Disclaimer: Only Emradril and Halinor and this plot. That's it. Everything else?...thank the Professor.
A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH. I have 187 reviews, and counting. Unbelievable. Extraordinary. You guys rock my world. Let's see….yeah, so this chapter was HARD. I think, besides for Light Before Death, this has been the hardest chapter yet. Filled with emotion from everyone…ugh, I am so exhausted. But my readers undoubtedly deserve it, nonetheless. Thus, chapter 26.
The Shadow of Death
Presence of the Sun
Click…click…click…
His footsteps echoed against the cold, bland, aged stone. It rang in his ears, as there was no other sound to be heard at the moment. He figured if he focused completely on the reverberation, his mind would miraculously let go of all of the hurt it had been clutching on to.Unfortunately, it was a lost cause…nothing could clear his mind; whatever emotions and thoughts were in it were fixed. Each floated in his brain, harmless individually yet dangerous collectively. Trying to disregard them was of no use. So he stopped his attempts.
Click…click…click…
His boots kept creating a ringing sound, nonetheless. Now, instead of helplessly trying to focus in on it, he tried to block it out, finding that it was all too impossible to ignore. The very fort seemed to be asleep, and the echo seemed to be the only sound stirring.
Click…click…click…
He desperately wanted the sound to go away. He now had to focus all of his energy on controlling his emotions, for they would be irked soon enough…he needed to keep his feelings in check. He did not want to lose control of them when he saw Estel. His friend would want him to be strong, to be brave, to carry on. But Legolas wondered if he was dying, how Estel would react….
He didn't have to wonder. He was dying.
Legolas had almost forgotten. His concern for Estel was so great that he had completely failed to remember his own welfare. He shook his head. His health would come second to his friend's; right now he needed to be there for him, to center all of his energy onto him, to make him the focal point in his life…or what was left of it.
Click…click…click…
He would have never though Estel would die…the thought just simply never occurred to him. He had known him for so long, and had grown so close to him, that it was as if he too were an elf, wholly immortal, transcending fatality to the fullest. Legolas inwardly scolded himself for being so naïve. Of course Estel would die; he was a merely a Man. All Men died…
But Estel's passing would be untimely, and Legolas had not the heart to think of it.
Despite himself, Legolas wondered if all men thought of their own demise. Elves never did; they focused on the present, virtually ignoring the fact that they, under specific circumstances, were not undying. Elves focused on life, not on death. It simply was not a topic discussed among his people. It was true that, for the most part, their time was unlimited. Legolas wondered how men could grow so comfortable knowing that their lives was restricted, aware of the omnipresent and everlasting possibility of death.
Click…click…click…
He was almost at the chamber in which Estel lay. The door was shut, but he could hear murmurs and shuffling behind it, undoubtedly belonging to the Healers who were preparing Estel for death. With each approaching step, he felt himself grow more and more nauseous.
Click…click…click…
His heart began to pound, his head grew heavy.
Click…click…click…
His mind revolved, patternless memories of he and Estel sweeping over him like a gust of wind.
Click…click…click…
"Shh! Legolas, we'll get caught!"
The voice was undoubtedly Estel's. He pricked up his ears, and stopped walking. However, he soon felt foolish, for he realized the voice was from a memory. He closed his eyes, straining to remember from whence the quote came…
"I didn't say anything!"
"Your boots were doing all of the talking. It echoes like a cave in here."
They were in a darkened hallway, but Legolas could see perfectly. It was nighttime, and a cool breeze rustled through the castle of Thranduil. It tickled his nose and stung his eyes, but there was an unspoken pleasantness to it. However, it was apparent that Estel didn't think so.
"I can hear your teeth chattering from here. It's not cold."
He heard his friend snort, then quietly reply, "You're an elf, your highness, you can't feel cold."
Legolas smiled, knowing his friend could not see him. His back was to him, and they were walking hunched over, against the smooth, ageless walls, trying to avoid detection. His Elvish senses were on high alert, for if they were caught, they would undoubtedly be punished. Severely.
"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Legolas mumbled. His apprehension grew with every passing second. The Mirkwood Guard was on alert twenty-four hours a day, every day. They were skilled archers, brave fighters, and had senses trained to perfection. These were dark times in Mirkwood, and he knew the Guard would not hesitate to attack anything that moved, especially if it were inside of the King's castle. He did not like to think of what his father would say, or do, if he caused an uproar in the middle of the night.
"How old are you? Somewhere around one thousand and five hundredish years? What happened to your daringness, your curiosity, your sense of adventure?" Legolas could detect slight disappointment in his friend's voice, but disregarded it.
"Have you forgotten who my father is?" he shot back, annoyed. The statement seemed to make his friend think. Thranduil was a compassionate and loving father. But if he were disobeyed, he had no qualms about punishing the offender. This was a widely known fact.
"No. But don't tell me he was a perfect elfling."
"I haven't heard anything otherwise. He knows better than to tell me those things."
"That's unfortunate."
"Yes…very."
They proceeded down the corridor, keeping low. Legolas sensed that the Guardsmen were not close at hand; they were probably busy patrolling the perimeter of the castle. This didn't necessarily mean that the coast was completely clear, but it did mean that they had a better chance at getting out of the castle unscathed and unnoticed.
"Legolas-"
"Shh!" He silenced his friend sharply. He had heard something; it sounded like footsteps, and they were coming towards them.
He quickly signaled at Estel to turn the corner, a few feet in front of them. They dashed towards the curve, and, as silently as possible, ran down it as fast as they could. But Legolas could hear the footsteps growing ever louder, so he reached out in front of him and grabbed Estel's shirt to pull him hard against the wall. They both now stood, panting silently, with their backs flat against the cold, smooth stone. He could hear talking. One voice belonged to a member of the Guard.
"Sire, I swore I saw something."
"I do not doubt you. No compromises can be taken, especially with Lord Elrond and his son here on a diplomatic mission. I want you to scour this castle, make sure that everything is in its place…start with my son's room."
Legolas nearly groaned in dismay. The other voice belonged unquestionably to his father. Just his luck. They waited, completely still, until the footsteps of both Thranduil and the Guardsman trickled away into nonexistence. It was only then that Legolas allowed himself to breathe.
"Alright, Estel. This is it. No more." He shook his head at his friend, and motioned towards their bed chambers.
Estel cocked his head. "Don't tell me the all-mighty future king of Mirkwood has lost his nerve." Legolas knew the gleam in his friend's eye. He only got it when he was up to mischief.
"Estel! My father is awake! They're going to turn this castle inside out. If they catch us out of bed-"
"What?" This was not a question: it was a challenge. "What will they do if they catch us out of bed? You are no longer a child, Legolas. Your father has to stop treating you like one…and you have to stop letting him."
Legolas opened his mouth to reply but stopped. He hated to admit it, but his friend had a valid point. He had been extremely sheltered from hardship, even for an elf. He was hardly ever allowed inside of Mirkwood Forest, and when he was, four armed Guardsmen were right there with him. He spent most of his time climbing the trees in the Royal Garden, or practicing his archery in the field. Both of these places were right by the castle. His father had never let Legolas accompany him on diplomatic missions of any kind. With a sudden claustrophobic feeling, Legolas realized he had never been allowed outside of the Mirkwood Realm.
He looked into Estel's eyes. They were full of anxiety and the gleam of mischief had not left them. Thinking, Legolas blinked and looked to the floor, studying the smooth, unchanging tiles of marble.
"So?"
"So what?"
"So are we going?" The want in his voice was undeniable. Estel was a natural explorer, an innate adventurer. How could he deny his friend his passion?
Legolas sighed. "Fine. But I am warning you, Estel, if we get caught, my father won't hesitate to kill me. And if he does, you're the first person I'm coming back to haunt."
Aragorn quietly chuckled under his breath. "You won't get caught," he replied in a whisper, slapping a hand on his best friend's back. "You're with me, remember?" He was grinning like a little boy. Legolas soon found out the grin was contagious.
~*~
He was not grinning now. Instead, he faced two solid Elmwood doors, perhaps twelve feet in height. They were a lighter shade of wood than the others in the castle, and seemed to be more worn than any of the others as well. There were cracks and splinters interwoven with the light timber, giving the impression that the door was feeble and unsteady.
Legolas just stood there. He did not approach the doors, nor did he make the slightest uncomfortable movement. He waited there, unblinkingly looking at the cracks in the wood. He followed them with his eyes, noticing that the cracks broke off into branches, ever spreading and diffusing the board, increasingly making the doors weaker…
"Open them already, will you? Time is a luxury we don't have!"
"These doors creak, Estel. Be patient, for Elbereth's sake."
They stood at the back exit of the Castle of Thranduil, Legolas in front, and Estel nervously looking over his shoulder every second or two. He carefully studied the doors. They were heavy and he had used them countless times during his life. He knew they would creak…the Guard's refined hearing would undoubtedly hear it, and they would be caught red-handed.
The mere thought made him shudder. But he shoved the notion aside and finally screwed up enough courage to put his hand on the ornamental handle. It was a cold metallic gold, with emerald leaves spilling from the handle down to the floor. His hand covered the knob, he grasped the chilled metal in his hands…
…and pulled.
Involuntarily, he felt himself wince, expecting to hear a creak, expecting to hear the Mirkwood Guard come sprinting down the corridor, expecting to see his father turn the corner and stare with cold eyes at his son who was causing such a disturbance.
His expectations did not materialize.
The door did not creak.
He opened his eyes wide, and felt his muscles relax, his mind ease. He heard Estel give a sigh of relief, and turned around to see his friend lower his head, as if in silent prayer to the Valar for preventing the door from making a poignant noise. Smiling, and inwardly impressed with himself, Legolas swung open the doors and beckoned silently for Estel to follow. They crept down the white polished stone steps, and into a field of soft, moist grass.
"Ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"Let's go."
Side by side, the friends walked across the grass towards the forest. Legolas felt the tender, dew-frosted grass crinkle and squish under his feet as the forest drew nearer. As they approached, he noticed the once familiar and welcoming trees now looked foreign and hostile. The once well-lit forest canopy now emitted an eerie halo of starlight from its boughs.
A tremendous feeling of apprehension made its way up Legolas's spine, starting from his lower back and ominously and gradually moving towards his neck. He had this feeling once before, and his intuition had turned out to be true. But issuing a sidelong glance towards his friend, he knew he couldn't deprive him of his roguish fun. So he ignored it.
They walked into Mirkwood Forest, and almost immediately the prince felt out of place, if not somewhat uncomfortable. He had been inside of the forest a myriad of times, but only in the well-lit presence of the sun. As the friends pushed their way though the underbrush, stepping on dead leaves and dried grasses and sticks of all sizes, the tingling sensation still did not pass. It was making him somewhat nauseous and gave him a sense of paranoia that he had never felt before. His eyes darted from one tree to another, searching for something, anything, that would have proven his sense of suspicion to be justified.
And soon enough, he found it.
In a bush, perhaps thirty feet away, he saw two glowing yellow eyes staring at them. No human would ever be able to detect this, but being an elf, it was as obvious as could be. Legolas let out a low hiss, releasing some of his pent-up energy to prevent himself from exploding in alarm. He stretched his right hand out, putting it across Estel's chest. His friend looked confused at first, but saw the look in his friend's eyes. He knew they were in trouble, even if he could not see the cause of the danger. Luckily, Estel did not say a word. He remained silent Legolas scanned the surroundings hurridly, searching for any companions of their stalker in the brush.
But before long, Estel's curiosity got the best of him. "Legolas, what is it?"
Only one word escaped his mouth, a low, disgusted sound that made Estel's skin tingle. "Yrch."
Estel's eyes widened in surprise and fear. Legolas could feel his friend's muscles tense, his body becoming rigid and awkward. He knew that Estel had never come face to face with these creatures. Neither had he, for that matter.
As he inspected their surroundings, Legolas began to see more and more unblinking eyes staring at them through the underbrush. He could not tell specifically how many there were, nor how they were alerted of their presence.But he could tell they were surrounded…and outnumbered.
Legolas knew these creatures showed no mercy, felt no compassion. They were mere shells of a soul, empty containers of a spirit that had long since fled. The stories Legolas had heard throughout his life were bone chilling and appalling. They had caused him nightmares when he was merely an elfling, and were the origin of his apprehension through much of his adult life thus far…
"Legolas." He was returned to consciousness by his friend's fearful voice. And he soon knew why. The orcs were moving closer. They had emerged from their hiding places on the forest floor and were now approaching, weapons drawn, eyes wide, tongues eager to savor the blood of a Woodland Elf and his companion…but he wasted no time. He drew his bow and placed an arrow upon it, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Estel draw his sword. He knew that they did not have a chance against this group of orcs, for they were inexperienced in battle. Estel was only…what…nineteen years of age? He couldn't possibly have had the training or the skill to defeat them.
Neither did he.
He had heard about the valiant warriors during the six-year war who had gallantly lost their lives to these abominable creatures. His people spoke of them with the utmost admiration and reverence. Legolas grew up with the notion that if he were to die, he would want to perish like those noble soldiers: fighting against his people's bitter enemies, protecting the Mirkwood Realm. He wanted to be remembered as the Prince of Mirkwood who passed on fighting for his brethren, protecting his kingdom.
But all of that held no importance. Now he was no longer dreaming, no longer protected by his father, nor the Mirkwood Guard…he was on his own, up against a danger that was extremely real. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and he looked over to Estel. His eyes were large, perspiration dripping down his tan face. His breathing was light and shallow, and he seemed to be focusing on one particular orc directly in front of them. He did not move, nor did he blink. He seemed to be in shock.
Legolas was passed the initial shock. Now, he was scared. Very scared. But he did not show it; he had no idea how to. He had never been scared in his life, as far as he could remember. Thus, being as fearful as he was now was incomprehensible to him. He simply did not know how to show his panic…
The band of orcs were moving ever closer. They seemed to be taking their time, sickeningly enjoying terrorizing their prey. Some snarled, some snickered, some licked their lips: but they all focused on him, the Mirkwood Elf, one of their loathed enemies. He could see in their eyes the excitement they held, planning the torture of the Elf who had traveled too far into the dank forest. And he knew he would be tormented: he had heard reports of it from the Guard to his father. Their captives were dismembered, beheaded, and beaten beyond recognition.
Legolas knew that this was what was going to happen to him.
A shrill cry came from his left, and he saw a lone orc charging at them, weapon held high, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. Quickly, Legolas raised his bow and shot the orc through the head. All that now remained was his shriek echoing amongst the branches of the trees.
Oddly, none of the other orcs charged. They just continued their slow constriction of their prey, patient but eager.
Now, he and Estel stood back to back, preparing to fight to the death. They were both certain that they would die, for how could they beat such a vast number of orcs alone? Legolas silently scolded himself for going into the woods alone at night. He had heard about the increased orc activity recently, and knew damn well that it was outright dangerous.
Without warning, the orcs began to shriek. They were ear-bursting, mind numbing shrieks. They were the most terrifying and painful sound Legolas's ears had ever heard. He noticed that they had stopped moving, and now stood in a circle around the two friends. They were shrieking nonstop, all of their voices molding together into one horrifying reverberation.
And then they attacked.
Legolas hastily drew another arrow to his bow and shot an orc through the chest, his black blood tainting the once green undergrowth of the forest. He shot another orc through the throat, another one through the leg, leaving it to writhe in pain on the ground. But there were too many. They all seemed to be converging on him, almost completely ignoring Estel.
But his friend made himself known.
He charged his way to stand directly next to Legolas. In between shooting orcs, he noticed how skilled his friend really was at swordplay. He sliced through them, one by one or even two at a time. His trepidation seemed to be lost in an emergence of adventure. Estel's loss of fear added to Legolas's determination. He turned to face the creatures that were responsible for the death of so many. They still charged at him, screaming wildly, but now he was not fearful. If he would die, he would die; if he would live, he would live. But he would not be slaughtered in dread.
As Legolas shot more and more orcs, he began to feel invincible. He developed a sense of hope. Perhaps it will be okay, he thought. Maybe it will be fine. Both Estel and Legolas remained unhurt, for the orcs were clumsy and somewhat lazy…he and Estel had a chance…
But his confidence took a desperate blow. Suddenly, Legolas felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and looked down to see a small knife protruding from his skin. He hadn't even seen the orc throw it…but it was of no consequence, because now he was feeling the pain, the tremendous pain, pain that he had not felt in a very long time. It seemed to increase as his red blood flowed freely, dripping down his green tunic. The pain echoed throughout his body, and he felt himself grow weak. He fell to his knees, clutching his stomach, dropping his bow and the arrow attached to it.
Faintly, he heard Estel call his name. It seemed as if he were in a dream; everything was happening in slow motion, the only prominent sound was of his breathing. He saw Estel sprint towards him, the orcs not far behind. Some were sneering in victory, emitting the shriek that would haunt Legolas's dreams for years to come.
Estel dropped to his knees, cradling Legolas in his arms. He looked into his friend's eyes and noticed they were brimming with tears. They both knew they would die. It was just a matter of time…
And as the orcs drew nearer, Legolas felt himself collapse into emptiness.
~*~
But, of course, he didn't die. And, of course, neither did Estel.
As Legolas came back to the present, he realized that he still stood in the exactly same spot in front of the doors. He had been enthralled in his recollection of the memory, its vividness, its clarity. He had put the memory so far into the back of his mind that he had feared it lost. Alas, it was far from lost: just misplaced. And he felt as if he were reliving it, in honor of his dying friend of old.
"I'm not dying, so will you stop it?"
These were the words that brought Legolas around to consciousness. His stomach ached terribly, as did his head. He lay on his back, and could feel silky sheets surrounding him. He opened his eyes, but quickly closed them. The light was too bright.
He rubbed his eyes, still not moving from his position. He ached all over, but generally, he did not feel absolutely terrible.
"Legolas?
Legolas!"
He heard Estel's voice to his right, and turned his head towards the sound.
"Estel?" Legolas forced himself to open his eyes. As they quickly adjusted to the light, he saw his friend sitting up in bed, being pampered by Healers. They constantly checked the color of his eyes, the texture of his skin, the healing process of his wounds, poking and prodding him, asking him question after question, sometimes repeatedly. They seemingly would not leave him alone, and he could tell by the look on his friend's face that it was driving him mad.
"Legolas! Oh, thank Elbereth!" He could hear the relief in his friend's voice, and gently smiled at it.
"Look, see? Your prince is awake. Tend to him. Leave me alone." Estel stubbornly pointed to Legolas, shooting daggers at the Healers with his eyes, slapping their prodding hands.
"Oh thanks, Estel," he replied as the Healers B-lined for him. They sat him up like a child, and began to tenderly check his bruises and his wound on his stomach. They pinched his skin, looked in his eyes, checked in his mouth.
"Anytime." His friend sat back in his bed and smiled at him.
But as Legolas moaned in pain when the Healers studied his stomach, the smile faded and a look of concern spread across his friend's face. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." Legolas supposed the grimace on his face told his friend otherwise.
As the Healers continued to poke and prod him, he heard the door on his left open. He turned to see who was in the door. He wished he hadn't. Thrnaduil and Elrond entered, grave and serious expressions on their faces. Suddenly, Legolas would have given anything to be unconscious again.
"Leave us." The intonation in his father's voice was a pure sign that he was extremely upset. The Healers left, single file. When the door was closed, Thranduil did not hesitate in his rampage. "What in Elbereth's name did you think you were doing?!" The question echoed against the walls of the chamber. Legolas lowered his head, and ransacked his brain for a decent answer. It had been Estel's idea to go into the forest;hHe had 'wanted to look for adventure'. Unfortunately, the adventure had found them.
But there was no way that Legolas would blame this occurrence on Estel. So he answered, "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? You're sorry!" the King bellowed in amazement, throwing his hands up in the air. "Do you realize that you almost died? You were bleeding so profusely that you almost all of the life within you had gone." Legolas did not know this. And, he suddenly realized, he did not know how he was alive. The last thing he remembered was the orcs attacking…had Estel fought them all off?
"Legolas, why…why…" He looked to his father and, to his surprise, noticed he was trembling. It was as if Thranduil's emotions had completely transfigured themselves in a matter of seconds. Instead of wearing the outraged expression he wore before, his face was now slack and pale. He could see tears forming in his eyes, and opaqueness spread over his face. He looked as if he were frightened beyond belief. Legolas was shocked at his father's unexpected transformation. Elrond put a hand on Thranduil's back, as if to reassure and steady him. His father hung his head for a few moments, regained his composure, then straightened himself and looked directly at his son. He cleared his throat, and walked towards Legolas.
He took Legolas's face in his hands and kissed the top of his head. "Legolas," he murmured. "My son."
He found his father's behavior somewhat peculiar. He had expected his father to scream at him, lose his usually-calm persona, prohibit him from entering the forest again, and storm out of the room, mumbling about his disrespectful and irresponsible heir. Instead, his father held him tightly. He could tell his father was crying by his ragged breathing. Suddenly, Legolas felt immensely ashamed for bestowing such grief upon his father. Going into the forest was a selfish act, but impacted his father as well. He felt totally and utterly guilty for his father's tears.
Thranduil let him go and quickly wiped his tears from his face. He placed a hand on Legolas's head and gently looked down at his son. Legolas could tell his father was trying to hold back tears.
"Get some rest," he whispered. He looked over to Estel and said, "That includes you as well."
Estel nodded, avoiding both his own father's and Thraduil's eyes. Elrond walked over to his son and kissed his forehead, mumbling something in his ear before both fathers turned quietly walked out of the room, closing the door lightly behind them.
Estel let out a breath of air. "Whew," he replied, running a hand through his chestnut hair. "I was expecting a lot of reprimanding and yelling…actually, I was expecting anything but that."
Legolas nodded, narrowing his eyes curiously towards the door. He understood that his father was undoubtedly concerned for his well-being, but he had found his behavior strange. He seemed to be overreacting, since Legolas was fine and in good health. He was acting as if he were undeniably relieved, as if he had gone through the process of losing a son before…
"Legolas."
He turned towards Estel, who said, "Thanks."
"For what?" he asked, confused.
"For not dying."
Legolas laughed, but when he saw the sincere look on his friend's face, he stopped.
"You were close to death."
Legolas felt uncomfortable discussing that situation; he had no memory of it. He cleared his throat, and changed the subject. "How did you fight them off?"
Now it was Estel's turn to laugh. "I'm flattered that you think I took on a thousand orcs by myself, and I would love to tell you that I did. But the Mirkwood Guard heard the war-cry of the orcs and came to our assistance."
Legolas nodded. The two friends remained in silence for a good few minutes. Legolas was immersed in contemplation about his father's reaction. It was just so puzzling, so out of character for him. His usually calm and collected father lost control of his emotions. He never cried. He didn't even cry when his mother died…
"Legolas?" He once again turned to look at his friend, and was overjoyed to see the same glint of mischief in his eyes.
"What?"
"Think we'll ever be in a situation like that again?"
Legolas studied Estel. He wondered where they would be in perhaps fifteen years. He tried to picture Estel as a grown man with responsibilities…it was impossible. "Knowing you, Estel, I wouldn't doubt it."
~*~
Had Legolas known his friend would be in a situation like that again, he would have never left his side. But his friend had faced that situation alone. And now he was dying because of it.
The were no more excuses for procrastination. Legolas had to open the doors to the death chamber in which Estel lay. He reached for the door handle, and felt the cold metal beneath his hands. He pulled…inside, laying on a waist-high block of stone, with blankets encircling him every direction, was his dying friend. The Healers surrounded him, cleaning his wounds, his face, his clothes. Purification and cleaning was the first step in the preparation of a soul for his death.
"I'm not dying, so will you stop it?"
But you are, mellonin, thought Legolas. You are dying.
"Look see? Your prince is awake. Tend to him. Leave me alone."
Nay, Estel, there is nothing the Healers can do for me.
And as Legolas stood there, looking at his friend with grief-stricken eyes, he heard the Healer murmur to another. "He will die within the hour."
~*~
Hmmm…..good chapter? WOW, this chapter was hard to write. Seriously…I think it took me three days.
This chapter is dedicated to Konjurer, for being such an awesome fan, an influential writer, and a great constructive critic. I really appreciate it, mellon.
Thanks to all of my reviewers!
Elentari Manwe: I do think Gandalf was there more than 2000 years ago…I just wasn't sure. Thanks for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed the interaction between Gandalf and Theoden…I wasn't sure if it was realistic, but I'm glad it was.
Stephanie-Lou: Thanks for the info on Gandalf…I wasn't exactly sure of the life-span of an Istari, but I'm glad you clarified it for me! Thanks for the reviews…keep 'em coming!
Mydogisfudge: Here's another flashback…err…well, kinda. I'm glad you think they're in-depth….detail is of great importance to me! Thanks for the review!
QT-pie pippinsgirl: Yes, well, I want to shoot Theoden too. But can you blame him? He WAS almost strangled to death…hmm. And vengeance has a hold on him. So maybe I don't hate him so much either…no, I definitely think I do. Thanks for the review!
Aria Nightwing: I'm glad the grief was touching…I love to use emotions in my chapters, though they are tiring. Oh! And as for Eomer…you will hear from him later….so stay tuned! Thanks chica.
Legolasluver: Well, sorry to disappoint…I don't think there will be any Eowyn + Legolas in this story…I don't think it fits nicely into the flow of things. But as for your anger at Theoden, I can relate. Bastard…how dare he kick out my elf? ;-D Thanks for your reviews.
Twisted Fool: LOL. Love the "hope-boy". I know I didn't resolve that yet, but…you don't care, do you? Just as long as YOUR elf is okay. I can't even promise that right now…sorry. Thanks for your reviews!
White Wolf: Thank you for complimenting me on my description of feelings. I love descriptions…can you tell? ;-D And thanks for all of your awesome reviews…they are very much appreciated!
Silverviolinist16: Hmm…I thought Aragorn's elvish name was Estel…am I wrong? Hmmm…o well. Thank you so much for reviewing!
Randomramblings: Take a break from that Chinese homework and celebrate that I put Legolas in this chapter! It was a whole chappy on him…and a long one, at that. Thanks for your reviews….I hope you enjoyed Legolas!
Rosie: Sorry about your busy life…I am so flattered that you took time out of it to read my fanfic! ;-D And I hope you liked this chapter…..thanks for reviewing.
Shetani: Thank you for your reviews! They're awesome…..I hope I have you on the edge of your seat. Thanks so much, hun….the reviews are greatly appreciated.
Solana, the East Wind: I love Estel too….so you're not alone. Thanks for your awesome reviews…I'm glad you like the story!
The Dark Rogue: I'm glad you like the story! (even though you hate Eowyn and, understandably, Theoden). Thanks for being an awesome reviewer….enjoy!
Ursula: I hope you read the rest of my story, but thank you so much for your review.
Orangeblossom Took: Thanks for the well-wishes…I need them. And thanks for your awesomely positive reviews…you've been a reader from the start, and I greatly appreciate it.
Silvertoekee: Here's what Legolas is thinking…but sorry, I really haven't touched upon Aragorn yet. Stay tuned though…and thanks for being such a loyal reviewer.
Konjurer: I dedicated this chapter to you because of your ego-boosting, evil-twin, talented-writing skills. You are awesome! You give me the confidence I need to continue writing. AND you give me those Orlando Bloom pics…what more could a girl want? ;-D Thank you so much for all of your awesome reviews and encouragements at…um….three in the morning. *stupid Reaganomics* I hope you continue to write…you are a very talented writer. Thanks for being such an awesome fan. You're the best. Thanks, mellonin.
187 reviews. That's almost 200. Which is almost 215. Which almost makes me feel faint. Thanks so much, mellonin.