It was well after daybreak when Aragorn woke up. His head still hurt, but at least he could see. What little there was of light was coming over the horizon, the mountains stretching ever so close. He had been moved during the night.
It was funny he could not remember.
His hands were still frozen, but wound with dark cloths. He pressed them to his knees, trying to feel his legs. His entire being was aching. Taking a single breath brought ripples of pain down his sides, through his head. He tried to move but fell to the side, his binded hands clawing at the frozen ground, his eyes desperate to feel something other than pain.
The wound dark cloth began to scratch off as the cold earth came into contact with his skin. He let out a small cry of relief as the cold ash filled his palm and he forced himself back up, staring as the chilly wind swept the ash from his palm. He forced his gaze upwards, to find the location of his captors. He could only see a few. The others must have retreated over the hills into the Black Gate and back into Mordor.
The thought that Mordor was less than a day away made him cold. He knew that if he must escape, and he knew he had to, it had to be now.
It had been less than two days since his capture. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. It seemed to be locked inside his soul.
"Legolas," he moaned, turning his head. His vision was beginning to blur from dehydration. He could feel his strength start to falter.
What was it that Arwen had asked... for him to believe in what faith he had? All of the faith he had rested in those he trusted the most. Legolas was one of the most trusted beings Aragorn knew.
All Aragorn could do was put his faith in Legolas. If he failed and perished, which he knew was an opportunity, he knew that Legolas would carry on.
Lifting his bruised hand, he grasped the evenstar and removed it from around his neck. "If you see her again, give her this for me."
With that, he overturned his hand, the delicate chain sliding into the ash. The ash immediately covered the chain.
"Human!"
The single word was an order as Aragorn was forced to his feet. He knew he didn't have the strength to fight the large number of orcs. Even as he closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp object poke between his shoulder blades, pressing him onwards as they climbed the hills to the mountains.
--
"Legolas, are you set?"
Legolas turned to the messenger in the doorway, nodding brusquely. He then turned and pulled his bow over his shoulder, strapping on his boots. "Feels good to return to battle," he countered, sliding his long-handled elvish blade into place. He turned and stared at the small royal room, his gaze filling with sadness as he knew it would be the last time he ever saw it. Taking a deep breath, he left, retreating through the doorways until he reached the outdoors. A small glimpse of daylight filled the doorway. He sighed in relief and stepped through, his fair hair blowing back as a cool breeze caught it. "Haldir!"
Haldir turned to him, his face tense. "Legolas." He quickly began speaking in a low, elvish tone.
Legolas realized that fear was justified in the older elf's words. Sauron had begun his attack on Lothlorién. Celeborn and Galadriel were calling upon all of the strengths of their own to disable the threat. Lothlorién would not be able to help them scout Aragorn.
Legolas was disappointed. He had held hopes that a large elvish delegation would help find Aragorn and possibly displace the orcs who had ambushed the party. But now they would stand alone.
"We had better go," Haldir reminded him. "The Rohirrim left at dawn."
"Not all did."
The two elves turned to see four men upon horses, resting behind them. "King Theoden has asked us to accompany you on your journey."
Haldir opened his mouth to protest, but one of the humans cut him off. "You came to our aid in our greatest time of need. It is our turn now."
The two elves glanced at each other before turning back to the men. "Come," Legolas said. "We will leave now."
In all, there were fourteen men and horses, pounding the rolling hills, past the river. They rode late into the afternoon, when they reached the southern hills of Gondor. "They would have ridden him north, towards Mordor," Legolas said, pointing to a dark stubble of hills on the horizon. "We will follow that path another half day until we reach the forests."
Again, they rode, through what remained of daylight and deep into twilight. Once they reached the forests, they quickly divided themselves and took two different paths. Legolas could feel the presence of the enemy nearby, and he knew that Haldir could as well, but they both agreed to lead their separate groups. Before Haldir had ridden off, he had turned to Legolas and nodded, whispering the words for good luck in the ancient form of elvish.
Legolas turned his horse, quickly rallied his men to point behind him, and rode on into the forest.
It was funny he could not remember.
His hands were still frozen, but wound with dark cloths. He pressed them to his knees, trying to feel his legs. His entire being was aching. Taking a single breath brought ripples of pain down his sides, through his head. He tried to move but fell to the side, his binded hands clawing at the frozen ground, his eyes desperate to feel something other than pain.
The wound dark cloth began to scratch off as the cold earth came into contact with his skin. He let out a small cry of relief as the cold ash filled his palm and he forced himself back up, staring as the chilly wind swept the ash from his palm. He forced his gaze upwards, to find the location of his captors. He could only see a few. The others must have retreated over the hills into the Black Gate and back into Mordor.
The thought that Mordor was less than a day away made him cold. He knew that if he must escape, and he knew he had to, it had to be now.
It had been less than two days since his capture. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. It seemed to be locked inside his soul.
"Legolas," he moaned, turning his head. His vision was beginning to blur from dehydration. He could feel his strength start to falter.
What was it that Arwen had asked... for him to believe in what faith he had? All of the faith he had rested in those he trusted the most. Legolas was one of the most trusted beings Aragorn knew.
All Aragorn could do was put his faith in Legolas. If he failed and perished, which he knew was an opportunity, he knew that Legolas would carry on.
Lifting his bruised hand, he grasped the evenstar and removed it from around his neck. "If you see her again, give her this for me."
With that, he overturned his hand, the delicate chain sliding into the ash. The ash immediately covered the chain.
"Human!"
The single word was an order as Aragorn was forced to his feet. He knew he didn't have the strength to fight the large number of orcs. Even as he closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp object poke between his shoulder blades, pressing him onwards as they climbed the hills to the mountains.
--
"Legolas, are you set?"
Legolas turned to the messenger in the doorway, nodding brusquely. He then turned and pulled his bow over his shoulder, strapping on his boots. "Feels good to return to battle," he countered, sliding his long-handled elvish blade into place. He turned and stared at the small royal room, his gaze filling with sadness as he knew it would be the last time he ever saw it. Taking a deep breath, he left, retreating through the doorways until he reached the outdoors. A small glimpse of daylight filled the doorway. He sighed in relief and stepped through, his fair hair blowing back as a cool breeze caught it. "Haldir!"
Haldir turned to him, his face tense. "Legolas." He quickly began speaking in a low, elvish tone.
Legolas realized that fear was justified in the older elf's words. Sauron had begun his attack on Lothlorién. Celeborn and Galadriel were calling upon all of the strengths of their own to disable the threat. Lothlorién would not be able to help them scout Aragorn.
Legolas was disappointed. He had held hopes that a large elvish delegation would help find Aragorn and possibly displace the orcs who had ambushed the party. But now they would stand alone.
"We had better go," Haldir reminded him. "The Rohirrim left at dawn."
"Not all did."
The two elves turned to see four men upon horses, resting behind them. "King Theoden has asked us to accompany you on your journey."
Haldir opened his mouth to protest, but one of the humans cut him off. "You came to our aid in our greatest time of need. It is our turn now."
The two elves glanced at each other before turning back to the men. "Come," Legolas said. "We will leave now."
In all, there were fourteen men and horses, pounding the rolling hills, past the river. They rode late into the afternoon, when they reached the southern hills of Gondor. "They would have ridden him north, towards Mordor," Legolas said, pointing to a dark stubble of hills on the horizon. "We will follow that path another half day until we reach the forests."
Again, they rode, through what remained of daylight and deep into twilight. Once they reached the forests, they quickly divided themselves and took two different paths. Legolas could feel the presence of the enemy nearby, and he knew that Haldir could as well, but they both agreed to lead their separate groups. Before Haldir had ridden off, he had turned to Legolas and nodded, whispering the words for good luck in the ancient form of elvish.
Legolas turned his horse, quickly rallied his men to point behind him, and rode on into the forest.