Legolas' rueful grin was pulled back into a fierce snarl, his split tongue snaking out from his lips to flick momentarily at the ones before him. Orcs gathered at his sides, awaiting a command or possibly a cue for an attack, their weapons flashing at the Fellowship in a grueling manner. Pulling another arrow from his quiver, he tantalizingly slowed his movements as he cocked the arrow and retracted the strong string on the bow till his hand rested against his mutilated cheek. His eyes burned an aching yellow, almost piercing Aragorn's eyes to the very back of his head. Almost ready to release, his actions were haulted by a darkened glow of a voice in his head.
"Remember, Legolas - one of them is very valuable to me. Aragorn might prove to be an excellent swordsman if you return him to me. Torture him, but do not kill him. Gather the Halflings, and do not harm any of them. Do you understand me?"
A husky roar rising in his throat as a response, Legolas let his arrow fly directly into Aragorn's shoulder, his throaty, matted voice carrying over the land in a deadening roar, the Orcs around him screaming as they fled down the steep hillsides.
Aragorn, his eyes fogged with a rejection and pain equalling that to a grieving, dying Elf, barely noticed the swarm of beats heading towards them until he heard Frodo's desperate cries of help. Shrugging away his thoughts, swung his arm around, killing several Orcs in the process, and at least one lost its head. Boromir slashed madly at the invading army, grinding his sword into the powerful bodies and immediately slicing its comrades with the blood of another. He fought with everything to protect the Hobbits, but found that he had lost the smallest one - Pippin - to a sneaking Uruk-Hai that deftly grabbed him when Boromir couldn't look around.
Gimli, upon seeing a screaming and hysterical Pippin, made sure a certain Uruk-Hai got what he deserved, and heads sure did roll. Gathering Pippin up in his arms, he rid Orcs of their appendages and weapons, dutifully giving them a hard time when one dared to snatch the Hobbit away from his grasp. A taller Orc swooped down to take Merry hostage, earning a swift kick in the groin for his troubles. While he bent over in the overwhelming pain between his legs, he earned a great deal more from the frustrated Hobbit, who relentlessly kicked him until he felt it was free to run, leaving the Orc with his dignity lost.
Unfortunately, Merry hadn't been so swift on his movements, and as soon as he was several yards away from his previous attacker, he was taken hold by a gruff Uruk-Hai, who was also carrying Sam under his other arm. Sam, beating his fists into the stone-like armour, cursed wildly at the assaulter, trying to free himself of his captive state. Merry had no luck in aiding in Sam's attempts, for he had lost his sword along with an Elven dagger presented to him secretly by Legolas in Moria. He was left helpless.
Boromir refused to give Frodo up without a fight, and a blood one at that. Angrily crashing the sharp side of the sword against their heads, he neatly sliced them open and quickly gained their lethal weapons in his other hand, throwing them at oncoming Orcs. The injured ones howled in pain, their piercing cries shattering the world around them in a single breath. Finding a Uruk-Hai axe nearby, he delivered a deadly blow to an insisting Orc who had even let he thought of capturing Frodo cross his mind. Yelling for Aragorn, he hastily picked up the Halfling, carrying him securely in front of him, calling Aragorn's name all the while. Ducking under low branches, his hair whipped across his face as he looked around and found that his king was no where in sight.
~***~
Raising the Man up by his vest to look up at him with a scowl, Legolas threw him unceremoniously into a tree, the aural cracking of bones disturbingly pleasing to his ears. Flicking his knotted black hair over his shoulder, he walked heavily over to where Aragorn lay boneless and whimpering, an arrow in his tightly clenched fist. In an all too quick movement, he found himself sprawled against he leaves, staring up into the hardened face of Aragorn. Spitting a black substance at his feet, Legolas was ready to flip the Man over his body, sending him crashing against the fallen shaft of tree behind him when he tried to pounce upon him.
Grunting, Aragorn shook his head violently to wash away the cobwebs of an aching torture arising in his body, raising Andruil up in time to catch some of Legolas' skin on the sharp edges, an audible hiss of displeasure reaching his ears. Quickly rising from the remains of the tree, he turned just in time to see the Elf he knew and loved spring at him, driving him to the ground, his talons sinking deep into the flesh of his shoulders, into the hard collarbone across the pit of his neck. A massive calloused hand traveled the short distance to his neck, squeezing his air passage shut for a short time before Aragorn kicked him rudely in the gut, sending him backwards but without taking some skin from his neck with him.
Roaring in anger, Legolas regained his balance, swiftly settling into the position of a Cat ready to attack, then pushed off with the might of his legs at Aragorn once again, furious and eager to complete his task. But this time Aragorn was ready, Andruil meeting Legolas' side and leaving a neat wound in its wake. Growling and giving his new cut a glance, the once peaceful Elf firmly decided he would end this game just as quickly as it began. Drawing an arrow from the Orc-crafted quiver, he placed it on his hand and drew back, ready to let it go.
But Aragorn would not have this. Panting, he screamed, "What has come over you, Legolas? What has possessed you to carry on a mission so meaningless and foolhardy as this one you are taking to now? Why have you turned against us?"
Legolas flinched. He had never hesitated to release the arrow on his own will until now. His hand shook mildly, then retracted the string harder. Aragorn pressed on. "Why have you turned against *me*? You have become a creature without a heart, and I have known you to have a large one. An Orc is what you are now - a hideous being that has graced Middle-Earth with the shame of Sauron. What will you become of this? I'm sure your master will kill you after your time has been served."
New beads of sweat adorned Legolas' brow. Why *was* he being so weak? Release the damned arrow, he told himself. Yet he could not. Something inside him, bellowing and kicking, held him back.
Sarumon's voice boomed ferociously in his head. "What are you waiting for? If you will not let follow through with my instructions to either let him live or kill him, do away with him already! KILL him, Legolas! There is still one Halfling that must return with you that is too resistant to come with us."
Closing his eyes, he furrowed his eyebrows, squeezing his eyes shut. Opening them, he found that his vision was blurred by an unexpected tingling in his eyes; he weakly let his arrow fly through the air, the head sinking into Aragorn's leg just barely above his knee. Hastily taking his leave, he fled from the area and easily found the Hobbit Sarumon was referring to.
Frodo kicked wildly against the arms of other Orcs, sending Sting through their muscles and cutting through their bones. Roaring to get their attention, Legolas pushed the other creatures carelessly aside to loom over the shrinking Hobbit, snatching up Sting and tossing it away from his grasp. Then, without waiting for a counter attack, picked the Halfling up by the collar of his shirt and held his small wrists in his mighty hand, jerking his head to the others. "We leave now! Do not fall behind!"
Hearing the frantic cries of the Hobbits die off as they fled farther away from the battlefield, Aragorn let the salty tears cascade down his dirt-caked face to linger at his jaw. If there was one thing he could never understand, it had to be the Elves.
Where had his love gone amiss?
"Remember, Legolas - one of them is very valuable to me. Aragorn might prove to be an excellent swordsman if you return him to me. Torture him, but do not kill him. Gather the Halflings, and do not harm any of them. Do you understand me?"
A husky roar rising in his throat as a response, Legolas let his arrow fly directly into Aragorn's shoulder, his throaty, matted voice carrying over the land in a deadening roar, the Orcs around him screaming as they fled down the steep hillsides.
Aragorn, his eyes fogged with a rejection and pain equalling that to a grieving, dying Elf, barely noticed the swarm of beats heading towards them until he heard Frodo's desperate cries of help. Shrugging away his thoughts, swung his arm around, killing several Orcs in the process, and at least one lost its head. Boromir slashed madly at the invading army, grinding his sword into the powerful bodies and immediately slicing its comrades with the blood of another. He fought with everything to protect the Hobbits, but found that he had lost the smallest one - Pippin - to a sneaking Uruk-Hai that deftly grabbed him when Boromir couldn't look around.
Gimli, upon seeing a screaming and hysterical Pippin, made sure a certain Uruk-Hai got what he deserved, and heads sure did roll. Gathering Pippin up in his arms, he rid Orcs of their appendages and weapons, dutifully giving them a hard time when one dared to snatch the Hobbit away from his grasp. A taller Orc swooped down to take Merry hostage, earning a swift kick in the groin for his troubles. While he bent over in the overwhelming pain between his legs, he earned a great deal more from the frustrated Hobbit, who relentlessly kicked him until he felt it was free to run, leaving the Orc with his dignity lost.
Unfortunately, Merry hadn't been so swift on his movements, and as soon as he was several yards away from his previous attacker, he was taken hold by a gruff Uruk-Hai, who was also carrying Sam under his other arm. Sam, beating his fists into the stone-like armour, cursed wildly at the assaulter, trying to free himself of his captive state. Merry had no luck in aiding in Sam's attempts, for he had lost his sword along with an Elven dagger presented to him secretly by Legolas in Moria. He was left helpless.
Boromir refused to give Frodo up without a fight, and a blood one at that. Angrily crashing the sharp side of the sword against their heads, he neatly sliced them open and quickly gained their lethal weapons in his other hand, throwing them at oncoming Orcs. The injured ones howled in pain, their piercing cries shattering the world around them in a single breath. Finding a Uruk-Hai axe nearby, he delivered a deadly blow to an insisting Orc who had even let he thought of capturing Frodo cross his mind. Yelling for Aragorn, he hastily picked up the Halfling, carrying him securely in front of him, calling Aragorn's name all the while. Ducking under low branches, his hair whipped across his face as he looked around and found that his king was no where in sight.
~***~
Raising the Man up by his vest to look up at him with a scowl, Legolas threw him unceremoniously into a tree, the aural cracking of bones disturbingly pleasing to his ears. Flicking his knotted black hair over his shoulder, he walked heavily over to where Aragorn lay boneless and whimpering, an arrow in his tightly clenched fist. In an all too quick movement, he found himself sprawled against he leaves, staring up into the hardened face of Aragorn. Spitting a black substance at his feet, Legolas was ready to flip the Man over his body, sending him crashing against the fallen shaft of tree behind him when he tried to pounce upon him.
Grunting, Aragorn shook his head violently to wash away the cobwebs of an aching torture arising in his body, raising Andruil up in time to catch some of Legolas' skin on the sharp edges, an audible hiss of displeasure reaching his ears. Quickly rising from the remains of the tree, he turned just in time to see the Elf he knew and loved spring at him, driving him to the ground, his talons sinking deep into the flesh of his shoulders, into the hard collarbone across the pit of his neck. A massive calloused hand traveled the short distance to his neck, squeezing his air passage shut for a short time before Aragorn kicked him rudely in the gut, sending him backwards but without taking some skin from his neck with him.
Roaring in anger, Legolas regained his balance, swiftly settling into the position of a Cat ready to attack, then pushed off with the might of his legs at Aragorn once again, furious and eager to complete his task. But this time Aragorn was ready, Andruil meeting Legolas' side and leaving a neat wound in its wake. Growling and giving his new cut a glance, the once peaceful Elf firmly decided he would end this game just as quickly as it began. Drawing an arrow from the Orc-crafted quiver, he placed it on his hand and drew back, ready to let it go.
But Aragorn would not have this. Panting, he screamed, "What has come over you, Legolas? What has possessed you to carry on a mission so meaningless and foolhardy as this one you are taking to now? Why have you turned against us?"
Legolas flinched. He had never hesitated to release the arrow on his own will until now. His hand shook mildly, then retracted the string harder. Aragorn pressed on. "Why have you turned against *me*? You have become a creature without a heart, and I have known you to have a large one. An Orc is what you are now - a hideous being that has graced Middle-Earth with the shame of Sauron. What will you become of this? I'm sure your master will kill you after your time has been served."
New beads of sweat adorned Legolas' brow. Why *was* he being so weak? Release the damned arrow, he told himself. Yet he could not. Something inside him, bellowing and kicking, held him back.
Sarumon's voice boomed ferociously in his head. "What are you waiting for? If you will not let follow through with my instructions to either let him live or kill him, do away with him already! KILL him, Legolas! There is still one Halfling that must return with you that is too resistant to come with us."
Closing his eyes, he furrowed his eyebrows, squeezing his eyes shut. Opening them, he found that his vision was blurred by an unexpected tingling in his eyes; he weakly let his arrow fly through the air, the head sinking into Aragorn's leg just barely above his knee. Hastily taking his leave, he fled from the area and easily found the Hobbit Sarumon was referring to.
Frodo kicked wildly against the arms of other Orcs, sending Sting through their muscles and cutting through their bones. Roaring to get their attention, Legolas pushed the other creatures carelessly aside to loom over the shrinking Hobbit, snatching up Sting and tossing it away from his grasp. Then, without waiting for a counter attack, picked the Halfling up by the collar of his shirt and held his small wrists in his mighty hand, jerking his head to the others. "We leave now! Do not fall behind!"
Hearing the frantic cries of the Hobbits die off as they fled farther away from the battlefield, Aragorn let the salty tears cascade down his dirt-caked face to linger at his jaw. If there was one thing he could never understand, it had to be the Elves.
Where had his love gone amiss?