CHAPTER 20 - A deadly sword, a healing hand

They crouched descended close to each other, hidden by the underbrush away from the risen Uruk-hai camp.

"Fifteen of them," Legolas whispered to Kal.

"They leave on the morrow. Here is the only place we could do this without raising early suspicions," Kal put forward concerned. "Unless you wish for us to follow them farther and deeper back into Ithilien." Of course none wanted that to pass.

The pair had trailed the Uruk company and soon followed from afar, reaching their proximity before they raised camp. The elf boasted impressive tracking skills which surpassed hers, a fact that both irked and intrigued Kal. But they were finally arrived. And whatever happened, she would have Gurthok. He would fall on her blade. "Their leader is mine to fell," Kal told the elf, who looked to her with a darkened stare.

"Keep your head about you," he only said, then fell silent for a breath. "And stay where I can see you."

Too tense and afflicted by the impending conflict and blood lust to wonder, Kal only nodded silently, her hand steeled on the grip of Faramir's blade.

And so they went.

One came to be at the far east of their camp, a great sallow skinned orc. Before he could reveal his purpose a silent blade was at his throat. He only managed a gurgle before landing with a thud onto the darkened forest floor.

Legolas pointed towards a spot not far from them before climbing the tree to his right and moving forward.

Fourteen.

They had watched to see if the Uruks held other prisoners this time, but the only fare they had seemed to be Eron in shackles, now whimpering lowly.

Kal searched the canopy for the elf and saw him leading towards her following target. Her quiet steps made not even the slightest sound as the half-orc neared two Uruk carrying what looked to be a carcass away from the encampment.

"Ak, I take the upper half, ya had your fare last time," one of them belched into the hissing stare of the other. But no retort ever came for its head soon lolled at the other's feet, and the last image the remaining Uruk saw was of Kal, her blade slashing through its neck.

As the two bodies fell at her feet she looked upward again where Kal knew Legolas had gone to guide them anew. They exchanged a swift glance in the darkness. He would take the following ones.

Twelve, Kal counted, her chest close to bursting from the pummeling force of the beats within.

They fell seven foes in number using stealth and silent attacks. Where he led she would stand watch, and then their roles reversed. Kal was relieved to see the intrinsic and natural collaboration between them in battle put to good use, in aid of this oddly uneven fight.

The elf landed silently to her side and they beheld the remainder of the camp.

She saw them. Their low and seething beastly gazes, their purposeless gait. Their empty resent for all things living.

How am I one of them?

"I do not see Gurthok," she whispered unto the elf. "But the one there, Kroznak. Take heed of him, he is fell and honorless in battle."

"There is the wolf," Legolas added, seeing Eron chained to a spear plunged deeply into the ground.

Her eyes narrowed, the memory of those they ruined rising to the forefront of her thoughts. "I go to distract them, and you shoot your arrows," Kal put forward.

"There are too many, Kal," he shook his head. "But," he relented, "they will grow suspicious of their companions soon." He hesitated. "We must attempt now." While the ruse was yet on their side.

The half-orc agreed, their eyes locking briefly before she made to move.

"A moment," the elf called and took her arm, causing Kal to cease mid stride. He unsheathed her dagger from his belt. "You may need this," he presented the blade for her to take.

Though astonished, Kal shook her head. "You also have need of a weapon-"

"I will manage well enough with the bow. Go," he urged, and finding no time to argue Kal swiftly assessed the surrounding peril, and dove ahead into uncertainty.

She caught one unawares. Her sword split him shoulder to hip, and Kal did not even see his remains fall lifelessly to the ground before another was upon her. The sound alerted the rest.

"What in the-?" Kroznak bellowed, coming from between two large black Uruk in mail unsheathing their weapons. His furious eyes fell on Kal, and his face changed in an instant.

"Missed us so much, did ya?" he growled with a yellowed grin revealing uneven teeth. A rotten smile still graced his lips as he went into stance, scimitar drawn. "I knew ye'd be back," he swung his weapon in preparation. "The rest of ya filth fall back," he sneered, the rictus ever present. "Leave the slut to me, -," he made to lunge at her when a sharp sound pierced the air between them.

Kroznak landed before Kal, an arrow shaft embedded between lifeless eyes.

Kal whirled to meet one scimitar then evade another, and soon a third joined the fray roaring that the camp was under attack.

Two fell struck by arrows, while the third still kept the half-orc on edge and ever advanced against her, spewing the most foul and demeaning things in the black speech. Kal fought her way until one err on the Uruk's side allowed her a sweep of the sword. She cut mercilessly through his arm. Her foe faltered and fell back, and Kal was atop him, her dagger slashing through his throat.

"Gurthok!" she howled amidst the mayhem, her voice hoarse with resent. Where was the craven?

Panting she rose and it was a moment too soon before aught heavy knocked her back to the ground. Her head throbbing with pain the sword flew from her hand, and vaguely could the half-orc hear the whimpering growls of Eron in the distance.

"Here I am, filth! Who calls on me so eagerly, I wonder?" the Uruk threw, for he had been the one to strike her. And then his eyes fell on her face. Reptilian pupils flared in recognition as Kal righted herself. "Well, well. What a twist! Well met, traitor," he roared, a pleased glint in his eyes.

Legolas stood still in his place among the sturdy branches, his bow taut with an arrow nocked and aimed between the eyes of the Uruk commander. His fingers itched to release, but the elf recalled what she had asked of him before. This one was hers. Still if it came to ill, requests be damned he would shoot.

"You remember me," Kal hissed in the face of her foe, circling him slowly after retrieving her blade. Finally, here was the chance of peace. Once this was done, things would be as before.

"I'd know yer stench anywhere, turncoat. Where is that elf, hidin' behind yer skirts? Was it him who felled my men? Elf!" he bellowed mockingly. "Ya watchin'? Here to see what shapes I carve into yer whore?" the Uruk slithered, his powerful thighs coiled on the offensive.

Blade against blade collided even as more of the remaining Uruk ran towards the fighting pair. Kal was overwhelmed but for a sliver of time before the creatures fell, with similarly well aimed shafts protruding from their necks.

"You are nothing," Gurthok goaded as his blade struck heavily, forcing Kal on the defensive. "Always were, always will be. And I will send ya back to nothing," he taunted, even as the half-orc employed her light footwork. She attacked again, and again, while the Uruk kept her at bay with a blackened grin. When he ventured a sudden swipe she was nearly too slow to avoid the swing to her face.

Slowly on the retreat Kal still met his low blows and attacks as she could, until wearied and disheveled her legs tripped over a fallen body.

Gurthok was fast advancing and an arrow to his chest did little to deter him. "That the most ya can muster, elf?" he cried to the trees, his eyes on Kal as he thrust the arrow deeper into the wound, slowly until it reached the other side. Then he was advancing towards her even as Kal drew back, her sword abandoned a way to her left.

He eyes were drawn by the appearance of the elf, now descended swift as a bolt of lightning before her. Their gazes met briefly as Kal felt him draw the dagger from her belt, turning in time to barely block the wide scimitar of Gurthok.

"There ya are!" the Uruk savagely swung his weapon, the rusted metal slashing a mere breath from the elf's chest.

They paced against each other. Legolas had but one arrow left, and the Uruk commander was yet too close for his bow. And still, retreat he could not. He saw Kal scramble to retrieve her sword before the Uruk was upon him again, cursing and damning his kind to the skies and depths of the world.

"Weak, sniveling creatures," Gurthok sneered. "This time, there will be no escape. Not for you," he aimed at the elf's shoulder. "And not for the half-breed slut," he finished with another heavy pivot.

Yet his taunting went unheeded. Just as metal hissed against metal, the slighter blade of his dagger sliding against the hooked blade of the Uruk, Legolas placed his full strength against the beast and sought to repel it. But with blinding speed Gurthok thrust forward and dazed him, and the elf was struck to the ground with the impending blade ready to cleave through him. But the final blow never came.

With all the strength she could muster and clutching Faramir's sword with two hands Kal had lunged ahead, spearing the weapon fully between the shoulder blades of the Uruk commander, and through his chest. "You have met this blade before," she hissed, forcing the weapon deeper and twisting. "On behalf of Gondor," she whispered hoarsely, wanting these to be the last words the wretch would ever hear.

Gurthok produced a stunted garbled sound, and his pale lips stained black with choking blood. His movements slackened. Legolas swiftly rolled out of his way as the large Uruk fell forward, Faramir's blade still sheathed deep into his flesh.

Panting, Kal fell to the ground and each breath proved a mighty effort as she watched the still and misshapen head of Gurthok.

Legolas listened for any sound in the aftermath, looking to where the fell company all lay dead.

"We prevailed," Kal hushed in disbelief, her gaze unfocused. This was no vision. The odds had been against it, and yet they were alive. Kal looked to Legolas, the meaning brimming in her eyes, and they stood taking the stillness which followed for a long while. Then the sounds of wailing come from Eron retrieved her mind from her battle induced state at the borders of dreaming, and she rushed to free him.

Then all Kal would recall was a haze, where the elf would at times ask her questions she barely heard before striving for a coherent answer. She seemed to ebb and flow akin to strange tides on an empty sea.

They left the bodies where they lay. Reaching the Anduin on their return, each silently went to their own musings. Kal broke away from the path to be alone.

She washed her face and hands in the river. The sword followed. Her mind was empty of thought, frozen somewhere in time and her body was yet fringed with trepidation. I live. Somehow, I still do. Eron pushed against her, eager to be reunited with his companions, before running back in search of the other. Where the elf had gone, she knew not. Sighing Kal realized how beyond relieved she was to have the wolf returned to her. She closed her eyes.

Then, as overflowing as the river around her Kal relinquished thoughts of all and everything, including the elf stood in the vicinity. She hastily shed her tunic and allowed it to pool around her onto the bank. Working fingers left her fully bare, and she was soon plunging deeply and carelessly into the winding depths.

When Kal returned she knelt and sought piling the dry undergrowth to be used for tinder. The elf had chosen an area sheltered by densely strewn trees and changes in ground levels covered with various shades of creeping undergrowth. It had been time for a reprieve after the long trek away from the scene of the fight. The two companions passed the ruined place where Faramir had dwelt on their return, and gathered what could be salvaged of their belongings from the charred rubble. Kal recalled how her chest seized when she again caught sight of what remained of those living in His world, opposing His dominion. Having dared towards a life of their own. And yet, they had been free.

And what good has it done them? Kal seethed, but then shook the thought away. Peril ever loomed ahead of those living as they, and it had all been but a matter of time. Still, a part of her rebelled against this truth. Bent over the small cluster of kindling she pondered so with her thoughts astray, attempting to start a fire.

Come, you...

Her movements became more frantic.

The elf does it easily enough she grumbled in thought, striking the piece of metal and flint together repeatedly.

They were dead. Every last one of them.

Then why am I not free?

Still her efforts proved fruitless as there were no sparks, and her concentration turned to frustration.

Kal cursed in the tongue of Mordor, still striking the flint angrily.

Hands were placed over hers. "Must you use such speech?" she heard his level voice and lifting her gaze saw the elf facing her closely. He had knelt to the opposite side of her. Looking into his blue-grey stare, Kal was briefly reminded of the flickering lines engraved in the surface of his light irises. Her movements stilled and with a tired sigh she watched him take the items from her hands.

"It is the first I have known," Kal muttered. "You will not have to bear it much longer," she added, her attention soon set towards finding a resting spot.

The elf bid no reply but successfully kindled a fire within moments, to her pique.

When a flame was lit and stoked he looked back into her lost eyes.

"We have avenged them," said Kal before she could rein the words. "And yet I feel no different."

His face was impassible, but his eyes spoke of it. "Reprisals dealt in anger aid less and less as time wears on."

"Then why did you come, if you so disapprove?"

"It would have been dishonorable to do otherwise."

Her eyes narrowed, but Kal decided such things as hidden motives were indeed of no consequence. What she did find mattered was that he had come, and aided her of his own will. Again.

"When does it cease?" she asked instead, her eyes on the flames. There was no one else to ask, and what gripped her was unsettling to say the least. And surely the elf was in a similar state, judging by what she had felt of him. Then the half-orc frowned with the certainty that she had indeed felt such coming from him, though Kal knew not how. But it had been the heavy wave crashing over her when they faced each other before the grave of Faramir and Celeg.

"The loss stays with you, but its sting will weather with time," the elf said, and Kal was at once grateful for his perceptive words.

It was wearisome to speak of it, but she understood. He knew of this, very well indeed. "Is this the way you feel about the one you seek?"

He nodded in answer. "There is also guilt. I have found no escape from it, so that I cannot speak to. But it is the natural way of things to mourn, Kal."

She grimaced. "They only... they did not deserve such an end," Kal faltered for words, her throat suddenly too caught.

"I too grieve their passing," he added softly, his usual aloofness forgotten.

Kal said nothing.

"And I do not even know if my own search will prove fruitful," he added as to himself.

"And yet, you pursue it," said Kal emptily. None survived so long in the Black Land, be they the most valiant of spirits. She had seen prisoners break, and break they did, many, many times. Perhaps those of elven kind endured longer, if shaped from the same mold as this one.

Then despite it all, Kal smiled at a novel thought.

"What?" she heard the question, and confusedly looked to see his expectant face.

Kal shook her head, hesitant. "It is nothing."

"Your face split in two. I wish to hear."

She sought his eyes for a reason behind his unusual request. Then again, was it so strange to share? "It is only..." her golden eyes caught his again. "Never before have I thought, that I would come to fight at the side of an elf against the forces of the Black Land."

She saw him go still, in astonishment or pain she was unsure. Then before Kal could begin to worry a smile lit his own features, and it was unlike anything the half-orc had ever seen. It made him appear so much more youthful and carefree, his face bereft of its usual sternness. It was a striking change, blooming before her. Uneven beats drumming in her ears, Kal wondered whether this was what he must have been like once, in a different time and age.

"And what if I told you, that you are the second being to tell me such," said the elf then.

She felt her face warming, flushed a reddish tint from the flames. "And what did you respond the first time?" Kal found herself asking.

The elf tilted his gaze to the trees above. "I called him a friend, and then we competed against each other." His smile faded before he looked to Kal again.

"What would you call me, then?" Kal ventured to ask, somehow emboldened by this new manner of his and the change she inexplicably felt in him.

He shifted to settle into a cross-legged position, facing her fully. "What would you think yourself to be?"

"What I think-..." Kal wavered, though she forfeited the support of the trunk in favor of leaning closer to him.

"You saved my life."

"As did you," Kal found her voice. Why were words so hard to come by now of all times, and speech cumbersome?

"I suppose that is an even draw," his smile returned.

"I would call you a friend," dared Kal, her heart hammering faster in her chest. "If you would."

There was no change in him at her words. "I would certainly try, Kal."

"Then it is settled," she spoke into his amused stare.

The elf scoffed mirthfully even as Kal grinned, crossing her arms. Settled indeed.

Eron gained their attention briefly as he leapt into their midst, come from his hiding in close surroundings. He descended on the opposite side of them, his feral eyes set on their red lit figures.

He was as weary as they, Kal knew.

"Kal..." the elf spoke, distractedly watching the darkened boughs of the trees above them.

"Elf?"

"Where will you go?"

There was a brief lull before he heard her voice again.

"Whichever way you point me to. Why?"

"I only ask," he paused, "as I am heading towards a place. It is not completely safe, for nothing ever is. There are more of us. Once there, you may find respite needed to think."

She regaled him with a confused stare.

Legolas was ill prepared for the manner in which the words had escaped him, but now it was done. "That is, to see what you may want to do, or where to go from there."

"Were you not to return and continue seeking for your friend?" He knew Kal heard his conversation with the ranger either way.

He wanted a way inside. A way into Mordor. He cannot use the gate. It is folly. Though it sat ill with her, she dared not tell him. It was not her place. Kal was never to return to that miserable darkness.

"First there is someone I must see." The elf would wonder in the following days how he had been so inclined towards hedging her. He would ponder over what led him to speak the words, and dwell on the way she watched him when he did. "If you wish, you may join me."

"What kind of place?" asked Kal. This was not their initial understanding. Why was he offering such? If this place was surely as the elf said, then... But could she trust him? Did we not just agree to do so?

Legolas seemed to mull over his words. "One yet hidden from the eyes of Sauron. Though the Shadow strongly believes itself to be all seeing, there are some who succeed in thwarting him."

"I will consider this," said Kal and on impulse placed her hand over his own. She met his stare evenly. "You will have an answer on the morrow."

Acknowledging her answer Legolas hesitatingly aimed to retreat and recline back, when her fingers stiffened over his hand. They glided upward to his wrist, following the swirling lines on his worn leather bracer.

"Are all elvish patterns crafted like so?" Kal asked then, inspecting the piece adorning his forearm with true interest.

"I would not know," his voice came as a near whisper and Kal looked upward to find him gaping at her strangely.

"So different from the sharp and ragged shapes made use of in Mordor," she said thoughtfully, the models so foreign to her eyes. She then barely stifled a shudder of fatigue.

"You may want to rest," the elf spoke even as he rose fluidly to his feet, eyeing a branch not far from the spot where the half-orc was to sleep.

"Legolas?"

He looked back to the half-orc expectantly.

"Will you not stay below tonight?" Kal asked regarding him from under heavy lids, her hands carelessly lying in her lap. Only for tonight. Another presence only for tonight.

He blinked at the request. Nay, I will not. But the words failed to come, and the elf found himself slowly striding and descending to rest against a trunk not far from her.

"Gratitude," he heard.

"What for?"

Too many things to mention. "Being here," Kal settled as her eyes became heavier, and fatigue took complete hold. It was not long before she drifted away from the waking world.

Sometime in the night her wails echoed through their surroundings. Subdued and incoherent, but persistent. He thought to leave her be, as many a night before. But now of all times the elf found he could not do so, and the passing day had been grueling to them both. She deserved proper rest. With this in mind Legolas rose from his place and silently went to where Kal lay writhing and turning incessantly.

He descended to one knee beside her sleeping form, and for a short while he merely watched.

Her lips were parted, dark red flaming against pale skin. Her hair was unruly and fallen out of her braid, arrayed about her in lustrous black waves. He saw her brow crease in distress and unseen fear even as his palm came pressed to her forehead.

No sooner had the elf closed his eyes than he was thrust into her world. It was as before, when he attempted to aid with her wound and myriads of visions had swirled within his mind all at once. But now they were not his own. They were made of fear and laced with unrest.

An immense adamant corridor, empty but for dimming shadows cast by torchlight. A darkened chamber. A figure on their knees, divested of garments. Another in black and crimson robes, looming above the first.

Kal, his chest caught. She was cold, deathly cold and worn.

"What have I told you about begging?" the metallic voice hissed and reverberated through him.

The vision of Kal cowered further, bent in on herself as two creatures appeared and forced her on her feet.

Trolls. His eyes widened, the vision so vivid in its conjuring the elf had to close himself to it all for fear of being overwhelmed.

Not here should she dwell tonight. Struggling with his own mind Legolas turned his thought to his home, and times long forgotten. When it was yet a great kingdom at the height of its splendor. To star speckled skies and peaceful wanderings through tall and lively forests. This time, he hoped it would reach her as before. His reminiscing took him to lavish gatherings of his youth, where flame and dance and song meshed together in praise of life.

Gradually, the distressed moans ceased. Her chest soon rose and fell in gentler motions, and her face gained the rare serenity and abandonment of sleep. The shadow of before ceased to meander through him.

Less risk of being discovered by patrols, the elf reasoned with himself but still his palm lingered, and only late did he see her eyes. They were now open, regarding him from under dark lashes. But though Kal saw him at her side, which proved more unsettling than the elf cared to admit, she said nothing.

Staring into her sleep glazed eyes he stood frozen as a lean hand reached, and came lightly pressed to his cheek. All intent dispersed. He did not move. He could not move.

"Zubardh^lur..." Kal mouthed dazedly with a sigh, causing him to furrow his brows together. The language hissed ill whisperings in his ears, and stirred the dread lingering in his heart.

Yet that lasted but a moment and was soon forgotten with the feel of her fingers, sliding downward from his face and over his sharp jaw. Then her hand dropped to her side and her eyes fluttered closed as before.

Legolas rose unsteadily, more relieved than he would have thought. He watched her motionless frame. For her this was merely a dream.

The elf returned to his place away from where Kal slept, shaken by what he had seen of her mind. Once he thought her a young being who was merely lost. But instead he found a growing certainty, and by some twist of fate their paths crossed. Since the fall of Arda he had little faith in the Powers. But some things apparently could yet grow and flourish unmarred. His eyes still followed the rise and fall of her chest in assurance, and his thought turned to the familiar thrumming of a kindred spirit.

Would he tell her what she was, if it were indeed his part to tell? Was there good to come of it? The elf glanced into the dying embers of the fire. He mulled on his thoughts for most of the ensuing night, the warmth of her fingers never fading from his skin.

A/N:

'Zubardh^lur' = 'Silver-gold' (Black Speech, non-canon - Alas, we have so little to work with on this one)

Looks like this was a longer chapter. Thank you for the time spent reading this.