Here is chapter 2 of my story! Thank you so incredibly much to my two reviewers, Nikki and Tiny Tiger. You made my week! *bg* This story is going to turn out A/L slash, after all (not in this chapter, though. Later). The song that Legolas sings is an old lullaby that was once sang to me. Also, can someone please tell me how to get html working here? It would be much appreciated!
Torn
It was a moonless night. Somehow, Legolas felt more compelled to sail out over the Sea on nights such as this. It was as if he were the waves, being pulled at by the tide. He ached with his whole being, and all his Elven light to sail away and join his kindred in the West.
He shut his eyes, and felt the sea breeze try its strength against him. It sent his hair and cloak tumbling, and he could taste the salt spray on his lips. Like all Elves, Legolas was familiar with woods. He knew the spirits of the trees, and had viewed life as a celebration of their existence. Yet the song that the Sea sang to him was one older, more intimate. In its deep rumbling of the waves, the merry splash of white foam on the beach and clear rippling of the backwash, Legolas heard the voices of the sea.
Come to us, child of the forests.
Come to us.
Come.
Legolas sighed, and shook his head in the briefest of movements.
Middle Earth was a lonely place for an Elf now. With Gimli, who had remained at the camp-fire, he had travelled to distant parts of the land, and had seen much wonder. But the Elven forests were empty. Rivendell no longer echoed with Elven-song, and Lothlorien was pale and colourless without the beauty of Galadriel. His home, Mirkwood, was full of ghosts from his childhood and when his father the King had ruled. His people were gone. Why, then, did he stay?
Another urge, as strong as the elements, bade him stay. It was stronger than the ancestral instinct of the Elves. It was born of the primeval instinct of all things that lived, and could experience emotion.
Legolas felt as if he were a scrap of iron, torn between two lode-stones.
He wanted to be alone, to vent his longing and grief and confusion. He wanted to be held, so that this torment of being caught between two worlds would stop. Snores from Gimli told him the dwarf was soundly asleep. Legolas, smiled, then. Raising his voice in song, the Elf released some of the sorrow that lay so heavily on his heart.
On and on he sang, his melody a pulsing counter-part to the music of the Sea. It filled the moonless night with a different kind of light. Legolas rejoiced in this solitude, singing for the stars alone.
Maiden, maiden, tell me true.
What can grow, grow without dew?
What can burn for years and years?
What can cry and shed no tears?
Silly lad, here's the answer true:
A stone can grow, grow without dew.
Love can burn for years and years.
A heart can cry and shed no tears.
Unknown to the Elf, there were two who heard his voice.
One, beyond the realms of distance and bound to no mortal body, heard and felt joy, if such an innocent word could be used to describe him.
The other, very much a mortal and bone-weary –despite the fact that he was a Ranger– was equally pleased, in a less sinister way.
"Legolas! Legolas Greenleaf!"
The sound of the voice caused Legolas to choke. It spoke with the accents of a Man from Gondor. Legolas' Elven eyes picked out details no other could have, in the darkness of that night. The Man was wearing the travel-stained clothing of a Ranger. A battered scabbard with an ancient sword hung at his side. His face was shadowed by a deep hood.
Legolas' heart leapt. He had waited for so long to hear that voice. Aragorn! cried his heart and his mind and his soul. His hand stretched out of its own accord, wanting more than anything to touch….
The Man swung off his horse, and swept off his hood, bowing low.
With a disappointment that made his vision shudder and blur for a moment, Legolas saw that the Man before his eyes was a stranger.
"Who are you who seeks me thus?" queried Legolas sharply, keeping his voice steady with no little effort. Grateful for the darkness, he slowly composed his normally tranquil features.
The stranger sagged wearily against his mount. Instantly, Legolas regretted his temper
"Forgive me, friend, for my sharpness. Come rest at our camp. We have a warm fire blazing," he added, as the night was chill.
The Man shook his head. "I swore not to rest until you had heard my message. Indeed, it has been many days since I left Gondor, and more since I rested.
'You ask who I am, to seek you thus? I am Caruon, one-time Ranger, now personal servant of King Elessar Telcontar. He bids me send a message to Legolas Greenleaf, last Elf to grace the lands of Middle Earth. In truth me heart is glad that he has done so, for I would have searched for you myself ere the full waxing of the moon had he not." Caruon paused, exhaustion and worry battling on his face.
Legolas stood very still. Fiercely, ruthlessly, he crushed the despair that rose so bitterly within him. Caruon did not seem to notice.
"King Elessar sends you a summons. He wishes to see you as soon as you can make the journey to Gondor."
Fury now, something Legolas rarely felt and even more rarely showed.
"A summons. From the noble King of Gondor." His voice was cold.
"No," contradicted Caruon, gently, hearing the hard-held emotion in Legolas' voice. "It is in my heart that it is a fond wish between old friends."
"Kindly inform the King of Gondor that his 'old friend' is busy," Legolas said, quietly, finally. He hid his shaking hands behind his back. It had been thirteen years since he had last seen Aragorn. Thirteen years without word or message. Now, suddenly, without warning, came a summons to attend to him. Aragorn had not even bothered to come himself. He was not a wayward courtier, Legolas thought resentfully, to be called to heel at whim.
"You misunderstand me," pressed Caruon. "The King has been sorely troubled of late. The palace knows, and grieves, but we can do nothing, for he will not tell what ails him. In a few months, he has aged ten years. He removes himself from all company, and shuns even Arwen. He sleeps alone now, but he gains no rest. I have stood guard outside his doors for many nights and heard the torment of his dreams.
'And now, he asks for you." His voice grew soft, but flinty. The light of anger appeared in his eyes. "My King will not be denied."
Legolas felt his heart lurch at this news of Aragorn, but before he could reply, he caught the look on Caruon's face. Cold rage surged in him once more.
"He may be the King of Gondor, but he does not hold sway over all of Middle Earth. And you, my friend, are overly bold."
"And you," grated Caruon in answer, "may well be the last Elf on Middle Earth, but you will show more respect to my King!" He straightened, and touched the hilt of his sword.
Legolas understood the gesture immediately. His own blade was but a long hunting knife, but he grasped it tightly in his hand.
The two nodded in grim silence, and together walked a little from the camp, and Gimli's sleeping form. Arod raised his head questioningly, but was soothed by Legolas' soft murmur. He was unpicketted, as always, and moved further from the beach in search of peace.
Caruon looked scornfully at the knife in Legolas' hand, before drawing the second sword that was slung over his back. This he handed to the Elf, handle first.
"First blood," he growled, and Legolas snapped "Done!" in reply.
The duel began.
Cauron, though weary was fuelled by righteous anger at the disrespect the Elf had done to his King. And Legolas was driven by the need to unleash the violent emotions which had so suddenly revealed themselves in him.
They circled warily, each gauging the other's worth. Then, with a quickness that surprised even the Elf, Caruon struck. Legolas parried, and slashed back, and the two opponents fought on. Legolas used the fight to vent some of his anger and frustration. Caruon seemed to sense that, and remained on the defensive, letting the Elf burn his surplus energy on the attack. Legolas was surprised, and looked at the Man more thoughtfully. Sweat dripped down his face, and he was panting from the exertion. Yet he held his ground against the barrage of slashes.
Legolas was ashamed. Stepping lightly back, he put up his sword, then bowed to Caruon. His own breathing had quickened slightly, but the fight had energized him, rather than tiring him.
"Alas, that I have attacked a friend!" cried Legolas, and he extended a hand to Caruon. "I can only say that madness must have overtaken me, for I cannot otherwise excuse my actions!"
Caruon grunted and took his hand. "It was good exercise for us both," he gasped. Then suddenly he chuckled. "But how Aragorn would have laughed, seeing us thus!"
Legolas smiled, too, and did not miss the use of Aragorn's name. "He would have told me that I was being childish again, though I am more than two thousand years older than he! You were close friends with him?" Legolas could not stop the surge of envy that coursed through him, but he tried to ignore it. Before Caruon could reply, the Elf's sharp ears caught another sound.
"Silence!" he said, and bent his will to listening to the wind. "It sounds like…." He shook his head, dismissing the thought.
"Wolves!" exclaimed Caruon. "What ungodly beasts are roaming this stretch of land tonight?"
"Not just wolves," said Legolas grimly. "Wargs."
The great beasts swarmed around them. They were shaggy-furred and yellowed-eyed, and froth flecked their muzzles. A low growl came from the throat of one, then all took up the hideous melody.
Legolas was grateful for the heavy sword which Caruon had lent him for the duel. His bow and arrows were back at the campsite, and his hunting knife would have been all but useless. Instinctively, he and Caruon stood back to back, and faced the snarling Wargs.
He was unafraid, being Immortal. The duel with Caruon had whetted his appetite for action. With a cry, he slashed at the Warg nearest to him. As he cut them down, so more replaced the fallen. Legolas could hear the painful breathing of exhausted Caruon beside him. The Man had guarded Aragorn's door for many nights, then ridden near two weeks with little rest in search of Legolas. Their earlier duel had used up most of his remaining strength. A Warg flew at his throat, and he brought his sword up too slowly. Blood blossomed red, and he fell gasping to the ground. Legolas heard himself utter a cry of despair, as he half-knelt to support the fallen Man.
"We were…like…brothers," murmured Caruon, before the eternal silence took him.
Legolas brought his own sword up with greater fury, then, but the Wargs had sensed the fall of one of their enemies, and redoubled their efforts. One sank great teeth into Legolas' thigh, and tore deep gashes down to his calf. The Elf screamed in agony before cutting the throat of the attacking Warg. There were too many for him to defeat alone, and he was too far from camp for Gimli to hear any cries of help, deeply asleep as the dwarf would be.
He whistled shrilly for Arod, and the war-horse galloped up, hooves flying and teeth snapping. Legolas pulled himself on the back of the horse with difficulty, and urged the horse on.
"Find Aragorn," he gasped, clinging tightly to Arod without any of his usual grace. Arod sensed his rider's need, and his pace soon outdistanced the following Wargs. Legolas was unable to feel relief, however, as the little light in the night shimmered and his world went black.