Chapter Thirteen
The sky was utterly dark and the stillness of the air foreboded storm. Thunder crashed in the valley and rain came pouring down in thick sheet. A man rode in haste from the fords towards the watchtower where King Elessar waited for news.
"A host of Orcs and Wargs had issued from the South. The Hand of Morgoth leads them." The rider said, "More men must be sent to hold the fords but the hope of Gondor seems frail."
"Hope oft comes unlooked for." King Elessar replied, and he looked towards the North.
The next day bore ill news once again. The enemy had crossed the Anduin and was advancing to the Wall of Pelennor. Atop the watchtower at dusk, the King saw red fire blazed across in the dim spaces where the Wall of Pelennor stood. A red flare shot up to the sky and through the heavy air, dull rumbles could be heard.
"They have taken the Wall!" Men cried, "They are coming!"
And so, King Elessar led the last host of Gondor out to the battlements. Their spears and swords shone in the gloom with a gleam of chill flame. It was a host too grim to look upon. Desperate was their will but their hearts were valiant. The air was still but the banner of the White Tree fluttered, as though being blown by a secret wind.
Crude arrows loosed by the orc-archers came whistling over the battlements. Most fell clinking on the stones but some found a mark. The host of Gondor gave no answer. Brazen trumpets blared and the enemy surged forward towards the causeway that led up to the Gates. The assault on the inner wall of Gondor had begun and the host answered the challenge.
A rain of arrows and a hail of sharp stones met the assailing host. Behind the great wall of the battlements, great cauldrons of sand were heated until they turned red-hot. The hot sand, they flung out to the host of Orcs outside the wall. The Orcs screamed and casted themselves down. The searing sand blinded their eyes.
"Come," King Elessar commanded, gathering a handful of stout swordsmen. He led them along a narrow hidden path by the wall that ran down towards the great Gate. There they took many Orcs unaware and slew them.
As the sky started to brighten, the Dark host began to withdraw to the edge of the forest but they were not defeated yet. Dawn was coming but it brought no cheer. The men grew weary. All their arrows spent and their swords were notched. Still the host of Gondor rallied on and in a last desperate charge, they drove the remnants of the Enemy from the wall.
As the sun peered over the edge of the horizon, there came from the North, the sounds of horns blowing and trumpets singing and it lifted the spirits of the Men above the gloom. Over the low hills, the sound of the horns grew louder. King Elessar looked out and a smile slowly spread across his tired face. King Eómer had arrived.
Behind the Lord of the Mark, hastening down the long slopes, the warriors of Rohan rode on their swift steeds and thousands of Men on foot followed the riders. King Elessar gathered as many able Men as he could and they rode out from the great Gate to challenge the Dark host.
Seeing that they were being assailed from the front and the rear, fear took hold of the Orcs. They reeled and screamed and cast aside their foul weapons. Many ran hither and thither and died under the roaring hoofs of Rohan or were smote down by the Men of Gondor. In the end, the Dark host fled like a black smoke driven by the mounting wind into the dark forest.
Victory was in the hands of the Men of Gondor but it was dearly bought. It was a great and terrible battle and the deeds of the great warriors were sung in many fair halls thereafter.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Many leagues away, deep in the fair halls of King Thranduil, Callysta was recuperating from the poisoned bite of the giant spider. Legolas never left her side, save to take a bite of food and a sip of wine. The moon had waxed three times while Callysta lay in a deep sleep. Sometimes, her sleep was deep and untroubled but other times, she tossed and turned and talked feverishly in her slumber. At those times, Legolas would hold her hands and he would gently kiss them. In a soothing Elvish tongue, he would sing to her softly.
Anguish was in his fair face and grief cloaked his heart. Much he would have given up just to hear her voice calling his name softly. Right then, if he could give up his immortality to save her, he would not think twice to do so. Yet nothing could save her now, except her will to live.
Lovingly, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face and thought her fairer than any Mortal women he had known. If the Doom of Beren and Luthien was their fate, so be it. The unbidden emotions that Callysta had stirred in him not too long ago had spilled forth like a burst dam. He would show her the shape of his heart if she wakes up. He was not afraid anymore. If only she would wake up…
Callysta could hear Legolas' fair voice and feel his touch but she could not bring herself to open her eyes. Her lids felt very heavy. She felt dissociated from her surroundings. It was a snug feeling, like being enveloped in a cocoon.
And she thought fearfully, Cocoon? The spiders had captured me? No, they were dead, weren't they?
Then, she heard Legolas' voice, "Wake up, melamin. You're safe now. Wake up."
With a herculean effort, she forced her eyes open. She found herself lying on a large white bed. Soft white curtains veiled the bed. Through the window, a soft breeze blew into the room. Everything looked hazy and was tinged with a pale yellow hue.
"Where am I?" Callysta asked in a soft whisper.
"In the fair halls of my father, King Thranduil." Legolas replied.
Callysta turned to her right and saw the elf-prince and a wave of relief swept over her. On impulse, she rose and hugged him.
"Legolas…" She murmured, resting her head on his strong shoulders. And then, she began to cry.
"Ai! What's wrong, melamin?" Legolas asked, shocked.
"Nothing, nothing really. It's just that I am so relieved to see you. Just so glad to be alive." Callysta said with a sniff.
"I am relieved too. You have a very strong will, Callysta. I watched you every day and you never once give up. You are truly amazing." Legolas replied, wiping away her tears.
She smiled, "Maybe it's just that magic Elrond was speaking of."
"Perhaps. And I am in grave danger of falling deeply into its spell."
Callysta's head shot up and she regarded him with a slight frown. For once, he was not teasing her or putting her down. She thought something smelled strange with the way he was looking at her. He looked as if he was…
"In love!" She blurted out accidentally.
Her memory came back to her and she remembered in snatches what she had said to him before she went out cold. However, she could not remember what exactly her words were and she hoped she hadn't proposed to him or anything embarrassing of that sort.
"Er, Legolas... Before I passed out, did I say anything erm, silly? Something embarrassing? Ah, I just wanted you to know I was only babbling. It's probably the effect of the fear of death." She said, her cheeks were flushed and she tugged at a strand of her hair while she spoke.
Legolas thought she looked cuter than a bug in a rug.
He said, "If you must know, I was afraid too, afraid of losing you. I feared I could never see that pair of beautiful blue eyes again."
"Yo-You like my eyes?"
"Everything about you. I was afraid I could not tell you what my heart wanted to say."
"What's that?" Callysta asked.
"Just this." Legolas whispered. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lips.
Callysta sucked in her breath sharply after he drew away. Slowly, she licked her lips. She had waited all her life for this. So, she was going to savour every bit of it.
"Erm, what's that again? I couldn't quite catch what your heart was saying." Callysta asked, cocking her head to one side.
"Just this." Legolas said with a smile. He tilted her chin and kissed her again.
"Phew! It must be the long sleep I had. My head is all clouded over and I-I couldn't quite understand what your heart…" She didn't get the chance to finish. Legolas pulled her close to him and pressed his lips down on hers.