NECKLACE
Chapter 2 - Legolas
First of all, thank you all very much for reviewing and being so complimentary - I certainly did not expect such a response to something I wrote in about half an hour while being the perennial insomniac that I am…!
I guess there are a few things about Legolas that would bear closer inspection…so, if you guys want to hear about them, I'm willing to tell them. Herewith the first bit of a re-written "Battle of Helm's Deep". I'll try to make a story out of it!
JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. None of the battle events or characters detailed in this piece are in any way my property.
Legolas saw Aragorn drop back behind the wall a bare few minutes before the first few arrows lodged, quivering, in the walls behind. He blinked. Orcs with long-bows that seemed tiny in their ugly fists were forming up in ragged lines just below the Deeping Wall.
Despite his normally serene nature, even the elf would have admitted to some quite severe trepidation about the conflict that lay inevitably ahead of them. His eyes swept over the plain. So many…
For once, Legolas would have gladly sacrificed his lynx-keen vision. The enemy were foul beyond the reckoning of Men or Elves. Steam rose from their vile bodies as they tramped towards the fortress, and their eyes gleamed yellow and predatory.
Gimli nudged him in the knee.
"I'll start counting when the first ones make it up here," he said.
"If they make it up here," corrected the elf mildly, flicking his bow forward in readiness and plucking absently at the flights of one of his good arrows – half the rest of the collection in his quiver had been gleaned from previous battles, and were a rather motley selection. He glanced over to where Aragorn was now patrolling along the wall, checking the troops.
How could anyone miss it? A king had a certain air about him…something about the way he moved perhaps, wearing the landscape like a second skin. He entered cities like a conquering hero.
The Ranger, unaware of the scrutiny he was under, was fingering the recently rescued pendant and looking haunted. Legolas looked away, into the massed rank of the enemy, drew back the string, and began his own assault on the army of the White Hand.
Gimli ducked under the swing of an Uruk-Hai sword, caught sight of an elf's distinctive silver-blond hair, and bellowed: "Two dozen, Master Elf!"
The elf turned, and, to Gimli's surprise, was not Legolas. Haldir of Lorien had time enough only to deliver a bemused and disapproving look before the next wave of orcs slammed into the main gate and he turned in a whirl of silver knives to fall back to the inner wall.
The dwarf followed, reluctantly. Above, Théoden could be heard shouting in a desperate, hoarse rattle for his troops to return to his side. The orcs poured in like bees into a hive, leaving the bodies of Men and Elves in their wake.
"Gimli!"
The Ranger was abruptly at his side, favouring his left leg and bleeding from a cut on his collar-line. "Where is Legolas? Have you seen him?"
Gimli turned, hamstringing a charging orc soldier, then said: "I have not seen him since the gate was breached."
Aragorn let out a sigh of exasperation. "And Haldir?"
"Up here, Aragorn," came the elf's cry. He and a woeful knot of elven archers were flattened against the battlements, picking off stray orcs as they ran towards the keep.
Aragorn realised that he was now running on top of the bodies of dead elves, and his face contorted in fury. "Gimli, come with me," he said. "We must protect Théoden. Without him, his people will lose heart."
The dwarf chuckled. "Just so long as I have orc-necks to hew, I will follow you where you wish," he said.
Legolas, finally having run out of arrows, kicked the advancing beast in the throat. It dropped, gurgling. Its fellow, just behind it, snarled out what Legolas presumed was a threat in its own barbaric tongue. The elf curled his lip in disgust and his long knife whickered forward in a deadly arc.
A mantra began to repeat itself in his mind – his heartbeat accelerated until it was a thrumming rhythm in his head and throat.
My enemy shall be as nothing in my eyes….they are as unnatural as snow in summer…they shall be as nothing in my eyes…
Slash, stab, cut. Duck, stab, dodge, stab, turn…the rhythm of the battle became almost soothing in a ridiculous manner, fitting in with his racing heartbeat.
It was strangely comforting. And it ensured that he kept his mind focussed on his skills, without losing himself in the rage he knew was very close to the surface.
Pain flared across his upper arm, and the mantra shattered along with his focus. A smaller orc, twisted in body and chattering insanely as it wielded an outsize blade, had managed to land a blow. Now it struggled to swing the weapon again as Legolas, eyes wide in pain and shock, turned upon it.
For a moment, it seemed that they were alone in the battle-field. The orc managed to lift the sword, and with a harsh cry looked up to make a second attempt on its target. It was just in time to see the elf's eyes narrow again, delicate brows drawing down in fury and expression incandescent with hate.
Legolas's world contracted, the focus of a hawk on a tiny mouse far below. His body shifted stance into a half-crouch: the knife drove forward, perfectly aimed. The small orc, perhaps sensing the sudden, disconcerting change in his opponent, dropped the over-large sword and turned to run.
It took two steps before Legolas landed on its back in a cat-like pounce and slit its throat.
Aragorn, half-way into the keep, heard a nearby orc screaming in its death throes. This in itself was not unusual, given the circumstances. It was when the same voice continued its shrieks of agony for several minutes, and was then joined by a ringing elvish battle-cry, that the Ranger suspected all was not as it should be.
"Haldir," he said, snagging the elf by the arm as he passed, "tell me what your elven eyes see down there."
Haldir looked almost irritated at the delay, but glanced out all the same. "I see a party of Uruk-Hai advancing to the broken gate," he said. "I see Eomer and a group of his men retreating…I think they are the last."
"Do you see any of your archers?" Aragorn pursued.
Haldir leaned further out, and his brow furrowed. "None of mine," he said, "but I do see your companion, prince Legolas."
"He is returning, then," said Aragorn, in relief. The amount of blond-haired bodies he had run past – any of them could have been the Mirkwood elf. But Haldir was shaking his head.
"He is not returning," he said. "He is advancing."
"What?" The Ranger stared at him. "He will be killed!"
Haldir looked him in the eye solemnly. "Then someone will have to go and tell him that," he said. "And for all the respect I hold for you, Lord Aragorn, it will not be me."
Aragorn turned on him in anger.
"Then I am ashamed for you, my friend," he said, coldly.
"If you think I fear those foul demons of Saruman, you are mistaken," Haldir replied, unruffled. "But your human eyes cannot see the prince's face, and so I forgive your misapprehension."
He turned and gathered his remaining archers with a curt nod. "I fear nothing short of death will stop your companion now," he said, and headed swiftly for the limited security offered by the inner walls of Helm's Deep.