Title: One of Them
Author: Khylea
Rating: Probably PG Some references to death, but nothing really happens.
Warning: Spoilers for Two Towers
Characters: Aragorn and Legolas, friendship.
Archive: Feel free, just drop me a URL where I can visit it please sl_chester@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in Lord of the Rings. Duh.... But I'm not making any money off this anyway, so it's cool. Although, if any of the male characters in these movies (well, the good guys anyway......um...except for Gandalf.....or any of the Hobbits...Oh hell, I guess I'll just say I would take Aragorn or any of the Elves. There that about covers it. LOL) would care for a love slave, I'm available. ;)
Summary: Before the battle at Helm's Deep, Legolas thinks about his "They cannot win this fight" comment to Aragorn. Legolas POV
Dedication: For Anais, who keeps me writing. :)
Author's Notes: My first LOTR fic. I admit to very limited knowledge of the books, so I am going on only what I saw in the movie, and my own interpretation of why Legolas snapped at Aragorn, since to me it seemed a bit out of character. Hopefully my explanation is reasonable. If not, well...I tried. :) And yes, I know that in the movie, Gimli says nothing after "Let him go lad, let him be." Since the scene cut away at that point, I'm going with the assumption that he may have said something else to Legolas after that. And a quick FYI for new fans, Aragorn was raised in Rivendell by Elrond until he was a young man, and Estel is the name he was known by there. It means "hope" to anyone who is interested. :)
"Farmers, farriers, stable boys. These are no soldiers."
Aragorn's eyes meet my own as he speaks the words in my mind.
"Most have seen too many winters." Gimli growls softly.
"Or too few. Look at them. They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes." The room falls silent around me and I quickly switch to Elvish. "And they should be...Three hundred against ten thousand!" I spit out bitterly. How can it have come to this? Why is there no one to help?
"They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras." Aragorn puts in thoughtfully.
"They cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!" I can hear my voice raising as my frustration grows.
"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn barks at me in the common tongue, all eyes widening as those around us suddenly realize what we were saying. He continues to glare at me for a moment longer before stalking from the room. I feel a flash of guilt shoot through me and move to follow him, stopping when Gimli lays a hand on my arm.
"Let him go, lad. Let him be." He says softly, his dark eyes following Aragorn's retreat. I follow his gaze, finally looking down to meet the eyes of the Dwarf. "He carries a heavy burden, that one does. Much is expected of him. Much that he feels he cannot live up to." I look away, suddenly feeling worse. Gimli is right; much is expected of Aragorn. Whether he would wish it or not, he is heir to the throne of Gondor. He is a born leader, having a strength of character, a knowledge of what must be done, that makes others trust and follow him without question. Heavy with the weight of my own shame, I rush from the room, finding solace in a small room near the armory.
Alone, with only the sounds of the Men in the next room preparing for battle, I allow my thoughts to wander. They go repeatedly to the young Ranger in another part of Helm's Deep. A rift is not something we need, not now. He needs the support of the Fellowship, my support. He does not need anyone questioning his judgement. I think back to my words in the armory, feeling another rush of guilt in my belly.
I should not have said it. I saw the anger, the hurt in his eyes when I did. It was not my place to question Aragorn. He has been the rock, the steadying influence when we thought Gandalf had died fighting the Balrog. He has been the compass, lighting our way in our mission to find Merry and Pippin. Whether I disagreed with him or not, it was not my place to say so. I let my personal feelings get in the way, let them influence me into saying what I never should have said.
It was not his fault. My frustration was not at him. Nor at Gimli, or even Theoden. I was frustrated with my kind, with Elves. I had seen the attitude my people had taken toward this war.'Our time in Middle Earth is ending. It is not our place to become involved.' Did they not remember the Last Alliance? Did they not remember how Sauron was defeated only by the combined strength of all the armies of Middle Earth? Neither Elves nor Men could have defeated Sauron's darkness themselves. Why were my people abandoning men in this fight?
With a sigh, I look around, seeing if there's anything suitable for protection of an archer. The room holds little, apparently only an overflow from the armory, but I am not yet ready to return there and face the Men I just insulted. There is a well used set of chain mail which I quickly dismiss as a possibility. It is too heavy, too restrictive. I am pleased to find a set of leather shoulder armor, not too much worse for wear. I unclip the Lorien cloak and quiver and gently set them down on the table. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I cannot help a slight smile as I rest my bow next to them. I had heard about the legendary precision of a Lorien bow, any Elf has. But until I had used one myself I had no idea just how deadly accurate they were. The Lady Galadriel could not have given me a better gift. I don the armor and carefully arrange the Lorien cloak over it, my fingers lingering on the leaf-shaped clasp. I find my thoughts wandering to Galadriel, and Elrond, and other Elf elders. They walked the Earth at the time of the Last Alliance, they saw the devastation Sauron unleashed on the land. How could they not see now? How could they not help?
With a determined action, I hoist the quiver over my head and cinch the straps tightly to my chest, double and triple checking to ensure they are secure. The middle of a battle is no time to lose your arrows. I run my fingers up and down the intricately carved wood of the bow, my resolve strengthening. My people may have abandoned Men, but I will not. Nor will I abandon you, Estel, I vow to myself. There is one Elf who will fight beside you, one who will die for you if necessary. I check everything one last time, and reassured nothing will fail me in battle, I lower myself to the ground and attempt to rest. It is sure to be a long night, and even Elven endurance has limits.
I am still there a bit later when a figure enters the room, and my eyes widen as I recognize Aragorn. I happen to be sitting in a dark corner and he does not notice me. For a long moment he stands, lost in quiet contemplation. He gently touches Boromir's vambrances, slightly the worse for wear but still holding together admirably considering what the Ranger has put them through. After a moment, he looks down at his chest and I can see his eyes mist over as he glances at the Evenstar pendant from Arwen.
I suddenly think back to a few hours ago when we thought he was dead, then my overwhelming relief when he showed up, battered but alive. I remember clasping his shoulder, smiling at him, my relief so great all I could think to say was 'You're late', and then later 'You look terrible.'
How could things have gone so wrong between us in such a short time? How could I have let them go so wrong? It was not Aragorn who had caused the rift, it was Legolas. With a determined look, he begins to dress for battle, pulling his chain mail on, tightening his belt. I quietly rise to my feet and step to his side, picking up his sword. He reaches for it, suddenly realizes someone is handing it to him, and his eyes widen.
"We have trusted you this far and you have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair." I say softly, asking for forgiveness with my eyes. He clasps my shoulder.
"There is nothing to forgive, Legolas." He says gently in Elvish, and I feel a rush of relief shoot through me. I feel as if a great weight has been lifted from me and clasp his shoulder in relief, my conscience clear. If one or both of us is to die on the battlefield tonight, we will die with no wall between us. We will die as friends.
We hear a noise and turn to smile at Gimli who is struggling with a suit of chain mail at least double the length he needs. "If I have time I'll get this adjusted." We are hard pressed not to laugh as he drops the bundle of mail and it pools at his feet. "It's a little tight across the chest."
Suddenly a noise sounds, and the three of us jump. I am certain I recognize the sound, but dare not hope. "That is no Orc horn." I say, the three of us running up the stairs. Aragorn reaches the outside first and the smile on his face tells me all I need to know. I hear a voice speaking, sure I recognize it, and when I reach the outside, my suspicions are confirmed. Haldir has brought a mighty Elf army.
Aragorn races down the steps and pulls Haldir into a tight embrace. Haldir looks a bit surprised, but hugs him back after a moment. I quickly pull myself out of my shock and follow Aragorn, firmly clasping Haldir's shoulder. I cannot remember the last time I was so happy to see someone. My people have not abandoned us.
After a moment, Haldir goes to talk strategy with Theoden and Aragorn turns to me. "You see, Legolas? This is why we must never despair. There is always hope." I nod and we take our positions on the wall.
"Yes there is....Estel." I whisper, only loud enough for him to hear. He turns toward me with a hint of a smile, and I can see him relax slightly before turning back to stare out at the valley. I clasp his shoulder for a brief moment before following his line of sight. Bring your best, Saruman, I think to myself. We are ready.
END