Sarah here! Thank you for not waxing too rabid on our mistaken exclusion of the main heroes for a whole post like that… We honestly didn't realize we had until we sat down to post it! :{
saber crazy: Ack! *flees from rubber chicken* And please, no eyebrows! *covers eyes to protect herself, only to run smack into the wall* Oops. Ow. :P Like I've been saying to everyone else, I'm afraid we can't kill Galmod. To find out why, read our Special Features at the end of the fic! Besides, BBQing him would be little short of horrendous. Can you imagine the *smell*?! ;) Alas, you're probably right about the book…
Crazy/evil: Thanx!!!! Believe me, your comments worked for us! ;) Sorry we made you so drowsy…
Lina: I will never understand how it is that you automatically become attached to the most recent casualty — unless of course the death in question is a villain, or is of your own making… *hands Lina a tissue with a rueful sigh* Alas, your everlasting oddity will be the undoing of Hannah and I… We laugh much longer and louder than is good for us, as a rule, and have reached a decision that whatever you say/do/attempt-to-do/slay/maim/or-otherwise-mangle is just LINA. ;P Which doesn't mean we want you burning Findel at the stake! *bustles Findel off with Nethtalt and sweeps away their tracks with a broom* Far from it. *chases off after Lina* And the same goes for Mavranor, though not for the same reasons!! :D
Eomer: *hands out large red hankies to all the Rohirrim* Thank you all, but you really ought to be careful! After all, what if you — *all the Rohirrim's armor rusts solid* Yeah. That. *heads off to find an oil can*
Gwyn: Nope, he didn't deserve it, but then, we have discovered the downside to pre-destining certain of our characters to perish! It's one thing to say 'let's pull such and such out of mothballs and have him redeem his past misdeeds with a wonderful death scene that is neither a main-character-death, nor an expendable-crewman-death!', and it's quite another thing to try and keep the character from developing into a likeable person… Argh!! Still, thank you so much and glad you enjoyed the angst! :D
None: Thanks! And yup, here's Thorongil and Legolas… :)
Maranwe: Thank you! Erm, and actually no, we didn't do this on purpose… We only realized it had happened when we went to post — at which point we turned, stared at each other, and groaned, "They're all going to KILL us!" Believe me, we intend to be more careful in the future… Or maybe we'll decide the increased suspense is worth the death threats… ;P LOL! No, no amount of SW fan fiction has managed to instill patience in me either. As for whether anyone *ever* rips into Galmod, I honestly don't know… We don't, unfortunately. :{ Just about nobody but them in this chapter — I think Harnwe or someone makes a short appearance… :) Thank so much on our characters!! A wonderful compliment, I must say. :D
Anarril: *applauds* Great job, Anarril!! You are the first person to recognize Galmod (and his relatives)! Several readers have wanted to know why it is Hannah and I can't kill the guy off and we've been telling them to wait for our Special Features section at the end. :D Oh, and um, sorry about Stavhold… I was just telling Gwyn that it's one thing to decide at chapter one that we're going to include and then kill off Stavhold — it's another thing to actually *do* it when you've accidentally let him build a character for himself… :P
Mouse: *bows* Glad you liked our explosions! ;D *sighs over mention of Strider and calls over shoulder* Hannah? We may need to head for either the Moria or the Dead Marshes hide-outs! He doesn't like either of those places… :P
Belothien: Not slow, we're just confusing. ;) Yeah, sorry about that, but we'll try and remedy at least the Thorongil-absence problem in this post. :D I may as well tell you: No, Galmod doesn't come back, and even if he did, we couldn't kill him anyway. Bummer huh? To find out why: stick around for our Special Features at the end of the fic! ;) *pats Belothien consolingly* Not *all* the wrong ones! Don't worry, we kill no one else. I'm pretty sure… *runs to check* :) Harnwe and Mavranor get their comeuppance in the end, don't worry, but whether that will entail death remains to be seen… :D
w: Hanta le! Your feedback was, as ever, greatly appreciated! Especially your semi-willingness to admit the pros of having a chapter solely for Stavhold like that… *glances ruefully at several other readers and their various devices of torture (rubber chickens, etc.)* Some people didn't even give us that much. :P An extra big hug and a hanky on Stavhold's death — let's just say we'd been reading Chloe's Erfier that day and we couldn't help ourselves. Besides, as much as we had planned from square one that Stavhold would die in this fic, we *liked* him! :( Anywho, as for the absent heroes: evil we are not — or at least, not intentionally! We didn't realize we'd left them out of a whole chapter like that until we posted it. :} We will [try] not to do it ever again! :D
And away I dash again! Enjoy your restored heroes… :)
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Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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Chapter 26
Escaping Tulganif
The sudden onslaught of the Southron soldiers threatened to overwhelm the man and elf. For a moment Legolas was worried that their position against the crumbling tower would be their undoing, but in the end it served as an advantage. Due to the shape of the tower they were allowed much maneuverability and it was impossible to work them into a corner. Yet they were outnumbered nearly twenty to one. Never once did it seem they could breathe before another of the enemy was upon them and in a short time the bodies of the fallen lay strewn around them.
Thorongil was weakened greatly by his ordeal, but the strong blood that flowed within him held him fast for a time against the attack. Even with this, though, Legolas realized they could not tarry any longer. He knew most of the Southrons had left for the battlefield with their king and his commanders, but likely there were yet reinforcements in the camp and against such numbers Legolas was certain they could not survive; but how could they hope to evade the men that still fought so close around them?
Legolas cut down another soldier and began to work his way forwards, clipping the fray of the Southron attack and leaving the enemy to approach in fewer numbers; in this way he avoided a full attack or the risk of one getting behind him. With a start, he realized he had worked himself far from the sentry tower and was no longer standing beside his friend. Turning swiftly, ducking a blow from a Southron blade at the same time, he scanned with his keen eyes for Thorongil. The man was locked in a hard combat with a Southron that Legolas recognized all too well.
Bringing to the ground the Southron just behind him, Legolas tried to work himself back to the tower, but every moment it seemed he was forced to stop and ward off another soldier trying to block his way. He felt them press around and between him and his friend as they worked him back to the tower's base. Twisting about, he tried desperately to glimpse his companion again. The man was still battling hard for his life, but Legolas could easily see the blood still running from his friend's shoulders and back, and his strokes were getting weaker.
Suddenly Koth threw a hard blow into Thorongil's side, slamming him hard to the ground. Thorongil raised his sword and parried the next furious assault, but he was not strong enough to hold long and when Koth gave him a hard blow in the shoulder, his blade fell to the ground. With a tremendous effort, Legolas shoved his weight against the soldiers pressing against and threw himself towards Thorongil, slashing the two Southrons who stood in his way across the face. He reached Koth a moment before his blade could fall and drove his elven dagger straight into the man's back, twisting it free again and hooking the man's legs out from under him. Koth fell to the ground, his startled eyes staring up at Legolas for a brief moment before they clouded.
Legolas let out a stiff breath before reaching down to pull Thorongil to his feet, being as mindful as he could of his friend's injuries.
"It is time to flee the field, my friend."
Thorongil nodded once in silent agreement, regaining his breath as he shakily retrieved his blade from the ground. "And what do you suggest, master elf?" He gave a humorous grimace as the Southrons approached them again, stalled very little by the fall of their current captain.
"We must draw them away from our escape," Legolas murmured. "You start around the tower and head out the gap in the west side of the wall."
"What about you?" Thorongil questioned immediately.
"I will draw them away then help you to your horse. Then I must come back and retrieve something, but I can do it alone."
The elf was adamant, hoping to stall any protest, but Thorongil was all ready shaking his head, "I don't think—"
"Go, Strider!" Legolas snapped urgently, and he rushed back to confront the Southrons. Thorongil stood at a loss for only a moment, but he knew he had to trust his friend. Whatever the elf had to retrieve, it must be important. Moving quickly, he started around one side of the tower in the direction Legolas had shown him. Catching sight of his companion briefly as he broke through the throng of soldiers and headed around the tower in the other direction, Thorongil did not pause another moment but ran unsteadily for the gap.
Legolas waited until he was certain that Southrons would be blind to his presence. Around the tower there was a very sharp curve behind which he could not be seen, providing a moment to disappear all together. He sped up before he reached the curve, then vanished around it. No sooner had he broken around the side then he grabbed some of the broken molding and slid nimbly up the tower until he was sure that not even a watchful eye could see him. At that same moment, the Southrons themselves rounded the curve and halted in confusion.
They glanced around the camp, trying to make out where the elf had gone, and Legolas did not waste a moment of their distraction. Inching around the tower until he could plainly see Thorongil making his retreat, he leapt from the height and landed quietly on the ground a short distance behind his friend. Thorongil heard and turned quickly but when he realized it was Legolas he smiled.
"How long have you bought us?" he asked, slowing slightly, his weariness causing his brow to knot tightly and his breath to come short.
"Unfortunately not enough for us to stagger in the retreat," Legolas replied ruefully as he reached his friend's side. "Come, we must make haste to the wood."
They ran on a little longer with Legolas a little in the front in case of further resistance before the elf realized that Thorongil had dropped wearily to his knees a good distance behind him. Legolas started hastily back towards him, his eyes widening with concern. So concentrated was he that he did not sense the danger until it was upon them.
With a cry Brerg saw them and bore down, a knife in hand as he leapt towards Thorongil. The injured man had neither seen nor heard his approach, and the Southron had decided a clean kill would be easier to confess to the Lady Mavranor than a clean escape. Legolas felt the earth spasm beneath his feet — the horrible realization — he was too far away.
"Aragorn!"
The man did not even have time to turn at the sudden outcry of his true name— And then there was a whistle of air just by Legolas' ear as something flew past him. Before he could realize what it was he saw, Brerg fell back with a scream, mere inches from the human he had prepared to kill. The hilt of a long blade protruded from his back.
Brerg gasped — a wrenching, choking sound — as he tried to reach behind and withdraw the knife. He leaned forward, blood on his hands, and tried to raise his weapon again, when there was a second impact and without a sound, he fell. A second knife, elven in make, was planted solidly in his neck.
Legolas reached his friend and pulled the body off him, dropping down on the earth next to him. The man was breathing heavily, his dark hair falling around his face, and a sheen of sweat clinging to his brow. Legolas helped him slowly to his feet and looked up to see who had thrown the first knife.
It was Duurben.
Legolas let out a long breath of relief as the soldier approached; the bruise on his head was evident and he walked with a slight stagger, but this disorientation had had no effect on his aim.
"Thank you Duurben," Legolas gave the man a look of infinite gratitude as he threaded his arms under Thorongil's and lifted the captain once more, but Duurben only nodded for the moment, motioning behind them.
"We must hurry." The lieutenant indicated the Southrons who had now discovered their mistake and begun their pursuit once more. Legolas nodded, supporting Thorongil as he helped him towards the glade just beyond them. Duurben ran ahead to untie the horses so he could meet the two friends halfway.
Legolas could hear the cries and shouts of the Southrons, but he did not cease his retreat to look back at them. The horses broke from the thicket in another moment and Legolas quickly hoisted Thorongil up onto Maerhiin, steadying him in the saddle before he mounted Norleg. Duurben was already riding Breon and the three horses needed no prompting to bear their riders as far from the pursuing soldiers as they could.
Thorongil looked back at the camp one last time before returning his gaze out to the plains; he felt relief pour through him at their escape and he turned briefly to smile at his friend. Legolas caught his gaze and smiled back and for a time, that was all that needed to be said.
Galloping still, the three turned towards Nannva in hopes that they would find that their companions had been equally successful in their quest.
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The sun was climbing in the sky, signifying the end of the morning, when a runner finally appeared. Harnwe came from the slight warmth of a charcoal brazier that had been set up for his use and met the panting messenger just out of earshot from the rest of his men. For several minutes they were seen to be conversing quietly. Abruptly the king stiffened and the messenger cringed, then continued with whatever information he was relating. On the man talked, gesturing occasionally; making upward rushing movements, as if he were pantomiming a geyser, or pointing eastwards as if to signify the flight of a flock of birds, or touching his forehead in the Southron's superstitious method of warding away unhappy ghosts. When at last the weary Southron finished, Harnwe nodded his head once and turned back to his men.
His features were dark: darker even than the deep tan all the Southron's possessed. His captains looked at him, expecting to hear word of Brerg's coming; for surely the messenger could have come from no one else. But they were immediately proved false in their assumptions, for the king did no more than order them to ready the troops. Only one man, younger than the others and foolish, opened his lips.
"Sire, what of the catapults?"
Harnwe spun on him, his wroth tingling like heat lightening. "I have spoken! Am I not king? And are you incapable of taking such an insignificant force without aid?!"
"No, indeed not, sire." The captain stammered, bowing low at the waist and retreating hastily.
"Good. We renew the attack immediately and do not wait for Brerg. He has been delayed."
As the king strode away to where his mûmak was being readied, the captains looked at one another. Harnwe's use of the word 'delayed' seemed rather too final to suggest that any reinforcements would be sent them. Which meant, somehow, unthinkably, some allies of the barbarians had arrived from behind. Had arrived, and had struck so hard and swiftly as to undo the greatest general ever to serve Harnwe; and any force strong enough to do such as that…
As the captains readied their men, they continued to cast glances over their shoulders in the direction of their camp. But no longer did they wait with anticipation.
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Both the men and Legolas reached Nannva and sought out shelter in the stable where they put up their horses for a rest.
After Thorongil had guided Maerhiin into his stall, he moved shakily to the stable door, holding the frame and staring out across the plains in the direction from which would come Kelegalen's party. But his muscles trembled all through him and, despite his best efforts to stay upright, the adrenaline that had kept him on his feet suddenly failed him and he sank to his hands and knees on the hard ground outside the stable.
Duurben and Legolas ran to the man's side, the elf reaching him first and carefully pulling his friend back to his feet so he could guide him to a warm place in the stable. The lieutenant tried to find something to make himself useful and Legolas, catching his restlessness, requested that he get some water. With relief Duurben moved to obey immediately.
Legolas let his friend gently collapse into a pile of hay near the back of the stable, then moved to get his travel pack where he kept his supplies.
"Legolas," Thorongil groaned, his face white, "I am fine, don't worry, I'm just a little tired."
"Yes, I believe you *are* tired," Legolas replied dryly. "However I don't believe you are fine. You have sustained far too many injuries and lost far too much blood to go riding a stallion all the distance you did, and yet you were forced to anyway, and I'm not going to hear one word out of you unless you are agreeing with me; is that entirely understood?"
Thorongil said nothing, but Legolas didn't miss the light chuckle the moment his back was turned.
Duurben returned soon after to find the elf cleansing and bandaging the wounds in the captain's shoulders and across his back. Legolas took the water from soldier gratefully and gave some to Thorongil to drink, using the rest to clean out the many injuries the man had suffered.
"I thank you very much for your aid in our escape, Duurben," Thorongil spoke up after a moment, to cover a wince he was sure he would make as Legolas saw to the welts from the Lady Mavranor's sharp nails.
"I am glad Legolas permitted me to help, sir," Duurben replied, then his glance turned embarrassed and he cocked his eyes towards the large bruise on his head. "I am only sorry I could not do more."
Thorongil raised his eyebrows at Legolas who was making no comment. "I presume now would be the time to bless your knack for turning up conscious when others presume you safely sheltered," the captain said with a smile. His lieutenant inclined his head and there was a possible glint of what might have been dry humor in his eyes.
The man left after a while to keep watch for the others and Thorongil's fond gaze followed him. "A most excellent friend, Duurben. Cheerful in a pessimistic way, dependable, an excellent fighter, and loyal to the point of being a nuisance."
To that Legolas gave a slight snort at the last one and shook his head, "I know someone like that."
Thorongil gave his friend a patient frown before laughing once more, "That's all right. Come to think of it, so do I."
Legolas gave him a startled look then laughed as well, "I suppose I asked for that didn't I?"
Thorongil stared at him a moment then gave a small nod. "Yes, yes you did," he agreed, more seriously. "Though I wouldn't say you were a nuisance this time, my friend." Legolas sat back silently to look at the man as he continued, "I cannot tell you how relieved I was to see you; I had prepared myself for the end."
The elf winced slightly and looked down at the words.
Thorongil's voice was warm as he finished, "But that was my own folly."
Legolas looked back up again to see the man's blue eyes shining at him.
"My friend, not a time can I remember when you have failed me. I know that you have been turned aside or detained a short distance behind at times, but that is the way of things. All I can say is that he who doubted that you always give your utmost for your friends would be a fool indeed. And there is no reason for you to believe that when you fail, it must be through some fault of your own; even to the inability to stall the tide or turn it back." Thorongil smiled and leaned forward to place one hand on his friend's knee, and Legolas grasped his forearm lightly. Though the elf's eyes were glittering faintly again, he finally seemed at peace. "I thank you, Legolas Greenleaf, for being always so faithful and for saving me on this occasion like so many others."
The elf smiled and when he blinked his eyes the tears seemed to go, taking with them both pain and guilt. "Then at last you admit that you need saving on many occasions."
"I didn't deny it," Thorongil retorted, his voice turning defensive as Legolas returned to tending his wounds. "I just think you elves worry too much about injury. We men may be mortal, but we won't break if you drop us."
"It depends from how high we drop you. I seem to remember an occasion above the Bruinen when—"
"Speak no further," Thorongil growled good-naturedly. "I knew you would bring that up! I told you then that I *knew* you would never let me live that down!"
The friends' laughter carried from the stable out to where Duurben awaited the others' return. He could not have known what hurt his captain had just healed, but he didn't need to know that to recognize how soothing the easy banter and laughter was. And as he stood there listening he could not help but smile to himself.
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Duurben entered several hours later with news that he could see the Rohirrim approaching. Legolas and Thorongil — after much arguing as to whether he was strong enough — left the stable to greet their companions when they arrived. Thorongil was drawn and pale, but already fairing a little better, and he had managed to doze for a while as they waited.
Thorongil could easily see the Rohirrim approaching and Legolas could, in consequence, already make out the men as they approached.
Kelegalen saw them and dropped down from his horse running the last several yards. He reached them and embraced Thorongil, mindful of the stained bandages, "I am deeply relieved to see you alive and on your own two feet, my friend!"
Thorongil smiled and returned the embrace before releasing the man and looking over his company as they reached him. He was surprised to see Findel riding beside Nethtalt, her eyes shining happily through a heavy layer of dark soot.
Thorongil glanced at Legolas who shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenwards, which was a definite signal that the captain would hear all about it later.
His attention moved on to Thalion who saluted him with a relieved, if tired, smile, but then Thorongil frowned. "Did Gálmod and Stavhold not accompany you then on your quest Kelegalen?" he asked softly.
Kelegalen dropped his gaze for a moment and Thorongil felt his heart leap painfully in his chest. "Gálmod and Stavhold did accompany us," Kelegalen replied. "They defended the enclosure against the Southrons while we destroyed the catapults. And when Gálmod abandoned his post to flee the danger, Stavhold remained and stood his ground. The war machines now lie in ruin and the price we paid was Stavhold's life."
Thorongil closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them again to look at Kelegalen. "It is a hard victory," Nethtalt spoke softly, "but a victory indeed."
TBC…
Okay, sabercrazy: you can put away the eyebrows, and Mouse: we want our Easter eggs back! :P