NECKLACE
Chapter 7
Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. All characters and situations, save Lupa and Yara, are copyright to them.
Thank you once again for all your reviews. You really make my day! *hands out vouchers for "Legolas Hugs" to all who would like them, and a special "Aragorn Hug" voucher to The Deville's Dog* (has he come out from behind your sofa yet wolf?!) And to Aithilin , thankyou for reviewing. I'm sorry you thought it was boring. Hang on…what am I doing? If you thought chapter one was dull, you sure as hell won't have read this far…!
For those of you who've stuck with it, please read on…
The beast before him gave a keening cry of terror and cringed away from the two tall archers. The elven bow-men kept their gaze fixed mercilessly upon it, eyes hard and glittering. They were quite ready to make a quick end for the creature.
Legolas snapped out a command and the archers stood down. Blind eye-sockets turned now to him, seeking to see what new dread had come upon it.
The rags of Yara's once-bright clothes still clung to mottled, sunken flanks. Her clan tattoo, dull now, could still be traced on her upper arm. Legolas, almost shuddering, reached out a long white hand and drew one finger along the ragged spiral mark.
It really is you…what have they tried to turn you into…?
The creature snarled and swiped at him with a misshapen claw of a hand. Legolas dodged, easily. His two companions, despite his previous order, drew and aimed.
Oh, Yara, you used to be able to almost catch me.
She rumbled a warning in her throat and shambled away from him. It was then he saw the open, weeping sores on her chest, and the wounds, clumsily stitched and poorly healed, that decorated most of her body.
"Yara," he said, and the blind head swayed from side to side as she tried to locate him. "Don't you know me?"
Crouching low to match her crawling height, he approached.
"It is I, Legolas…"
Three long claws whipped out, snagged the pendant at his neck and grazed a thin line of blood across his throat. The necklace itself, severed, came away in the twisted paw.
The creature grasped at the leather, dangled the wolf-claw over its ruined face, and began to croon to itself, a thin, miserable sound like hungry kittens.
It was only when Legolas leant in closer that he realised that she was crying.
"Prince," prompted one of the archers, "what would you have us do?"
"Stand back," Legolas growled, in so severe a tone that the two guards exchanged a suspicious and concerned glance. "She is already dying. You will not be required."
The beast gave a choking howl of misery and clutched the wolf-claw into its gnarled palm. Legolas said: "Calm now. Be still…" and he drew one of his long knives from its sheath as he crept forward.
He could smell her now, the stench of her. His initial judgement had been correct - she stank of death from a dozen cuts. She was in pain, and her life was swiftly failing. Drawing back his blade over her hunched, malformed shoulders, he could hear, in memory, Lupa's voice saying: I want you to remember. You killed her.
"No," he whispered, and drove the blade down with all his elvish strength and speed behind it.
The beast that had been Yara squalled like a skewered horse, and fell forward onto its blind face in the dirt. Legolas sat down heavily beside her body, pulling the knife free.
I have not killed you, my friend, he thought, trying to compose himself as the guards watched him with cautious eyes, you were dead the moment they took you from me.
But I swear to you, I will not fail you again.
He reached out towards the creature's clenched fist, meaning to take back the necklace, when there was a growl from the ferns nearby. Wolf's eyes glared at him, luminous and amber, and the two elf archers exclaimed at the sight of a looming bear's shadow in the trees behind.
The wolf lunged forward, shouldering Legolas out of the way.
"Hold!" he ordered as bow-strings bent to shoot at the animal. "If the wolf dies I will kill you both myself, do you understand?"
The two archers stared at him as if he were running rabid. There would be a great deal of talk in Mirkwood that night regarding the Prince's behaviour. Legolas, oblivious, was watching as the wolf nuzzled open the creature's fist, took up the claw in its teeth, and vanished into the forest, the bear following.
"Lupa!" Legolas cried.
You do not need to feel accountable anymore, said a cold voice in his mind. You have killed my sister twice now. I think you have done enough.
Eowyn, standing to fetch more bandages (one of the wounds on Legolas's arm had reopened, and needed attention) noticed a figure standing in the doorway. She stared, mouth already open to question his presence. Haldir of Lorien held one long finger up to his lips, as if to say, I was not here - then turned silently on his heel and was gone, his mane of pale hair seeming to shine in the dim interior of the keep.
Eowyn sniffed in disapproval. How rude. Sneaking about like that in the corridors…she bridled with righteous indignation. Who does he think he is?
"Lady," called Aragorn, and Eowyn, remembering her patient, returned hurridly to his side. Legolas was curled up in a tight, feline ball, his face hidden from view by his arms. Gandalf carefully reached out to retrieve his staff.
"It has been like drawing poison from a snake-bite," was the old wizard's opinion. "I think that when he wakes he will at least be calmer and less likely to snap like a wild dog at those who are his friends."
He looked now at the Ranger, whose brow was furrowed with worry.
"What was it that they did to the girl?" he asked, his voice rough with anger. Gandalf scowled darkly from under his thick brows.
"Elves were not the only ones to suffer mutilation and torture at the hands of the Dark Lord," he said, softly. "However, they were the only ones whose bodies proved strong enough to be of any use to Him. Mortals…humans, skin-changers and the like, are too fragile."
The Ranger looked abruptly sickened, and Gandalf relented.
"And you should be resting," he went on, firmly. "Legolas is in no danger, and I am sure the lady Eowyn will tend to his hurts."
Aragorn looked sceptical, but turned obediently and walked from the room, intending to go and check on the remaining horses.
The small stabling block in the caves was full of the heat of tired horses, and smelt pleasantly of hay. Aragorn walked in and was pleased to see Brego amongst them, champing at a mouthful of corn ears and resting his weight on his near forefoot. The Ranger laid one hand on the beast's neck, petting.
Even the animals seem to sense that we have won this one, he thought. They take comfort in that. Why cannot I do the same?
The straw in the stalls was looking quite inviting as a bed. Brego moved over as Aragorn sat down on a nearby bale and leant back against the wooden partition, closing his eyes. Now he could allow himself to be weary, to feel the ache of battle in his shoulders.
He was just on the edge of dream when a slight sound from one of the stalls made him blink and look up. An elf was leading a saddle-less horse out into the caves, one hand pressed gently to the horse's shoulder, and speaking softly in elvish into the horse's ear.
Aragorn sat upright in surprise, but made no sound.
Not just any elf…
Haldir swung himself up onto the horse's back, leaning low to avoid the ceiling.
…and not just any horse…
Shadowfax put his head down and trotted serenely forward, hooves ringing on the stone.
Am I dreaming? thought Aragorn, springing to his feet and hurrying in pursuit. Where is he going?
By the time he reached the smoky haze and rubble of the Deeping Wall, Haldir and his steed were heading west, and picking up speed. Shadowfax could run like no other horse in Middle-earth: he was a rapidly receding spot of white light on the plains of Rohan.
"Do not concern yourself, son of Arathorn," said Gandalf's voice from behind him. The wizard was sat on half of a broken gate-post, smoking his long-stemmed pipe. "Go now, as I told you, and rest. Haldir will return, given time, and I expect us to be keeping council at Helm's Deep for at least a full week."
*does her "not a cliff-hanger" (well…not really) dance*
Please R & R. Legolas and I need a little TLC!!