Shadow of a Doubt
Chapter Twenty: Breathe No More
by Capella
A/N: Well, it's finally here. This chapter is the turning point of the story. I wrote this chapter entirely on a whim, and the story just sort of molded itself around this scene - which I had done a few months ago. I just saved in on my computer and waited until this very chapter. And oh boy am I excited.
And I have made a decision, which may or may not be good for you guys. Since I am a devout Buccaneers fan, if the Bucs win the Superbowl today (the day I'm writing this), then the story will have a happy ending. You can guess the rest from there.
One last thing - don't kill me.
That being said, here is chapter twenty.
____________________________
"I've been looking in the mirror for so long
That I've come to believe my soul is on the other side
Oh the little pieces falling, shatter
Shards of me
Too sharp to put back together
Too small to matter
But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces
If I try to touch her
And I bleed
And I breathe
I breathe no more."
-Evanescence, 'Breathe No More'
________________________
The apparation went suprisingly smooth, and that was the first thought that entered Harry's mind after he landed rather hard on the ground.
For a moment he kept his eyes closed so that he didn't have to see. See Legolas, see his blood that was probably still staining Legolas's tunic. He didn't want to see if Legolas was -- was better or not, whether his eyes were blue, whether his hair was blonde. To Harry, it felt rather like the feeling of watching an important Quidditch game and not wanting to see the ending, just in case it was a terrible loss. So instead Harry just waited to hear Legolas speak.
Finally he gave up and opened his eyes. They immediately widened in suprise.
Legolas had passed out.
It made things a lot easier, he supposed. However, he was injured and his companion was unconscious, and he realized that he would not be able to walk very far as it was let alone walk while dragging a body.
Harry gathered up whatever strength he had left and pulled himself to his feet, wincing at the sharp stabs of pain going through his back and lower body. There was a small point of pain on his shoulder where Legolas had bitten him. The stitches on his calf were hopelessly split and some were embedded into the muscle. Wavering on his feet, he whistled.
"Arod," he called desperately, voice giving out almost right away. He had a foolish notion that was running through his mind. He had ridden Legolas's horse to Mordor and maybe when Legolas saw it, he'd get better.
I can't do it alone, he thought bitterly.
Harry had about given up when he heard the steady footfalls of a horse. The gray horse came into view, Harry almost collapsing in relief.
Then came the problem of how to get Legolas onto the horse.
With a considerable amount of pain and frustration Legolas was finally slumping over in the saddle with his black hair obscuring his face. Harry spent his last reserves of energy to hoist himself up behind Legolas, grab the reins, and dig his heels into Arod's flanks. The horse started running and Harry just let it go, knowing that it would return to wherever Shadowfax, and Gandalf, were. He rested his head on Legolas's back, feeling the soft, black fabric beneath his forehead, and felt the tears come.
__________________
Harry was jolted awake by a jerk in the body that his head was resting against. They were stopped on a low rise next to a flat plain, which Harry recognized as the wasteland that spread for miles around Mordor. It was dawn, and they had ridden all through the night; but it was a cold morning with the wind from the North. He sat up quickly and looked around, and Legolas was forgotten.
Harry watched in horror, and awe, as the Captains of the West came at last to challenge the Black Gate and the might of Mordor, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.
Arod had stopped.
Gandalf was at the head of that train with Shadowfax, and followed by six thousand men. Enough to protect him, enough to help him -- but they were heading to Mordor. Back to -- back to Sauron.
Suddenly he was on his back in the dirt with Legolas snarling over him with a wicked-looking knife point pressed to the flesh right below his eye. There were streaks of blonde in his hair and specks of blue in his eyes, but at the moment there was no kindness on his face.
He growled, but his lips writhed and when the next words came out they were delivered with a note of panic.
"Get me to Gandalf - the closer He gets, the more he's driven out--" His face contorted again and the knife held against Harry's skin pressed in. A tiny drop of blood ran down his face and pooled in the little hollow under his throat. "I'll kill you and feed your corpse to the wargs, sweet," Legolas forced out, and lifted back the knife to drive in into Harry.
Harry chose that moment to kick Legolas right below the ribs as hard as his protesting muscles allowed.
Legolas doubled over, wheezing, and Harry took the opportunity to take the rope tied around his own waist and make makeshift handcuffs around Legolas's wrists. The elf shot him a poisonous glare.
"Get on the horse," Harry snarled. Legolas sneered at him but obeyed, and Harry swung up behind him. Arod whinnied, trotting off to meet his master and Harry's worst fears.
_______________
Harry had caught the tail end of the solders when he heard the horn and the cry that seemed to echo through the plains and off the looming Towers of the Teeth. Harry wanted to scream, wanted to tell the heralds to shut up in case someone did come. In case it was Sauron and he knew -- and he -- His thoughts seemed to stutter and run in panicked circles.
"Come forth! Let the Lord of the Black Gate come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested it's lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he atone for his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"
Harry felt a whimper well up in his throat. Helpless, and feeling the struggles of Legolas grow more violent, he stood and watched as the Black Gate slowly opened with a loud clang. He was too far away to see exactly, but a dark, tall shape rode out of it followed by black-harnessed soldiery and a banner. The whimper turned into a wordless cry, and in an act of desperation and shock he heeled Arod forward as the riders looked on in amazement.
The column of Rohan and Gondor soldiers became a blur as Arod galloped as fast as he could. Harry felt the building need to get to the front with no certain notion why, only that he was the cause of some trouble. And Legolas's words were echoing through his mind. /Get me to Gandalf. Get me to Gandalf. Get me to -- Get me --/
It seemed like an eternity before he came to the front of the column. There was a small group assembled, Aragorn, Gandalf, Pippin, and some he did not recognize. His gaze was drawn like a magnet to the one whom Gandalf was talking to, the thing that was holding out a cloak and mithril coat that Harry recognized with some shock and sorrow as Frodo and Sam's.
The man was not Sauron, as he had feared at first. It -- he -- was tall and cloaked in a dark cape, mounted on a darker horse. The eyes burned into Harry's own, shining like living flame. Harry cringed inside, for he knew who it was. Once when he had been brought to the throne room there had been another there, the Mouth of Sauron. He had smiled at Harry and stroked his blood-crusted hair, and Sauron had given Harry to him for a while as a reward for his victories. Harry suspected some of the scars given him by this sorcerer were still there. He thanked God that the lieutenant's attention was focused elsewhere.
"...there his lieutenant shall dwell; not Saruman, but one more worthy of --" His words cut off short as his red eyes finally focused on Harry. Harry shut his eyes to get away from the knowing, leering gaze.
"What might we have here, old man?" the Mouth asked, sounding half amused and half angry. "Have you been hiding this from us, or have you been so blind as to not know? He is wanted by Lord Sauron and sought after by many, and you have him here in your grasp?"
Everyone's faces swung around to where Harry was sitting on his horse, eyes opened now and face blank. He looked into the eyes of everyone around him, seeing at first the shock and then the horror at his bloodied and bruised body. The scab on his face had split sometime earlier and was bleeding slowly.
"Harry?" Pippin whispered. Gandalf looked poleaxed.
A sly look entered the Mouth of Sauron's eyes. "A great reward was promised for the one who captured the rebel," he said slowly, those red eyes burning into Harry's own, the look on his face telling Harry exactly what -- who -- the reward was. The Mouth's attention shifted back to Gandalf, who was still staring at Harry with shock. "That will be part of our bargain, old man. Withdrawal of your pitiful armies, the lands east of the Anduin, the Gap of Rohan, the reconstruction of Isengard, and the surrender this boy. It should suffice to please my Lord." He crooked a finger to Harry, still with that horrible smile on his face. Something inside Harry snapped and he felt his hand moving to take hold of his wand in a steel grip.
"I don't think so," he seethed, before anyone else could say a word, and heeled Arod forward to stop not more than five feet from the lieutenant. "I would rather die than go back to you or any other minion of Mordor, and I would see the world burn before I went back to your Lord. So you can just send this message back to him for me." He raised his wand with a bright ball of blue glowing on the end. "Surrender this," he snarled, and brought the wand down in a flash of red light.
The glow receded as it had before, and when the glare had gone down enough for everyone to open their eyes, there was nothing left to be seen of the soldiers accompanying the lieutenant.
Harry stared at the lieutenant in shock. His mind protested that he should have been dead, should have been long gone -- but at least Harry's spell had not gone quite without effect. The Mouth of Sauron had raised his arms before his head at the last moment and muttered a counterspell, but his forearms and biceps were badly burnt and blackened. Skin flaked off when he lowered them and glared at Harry in undisguised hatred.
"That was a mistake," he spat. The sword flashed over Harry's throat and he knew from the sudden jolt of pain that it had been sliced open. Blood poured down his neck; falling from his horse, he could hear the lieutenant's laughter even as he felt his limbs go numb. Above him he heard Gandalf saying something and then a great roar of many voices, the blowing of trumpets, and he knew that the war had begun.
Someone knelt down beside him.
Harry forced his faltering mind to focus if only for a few moments on the horrified face of Legolas, whose hand was hovering over the gash in his throat and trembling. His eyes were a bright blue.
Harry managed a weak smile. "You're back," he murmured, voice shaky and soft.
"Oh - Harry, don't leave, please -" A few shining tears fell down Legolas's cheeks and onto Harry's forehead. Harry was, for some reason, stricken. His vision faded to grayness for a moment before it returned, wavery. He tried to move a hand to stroke Legolas's cheek and his arm wouldn't move, tried to speak and no words would come out. He felt like sobbing from a horrible mix of frusteration and love. The steady pain had finally left him in a numbed daze, through which agony seemed to penetrate in great bursts.
Legolas's hand moved to smooth the hair back from his forehead and Harry hated himself for flinching, or trying to. He was too weak to move.
"Give me a reason to forgive you, Legolas," he rasped, pleading, not wanting to die with this horrible rift between them. He felt a hand grasp his own tightly.
"I -- I can't."
Harry's mind was wandering, the only thing keeping him from dying was the sound of Legolas's voice in an endless murmer that he did not hear. Only when Legolas stopped speaking did he realize what the elf had said.
"I can only promise you this. If you die, I swear that I will follow. Harry, I love you."
Harry tried to open his mouth to speak, shocked, but in that moment he felt his final hold on life slip like sand through his fingers, and his vision went, for the last time, black.
_____________________
Legolas was too shocked to move as Harry's hand grew limp in his own. The shining green eyes were clouded with death, lips slack, skin already growing cold. It was hard to see through the tears in his eyes. The breaths that Harry had been labouring to take had finally stopped and his chest had stilled.
It might have been delirium, but Legolas nearly swore he saw a shining silver mist escape Harry's body and disappear into the air.
He bent down and pressed his forehead against Harry's chest, panting for air as he sobbed and the tears ran down his face to mingle with the blood that had gathered on Harry's tunic. He couldn't find the breath to speak.
He looked up, face streaked with tears, to see Aragorn standing in front of him and fighting off the rush of Orcs that strived to reach the fallen elf. There was a pained expression on the Ranger's face and Legolas thought he saw shining, reddened eyes.
The sun was gleaming red in a lonely sky. It was strangely fitting.
Legolas bent over Harry again, closing his eyes. He lost track of time, of how long he had been silently crying over the body, until he heard a clear voice ring out, joined by many others:
"The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"
Something deep inside Legolas stirred; a powerful urge to kill something rose up inside him and he was on his feet, knives drawn and teeth bared. An Orc rushing at him pulled up in suprise as Legolas plunged the steel deep into his throat. He whirled away as the Orc dropped to the ground and stood over Harry's body.
He fought for a long time. Any Orc unlucky enough to come near Legolas was cut down within seconds. Blood splattered Legolas's face, blood that was not his own.
"Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom!"
Gandalf's clear voice roused Legolas out of his deathly stupor. Even as the wizard spoke Legolas felt the ground rocking beneath his feet, and the Towers splintered and fell. A huge black shadow, flickering with fire, rose from the depths of Mordor to swirl about the air.
"The realm of Sauron has ended! The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest."
Legolas ignored the sudden hush of the army and gazed down at Harry, dropping his bloody blades to the ground. Slowly bending down, he closed Harry's eyelids, lifting up the boy into his arms and cradling him close. With determined steps, he walked to the hill-top where Aragorn and Gandalf stood.
They turned to face him as he made his way steadily up, his face black with rage. Aragorn's expression turned horrified. Gandalf reached out with an unsteady hand to touch Harry's forehead.
"Dead," Legolas said shortly. Aragorn bowed his head.
"Do not give up hope, Legolas," Gandalf said softly. "The loved are unable to die, for love is immortality." Legolas stared at him in shock, and Gandalf climbed upon Gwahir's back in the moment of stunned silence. As Aragorn watched Gandalf fly to the East, Legolas stood still and stared at Harry's pale face. Something inside him crumbled into dust. He had no hope.
"Take him back to Gondor," Aragorn murmured gently, laying a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "We will give him a burial fit for a king and honor fit for a Valar. He will not be forgotten. The host of Gondor will be there shortly, and so will I. Peace, my friend." He climbed onto his horse and galloped off.
With a feeling of emptiness Legolas climbed onto the back of Arod, hoisting Harry up onto the horse in front of him. Hope had faded with the passing of the Age, and now it was all Legolas could do to find the will to stay alive.
______________________
A/N: Buccaneers won ;)
Chapter Twenty: Breathe No More
by Capella
A/N: Well, it's finally here. This chapter is the turning point of the story. I wrote this chapter entirely on a whim, and the story just sort of molded itself around this scene - which I had done a few months ago. I just saved in on my computer and waited until this very chapter. And oh boy am I excited.
And I have made a decision, which may or may not be good for you guys. Since I am a devout Buccaneers fan, if the Bucs win the Superbowl today (the day I'm writing this), then the story will have a happy ending. You can guess the rest from there.
One last thing - don't kill me.
That being said, here is chapter twenty.
____________________________
"I've been looking in the mirror for so long
That I've come to believe my soul is on the other side
Oh the little pieces falling, shatter
Shards of me
Too sharp to put back together
Too small to matter
But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces
If I try to touch her
And I bleed
And I breathe
I breathe no more."
-Evanescence, 'Breathe No More'
________________________
The apparation went suprisingly smooth, and that was the first thought that entered Harry's mind after he landed rather hard on the ground.
For a moment he kept his eyes closed so that he didn't have to see. See Legolas, see his blood that was probably still staining Legolas's tunic. He didn't want to see if Legolas was -- was better or not, whether his eyes were blue, whether his hair was blonde. To Harry, it felt rather like the feeling of watching an important Quidditch game and not wanting to see the ending, just in case it was a terrible loss. So instead Harry just waited to hear Legolas speak.
Finally he gave up and opened his eyes. They immediately widened in suprise.
Legolas had passed out.
It made things a lot easier, he supposed. However, he was injured and his companion was unconscious, and he realized that he would not be able to walk very far as it was let alone walk while dragging a body.
Harry gathered up whatever strength he had left and pulled himself to his feet, wincing at the sharp stabs of pain going through his back and lower body. There was a small point of pain on his shoulder where Legolas had bitten him. The stitches on his calf were hopelessly split and some were embedded into the muscle. Wavering on his feet, he whistled.
"Arod," he called desperately, voice giving out almost right away. He had a foolish notion that was running through his mind. He had ridden Legolas's horse to Mordor and maybe when Legolas saw it, he'd get better.
I can't do it alone, he thought bitterly.
Harry had about given up when he heard the steady footfalls of a horse. The gray horse came into view, Harry almost collapsing in relief.
Then came the problem of how to get Legolas onto the horse.
With a considerable amount of pain and frustration Legolas was finally slumping over in the saddle with his black hair obscuring his face. Harry spent his last reserves of energy to hoist himself up behind Legolas, grab the reins, and dig his heels into Arod's flanks. The horse started running and Harry just let it go, knowing that it would return to wherever Shadowfax, and Gandalf, were. He rested his head on Legolas's back, feeling the soft, black fabric beneath his forehead, and felt the tears come.
__________________
Harry was jolted awake by a jerk in the body that his head was resting against. They were stopped on a low rise next to a flat plain, which Harry recognized as the wasteland that spread for miles around Mordor. It was dawn, and they had ridden all through the night; but it was a cold morning with the wind from the North. He sat up quickly and looked around, and Legolas was forgotten.
Harry watched in horror, and awe, as the Captains of the West came at last to challenge the Black Gate and the might of Mordor, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.
Arod had stopped.
Gandalf was at the head of that train with Shadowfax, and followed by six thousand men. Enough to protect him, enough to help him -- but they were heading to Mordor. Back to -- back to Sauron.
Suddenly he was on his back in the dirt with Legolas snarling over him with a wicked-looking knife point pressed to the flesh right below his eye. There were streaks of blonde in his hair and specks of blue in his eyes, but at the moment there was no kindness on his face.
He growled, but his lips writhed and when the next words came out they were delivered with a note of panic.
"Get me to Gandalf - the closer He gets, the more he's driven out--" His face contorted again and the knife held against Harry's skin pressed in. A tiny drop of blood ran down his face and pooled in the little hollow under his throat. "I'll kill you and feed your corpse to the wargs, sweet," Legolas forced out, and lifted back the knife to drive in into Harry.
Harry chose that moment to kick Legolas right below the ribs as hard as his protesting muscles allowed.
Legolas doubled over, wheezing, and Harry took the opportunity to take the rope tied around his own waist and make makeshift handcuffs around Legolas's wrists. The elf shot him a poisonous glare.
"Get on the horse," Harry snarled. Legolas sneered at him but obeyed, and Harry swung up behind him. Arod whinnied, trotting off to meet his master and Harry's worst fears.
_______________
Harry had caught the tail end of the solders when he heard the horn and the cry that seemed to echo through the plains and off the looming Towers of the Teeth. Harry wanted to scream, wanted to tell the heralds to shut up in case someone did come. In case it was Sauron and he knew -- and he -- His thoughts seemed to stutter and run in panicked circles.
"Come forth! Let the Lord of the Black Gate come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested it's lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he atone for his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"
Harry felt a whimper well up in his throat. Helpless, and feeling the struggles of Legolas grow more violent, he stood and watched as the Black Gate slowly opened with a loud clang. He was too far away to see exactly, but a dark, tall shape rode out of it followed by black-harnessed soldiery and a banner. The whimper turned into a wordless cry, and in an act of desperation and shock he heeled Arod forward as the riders looked on in amazement.
The column of Rohan and Gondor soldiers became a blur as Arod galloped as fast as he could. Harry felt the building need to get to the front with no certain notion why, only that he was the cause of some trouble. And Legolas's words were echoing through his mind. /Get me to Gandalf. Get me to Gandalf. Get me to -- Get me --/
It seemed like an eternity before he came to the front of the column. There was a small group assembled, Aragorn, Gandalf, Pippin, and some he did not recognize. His gaze was drawn like a magnet to the one whom Gandalf was talking to, the thing that was holding out a cloak and mithril coat that Harry recognized with some shock and sorrow as Frodo and Sam's.
The man was not Sauron, as he had feared at first. It -- he -- was tall and cloaked in a dark cape, mounted on a darker horse. The eyes burned into Harry's own, shining like living flame. Harry cringed inside, for he knew who it was. Once when he had been brought to the throne room there had been another there, the Mouth of Sauron. He had smiled at Harry and stroked his blood-crusted hair, and Sauron had given Harry to him for a while as a reward for his victories. Harry suspected some of the scars given him by this sorcerer were still there. He thanked God that the lieutenant's attention was focused elsewhere.
"...there his lieutenant shall dwell; not Saruman, but one more worthy of --" His words cut off short as his red eyes finally focused on Harry. Harry shut his eyes to get away from the knowing, leering gaze.
"What might we have here, old man?" the Mouth asked, sounding half amused and half angry. "Have you been hiding this from us, or have you been so blind as to not know? He is wanted by Lord Sauron and sought after by many, and you have him here in your grasp?"
Everyone's faces swung around to where Harry was sitting on his horse, eyes opened now and face blank. He looked into the eyes of everyone around him, seeing at first the shock and then the horror at his bloodied and bruised body. The scab on his face had split sometime earlier and was bleeding slowly.
"Harry?" Pippin whispered. Gandalf looked poleaxed.
A sly look entered the Mouth of Sauron's eyes. "A great reward was promised for the one who captured the rebel," he said slowly, those red eyes burning into Harry's own, the look on his face telling Harry exactly what -- who -- the reward was. The Mouth's attention shifted back to Gandalf, who was still staring at Harry with shock. "That will be part of our bargain, old man. Withdrawal of your pitiful armies, the lands east of the Anduin, the Gap of Rohan, the reconstruction of Isengard, and the surrender this boy. It should suffice to please my Lord." He crooked a finger to Harry, still with that horrible smile on his face. Something inside Harry snapped and he felt his hand moving to take hold of his wand in a steel grip.
"I don't think so," he seethed, before anyone else could say a word, and heeled Arod forward to stop not more than five feet from the lieutenant. "I would rather die than go back to you or any other minion of Mordor, and I would see the world burn before I went back to your Lord. So you can just send this message back to him for me." He raised his wand with a bright ball of blue glowing on the end. "Surrender this," he snarled, and brought the wand down in a flash of red light.
The glow receded as it had before, and when the glare had gone down enough for everyone to open their eyes, there was nothing left to be seen of the soldiers accompanying the lieutenant.
Harry stared at the lieutenant in shock. His mind protested that he should have been dead, should have been long gone -- but at least Harry's spell had not gone quite without effect. The Mouth of Sauron had raised his arms before his head at the last moment and muttered a counterspell, but his forearms and biceps were badly burnt and blackened. Skin flaked off when he lowered them and glared at Harry in undisguised hatred.
"That was a mistake," he spat. The sword flashed over Harry's throat and he knew from the sudden jolt of pain that it had been sliced open. Blood poured down his neck; falling from his horse, he could hear the lieutenant's laughter even as he felt his limbs go numb. Above him he heard Gandalf saying something and then a great roar of many voices, the blowing of trumpets, and he knew that the war had begun.
Someone knelt down beside him.
Harry forced his faltering mind to focus if only for a few moments on the horrified face of Legolas, whose hand was hovering over the gash in his throat and trembling. His eyes were a bright blue.
Harry managed a weak smile. "You're back," he murmured, voice shaky and soft.
"Oh - Harry, don't leave, please -" A few shining tears fell down Legolas's cheeks and onto Harry's forehead. Harry was, for some reason, stricken. His vision faded to grayness for a moment before it returned, wavery. He tried to move a hand to stroke Legolas's cheek and his arm wouldn't move, tried to speak and no words would come out. He felt like sobbing from a horrible mix of frusteration and love. The steady pain had finally left him in a numbed daze, through which agony seemed to penetrate in great bursts.
Legolas's hand moved to smooth the hair back from his forehead and Harry hated himself for flinching, or trying to. He was too weak to move.
"Give me a reason to forgive you, Legolas," he rasped, pleading, not wanting to die with this horrible rift between them. He felt a hand grasp his own tightly.
"I -- I can't."
Harry's mind was wandering, the only thing keeping him from dying was the sound of Legolas's voice in an endless murmer that he did not hear. Only when Legolas stopped speaking did he realize what the elf had said.
"I can only promise you this. If you die, I swear that I will follow. Harry, I love you."
Harry tried to open his mouth to speak, shocked, but in that moment he felt his final hold on life slip like sand through his fingers, and his vision went, for the last time, black.
_____________________
Legolas was too shocked to move as Harry's hand grew limp in his own. The shining green eyes were clouded with death, lips slack, skin already growing cold. It was hard to see through the tears in his eyes. The breaths that Harry had been labouring to take had finally stopped and his chest had stilled.
It might have been delirium, but Legolas nearly swore he saw a shining silver mist escape Harry's body and disappear into the air.
He bent down and pressed his forehead against Harry's chest, panting for air as he sobbed and the tears ran down his face to mingle with the blood that had gathered on Harry's tunic. He couldn't find the breath to speak.
He looked up, face streaked with tears, to see Aragorn standing in front of him and fighting off the rush of Orcs that strived to reach the fallen elf. There was a pained expression on the Ranger's face and Legolas thought he saw shining, reddened eyes.
The sun was gleaming red in a lonely sky. It was strangely fitting.
Legolas bent over Harry again, closing his eyes. He lost track of time, of how long he had been silently crying over the body, until he heard a clear voice ring out, joined by many others:
"The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"
Something deep inside Legolas stirred; a powerful urge to kill something rose up inside him and he was on his feet, knives drawn and teeth bared. An Orc rushing at him pulled up in suprise as Legolas plunged the steel deep into his throat. He whirled away as the Orc dropped to the ground and stood over Harry's body.
He fought for a long time. Any Orc unlucky enough to come near Legolas was cut down within seconds. Blood splattered Legolas's face, blood that was not his own.
"Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom!"
Gandalf's clear voice roused Legolas out of his deathly stupor. Even as the wizard spoke Legolas felt the ground rocking beneath his feet, and the Towers splintered and fell. A huge black shadow, flickering with fire, rose from the depths of Mordor to swirl about the air.
"The realm of Sauron has ended! The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest."
Legolas ignored the sudden hush of the army and gazed down at Harry, dropping his bloody blades to the ground. Slowly bending down, he closed Harry's eyelids, lifting up the boy into his arms and cradling him close. With determined steps, he walked to the hill-top where Aragorn and Gandalf stood.
They turned to face him as he made his way steadily up, his face black with rage. Aragorn's expression turned horrified. Gandalf reached out with an unsteady hand to touch Harry's forehead.
"Dead," Legolas said shortly. Aragorn bowed his head.
"Do not give up hope, Legolas," Gandalf said softly. "The loved are unable to die, for love is immortality." Legolas stared at him in shock, and Gandalf climbed upon Gwahir's back in the moment of stunned silence. As Aragorn watched Gandalf fly to the East, Legolas stood still and stared at Harry's pale face. Something inside him crumbled into dust. He had no hope.
"Take him back to Gondor," Aragorn murmured gently, laying a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "We will give him a burial fit for a king and honor fit for a Valar. He will not be forgotten. The host of Gondor will be there shortly, and so will I. Peace, my friend." He climbed onto his horse and galloped off.
With a feeling of emptiness Legolas climbed onto the back of Arod, hoisting Harry up onto the horse in front of him. Hope had faded with the passing of the Age, and now it was all Legolas could do to find the will to stay alive.
______________________
A/N: Buccaneers won ;)