Yet another boring Author's Note. It appears I'm going to be mixing the movie universe with the book universe, as there are parts Peter Jackson introduced to the movie that work well even though not included in the books. However, when push comes to shove, the book universe is what I will attempt to adhere to. There were no elves at Helm's Deep (well, none save Legolas), for example, in the books as there are no elves at Helm's Deep in my story. Eomer was always at the battle in the books, as he was in my story. In that sense, you will probably be reading a massive dumping of Spoilers. Consider yourself warned.
Inferno - Legolas and Aragorn probably had met before then... even in my story. But Aragorn probably just hadn't noticed him as he had at the council. Thanks!
Ithildin - the muses don't remain fire-lit for very long, pray they are this time!
Anyway, with all of that said and done, here cometh Chapter Three!!! Someone go grab the crackers and champagne....
______________________________________________________________
The battles that errupted through Middle Earth trapped the pockets of beings where they were in defense of their own borders. Galadriel and Celeborn were fighting for the forest of Lothlorien. Elrond, Arwen... they were gritting their teeth to keep Rivendell safe. Mirkwood was being defended by Thranduil and his people. The twins, the sons of Elrond, rode hard to meet Aragorn along with his kin.
There was not a single place in all of Middle Earth that was not battling, either for or against the Dark Lord.
___________________________________________________________
~~~"I bring word to you from my father: 'The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.' "~~~
__________________________________________________________
Gondor, and specifically Minas Tirith, was under the heaviest fire. Legolas and Gimli were following Aragorn on the fabled Paths of the Dead, though luckily the dead did not bother Legolas. They did, however, give Gimli - as well as all of the men in Aragorn's crew - the shivers. Even the twins Elladan and Elrohir did not escape the foul feelings, as they were also partially human. It was only the Legolas who kept Gimli from fretting too much, and it was the elf's nonplussed attitude that gave the men hope. And it was the elf, again, who kept Aragorn's heart alive enough to continue, though no one realized this small fact.
It seemed an eternity to all those mortal that followed Aragorn through the Paths few dared to take before they were finally out, breathing more lightly despite the army of those dead returned to champion for their oath following like some unearthly prayer. Leading them all - living, dead, and immortal - was Aragorn, riding like a feather in his saddle, his face grim and determined to find some sort of light in the darkness that covered the lands he was destined to rule. Never before had anyone admired him more than those who witnessed him on that day. Away they rode, riding as fast as those walking could move toward Gondor, to the fields between Minas Tirith and the Darkness of Mordor.
The final Alliance had been made, though it did differ slightly from the original. Men. Elves. Dwarves. Hobbits. Ents. Every sentient creature within the boundaries of their continent was ready and willing to fight that day. Orcs. Goblins. Uruk-hai. Nazgul. They were all readying themselves for the battles already breaking out on the borders of other lands. Lothlorien was under attack. Imladris. Mirkwood. The Shire. Rohan. Gondor.
To the victors would go the world as they knew it, for whatever fate they had in store for it. Aragorn seemed determined to rise above it all, and seemed willing to die for that very cause he was urging his group toward. Even as they left the Dead to their rest once more, they knew Middle Earth could not fall to the will of the Deceptor. The will of the Dark Lord.
Before any of the fellowship realized it, the war had begun. Orcs clashed with Elf. Man battled his kin, the Uruk-hai... once again the land was stained with blood. Many fell within the very first minutes, and more continued to drop as time wore on. Through the battle, each member of the Fellowship kept watch for the others, for Elrond's son's, and for the few good friends they had made along the way - when they could. It was rare when they would have a second or two to glance the battle field over before another of the Enemy would advance upon them, forcing their swords, daggers and bows to sing once more.
_____________________________________________________________
Elrohir lay in one of the halls of Minas Tirith a single day after the fighting had finally ended, still uncleaned as he had been aiding those able to care for the wounded, checking the prone forms upon the battle field for any that still might live. Nearly all that had survived had spent hours searching around them for those trapped, unconscious, or simply too wounded to move themselves from where they sat. The son of Elrond was utterly exhausted, not to mention filthy beyond proper recognition. In fact, it had taken Legolas a few good moments before finally realizing who it was resting his back against the stone wall behind him, dark hair ratted and caked with mud. Then again, he himself looked regretfully similar.
"Elrohir! Have you not gotten any rest since yesterday?" the lighter elf queried, reaching to help his friend to stand. The twin offered a weak smile and shook his head in the negative before gesturing to the rather grime-coating the Prince of Mirkwood was sporting at that very moment.
"And you are one to speak of such matters? Look at you, Legolas! How either of us will ever get clean is a bafflement I fear no elf has the remedy for," the dark-haired elf mused, managing enough humor to alight a chuckle from his companion.
"You must remind me to badger our esteemed host for such things to aid that later, friend. I fear almost all coming from yesterday alive resemble us to some degree. Aragorn, even after washing his face clean recently, looks like he'd been dragged through mire and bog for hours with no rest afterward."
The tone the younger elf used in describing his dearheart did not escape the keen ears of Elrohir, and Elrond's son could not help but grin.
"You'll have time enough to help him clean. Come, Legolas... let us go back down to the healing quarters and see what other assistance we can be. Elladan and Gimli are both down there and I fear another battle might arise if we leave them without supervision for long."
If felt good to laugh after so serious an occurance, and so they headed for the halls Elrohir had mentioned, washing their hands off in a basin before beginning to busy themselves with binding wounds, dressing scrapes and bracing broken limbs till the sun began to set once more. Even the soon-to-be-crowned King of Gondor joined them later, the grim task of mending the people gathered in Minas Tirith made easier by the presence of his Company and brothers.
__________________________________________________________________
It was Aragorn who finally stopped his friends hours later, realizing how exhausted they all were. A large, grit-covered hand clasped the shoulder of Elladan, then moved to Legolas's elbow, gripping it more affectionately than he had his foster-brother's.
"Come... you all must be hungry and if my eyes do not lie, I believe we all need to clean and dress in clothing that isn't caked in mud and blood. Sleep might be an option as well." Protests were weak, though made, and the King's insistance won over their pathetic attempts to remain within the healing halls. All knew they were of little service at the moment, as those that had bothered to take rest the night before and during the day were waking and able to take over the small group's responsiblities.
The twins quickly rushed to rooms they had been quartered in, eager to get into a more comfortable attire, while Gimli happily wandered to his own lodging in Minas Tirith's main halls. In fact, within a few seconds, Legolas and Aragorn were left alone in the rushed meeting place to wander to their own place of temporary residence. Weary, they leaned upon the other for support, picking their way slowly down the corridor.
"I still can barely belief you're still alive after all that I've seen these past days, Legolas," came the soft whisper, choked somewhat by emotion as pained footfalls led them both away.
"Elves are made of stronger stuff than what meets the eye, Aragorn... you of all people ought to have figured that out before," the prince teased, shaking his head slightly. He would certainly be glad to be clean once more, though he doubted that anything short of a waterfall could rid him of the chunks of mud that were ground into his hair and clothing, let alone his flesh. His distaste must have been obvious because Aragorn chuckled, fingers catching a few matted strands.
"I think a surprise might be in order for you, Legolas. The baths are being prepared for the city's warriors as we speak... and I know how you detest being covered in dirt."
To this the elf only grinned, allowing his filty form to be cuddled against the Ranger's, shivering pleasently as fingers attempted to run through his hair and settled for simply petting the pink and black tinged strands. "Do you think they might have a brush and comb there, as well?"
Aragorn only chuckled at this and kissed his elf's head before guiding them away toward one of the bath rooms, eager to get them both fully clean.
Inferno - Legolas and Aragorn probably had met before then... even in my story. But Aragorn probably just hadn't noticed him as he had at the council. Thanks!
Ithildin - the muses don't remain fire-lit for very long, pray they are this time!
Anyway, with all of that said and done, here cometh Chapter Three!!! Someone go grab the crackers and champagne....
______________________________________________________________
The battles that errupted through Middle Earth trapped the pockets of beings where they were in defense of their own borders. Galadriel and Celeborn were fighting for the forest of Lothlorien. Elrond, Arwen... they were gritting their teeth to keep Rivendell safe. Mirkwood was being defended by Thranduil and his people. The twins, the sons of Elrond, rode hard to meet Aragorn along with his kin.
There was not a single place in all of Middle Earth that was not battling, either for or against the Dark Lord.
___________________________________________________________
~~~"I bring word to you from my father: 'The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.' "~~~
__________________________________________________________
Gondor, and specifically Minas Tirith, was under the heaviest fire. Legolas and Gimli were following Aragorn on the fabled Paths of the Dead, though luckily the dead did not bother Legolas. They did, however, give Gimli - as well as all of the men in Aragorn's crew - the shivers. Even the twins Elladan and Elrohir did not escape the foul feelings, as they were also partially human. It was only the Legolas who kept Gimli from fretting too much, and it was the elf's nonplussed attitude that gave the men hope. And it was the elf, again, who kept Aragorn's heart alive enough to continue, though no one realized this small fact.
It seemed an eternity to all those mortal that followed Aragorn through the Paths few dared to take before they were finally out, breathing more lightly despite the army of those dead returned to champion for their oath following like some unearthly prayer. Leading them all - living, dead, and immortal - was Aragorn, riding like a feather in his saddle, his face grim and determined to find some sort of light in the darkness that covered the lands he was destined to rule. Never before had anyone admired him more than those who witnessed him on that day. Away they rode, riding as fast as those walking could move toward Gondor, to the fields between Minas Tirith and the Darkness of Mordor.
The final Alliance had been made, though it did differ slightly from the original. Men. Elves. Dwarves. Hobbits. Ents. Every sentient creature within the boundaries of their continent was ready and willing to fight that day. Orcs. Goblins. Uruk-hai. Nazgul. They were all readying themselves for the battles already breaking out on the borders of other lands. Lothlorien was under attack. Imladris. Mirkwood. The Shire. Rohan. Gondor.
To the victors would go the world as they knew it, for whatever fate they had in store for it. Aragorn seemed determined to rise above it all, and seemed willing to die for that very cause he was urging his group toward. Even as they left the Dead to their rest once more, they knew Middle Earth could not fall to the will of the Deceptor. The will of the Dark Lord.
Before any of the fellowship realized it, the war had begun. Orcs clashed with Elf. Man battled his kin, the Uruk-hai... once again the land was stained with blood. Many fell within the very first minutes, and more continued to drop as time wore on. Through the battle, each member of the Fellowship kept watch for the others, for Elrond's son's, and for the few good friends they had made along the way - when they could. It was rare when they would have a second or two to glance the battle field over before another of the Enemy would advance upon them, forcing their swords, daggers and bows to sing once more.
_____________________________________________________________
Elrohir lay in one of the halls of Minas Tirith a single day after the fighting had finally ended, still uncleaned as he had been aiding those able to care for the wounded, checking the prone forms upon the battle field for any that still might live. Nearly all that had survived had spent hours searching around them for those trapped, unconscious, or simply too wounded to move themselves from where they sat. The son of Elrond was utterly exhausted, not to mention filthy beyond proper recognition. In fact, it had taken Legolas a few good moments before finally realizing who it was resting his back against the stone wall behind him, dark hair ratted and caked with mud. Then again, he himself looked regretfully similar.
"Elrohir! Have you not gotten any rest since yesterday?" the lighter elf queried, reaching to help his friend to stand. The twin offered a weak smile and shook his head in the negative before gesturing to the rather grime-coating the Prince of Mirkwood was sporting at that very moment.
"And you are one to speak of such matters? Look at you, Legolas! How either of us will ever get clean is a bafflement I fear no elf has the remedy for," the dark-haired elf mused, managing enough humor to alight a chuckle from his companion.
"You must remind me to badger our esteemed host for such things to aid that later, friend. I fear almost all coming from yesterday alive resemble us to some degree. Aragorn, even after washing his face clean recently, looks like he'd been dragged through mire and bog for hours with no rest afterward."
The tone the younger elf used in describing his dearheart did not escape the keen ears of Elrohir, and Elrond's son could not help but grin.
"You'll have time enough to help him clean. Come, Legolas... let us go back down to the healing quarters and see what other assistance we can be. Elladan and Gimli are both down there and I fear another battle might arise if we leave them without supervision for long."
If felt good to laugh after so serious an occurance, and so they headed for the halls Elrohir had mentioned, washing their hands off in a basin before beginning to busy themselves with binding wounds, dressing scrapes and bracing broken limbs till the sun began to set once more. Even the soon-to-be-crowned King of Gondor joined them later, the grim task of mending the people gathered in Minas Tirith made easier by the presence of his Company and brothers.
__________________________________________________________________
It was Aragorn who finally stopped his friends hours later, realizing how exhausted they all were. A large, grit-covered hand clasped the shoulder of Elladan, then moved to Legolas's elbow, gripping it more affectionately than he had his foster-brother's.
"Come... you all must be hungry and if my eyes do not lie, I believe we all need to clean and dress in clothing that isn't caked in mud and blood. Sleep might be an option as well." Protests were weak, though made, and the King's insistance won over their pathetic attempts to remain within the healing halls. All knew they were of little service at the moment, as those that had bothered to take rest the night before and during the day were waking and able to take over the small group's responsiblities.
The twins quickly rushed to rooms they had been quartered in, eager to get into a more comfortable attire, while Gimli happily wandered to his own lodging in Minas Tirith's main halls. In fact, within a few seconds, Legolas and Aragorn were left alone in the rushed meeting place to wander to their own place of temporary residence. Weary, they leaned upon the other for support, picking their way slowly down the corridor.
"I still can barely belief you're still alive after all that I've seen these past days, Legolas," came the soft whisper, choked somewhat by emotion as pained footfalls led them both away.
"Elves are made of stronger stuff than what meets the eye, Aragorn... you of all people ought to have figured that out before," the prince teased, shaking his head slightly. He would certainly be glad to be clean once more, though he doubted that anything short of a waterfall could rid him of the chunks of mud that were ground into his hair and clothing, let alone his flesh. His distaste must have been obvious because Aragorn chuckled, fingers catching a few matted strands.
"I think a surprise might be in order for you, Legolas. The baths are being prepared for the city's warriors as we speak... and I know how you detest being covered in dirt."
To this the elf only grinned, allowing his filty form to be cuddled against the Ranger's, shivering pleasently as fingers attempted to run through his hair and settled for simply petting the pink and black tinged strands. "Do you think they might have a brush and comb there, as well?"
Aragorn only chuckled at this and kissed his elf's head before guiding them away toward one of the bath rooms, eager to get them both fully clean.