NECKLACE
Chapter 8
Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. All characters, save Lupa and Yara, are copyright to them.
*digs around in her closet* I'm running out of good things to give you guys when you review..aha…*Raziel hands out copies of "The Fellowship of the Ring - The EXTRA Director's Cut (with ~more~ character development) DVD*
Once again, I'd like to offer a few responses to you, the reviewers:
Shadow975 – thankyou for your detailed and positive review!! I'm glad I'm not suffering too badly from fangirlishness. I have no idea whether Legolas's mantra has basis anywhere else…it just came into my head!
PuterPatty – yes, Lupa is a shifter. *hugs* riveting, huh? You're too kind ^_^
Mouse – Legolas does angst well, drama better! Thankyou!
Bamfbabe – Read on and find out…
Enigma Jade – I'm just glad you found it and enjoyed it!
Syvia - *hugs* Naww…he's not a softie…not really *waves at a sulky-looking Haldir*
Lady Leila – You're welcome. He's a nice boy…he has hugs for everyone.
Rosie - *gasps* You can't find ANY flaw? I'm very flattered, but sceptical!! Thanks so much for reviewing.
Daydream - *Legolas gives you his best soulful look* Yes. A wolf-shifter.
Pure Luck - *smiles* Welcome! Thankyou for reading and reviewing, I'm glad you liked it!
Guardian of Tears – *chuckles* So you followed me and Raz too, huh? *hugs* No, it's not the same Yara…that cheetah-kid was named for the Yara that dies though.
Phew! Okay…let's continue…
Gimli was outside on the plateau when Haldir returned, over eight days later.
The process of clearing the debris of battle was a long and arduous task, but the dwarf had volunteered himself without hesitation. Aragorn, though his arm was healing well, was often occupied in conference with Gandalf, and Legolas…
Gimli dragged another blond-haired elf corpse clear of a pile of dead Uruk-Hai. The elf's body was nearly sliced in two.
Legolas would not have been strong enough to bear this.
Or else, Gimli thought, he would perhaps have been too strong, and I would have found myself in the way of a rage-blind elf…
There was a metallic scraping sound from above on the Deeping Wall. Legolas had emerged from the keep and was perched on a pile of rubble, whetting his knives.
"Hoy, Master Elf!" Gimli hailed him, and Legolas's head whipped up sharply. "It is good to see you about in the clean air!"
Legolas's eyebrow twitched up momentarily in what could well have been amusement: the aftermath of battle is hardly likely to clarify the air. He made no reply, merely continued drawing the blades smoothly across the whetstone.
"If you make those any sharper," Gimli commented, after having watched this performance out of the corner of his eye for some twenty minutes, "they are like to wear away thinner than cobwebs, and then what use will they be in war?"
Legolas stopped sharpening and stood, abruptly. It was an overcast day, and watery sunlight was filtering through the cloud-cover. The newly-sharpened blades gleamed like light on water as he brought them about in a wide arc, apparently testing that the balance and weight were not affected.
Gimli dropped a pile of Uruk-Hai armour on his foot, and swore loudly. Helmets clanged away cheerfully amongst the rocks.
"Would you like some help?"
The elf's voice filtered down from above, sounding, to Gimli's ears at least, slightly condescending.
"I can handle this, thank you!" he bellowed, scrabbling to catch hold of a toppling mace.
Legolas dropped down from his perch with all his usual grace returned to him, and strolled through the ranks of bodies and piles of broken wood as calmly as if he were out for a starlight walk in Rivendell. One hand caught the mace by the haft: the other steadied the pile of shields and assorted elvish bows that Gimli had piled on his arms.
"I said, I will manage!" Gimli said, gruffly, but in truth he was pleased to see the Mirkwood elf behaving normally again. It had been a hard few days, while Legolas recovered slowly in the dimness of the breached fortress, and sometimes Gimli had entertained doubts that there would ever be the same joy in his friend's eyes or the same lightness in his step : but here he was!
Legolas straightened the unruly pile of bows and stepped away to allow Gimli room to carry them past, and his gaze fell upon the fallen body of an Uruk-Hai chief.
Gimli heard the abrupt scream of blade on blade, and turned very fast, axe lifted, ready for a fight: but there was only Legolas, knives in hand, and the severed head of the dead orc rocking gently in its new place on the ground.
"I believe," said the dwarf, very slowly and carefully, "that that one was already dead, Master Legolas…"
Legolas's back was still turned to him. The twin knives made a humming sound as they whipped in his grasp, cutting the air. He looked now to another foul corpse, to his left, and Gimli frowned as limbs were removed with almost surgical precision. This was by no means a healthy obsession. The dwarf was about to try and lure Legolas away from the bodies with some taunt, when a horse's whinny echoed across the plains, and the pounding of hooves announced the return of Shadowfax and his rider.
Haldir rode right past them without a glance. Even he looked weary after his journey, his shoulders hunched as he grasped the white mane with one hand. His quiver was empty, and there were new gashes in his armour. Shadowfax now seemed impatient to be rid of his burden, and he increased his speed as Helm's Deep drew near.
A nondescript bay horse - small enough almost to be a long-legged pony - with bright copper discs on its harness that rang together as the reins slapped against its neck came galloping over the rise several minutes behind the lord of horses. Its rider was wrapped in a grey cloak from Lothlorien, and carried a short sword strapped to the saddle-pommel.
Aragorn, alerted by a shout from a guard of the Mark, came out onto the terrace as Haldir dismounted from Shadowfax and was leaning against the horse's shoulder, murmuring something to the beast.
"Haldir, my friend," Aragorn said, in Elvish. "You have been gone many days. How great was the need that Shadowfax himself would carry you?"
"It was by my specific wish," said Gandalf, before the elf could answer. The old wizard was watching the progress of the second rider up to the Deeping Gate with narrowed eyes. "Shadowfax will carry no-one unless he wishes it. And I asked him, on the strength of our long friendship, to take Haldir with all speed back to Lorien. He was not best pleased," he added, with almost mischevious glance at Haldir, who ignored the implied slight. "But I see he has carried out his quest in full. Thank you." And he placed a large hand on the horse's muzzle. Shadowfax huffed, seemingly pleased.
"I went," Haldir said, in answer to Aragorn, "to seek out some answers. I believe that I have found them…"
The bay pony skittered to a halt at the breached gate, breathing hard. Its rider sprang down from the saddle and strode up to stand before Aragorn on the wall. She drew aside the grey cowl and met the Ranger's gaze with tired, grey-green eyes.
She was not fair or slender enough to be of elven-blood, although she was dressed in elvish clothes: her hair was coppery-red under the new sunlight, with only a few streaks of grey to show her age, and her body showed evidence of hardship bourne over many years. As Aragorn stared at her she bowed, formally, not curtseying as would a lady of the court, but showing honour from one warrior to another.
"Hail, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," she said, and smiled. Her teeth were very white.
Aragorn inclined his head in recognition, seeing, behind the woman, Legolas and Gimli walking in from the battle-field. Legolas's face upon beholding her was a mask of horror, and it was then that Aragorn knew who stood before him.
"Welcome to Helm's Deep, Lupa of Mirkwood," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "Come. I will take you to the king."
"I was under the impression that I already stood before the king," said Lupa, wryly, "but I would welcome a chance to rest. It is a long way from Lorien, and my horse could not hope to keep pace with one of the Meoras."
Her head lifted as if she scented the air, then she said: "Legolas…"
Behind her, the elf's shoulders straightened as if called to attention. Gandalf put a hand on her shoulder, and, speaking to her but looking at Legolas, he said: "You are tired. We will go inside, where there is food and water. Then there will be time to speak…"
"What is she?" Gimli muttered as he stumped along the corridor at Aragorn's side. Gandalf and Lupa were walking ahead, Legolas flanking them closely like an honour guard. "She is no elf, that is certain. But there is a look in her eyes that reminds me of something not human, and she catches scent from the air like a common beast!"
"What makes you certain she is no elf, Master Gimli?" asked Aragorn, amused by the dwarf's vehemence and open to teasing him slightly. The dwarf chuckled.
"She is plain," he said. "Good, of course, and gracious, no doubt, but she does not possess beauty such as the Lady of the Wood…"
"Hush! Hasty words," came Gandalf's ringing voice from up ahead: he had paused to wait for them. "Say only that she is…a furrier, Gimli son of Gloin, and be content with that. Did not your father ever tell you of the time he spent with Beorn of Mirkwood?"
!!