It was dark by the time she made her way through the tower, light headed and bleary-eyed from exhaustion. She came to the final double doors, tall and jagged in areas with an intricate lock spiraling behind the handles. After about an hour of fiddling with assorted switches, she managed to pry open the thick doors. The air outside was significantly warmer than the inside of the tower, a summer breeze bringing relief to her stiff joints that had endured too much cold. She walked onto the outer courts in a calm and disinterested manner, her mind not even reminiscing the last time she had sprang across the path to avoid the rain of arrows from the orcs. Numb, tired, and thirsty was how she exited the broken gates that she had crawled through with Jacen those many days ago.
There was not even a hint of activity as far as the darkened horizon would tell, and she trekked silently onwards towards the place she was almost certain the battle had taken place. Trodden grass and ruffled soil was all she needed to trace the obvious path of the orcs, the moon illuminating deep indentations in the land where the feet of orcs had stepped. Hours passed of this before she tired and walked away from the path, lying down in the thicker, healthy grass that shrouded her from immediate view. The next morning brought light rains that clinked against her mail, but her path continued steadily onwards, only slower without the aid of food.
Occasionally she would find a small reservoir of water that had trailed off of the river and dried up, and from these she parched her growing thirst. Four days of this passed without more than the feigned calls of birds far above her head, bringing little company to her loneliness and growing dread. She feared what she would find at the sight where thousands of elves and orcs were slain: triumph, or the defeat that would herald only more disaster. Her mind would not leave the memory of the impenetrable walls of orcs as they came crashing down upon the much smaller army of elves, engulfing them in a suffocating ring of swords and blades. There was a day where she contemplated not returning at all, knowing that there was little chance that her army, the army of only a few thousand, could have won to another many times the size. But her need to see her friends once more drove her onwards, reluctant but willing.
There was not a day that she did not yearn to see the face of Jacen, the best of her friends and brother to her: to know that he was well and not lost to her blows. To see the face of Aragorn, Gimli, or Landrín without the feeling of sadness filling her heart when war was brought into mention. To see Legolas, the one who showed her compassion beyond friendship….she hated the fact that they all could have been killed, and the possibility of seeing none of them ever again sent sharp pangs of sorrow through her as she moved ever on.
As dusk blanketed the land on the fifth day, the faint flicker of orange light tempted her on the very edge of the horizon. At first it seemed a trick of her food and sleep deprived mind, but as the night deepened it grew in strength and she knew it to be true. However, it brought little comfort as her mind weighed the odds that it was orc flames, mocking from the distance for her to come see her fallen comrades. She moved her legs mechanically even after this thought occurred, though, her cares belittled by the primal urge to find shelter.
Another three hours passed of deft movements of her legs, revealing a definitive camp not more than two miles off. Either I come upon them now, or they discover me in the night, she thought, sleep suddenly keen on weighing her down. Neither is a welcoming concept if they turn out to be orcs. I may as well end the guess work now… were her last thoughts as she noticed a troop of ten or so figures that had dispatched from the central camp. They were distant and disfigured looking in the dark, her bleary eyes barely able to make out their outlines against the lighted camp behind. They advanced at a surprising rate, or so it seemed to her as she had moved at a sluggish pace for the most of two days. They carried with them spears that stretched many feet above their heads, and there was a moment of supreme dread when they lowered their points towards her when they were within four hundred meters.
She stopped when she saw this, and regretted with utter terror that she had not stayed away when she had the chance: they were picking up their pace. Her eyes imagined the hideous faces that would bring her own end, her ears almost picking up the grunts of guttural voices. Her legs refused to move any further as she stood paralyzed, alone in the endless planes of grass: she was more than an easy target. Without even a sword, not even her "prophesized powers" could save her against so many foes.
But as they made it within less than a hundred meters, their forms still menacing and indistinct, she heard a voice call out in Elvish. It was faint, and she made little meaning of the words, but it brought indescribable relief to her in an almost dizzying fashion: she was not going to die tonight. Instantly the spears raised and two of the ten figures broke free and jogged towards her, the other eight standing firm where they were, awaiting orders. Through the darkness she could not make out their faces, but she recognized the slightly deeper voice of Pulrandrion as he ran up to her, trailed closely by a companion. "My lady!" he exclaimed as his keen eyes more than easily picked out not only her face but also her deep cuts and bruises that painted her face from that distance.
His voice was stricken with surprise and concern, and Leah was sure that his expression was equally effected by her sudden appearance. "My Lady! What trials and misfortune must have befallen you since you left us! And you come bearing still your life. Thank the Valor!" was what he said, his usually melodious voice broken with unchecked joy and, still yet, concern. "Come, you must away with us to the camp where you shall be healed with what means we still possess. Oh, My Lady, such a relief it is to see you alive!" he chimed, and the figure behind him advanced a few feet to see her better.
Pulrandrion paused a moment in his jubilant welcome as this new figure came in close to her. "Leah…we had thought you would never return…" he said. His voice was also familiar to her ears. Her breath stopped for a moment as the shock of who it was sank into her tired mind, the figure coming up and embracing her in a tight hug before she could respond. The cut along her side burned with the sudden change in posture, but she did not care as she flung her arms around him as well. She felt his lips brush her cheek, warm and soft. "We thought you had died…Leah, amin mela lle. Amin mela lle…" he said his voice whispered soothingly in her ear. She understood without the translation.
oOo
It was a blur from then, and she remembered somewhat the last few steps she took before consciousness escaped her, and she and fell to exhaustion onto the ground. She could remember vaguely the shouts of Legolas and Pulrandrion as she fell, their calls rimmed with urgency and shock as her limbs fell bodily among the grass. Someone had picked her up from there and carried her a ways…she could not remember who as she woke up hours later under the fabric roof of a tent, the outline of an elf to her side. He was tending to her lacerated waist with a damp cloth, but her mind was too hazy in the instant she woke up to make sense of the sudden change in surroundings. Her eyes opened slightly to see the cool rays of early morn appear through the thin roof above, the elf tending her stopping for a moment and pulling back when he saw this.
"How do you feel?" asked the elf, his kind brown eyes placed upon an equally calming face. His eyes and jaw were set at a slight angle, giving him a distinguished look of intelligence and knowledge, relieving some of the stress from her thoughts as she saw this. Leah blinked slightly and attempted to sit up, her muscles unbelievably sore as she did so. She was shocked to see that her mail had been removed, leaving her with her sturdy but sleeveless tunic that she customarily wore beneath the metal protection. The heap of chains lay at the foot of the cot on which she sat, its once dazzling gleam dimmed by the dirt and grime of her travels. She glanced down to her now exposed skin, looking at her battle wounds with an almost disinterested fascination. Splotched upon her toned arms were assorted bruises in varying size and color, and small patches of red where the mail had worn the skin raw. She did not feel like seeing the cut along her side or face, sure that it would be a gruesome sight of inflammation or infection, and instead faced her healer with a turned head.
She focused on his face for a moment, noticing the subtle differences from that of the elves of Rivendell, his tunic baring the arms of the Mirkwood realm. His skin was a bit more tanned (if elves did tan at all) than some of the others, his hair darker and braided with traditional patters down his back. "As well as one could be considering the circumstances," she said, answering his question in a light-hearted manner as if addressing the weather. She felt tired and still numb, the recognition of all that had happened in such a short time having barely registered in her thoughts. "But pray, do tell, what has become of our troops?" she asked, noticing a much quieter murmur of elves beyond the tent walls as they spoke.
The elf shifted in his sitting position, suddenly uncomfortable. "I am sorry, My Lady, but only a few hundred of us remain. We intended siege the stronghold of Saruman, and you arrived on our third day of travel after recovering from the war. It was a harrowing experience, and many of our kindred now lie buried beneath the grounds upon which they fought." He paused for a moment, considering with those thoughtful eyes if he should continue. Leah struggled for a moment to calculate the days that they must have spent bandaging the wounded and preparing what good men they still possessed for the final siege of life or death. It made her head pound to do anything more complex than drink in what little information the elf had given her, giving cease to her immediate endeavor. "You are in no shape to come with us, and I do beg that you return to Rivendell where you can be healed. I am sorry, but we must continue without you if the final leg of our struggles is to be reached. Saruman must be defeated before he can send more of his wizard craft to thwart us…" he trailed off, waiting for her to answer.
Leah sat quietly, listening to what he said. "No…" she shook her head, the pounding in her ears increasing painfully when she did so. She stopped promptly and looked into the astonished face of her healer.
"My lady?" he asked, unsure if he had heard her right. "My Lady, what has occurred in your absence? Do you intend for us to remain open to his forces, or has some other event befallen our chances?" Inquisition spread smoothly over his face, his eyebrows rising slightly and his welcoming features begging her to answer him. By now she had grown used to the beautiful manner of elves, but the way he intonated his voice, and the conduct in which he arranged his expression, made her feel safe and comfortable. It frustrated her for some reason, that she lived among them but was not the same in grace or skill, or even the same race of beings. But for now it did not matter, and she looked silently down at the wool blanket covering half her lap, rubbing her fingers along the silky fabric.
She took a few moments to organize her thoughts, the healer sitting patiently while she did so. "Indeed another event was in place…" she whispered, feeling suddenly awkward and strange. "Saruman is no longer a threat…" The elf leaned in closer, intent on the words she spoke. She turned her head towards him and began to unravel her story in slow, deliberate words that she was reluctant to speak. It felt almost as if she was in the wrong, and that she was confiding in him a great secret, but as she proceeded his expression grew to one of sheer amazement. She finished with a hasty recount of her experience on the balcony, and of how Saruman had fallen to his own ignorance. There was no need to tell the rest of her journey.
The elf stood up, his long tunic dancing loosely about his person as he rose dramatically. His face was frozen in the same look of astonishment as when she had started her story, and his mouth soon began to form words of equal emotion. "All hail The Prophesized One!" he cried, his arms opened in a gesture of obedience. Leah blinked at this unexpected show of gratitude, not sure of how to react to such a sudden display. "You have ended the war, and now the land of Middle Earth may know peace for all years to come. Thank you, Leah of the Other Realm, for your leadership and strength! Lye naa lle nai!" he exclaimed, his eyes alight with a sudden flame as he begged for a moment of absence from her side.
There was little guess what he had set into motion, as only a few minutes later a horn blew, and the camp was suddenly alive with great shouts and calls. Leah ventured outside of her tent to observe the change in atmosphere, immediately being bombarded with celebratory whoops and claps. An involuntary smile sprang to her lips as she saw Legolas jog lightly forwards to greet her from the crowd of people swiftly accumulating around the tent, scooping her up in a tight hug. She laughed despite the pain that surged through her side, and was more than happy to join in the ceremony that ensued. She was surprised at the ingenuity of the elves as they managed to collaborate an entire banquet on what little game and reserves they had at hand, the food beginning to roast soon after noon.
Just as the sun began to hover above the horizon, the meal was set around a large bon fire, much singing and laughter sounding boisterously from the throats of those around her. For the first time in months, Leah sighed in complete contentedness, the tension that had built up in her heart escaping like water from a broken dam. Her eyes squinted slightly as the very last dregs of the sun's golden light flooded the expansive plane, sketching out a tall, crumbling peak in the distance. For a moment her eyes tarried on this, her thoughts preoccupied with the feeling that something was forgotten in the time that she had been gone. But then she smiled: there was little to worry about now….
"Would you like to go for a walk, Leah?" A hand slipped over her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. Leah looked up, surprised to find Legolas speaking her name in such a casual manner, his face soft and welcoming in the golden light of twilight. She did little but nod, words suddenly escaping her mouth as she lifted from her seat and followed him past the thicker crowds of people. He did not say much as he lead her farther and farther from the group, the sky soon turning a pale grey as the last light of day finally faded to the cool hues of night. Leah couldn't help but marvel momentarily at the crisp outline of the moon as it unsheathed its light upon the plane, but she quickly returned her eyes to the figure striding soundlessly beside her.
She struggled for a while to find a decent conversation starter, settling for the question that had been bothering her since she had left. "How is Jacen?" she murmured, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer, and afraid that it might have ruined the mood between them. To her great relief, and sadness, he merely turned to look down at her with a look of sympathy in his two, perfect eyes.
"He was…greatly wounded," he said, his words hesitant but deliberate. "and he had much bleeding around the point of his broken ribs. The bruising was a gruesome sight, and many of the healers suspected that one of his lungs had been punctured…he could barely breathe….We sent him immediately away to Rivendell," he added hastily as a look of utter horror streaked across Leah's face. He stopped suddenly, grasping both her shoulders and looking sincerely into her eyes with his own. "He will recover, I promise," he whispered, his voice barely discernable above the now muffled songs of the distant crowd. They stood like this for what seemed to be many minutes, Legolas's face soft and comforting to her racing thoughts.
And then he leaned forwards and kissed her, brushing her lips with his own for an instant before pulling her into a close hug. "I promise," he echoed, his body close to her for a long moment. To her vague surprise, she did not blush or giggle as she once would have only a few painfully short months ago. She stood, feeling his warmth and allowing fear for Jacen to slowly ebb away.
"I'll miss you, when I go," she whispered, sadness thick in her words. "When I return….," her voice was subdued, but she was sure that he heard her with his acute ears. But rather than soothing words to ease her pain, he suddenly pulled back, releasing her from their embrace and leaving her dazed by the sudden change of events. His face was serious now, no longer light hearted or joyful. Instead, they were now filled with a shocked, puzzled look that brought a sickening feeling of unease to her mind.
"Return...home? To your home?" he said, his voice low. She nodded, her heart quickening at what might have brought about this response. Legolas averted his eyes, obvious reluctances playing across his features. "But we thought…we thought you knew."
Her voice was choked as she formed her words, a sudden fear pervading her thoughts."Thought I knew what?"
oOo
Author's note: My goodness! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this up! As it turns out, I have a neurological condition where time in front of screens (like computers, TVs, ect) so I really haven't been able to spend much time working on this. So to compensate, I made it a bit longer in comparison to most of my earlier ones. Hope you enjoyed it! But I promise, I will get the next chapter up within the next two months or earlier.
To Stefan the Vampire: If you are reading this, thank you soooo much for following my story. You have no idea how much your reviews have helped to shape my story over time, and if you would be so kind, give me some more of your ideas to make my ending a thriller. Thanks.
To rain: Okay, if you are reading this, I'll have you know that Legolas and Leah would have only been good friends (a bit like Jacen is to Leah, only not) if you didn't come along. This ending (which i hope you like) was inspired by your suggestion to make this a bit more romantic, no matter how much i really do suck at it...Anyhow, hope you read this and enjoyed this!
To every other reader out there: Ummm, Thanks for reading and please review!