CHAPTER 18 - Divided we fall

A/N: The M rating may show in this chapter. Possible triggers below (references to blood/violence).

Her scimitar slashed through the air in sharp rippling sounds. The wound had near completely healed, to no small bewilderment on her part. Kal wondered how much the ranger's salve had helped to that effect, its potency a new marvel to her mind. And yet, at times the freshness of endless green still floated across the canvas of her thoughts.

Kal shook her head. Now the focus was on more pressing matters. The stiffness in her shoulder area had to be abated. The elf had told her they would set out again, and soon. The half-orc wanted to be at the ready and prove as little of a burden as possible, as last she needed were more sour words from the sprite.

Positioned as she was not far from the shelter of the old ranger, Kal tried a double handed strike with her blade. So focused she was on her movements that she barely noticed Celeg.

She turned in a swift pivot, the wide blade landing with its curved tip just before his eyes. "Oh, it is you," she drew back and lowered the weapon, bemused when the child smiled in lieu of being frightened. It seemed a world away from the confusion and fear of their first encounter.

"I see he has taught you courage," Kal followed before noticing the child held a fare of sorts in one of his hands.

"What is this you bring?" she asked as the boy opened his now upturned fist.

Kal saw what appeared to be berries of some kind. They were of a brownish green hue, and dried. She met the smiling eyes of the boy then saw him take a piece and throw it into his mouth.

"I see," her lips curled into a small smile. Kal reached and took of the offering, her mouth pursing at the sour taste. But it was strangely filling. She took another, her golden yellow irises following the growing grin on Celeg.

He then went away only to return, a long wooden staff in hand.

Her eyebrows shot upward. "What ever are you doing?"

Celeg wasted no time pointing the staff her way with a few flourished swipes.

"Impressive. Now look here, this is a proper warming sequence," and she proceeded to demonstrate instructions as the boy attempted to mirror her movements.

"Not doing too badly, Celeg," a familiar voice cut to them, and Kal met the eyes of Faramir. He was propped with his shoulder against a nearby tree, observing them.

What am I doing? Kal looked to the child briefly, then recalling memories of her own hard and wearisome training years.

"Captain," she greeted. In a strange understanding of sorts, the half-orc and former ranger of Gondor had spoken quite often since the night things somehow thawed between them. She would tell him of Mordor, and the lives of people she had seen there. He seemed most surprised that there was life, earthly real and soulful life within the Black Land, however miserable. And then he would tell her of the world, its past glories and hurts, and of its peoples.

It had been the most unusual of developments.

Kal was rather fain to sustain this way of things. For one, it served her. But then there was aught else. The weak light of the flame in the evenings, as it reflected in his light colored eyes when the old human spoke lost in memory. The boy, curling up against him at first, and then at times to her. It was a new but ever brimming change within her, and the half-orc found she was rather pleased with those moments. Then she awaited them. It was only them, and at times the elf. But that one stood silent as the depths of the earth, and every so often left them to spend his night alone somewhere in the surrounding wilds. She did not dwell on it too much. Even now he was gone, where to she knew not, but her pride stood in the way of asking Faramir.

"If this is the style and level of sword skill they teach in that Black Land of yours, I am surprised it still stands," she caught the old man say.

Far from feeling slighted, Kal grinned in a way that made the ranger cross his arms. "I could do with a bit of practice," she pointed her scimitar at the human.

"Such hideous weapons, these," he looked to her blade before heading within, only to return with a long scabbard in hand. The hilt of a blade shone bright in the dim light.

"This did not fare so well last time," Kal jested as the old man drew his blade and walked towards her.

"Are you afeared?" he grinned at her.

"Not so easily riled, Gondorian," Kal returned, "I merely hope your control with the blade is as good as your skill with the bow."

"Come, orcling, let us see what that half-blood is good for."

She lunged at him.

This dance lasted for a few hours, scimitar clashing against long sword, by which time both were panting and Celeg was clapping eagerly. Though age made him slower, the human held himself in good form with his swipes and parries and boasted impressive endurance.

"Not terrible, for a hatchling of Mordor," the old captain said.

"Not good enough, for a famed captain of Men," Kal rebutted, even as her eyes fell on the approaching figure of the elf. His bow and quiver of arrows were about him, and she nearly scoffed when seeing her dagger at his belt. An unlikely thief, but a thief nonetheless.

"I will head in search of fish towards that side of the river," he pointed into his intended direction, nodding to Faramir by way of greeting.

Kal elected to join him, having thought to take a few turns swimming in the river either way. And now there was usefulness to it.

The elf looked at her with hardened eyes, but in the end nodded for her to follow.

He mostly fared from tree to tree, only landing to the ground a few times on their way and then for sparse moments.

Kal was beginning to regret leaving the company of Faramir. She had learned so much, and it left a lasting mark in how open and noble humans could be.

Noble. She had learned to place many names to many notions indeed during this time in unwelcome seclusion with none but a Gondorian and an elf.

Elves. Then she recalled a tale shared the previous night.

"Are you of the high elves?" the half-orc asked when Legolas was aiming for the canopy again.

Kal thought there was a slight hitch in his step.

"What?"

"The old man told me of the high elves, and the first kindreds."

"It seems the captain has been busy," Legolas said distractedly. He looked into her waiting stare, then back ahead. "That distinction would apply to the ones who have seen the light of Aman. Those who settled in the Undying Lands, and their descendants. But most have long since sailed back to Aman."

"Aman?"

"The place of the Lords of the West."

"And who are they?"

"You boast none too few questions today," the elf murmured tiredly.

"Will you begrudge me my wish for knowledge?" Kal returned, reminding herself that this was not Faramir.

The ranger had unexpectedly shared plenty a tale of the old world as she knew it, and most nights were spent with Kal learning pieces from the histories of Middle-earth. She had been astonished at first by his openness, considering the circumstances of their encounter. And yet, again she felt that sliver of gratefulness to the stranger who had shown her the world mirrored in his eyes.

The elf was silent for a while. "Those whom elves refer to as the Valar were the Powers of Arda, the ones who shaped the world. And ruled it for a time." Before they had all but abandoned it, he wanted to add, but did not.

"So then... The Other, whom the Dark One served-"

"Morgoth was a Vala himself, in the very beginning. But then he fell, driven by the dissonance of his own pride and greed. And his words seduced your former master, down with him into the deeps of his marred goals."

Kal fell into thoughtful musing. "So they were all driven by the same will, once. Not so described in the archives of the Tower," she shook her head.

"Of course, it would not be," the elf said looking to his left. "You know how to read?"

This she did not expect. "Does that astonish you?"

When he said nothing Kal continued. "One of the Tower had taught me. He would then forbid me to exercise the skill, but I found ways to get to the tomes."

"You sound resourceful."

Kal thought it odd of him to say such, unless he were mocking her. "One would have to be in such a place, would you not say so? Either way, to return. Then there were the First Children," she carried forward.

"That there were," Legolas acceded absently.

She hesitated before repeating her previous question. "Are you of the high elves, then?"

"Nay, I was born long into the ages of Arda. I suppose I would still be considered young, for an elf."

Arda? But instead she settled asking aught else. "How young?"

"I fail to see how that aids in your view of the world," he grinned to himself.

"It aids in knowing more of you," Kal said before her mind caught with her tongue, and somehow the memory of his touch resurfaced; along with the lights, the lit arches and fresh forests. It was all so vivid yet.

Legolas had ceased his stride and faced her. "Why should you wish that, since we are soon to part ways?" the elf asked, and Kal thought there was a new shadow flitting across his face.

"Are we not to speak of it, then?" she hedged, feeling a bothersome trepidation when met with that icy gaze.

A line tightened in his jaw. "Speak of what, orc?"

Kal blinked at his wooden words. Had she been the only one to feel it, to see it? But she had to at least hear such from him. "When I was wounded, and you-" but her thought was severed by the sudden change in his demeanor.

The elf had gone very still and was assessing their whereabouts intently, his senses sharpened.

"What is it?" Kal asked, the change in him alarming. "Legolas!" she called and rushed after the elf who wordlessly darted swiftly through the woods.

As they ran Kal attuned her eyes and ears, and began to hear what had unsettled the elf so deeply. Though barely audible at this range, and indistinguishable, Kal still recognized the cadence. A foreboding dread choked her insides, and her limbs felt weak and trembling. As they ran towards the shack the scent of smoke permeated the air. It grew thicker and thicker, until her dread became desperation, and her legs gained in speed to surpass the elf. The old man. Celeg! Eron!

But just as she beheld what was afoot her flight came to an abrupt end and Kal only barely sensed it was the elf hindering her, his arm strong around her waist. Through widened eyes Kal saw dirty manes, black armor, white and red war paint and heard the growling of her nightmares, then found the specters of her past.

The shack lay in a ruined, smoldering heap.

She wanted to cry angrily when a hand palmed her mouth.

She began to struggle.

"Silence," the elf growled in her ear, holding her fast.

But the half-orc thrashed against him, wanting to reach them, to do aught to hinder them-

She noticed the still heap one Uruk-hai was kicking. Then the other. She recognized that cloak, her inside crumbled in on itself. A blackness veiled her vision, and with renewed strength Kal elbowed the elf powerfully in the ribs, managing to escape his grasp and run forward.

Kal heard him before she saw him. She would know that foul mouth anywhere, in any time and age.

Gurthok.

She caught a glimpse of his bloodied weapon as another orc dragged a whimpering but living Eron after in a heavy chain. The immense Uruk was growling commands for them to head towards the Gate, having finished scouring the edges of the river for strays.

"This one we'll at least train," one Uruk she did not remember muttered in the black speech, kicking the growling wolf.

With reddened eyes and gnashing teeth Kal drew her weapon and lunged towards them, intent on laying waste upon the wretches. She felt stronger than ever before, her ire feeding her vitality-

Only to be thwarted again, and this time mercilessly thrown to the ground.

"Release me, you blasted elf! They will... they must not escape, release me!" she hissed before a hand was once again clamped over her mouth. She felt the weight of him, overwhelming her flailing attempts.

"I said be silent," Legolas gritted, "There are too many of them," he followed. "You stand no chance," he aimed to keep her still, his other arm wrapped around her as the elf pressed into her back and trapped her legs with his.

Kal cursed him in her mind, wanting nothing less than payment for their deeds. Eternity passed with the moment as she struggled halfheartedly. She was eventually roughly pulled to her feet.

The half-orc wrenched herself from the elf with a shudder. She gained her stance and ran towards what remained of the shack, now abandoned by the dark ones who had set well on their way.

Shaking, she fell before the larger heap, saw white hair mottled with blood. She gingerly revealed his face. A harrowing winded screech was heard, and Kal dimly realized it had come from her.

Legolas had placed his fingers to the man's vital signs and shook his head as Kal ran to the smaller heap. A slight bare hand protruded lifelessly from the still form.

She smoothed his hair and driven by she knew not what, reached and closed his eyes. The half-orc rose then, her panting breath deafening to her ears.

"You!" she accused, whirling towards the elf. "I could have had their hides! You purposely foiled me, why?" she demanded, taking one step towards him and turning the scimitar in her hand.

"Do not succumb to anger. Think. We were sorely outnumbered. You were running to your death," Legolas stated calmly, though his own posture was arched for battle as they circled each other.

"And what is that to you, elf?!"

"It is everything to you."

"You prevented me from dealing the only justice they would ever have!" Justice. Another word she learned from the old ranger. She blinked the wetness away. And threw herself at him.

The elf avoided her slashing strike and his fist struck powerfully in her side, causing the half-orc to lose her balance.

Kal turned to him, angrier than before-

And he was suddenly before her, his face so close to hers Kal winced. "And what is your plan, fool?" he growled, advancing as she took hesitating steps back, his eyes a tempest reminding her of their first interactions. "Ambush them? Aim to defeat an entire company of Uruk on your own? You cannot even claim to best me."

Kal drew away with a hiss only to be pulled back in an unwavering grip on her arm. "You would so readily relinquish your life, the new life you so wished for yourself?" he asked scathingly.

Her anger only surged. "And you would leave them unavenged?" she threw into his blazing stare.

"Stand down, Kal," the elf warned, though not as harshly as before.

Yet Kal saw nothing but her own fury and it brought forth all the helplessness she had ever felt. "Coward that you are," she spat, a rictus spread across her face, revealing menacing pointed fangs.

"Stand. Down." There was nothing to rival the sharp edge to those words, save perhaps the voice which had so tortured her in the shadowed recesses of the Tower. It spoke of one accustomed to the highest ranks of command, and it was final.

The grip on her was become painful with another tug even as Kal tried to resist him, and despite the increasing ache in her shoulder she was satisfied to know her words stung as intended. Driven, her arm sprung to strike him, wanting to claw at those unflinching eyes; but her limb was caught just as swiftly, and soon Kal was lost in a futile attempt to wrench both her wrists free. After a while, a cold shift in time, just as sudden as it came her anger diminished.

All that was left was exhaustion. She ceased fighting him. "Yours... they were your people...you would allow..." she panted, her head lowered.

When Kal felt the pressure on her wrists lessen she pulled her arms away. But instead of righting herself and pacing back, beyond reason the half-orc leaned forward and fell against the elf; depleted and weary of struggle, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

When her forehead rested against his shoulder, the sobs low and hitched, he did nothing. The elf stood deathly still, looking to this young being falling to pieces before him. He had witnessed and experienced loss many times in his long years. For him this was a continuous state of being. Not so for her.

Kal let herself wallow, and silence reigned save for short shuddering breaths. She had never felt as lost, as utterly defeated. With little awareness the half-orc brought her palm to his chest, grasping at the material as if that could ward off the bothersome jolts wracking her. She had not even said her farewells. Soon she was silenced altogether, her body losing of its tension, the hand clutching his garb her sole support.

"Why does this happen?" the half-orc asked when she could, her face streaked by warmth. "Why does all come to ruin?"

"I wish I knew, Kal," and had she not been drowning in her own grief she might have heard the different quality to his voice.

Kal looked into his face, and was met with dark and turbulent depths.

"I will end them," she whispered.

The elf closed his eyes knowing, nay, feeling her cold determination smolder and consume in waves. This one was of darkness just as much as she was of light. And both were impossible to defeat and raging to overcome one another. He felt it. He felt her, and she was desperate. The hidden but insistent pull would not let him be, no matter the reluctance and despite attempts to smother it. And this, somehow, kept his own loss at bay. He could not wallow, not now. "Rhaweth," he called to her without thought in his own tongue.

"I will go after them," she said firmly. "With or without you," Kal repeated, unsure why she even said such. Half of her face was now pressed into him, eyes closing at the rhythmic sounds and warmth from within. But not even they could abate the thirst having taken hold.

"I know," the elf said so lowly she barely heard him.

She slowly relinquished the grip on his garb, her hand fallen to her side. "Forgive me."

His arm wrapped around her.

A/N:

To Guest reader: Definitely not half human.

"Rhaweth" = Wild one (Sindarin)

I know, I was bad. But thank you for reading nonetheless. It means much to me.