist as he let his feet leave the ground, the force of the man's blow pushing him in a large circle so that now Durandir was the one between the table and the man.
"Look, mate, I really don't want to hurt you. But if you want to continue…"
The man roared, and threw another punch at Durandir. Durandir just sighed, and caught the man's wrist, and pulled hard, causing the man's hand the slam into the thick hardwood table hard enough to really hurt, but not enough to break bone. The man shouted in shocked pain, and started to drop to his knees, but Durandir simply maneuvered the man's arm around behind him, and jacked it up behind his back, forcing the man to his feet. "Sorry Eomer," he apologized to the man, who just grinned.
"It's alright; I was just about to order him to leave."
"I'll take care of this," Durandir grunted as the man jerked against his steely grip. "Alright bud, let's go on outside. I think you've had enough fun for tonight." He forced the man through the crowd, people pulling aside, shocked to see the large man being moved around by an average sized man; at least they were amazed until they saw who was doing the moving.
He reached the door, and motioned for one of the guards to open it up. "Orders of Eomer," he explained. "He wants this guy to calm down a bit."
The men nodded, and pulled open the doors, and Durandir pushed the guy out, hard enough to have him clear the door, but not hard enough to have him fall down the stone steps. Durandir turned as the doors shut, and made his way back to the table where Elenloth sat, feeling relieved that that problem was solved. Little did he know that Saruman's spell had finally worn off.
"Sorry for the inconvenience," he grinned at Elenloth, who just glared at him. His grin faltered, and a blanket of dread overcame him. "What?" he asked nervously.
"You didn't have to hurt that man!" Elenloth hissed, anger clouding her eyes, but deep down, Durandir saw fear and confusion.
He felt his temper grow. "I didn't hurt that man, I only let him feel pain. I assure you, his knuckles will be the only things that will have bruised, and his shoulder might be a bit sore, just reminders to not be stupid and bother the one I love."
Elenloth gave him a cold glare. "And who says I love you?"
Durandir just stared at her, feeling as the someone just ripped out his heart. "Y-you did, not earlier than this afternoon," he said weakly.
"No, that was a spell you lay upon me, so that I might think I loved you. But your spell has weakened, and I see you for what you are! A blood-sucking warmonger creature of darkness, who would try to lay with me, just out of love!"
Durandir gasped, and reached out his hand to try and touch her arm, to try and make sense of what just happened. This had to be a dream, it had to be! But before his hand made contact with her, she was out of her seat, and walking away from him. "I never want to see you again!" she hissed in anger, and disappeared.
Durandir just stayed his place in shock. Then he felt the rage hit. Rage not against Elenloth, but against Saruman. He should have kept the bastard alive, and tortured him to death, after many years of suffering. As he felt the wrath and hatred burn through him, he knew that his eyes were becoming black again. He didn't care. If Elenloth didn't love him, what could he do? What did he want to do?
The answer was instantaneous: kill. Use the rage to kill until there were no more enemies. His arm dropped to his side, and his other hand clenched into a fist.
CRACK!
His fist had slammed the table, causing the sturdy wood to break, despite the fact that the table was easilyfour inches thick. The bottles and mugs that were on the table jumped into the air, and so did everyone near the table. Legolas glared at Durandir, for he did not know that Elen had left Durandir, he had been to engrossed in his drinking contest. But the prince's glare faltered as he got a good look at Durandir's eyes, eyes that probably resembled a shark's.
"Sorry for the table," Durandir softly said, his voice trembling with the strain of trying to keep his rage inside of him. He stood, and made his way to the door, uncaring that everyone scrambled to get out of his way. He left the hall, and looked up at the unfeeling stars. "I swear I will have her love again!" he growled. His hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, and he made his way down to where he knew his troops were waiting…
AN (again)- for those of you who think cracking a four inch table is not a great feat of strength,Durandir pretty much just punched through a four-by-four piece of wood. Anyone who has been stupid enough to try that (I wave my hand excitedly while shouting, "I have, I have!") they know it doesn't work out very well. Namely: at best, the wood has a bunch of knuckle dents in it, and your hand hurts a lot (me); at worst, you broke your hand and the wood is untouched, seeming to laugh at your 'superior intelligence' (a person I know, no names shall be given out). What Durandir did was actually harder than breaking a four-by-four, because the table was hardwood, not pine. Anyway, just thought I might point that out.
See ya next chapter!