Okay, following the movie cannon's plot here, instead of book, as it allows for more.. umm... "fretting" moments. However, I stick to facts brought in the book, such as Legolas rides bareback. Also, I'm making the ride to Helm's Deep only a day long, which gives Legolas and Gimli a day and a half before Aragorn needs to show up Yup. Your darling author is EVIL. *cackle*
Oh yeah. Though it's not showing up that there are any reviews on FF.net yet, the emails from the bot just came in. 4 or 5 reviews in less than a day! I've never had anyone like my stuff that much! *huggles all who liked* Awww.. you love me! ... er... okay, so you don't love me. You just love my work. ^_^ Just as good.
Anyway, enjoy chapter 2.
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Helm's Deep. The name itself brought a shudder of regret to the elf of Mirkwood as he approached ... without Aragorn at his side. It was meant as no offense to Gimli, who was beginning to border on very close friendship, but the loss of Aragorn stung him more than he thought possible. In truth, had Theoden King not spoken at the cliffs, they might have lost the elf to the rapids as well. As it was, the gift Arwen had given the man was heavy in the pouch at his waist, for it carried in it's tiny silver intricacies the grief that threatened to claim his own life.
Gimli had not seen Legolas so sick in appearance. Never. Not even after Gandalf fell had the grief shown this much. He rode as if dead, his fingers barely gripping in the mane of the horse he rested upon. What scared Gimli the most was that with each day's passing, the elf seemed to grow smaller and smaller at the waist... he was no longer eating.
Alas for the elf! Forever would he call Helm's Deep a cursed place, as forever he would call Galadriel's gift to him fair. Silently, the dwarf worried of what was to come. With ill tidings such as this upon their arrival, could they even begin to hope of surviving?
One day passed, the men of Helm's Deep busy stocking the caves and preparing supplies. One day passed with Legolas brooding in the small quarters he'd been given by Theoden generously, or lifelessly aiding the men around in shuffling swords and hubarks around. One day with Gimli uncertain as to how he might comfort the elf.
That night, Gimli appeared in the doorway to the elf's quarters, head hung low. Legolas was found sitting numbly upon his makeshift bed of hay-stuffed fabric, gazing ahead as if unseeing while bone-thin fingers plucked straw after straw out of his bed, one by one, crumbling them in between his digits before going for the next. Gimli guessed the prince didn't even realize what his fingers were doing.
"Master Elf, I know there is nothing this dwarf could say to ease your grief, but..."
"Then say nothing, Gimli. Nothing comforts, and every word of him is like a dagger to me."
The dwarf only nodded faintly then, edging ever so carefully toward his aching friend. When he reached the bed, a hand was brought forward to rest upon Legolas's shoulder, closing gently when he was met with no resistance.
Seconds passed with the unresponsive elf, ticking only in mind, before the immortal could stand it no longer. A wail rang from the room that could have stopped the Balrog thought to have claimed Gandalf till recently flat in his tracks. A mournful cry of love lost, never to be hoped for again. This keen was followed by choked sobs as he collapsed against Gimli, who - startled - reached out to catch and cradle the Prince's form as it trembled in his sorrow.
Even his own grief seeing Balin's Tomb was nothing compared to this. It appeared as if someone had taken the thread that was the life of his elven friend and snipped it in half, leaving him broken and irrepairable.
"I'm sorry, Legolas... I'm so very sorry..."
The elf only whimpered softly and clung to Gimli for a few moments longer before lifting himself and brushing his tears away. "Gimli... Thank you. You are a true friend, Dwarf or no."
Though the elf's voice sounded hollow, the axeman recognized the attempt toward feeling and nodded briefly in acknowledgement.
"If you ever need me, Legolas, you know you can talk to me." He smiled then, though it was a weak attempt, and peered toward the elf once more, this time a tad more light-hearted. "Come, Master Elf... You've not eaten since we arrived, and if you are to fight here, it will not do to have you weak from hunger."
A few quick sniffles were made before Legolas felt he was ready to stand, let alone leave his room again, and he followed his friend silently out to fetch something from the mess hall.
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Legolas Greenleaf had become a subject to be watched since the night before. The men of Rohan stared at him in wonder, as the entire fortress had heard the melancholy cry he'd uttered only a few hours earlier than that very morning. He still didn't eat much, and was in fact poking at a half a biscuit and a small wedge of cheese with a look that showed he had no intention of eating it till the dwarf at his side elbowed him sharply just below the ribs (as all the men had been warned that though they appeared healed, not to risk rebreaking them so soon). A mouthful was taken of bread, a nibble of cheese, then he'd stopped again, and resumed pushing the items around on his plate.
A cry of warning came from the people standing watch over the walls, murmurs of a sole rider that appeared half dead approaching errupted swiftly through the crowds that gathered around the courtyard of Helm's Deep, and both Legolas and Gimli sprang from their morning meal to search out the source of the rumors. Gimli, eager to hope it was, indeed, Aragorn, shoved his way between people to the front, while Legolas, afraid of the same hope, hung back and simply gazed over the crowds.
Fifteen minutes later, the rider entered the gates of Helm's Deep, proving it was, indeed, a very beaten Aragorn.
"Let me through! I'll kill him!" came the growl of Gimli, who finally managed to arrive at the side of his human companion, snaring him in a tight hug before glancing up at him.
"We missed you," came the only words from his lips before gesturing first to the tearfully happy Eowyn, then to the mute, shocked elf up the stairs.
Legolas kept trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, his emotions laying in a tattered mess around him. He resisted the urge to hug the man when Aragorn approached, and instead murmured in choked Sindarian, "You're late..."
Aragorn, though he fully understood the language, stared at Legolas as if he didn't understand. A movement by the elf's waist caught his eye, and within seconds, the prince had produced the pendant the elven Evenstar had bestowed upon Aragorn, placing it tenderly into the man's outstretched hand.
"You look terrible."
Aragorn only grinned at this, then quickly snared the elf into a quick embrace before canting his head toward the main hall of Theoden King.
"There are matters that need to be discussed now. We can enjoy our reuniting later.... I promise."
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How could he be so STUPID!? Their first real fight, and he'd allowed it to happen in front of the other men! It was his fault entirely, Legolas mused. He had lost his temper. He had continued the discussion - thankfully in Sindarian - right in front of them all. He had let his fear over take him.
Mortality seemed all to near after hearing Aragorn's news. Ten thousand men and orcs marched to Helm's Deep, and they would be there shortly after nightfall.
Ten THOUSAND.
He'd apologised, of course, but it helped only a fraction for most of all, he feared for Aragorn's life. His own barely bothered him, as he knew Aragorn had Arwen to rely on should he fall, but selfishly, he knew he had no one to lean upon should the King of Men die that night. Not even Gimli had been much help when he thought the man dead, and they weren't even truly lovers yet!
Legolas feared how deeply his emotions would run the day they ever dared to become so.
But the battle was upon them, and there was little Legolas could say or do to help matters. Eomer, his kinsmen, and every available warrior - man or child - was armed to the teeth and ready to give his life defending the Deep. So it was with Legolas, azure visionaries wide as he gazed outward from his post along the Deeping wall, staring at the torches of the approaching army. How they would survive this, Legolas did not know.
A warm hand clasped upon his shoulder then, followed by a chaste kiss upon his cheek.
Aragorn.
"Worry not, Master Elf. Our defenses can and will hold, and I *will* talk to you when this is all over. There is much I need to tell you... much I wish to say, though now is not the time. Keep yourself sound, Legolas... You are too near my heart already for me to lose you now before we've even had the chance to know one another better."
The words flooded Legolas with a new sense of purpose and joy. And when the orcs and Uruk-hai finally began their attack, Legolas fired those arrows with a fierce war cry. Just let them come!
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The horrors seen after the battle nade all involved mildly ill to the stomach. Once all enemies were certain to be defeated, Legolas picked his way over the dead to collect as many of his own (and others as well crafted) arrows that had not broken in battle. Soon, however, he found he could no longer remain among the fallen, instead fleeing toward the main hall to collect his thoughts and settle his stomach, which threatened to rebel on him at the sight of so many men and orc dead.
It wasn't that he was weak. He'd killed orc before. He'd killed men before, too.
But to see it in that large quantity... he found what little was left in his stomach rising upward, and he was soon sick in one of Theoden's clay pots littering the walls. A cool hand pressed against his forehead shortly after, and a waterskin offered. Before he even looked to see who it was who was being so very kind, he rinsed his mouth out once, then took two good drinks. Finally, eyes drifted upward.
"Estel..."
Those lips, smeared with blood and dirt, curved upward as fingers gently trailed through a few strands of the elf's hair.
"This is your first large battle, isn't it?" he asked in genuine concern. Legolas nodded faintly, leaning into the comforting hand as it continued to nearly pet him. The sensation stopped shortly after, however, when the future-king sat down beside the fair one.
"Many are sick after their first battle... sometimes even during it. If you weren't even mildly ill, I'd worry about your heart... let alone your mind." And with that, an arm was slung about the elf's shoulders, holding him close for a few moments. Legolas had to laugh at the human's words, really.... He couldn't imagine NOT getting sick after seeing such a sight.
"I'll be glad when the Ring is destroyed and we can all go home. Facing Arwen, whether you chose her or myself, would be like a trickling brook compared to this," the elf mused, and Aragorn actually laughed full and outright.
"Legolas... dear Legolas... there will be no Arwen in my life, save as a friend. My heir? I shall adopt one of these refugees if need be. Legolas... I do not know if I love you... but I know I can no longer marry the Evenstar with love in my heart. She deserves better than "acceptance." ... Don't you think?"
Legolas swallowed this information in with an expression of bewilderment and shock on his face. Love? Well, he couldn't expect Aragorn, or anyone for that matter, to fall in love with him so quickly. He wasn't sure if he loved the future king, either. But the lightness that flooded his heart to know he would no longer marry Arwen... it made him think he could fly! He could barely believe it was real, that he was hearing this all and it was not some fading dream. He wanted to jump into the royal's lap and kiss him soundly, right then and there. Instead, he pressed a chaste peck upon the man's cheek and offered a soft smile before rising to head to his room, then clean the blood and grit from his body.
"Thank you, Estel. My eternal Hope."
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A/N: See! happy endings for each chapter. More to come. Muses have a fire under their rear ends, it seems, for they're running wild in my mind recently! Then again, it may just be all the reviews I got! Hee!!!
Oh yeah. Though it's not showing up that there are any reviews on FF.net yet, the emails from the bot just came in. 4 or 5 reviews in less than a day! I've never had anyone like my stuff that much! *huggles all who liked* Awww.. you love me! ... er... okay, so you don't love me. You just love my work. ^_^ Just as good.
Anyway, enjoy chapter 2.
_____________________________________________________________
Helm's Deep. The name itself brought a shudder of regret to the elf of Mirkwood as he approached ... without Aragorn at his side. It was meant as no offense to Gimli, who was beginning to border on very close friendship, but the loss of Aragorn stung him more than he thought possible. In truth, had Theoden King not spoken at the cliffs, they might have lost the elf to the rapids as well. As it was, the gift Arwen had given the man was heavy in the pouch at his waist, for it carried in it's tiny silver intricacies the grief that threatened to claim his own life.
Gimli had not seen Legolas so sick in appearance. Never. Not even after Gandalf fell had the grief shown this much. He rode as if dead, his fingers barely gripping in the mane of the horse he rested upon. What scared Gimli the most was that with each day's passing, the elf seemed to grow smaller and smaller at the waist... he was no longer eating.
Alas for the elf! Forever would he call Helm's Deep a cursed place, as forever he would call Galadriel's gift to him fair. Silently, the dwarf worried of what was to come. With ill tidings such as this upon their arrival, could they even begin to hope of surviving?
One day passed, the men of Helm's Deep busy stocking the caves and preparing supplies. One day passed with Legolas brooding in the small quarters he'd been given by Theoden generously, or lifelessly aiding the men around in shuffling swords and hubarks around. One day with Gimli uncertain as to how he might comfort the elf.
That night, Gimli appeared in the doorway to the elf's quarters, head hung low. Legolas was found sitting numbly upon his makeshift bed of hay-stuffed fabric, gazing ahead as if unseeing while bone-thin fingers plucked straw after straw out of his bed, one by one, crumbling them in between his digits before going for the next. Gimli guessed the prince didn't even realize what his fingers were doing.
"Master Elf, I know there is nothing this dwarf could say to ease your grief, but..."
"Then say nothing, Gimli. Nothing comforts, and every word of him is like a dagger to me."
The dwarf only nodded faintly then, edging ever so carefully toward his aching friend. When he reached the bed, a hand was brought forward to rest upon Legolas's shoulder, closing gently when he was met with no resistance.
Seconds passed with the unresponsive elf, ticking only in mind, before the immortal could stand it no longer. A wail rang from the room that could have stopped the Balrog thought to have claimed Gandalf till recently flat in his tracks. A mournful cry of love lost, never to be hoped for again. This keen was followed by choked sobs as he collapsed against Gimli, who - startled - reached out to catch and cradle the Prince's form as it trembled in his sorrow.
Even his own grief seeing Balin's Tomb was nothing compared to this. It appeared as if someone had taken the thread that was the life of his elven friend and snipped it in half, leaving him broken and irrepairable.
"I'm sorry, Legolas... I'm so very sorry..."
The elf only whimpered softly and clung to Gimli for a few moments longer before lifting himself and brushing his tears away. "Gimli... Thank you. You are a true friend, Dwarf or no."
Though the elf's voice sounded hollow, the axeman recognized the attempt toward feeling and nodded briefly in acknowledgement.
"If you ever need me, Legolas, you know you can talk to me." He smiled then, though it was a weak attempt, and peered toward the elf once more, this time a tad more light-hearted. "Come, Master Elf... You've not eaten since we arrived, and if you are to fight here, it will not do to have you weak from hunger."
A few quick sniffles were made before Legolas felt he was ready to stand, let alone leave his room again, and he followed his friend silently out to fetch something from the mess hall.
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Legolas Greenleaf had become a subject to be watched since the night before. The men of Rohan stared at him in wonder, as the entire fortress had heard the melancholy cry he'd uttered only a few hours earlier than that very morning. He still didn't eat much, and was in fact poking at a half a biscuit and a small wedge of cheese with a look that showed he had no intention of eating it till the dwarf at his side elbowed him sharply just below the ribs (as all the men had been warned that though they appeared healed, not to risk rebreaking them so soon). A mouthful was taken of bread, a nibble of cheese, then he'd stopped again, and resumed pushing the items around on his plate.
A cry of warning came from the people standing watch over the walls, murmurs of a sole rider that appeared half dead approaching errupted swiftly through the crowds that gathered around the courtyard of Helm's Deep, and both Legolas and Gimli sprang from their morning meal to search out the source of the rumors. Gimli, eager to hope it was, indeed, Aragorn, shoved his way between people to the front, while Legolas, afraid of the same hope, hung back and simply gazed over the crowds.
Fifteen minutes later, the rider entered the gates of Helm's Deep, proving it was, indeed, a very beaten Aragorn.
"Let me through! I'll kill him!" came the growl of Gimli, who finally managed to arrive at the side of his human companion, snaring him in a tight hug before glancing up at him.
"We missed you," came the only words from his lips before gesturing first to the tearfully happy Eowyn, then to the mute, shocked elf up the stairs.
Legolas kept trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, his emotions laying in a tattered mess around him. He resisted the urge to hug the man when Aragorn approached, and instead murmured in choked Sindarian, "You're late..."
Aragorn, though he fully understood the language, stared at Legolas as if he didn't understand. A movement by the elf's waist caught his eye, and within seconds, the prince had produced the pendant the elven Evenstar had bestowed upon Aragorn, placing it tenderly into the man's outstretched hand.
"You look terrible."
Aragorn only grinned at this, then quickly snared the elf into a quick embrace before canting his head toward the main hall of Theoden King.
"There are matters that need to be discussed now. We can enjoy our reuniting later.... I promise."
___________________________________________________________
How could he be so STUPID!? Their first real fight, and he'd allowed it to happen in front of the other men! It was his fault entirely, Legolas mused. He had lost his temper. He had continued the discussion - thankfully in Sindarian - right in front of them all. He had let his fear over take him.
Mortality seemed all to near after hearing Aragorn's news. Ten thousand men and orcs marched to Helm's Deep, and they would be there shortly after nightfall.
Ten THOUSAND.
He'd apologised, of course, but it helped only a fraction for most of all, he feared for Aragorn's life. His own barely bothered him, as he knew Aragorn had Arwen to rely on should he fall, but selfishly, he knew he had no one to lean upon should the King of Men die that night. Not even Gimli had been much help when he thought the man dead, and they weren't even truly lovers yet!
Legolas feared how deeply his emotions would run the day they ever dared to become so.
But the battle was upon them, and there was little Legolas could say or do to help matters. Eomer, his kinsmen, and every available warrior - man or child - was armed to the teeth and ready to give his life defending the Deep. So it was with Legolas, azure visionaries wide as he gazed outward from his post along the Deeping wall, staring at the torches of the approaching army. How they would survive this, Legolas did not know.
A warm hand clasped upon his shoulder then, followed by a chaste kiss upon his cheek.
Aragorn.
"Worry not, Master Elf. Our defenses can and will hold, and I *will* talk to you when this is all over. There is much I need to tell you... much I wish to say, though now is not the time. Keep yourself sound, Legolas... You are too near my heart already for me to lose you now before we've even had the chance to know one another better."
The words flooded Legolas with a new sense of purpose and joy. And when the orcs and Uruk-hai finally began their attack, Legolas fired those arrows with a fierce war cry. Just let them come!
_________________________________________________________________
The horrors seen after the battle nade all involved mildly ill to the stomach. Once all enemies were certain to be defeated, Legolas picked his way over the dead to collect as many of his own (and others as well crafted) arrows that had not broken in battle. Soon, however, he found he could no longer remain among the fallen, instead fleeing toward the main hall to collect his thoughts and settle his stomach, which threatened to rebel on him at the sight of so many men and orc dead.
It wasn't that he was weak. He'd killed orc before. He'd killed men before, too.
But to see it in that large quantity... he found what little was left in his stomach rising upward, and he was soon sick in one of Theoden's clay pots littering the walls. A cool hand pressed against his forehead shortly after, and a waterskin offered. Before he even looked to see who it was who was being so very kind, he rinsed his mouth out once, then took two good drinks. Finally, eyes drifted upward.
"Estel..."
Those lips, smeared with blood and dirt, curved upward as fingers gently trailed through a few strands of the elf's hair.
"This is your first large battle, isn't it?" he asked in genuine concern. Legolas nodded faintly, leaning into the comforting hand as it continued to nearly pet him. The sensation stopped shortly after, however, when the future-king sat down beside the fair one.
"Many are sick after their first battle... sometimes even during it. If you weren't even mildly ill, I'd worry about your heart... let alone your mind." And with that, an arm was slung about the elf's shoulders, holding him close for a few moments. Legolas had to laugh at the human's words, really.... He couldn't imagine NOT getting sick after seeing such a sight.
"I'll be glad when the Ring is destroyed and we can all go home. Facing Arwen, whether you chose her or myself, would be like a trickling brook compared to this," the elf mused, and Aragorn actually laughed full and outright.
"Legolas... dear Legolas... there will be no Arwen in my life, save as a friend. My heir? I shall adopt one of these refugees if need be. Legolas... I do not know if I love you... but I know I can no longer marry the Evenstar with love in my heart. She deserves better than "acceptance." ... Don't you think?"
Legolas swallowed this information in with an expression of bewilderment and shock on his face. Love? Well, he couldn't expect Aragorn, or anyone for that matter, to fall in love with him so quickly. He wasn't sure if he loved the future king, either. But the lightness that flooded his heart to know he would no longer marry Arwen... it made him think he could fly! He could barely believe it was real, that he was hearing this all and it was not some fading dream. He wanted to jump into the royal's lap and kiss him soundly, right then and there. Instead, he pressed a chaste peck upon the man's cheek and offered a soft smile before rising to head to his room, then clean the blood and grit from his body.
"Thank you, Estel. My eternal Hope."
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A/N: See! happy endings for each chapter. More to come. Muses have a fire under their rear ends, it seems, for they're running wild in my mind recently! Then again, it may just be all the reviews I got! Hee!!!