Disclaimer: I do not own a single thing in Arda ;3
There was a shatter in his ears when it happened. Legolas did not comprehend what it was until the battle had ended. In their defence against the warg-riders, they slowly gained the upper hand. Towards the end of their battle, the riders finally regrouped to kill the remaining enemies. Many had died, no doubt, but they succeeded in protecting the people of Edoras. Under the leadership of Eowyn the people of Rohan should have closed in Helm's Deep by now.
Gimli ended the last of the enemies by decapitating an Orc, finally ending their battle with his kill. He panted, tired of being under corpses, before he ran to Legolas. Legolas scanned the field and found Aragorn walking towards them, his face smeared with blood and dirt. None of them were wounded, much to Legolas' relieve, though the battle had exhausted them slightly.
"Glad we make it," Gimli said as he patted Aragorn's shoulder. "But where is Varilerin?"
"Varilerin!" Legolas immediately shouted, his heart suddenly throbbing with fear. No response nor reply came, the battlefield silent like the night. For the first time in his life the ranger was struck with incredible fear; fear enough to cower him to his death. He quickly scoured the battlefield for his friend, Aragorn and Gimli tailing behind. There were bodies everywhere, of Rohan soldiers and Orcs, but he could not find any wearing a dark scarf. Legolas' heart throbbed faster as possible consequences flashed within his mind, of which all he tried to not believe.
A wind brought him towards the cliff, lying cold and windless despite the upcoming storm. He turned to its direction, only to see Varilerin's bow lying cold under the sun. He picked it up as he looked towards the cliff, hearing river crashing below. He brokenly walked to it, fearing the most of his friend, until a chuckling shattered his anxiety. He looked down to see a dying Orc cackling with its broken voice. Gimli walked next to him with his weapon ready, while Aragorn observed behind.
"Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing!" Gimli threatened it with its axe. The Orc merely coughed blood in return.
"She's dead…. She took a little tumble off the cliff," the Orc whispered gleefully. His answer sparked an unknown anger in Legolas' consciousness. He instantly knelt down and grabbed the Orc, piercing him with his freezing blue eyes.
"You lie," Legolas insisted bitterly. "Tell me what happened!"
But the Orc did not respond, his eyes now gazing to the skies. Legolas breathed heavily as he looked down, seeing the Orc clasping an object. He slowly unclasped his fingers, only to see Varilerin's necklace, its pendant still enclosed within beautiful white wings. Legolas' face paled in as he took it, his hand trembling in disbelief. "No," Legolas muttered, sprinting to the ledge. He was greeted with a deep plunge below, ending with a rushing river enough to drown a horse. Deep in his heart he hoped truly for Varilerin to cling on one of the rocks of the cliff, but his eyes found none of her presence. "No…. Oh Valar."
None could survive such fall, even the strongest of their company. Aragorn and Gimli joined beside him, their hearts broken with grief. Varilerin, their lone female companion, had passed from their lives. The Daefaroth was no more, lost in the abyss she had always feared. Aragorn stepped back in horror. She had sworn to protect her and she accomplished her vow, trusting him with his own life. She trusted his doubtful self with the fate of Men and her own life, and now her life was lost to ensure he survived.
"What have I done?" Aragorn whispered to the air, regretting his behaviour thoroughly. Unknown to him, Legolas was struck with an even deeper grief. A voice in his heart sang a calm lament for Varilerin, but another whispered strange things he had never showed to her. It was upon her death had he just realized she was not a mere friend or companion. He had only realized he had been seeing her differently than a friend would, acted differently for her sake. She was not only a comrade. To Legolas, she was—
"Leave the dead," Legolas heard Theoden ordering the Men. The three of them turned to the king with bitter eyes, giving him a scornful look. Theoden however, was unmoved despite the fact Varilerin's loss was terribly for him. "I am sorry for her death, but this is battle. Come."
Theoden turned away from them, hiding the grief over his own men. Legolas closed his eyes as he prayed for Varilerin's soul, remorse conquering his soul. He looked once more at her jewel—glinting under the sunlight—and her bow, before he turned away from the river. Varilerin would not want him to grief for her forever, he knew. For now, all he could do to honour her was to finish their bloody quest, and take back Middle Earth.
She might be truly dead, for Caladin and Caldir were standing before her. A vast white hall covered her vicinity, an ethereal light coming from above. She looked back at her parents, finally accepting her fate.
"I am dead," Varilerin said. "Finally dead."
"No, My Child," Caldir said, his voice deeper than she thought. He was fair like shown in the Mirror, but up close his face radiated a kindness Varilerin felt in Glorfindel. "You are just awaiting to be awakened from your slumber. One step of it has passed, another is waiting. Your time is yet to come, for you still have a long road ahead."
"Is it not enough for me to endure all this suffering?" asked Varilerin in disappointment.
"Every being lives to a purpose," Caladin said. "Your purpose is yet to be fulfilled. You cannot see it yet, but you have more than just suffering waiting for you: friendship, peace, and love."
"Peace? Love? For me?" asked Varilerin. "It is such a blasphemy—"
"Your soul is clueless now, for you have never felt any of the two. You will understand soon, My Child. For now, you shall return, and you shall save the souls of many from their terribly demise," Caladin further explained. Varilerin found herself unable to speak further, for her voice started dissipated in thin air, just like the white hall.
"The world of Men and Middle Earth will need you till the very end. Go."
With those words, her parents and the white hall completely disappeared. She spun among the stars until she felt a cold sensation touching her skin, and the sound of rushing water. Varilerin slowly fluttered her eyes, her consciousness switching from the real world to what she guessed as visions. Blurredly she saw armies bearing the white hand of Saruman, marching down the hill in large numbers, and cliffs enclosing a river. Pain shuddered across her bones and muscles, a single shift causing her to grimace in pain. She slowly regained her grasp of the reality and caught a movement beside her. In response she grabbed for her weapons, anticipating an Orc raising its sword, but she only saw a horse neighing. Elen sniffled her hands and warmed her skin with its breath, relieving Varilerin of the momentary coldness. Elen brushed her raven hair gently, which she noticed had loosened by the fast currents.
"Elen, thank you," Varilerin whispered weakly, grasping for her manes and pulling herself to her feet. Once she gained a footing, she scanned for mortal injuries within her body. Fortunately, due to her enduring body, she had none other than countless bruises and grazes. Perhaps she had several cracked bones, but she could still move. Her weapons were still intact and her garments were still well. Knowing she was still capable of travelling, she mounted Elen and paced the horse away from the river.
She rode up the hill and returned to the vast plains of Rohan. Varilerin drew a deep breath as she directed Elen towards Helm's Deep. Elen thankfully knew how to reach the Deep without Varilerin's instructions at all times, thus she could find some slumber to regain her strength. She laid her head on her mane, feeling the wind brush her skin as they travelled farther. Quietly she thought of her friends, which hopefully arrived at the refuge safe and sound, unlike her.
Suddenly she heard stomps coming from afar, heavy and orderly, along with the sounds of metal clanging. Immediately her consciousness woke and she lifted her head, searching for the source of the sounds. Elen herself snapped cautious and seemingly knew the source of the sounds. She quickly paced towards a direction and Varilerin let her steed lead her. The sounds became louder and louder in her ears, which signified something unpleasant and unwelcomed.
Varilerin saw dark squares marching downhill and her previously droopy eyes were awakened in a flash. Legions of Uruk-hai were marching towards where Helm's Deep stood. Each of the warriors wore heavy black armour and equipped themselves with spears, swords, and crossbows. The white hand of Saruman was engraved clearly on their helmets, flashing Varilerin with fear of what would soon come to Rohan.
Oh Valar, she thought out loud as she rubbed her eyes, hoping to find her them deceitful, but the view remained true. Varilerin exhaustion brushed away immediately, as she turned Elen to the other path leading to Helm's Deep. Ignoring the pain stabbing her body and bones, she paced her sword as fast as the wind. The sun had reached the sky and would lower down soon enough; she had so little time and the army would soon reach the refuge. Gritting her teeth, she prayed hard for the Valar to speed up her ride and make her journey quick so she could at least give chance for those people to live.
Valar, please let me come in time.
Legolas sat alone in Helm's Deep, his mind occupied by things he could not understand; his feet could not find the strength to stand straight. He was a trained warrior and warriors were trained to not let their emotions cloud their judgements or lower their defences, but something about Varilerin's death shook his mental entirely. For once in his life he felt a grief greater than anything he had ever felt. He silently reminisced the memories he had with her, wondering what made him grief for her so much. She had been his comrade, like Aragorn and Gimli were, but something about her presence was different. She was a quiet yet a wise woman, filled with dark past which haunted herself and terrified the others, but she understood him. Legolas and Varilerin were polar opposites starting as rivals or enemies even, but soon the former found they were more than just comrades; they were similar in ways they could not comprehend and understood each other more than they understood themselves.
He could only wish he had told her all these things before, but everything's too late. The only remnant Legolas had of her were his memories, her bow, and her necklace. Legolas closed his eyes and clasped her pendant tight, praying for her soul to finally reach the Halls of Mandos and find more happiness there. Slowly his consciousness drifted along with his prayer, pulling him from the ravines of reality and towards a plane unknown to him. He did not order his body to enter a meditative state, but it seemed he could not control his consciousness in this sadness. There was a white plain before him, lying cold and still, before images started to form out of the emptiness. Pillars emerge from the white round and colours splashed on the white screen, shaping corridors Legolas was familiar with.
Rivendell? he thought as he tried to discern the strange sight. It was certainly not an ordinary meditative vision, for he could hear a sound so real his ears might be deceiving him. It was the sound of a woman singing, her ethereal voice echoing among the halls of Rivendell. Legolas found his 'body' walking towards the woman, still bemused of what he experienced. This has to be a vision, but it is impossible. I have no gifts of vision.
Legolas arrived at the Hall of Fire, with its eternal flame flickering at its centre. The woman singing sat on one of the chairs there, seemingly not noticing his arrival. Now he was standing close to her, he could hear her magnificent voice clearly. She must have been a light Elf, though her long dark night hair said she was a Noldor. Nevertheless, he knew he must have heard such voice before; it was sad and meaningful, wise like the trees and clear like the stars.
The elleth stopped singing, standing up from her seat and patting her long dress. Legolas strangely tensed when she walked away from her seat, her back still turned away from him. He wanted to ask her name, but he could not speak in this vision. It was only the elleth who could speak, and she finally turned around as a wind blew into the hall. Silver eyes flashed from the blazing fire. Varilerin looked back at him, her face as radiant as the stars.
She is alive.
Legolas jolted awake—at least, if he was sleeping at all, for Elves do not sleep—as if he had been struck by lightning. He looked around to see Rivendell no more, only Rohan Men walking back and forth restlessly. He fluttered his eyes and searched for his surroundings, finding no sight of Aragorn nor Gimli. He was sitting near the same position where he was told to, near the gates of the hall to inform Aragorn and the others whenever the King had come to a decision.
From afar the gates of Helm's Deep was suddenly opened, despite the King's strict order not to. His ears twitched sharply when the people below started muttering loudly and he stood up to see what had happened. Legolas walked to the edge of the second floor, confused of what had happened below.
"She's alive!" he heard vaguely. His blue eyes widened and his feet immediately ran towards the first level. It was entirely crowded and Legolas found himself unable to force past the swarming refugees. He stood restlessly like a fool, only hoping what he dreamt was true, that Varilerin was indeed alive. Unconsciously he clasped the jewel tighter, praying for his prayer to be answered.
It was answered when a black-haired figure pushed past the crowd. Legolas froze instantly to the ground, his golden hair losing its glow when he saw the familiar raven hair emerging from the sea of Men. Exhausted silver eyes looked back at him and instantly all his world stopped. Varilerin stood before him, with Aragorn and Gimli looming behind her. Varilerin did not move as well as Legolas studied her. Her clothing had been torn and dusted, with wounds and bruises appearing where her pale skin touched the air. Her hair fell to her shoulders—unattended and recently drenched in water—and her black scarf did not cover any of her terribly grazed face.
Legolas parted his lips and shook his head, unable to say any word of her condition. She looked half-dead as far as he could see, but something about her remained intact: the fierce determination in her eyes and her composed breathing. She neither spoke nor frown, the only sign of her existence being her deep eyes which shone with terror and anticipation.
Legolas finally moved from his ground, rushing past the refugees. He stopped just an inch before her and did not even realize it, for her survival was all which mattered now. Varilerin fluttered when he arrived before her, his arms extended as if he would catch her. "What happened?" Legolas began with his wavering voice as he once again examined her situation. "You look terrible, Varilerin! You fell!"
"I have fallen to death, but called back to finish my mission," she said shortly," to give you all a chance of survival with what is coming. I need to speak with the king, now." Varilerin, with a strength Legolas swore should not have existed in her condition, rushed through the sea of people and climbed the levels of the Deep with her uncanny speed. Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli followed behind her hastily, trying to catch up her unusual pace. Varilerin immediately found herself in front of the gates of the great hall, panting. Legolas stood before her and opened the doors in her stead, receiving a grateful nod as Varilerin entered the hall and announced her living soul.
Varilerin was greeted with Theoden, staggered back when he saw her shadowy figure standing before him. Gamling and his Men gasped, for they could not believe what they saw. "Daefaroth?" asked Theoden as Varilerin marched closer. The king studied her from head to toe, and his expression immediately changed.
"My Lord, Rohan is in utter danger," Varilerin started with her wavering voice. She dashed to the table before she leaned on the surface, catching her heavy breath. She coughed lastly before she lifted her face, showing Theoden a glimpse of what had happened to her. "A great host ismarching towards Helm's Deep. Saruman's Uruk-hai they are, fully cladded with armour and equipped with weapons.
"A great host?" Theoden exclaimed in horror. Theoden would certainly not believe ordinary people reporting this, but Varilerin was too exceptional for him to not trust. "How—how many?"
"Ten thousand, at least," Varilerin panted. "They brought ladders with them, crossbows, spears, shields, and swords. They are trained, no doubt." The whole hall stoned into statues, bewildered by Varilerin's news. Her words were difficult to cope with, especially by the fact that she had just survived a deadly fall. Deep down Legolas and her comrades also had hesitation towards her because she was inexplicably tired, but Varilerin would not lie after she had just died once. "It is an army bred for a purpose, to destroy the world of Men. They will be here by nightfall," she continued to clear their hesitation. Varilerin looked at Theoden, then at Aragorn—who covered his mouth in terror.
Silence engulfed them as they accepted the gruesome fact that all of them might meet their demises tonight. But Theoden would not let this end, neither would Varilerin and her comrades. "Let them come," Theoden said surely, but with fear hinted in his voice. He walked away from the hall with confidence and fear embedded on his steps. His eyes fell on the walls of Helm's Deep—as strong as they were when the Deep was first built. However sure he was of the Deep's stone defences, they would not prevail without the strength of their men. "I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle by nightfall," Theoden ordered Gamling. Gamling nodded reluctantly and left Theoden.
Theoden sighed as he scanned his people, still unaware of what would greet them once the sun fell. As a leader he did not want to involve his innocent people, but he had no choice. In fact, he might need more than just the involvement of people of Rohan.
"Aragorn," Theoden said as he turned to the ranger. Aragorn tensed and straightened his figure, as if awaiting a reprimand, which he received none. "You have helped my people before I even entered this world and we truly appreciate it. You have served my father and remained loyal despite us not being your true people. Now, in this dire time, I must humble myself to ask for your help once more. Will you come to my aid?"
"I will, My Lord," Aragorn immediately answered. "I will lend you my power. We will lend you our strength and all our capabilities, to protect the people of Rohan."
"Thank you," Theoden responded tiredly. Below him, the refugees had been alarmed with the King's announcement. Theoden frowned, for he felt he failed as a leader for his people; he should have protected them, but what they get was another fearsome battle. Only one choice left for him: to defend until all their lives perish. "Come," Theoden finally said.
Theoden walked to the ramp outside the gate, his fearful eyes scanning the panicking crowd. "We will cover the causeway and the gate from above," Theoden instructed his gathered men. "No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall or set foot inside the Hornburg!"
Aragorn stepped forward to protest, only to be preceded by Varilerin. "My Lord, your determination is remarkable, but this time it might bring ruin to you and your people. Grima must have told Saruman about the weakness of this fortress—if there is any—and it is a great disadvantage for us. Furthermore, this is Uruk-hai we are speaking about. They are skilful and well-prepared. I've seen it take one of my friends, one of the greatest warriors—"
"I've fought many wars, Lady Varilerin. I know how to defend my own keep," Theoden bluntly replied. Varilerin, for the first time in her life, appeared emotional and angered. It was her endurance which impressed Aragorn and his companions, for they were sure she might be in the brink of losing consciousness.
"My Lord, nothing will stand forever. Saruman is cunning and clever and he will seek any way to destroy our defences. I dared not say this, but I am afraid this time the keep might not hold."
"Are you doubting this fortress?" snapped Theoden, feeling insulted.
"No, her words are plausible, My Lord. We are far outnumbered," Aragorn defended.
"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock. Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be resown, homes rebuilt. Within these walls we will outlast them!" retorted Theoden.
"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages, but the people of Rohan!" Varilerin exclaimed. Her voice shuddered all within her vicinity, including her friends. She breathed heavily as she realized what she had done, staring to the ground to compose herself.
"What would you have me do?" asked Theoden, his voice wavering. Varilerin lifted her face and met Theoden's hopeless eyes. "Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this it to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."
Silence was Varilerin's only answer. Her body and mind was incredibly tired and she had not thought about their way out of this ravine. She again looked at the ground and clenched her fists, forcing her mind to think in her dishevelled state. "Send out riders, My Lord. You must call for aid," Aragorn pleaded, standing between Varilerin and Theoden.
"And who will come? Elves? Dwarves? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead," Theoden responded. Legolas and Gimli twitched, feeling slightly offended, but they could no longer protest. All Theoden said was utterly true and they could not change their tide.
"Gondor will answer," Aragorn answered with a determined voice. At this Theoden immediately snapped, taking a step forward closer to Aragorn.
"Gondor?! Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us?! Where was Gon—" Theoden paused when he saw the expressions of Aragorn and his comrades. He breathed deeply and acted similar to Varilerin, tryin to regain his calm thinking. "No, My Lord Aragorn… We are alone," he ended as he looked at the other soldiers. They had been watching him, no doubt, and he was disappointed with himself as a result. Everyone depended on him, yet he could not think clearly or use their trust.
Theoden turned to Aragorn and his comrades, lying his eyes on the battered Varilerin. There was a look of hope and trust reflected on her eyes such that the king could not look back. She had just brought the news from the dead to save his people, to give them a chance to survive, but all her efforts failed when they reached him. Her sacrifice might as well be in vain and he, Theoden of Rohan, might as well be blamed.
"Get the women and children into the caves," Theoden ordered his men. "And tell the archers to report to Aragorn once they are equipped…" Aragorn was still waiting for his change of mind, but Theoden's resolve was as cold as stone. "I depend on you in this, Lord Aragorn. Do not wish for something impossible and too late."
With those words he walked away from the company, leaving them to wonder what fate would be awaiting them that night.
A/N: Of course I won't kill off my character! There are more reviews than I usually received for the latest chapters, which is a good thing because now I can continue my writing. I cannot PM some of you reviewers, so I am thanking you here and now for the input and your ideas about Haldir's fate. Also, there is a guest who ask me whether Legolas will take hold Varilerin's necklace. Now that you've read this chapter, you probably know the answer now! ;3
And that's it for this time's author's note! Hope you like the chapter, and thank you again for all your endless support!
