Disclaimer: Mr. JRR Tolkien and the Tolkien…agh! Why must I admit it? Not is, never has been, never will be mine.
Author Notes: I had to pinch myself three times before I believed all the reviews I got on my Author's Note. Thank you, honestly and deeply for your support and the way you scared my doubts away :) Apparently (let's hope!) the writer's block has left me, and I present you here (finally!) with Chapter 22 of my story.
To everyone who reviewed my note, I would love your opinion on this. And for those who did not reply to my author's note, I would love your opinion on this *grin*
Once again, my deepest thanks. And for those who said I had bored them, or that rather than this being a roller coaster it was a bumping cars ride () sorry! But apparently there are people who still like it ^_^ I deeply regret that I seemed to have bored my best reviewers however *pout*
English is my second language, so I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes made on this story. Quotes are taken from the book, with lines of my own added in between. Elvish (however few of it) is how I believe it to be, most likely with ten thousand grammar mistakes on it.
Master in Deceiving
By Yours Truly
Blood.
It was all over him…and it was not his.
Blood.
It was on his hands, on his clothing…on his daggers…on his very soul.
He was forever stained with the red, upon the once bright light of his existence…and his eyes were to be forever marked with the image that lay in front of him.
Aragorn was being buried among the fallen ones of the battle, his body mutilated, almost beyond recognition…his face frozen in such surprise, such betrayal, that it was unbearable to glance at it without looking away. He had been stabbed…by a dagger…multiple times…and not in battle.
Gimli was being covered with earth when Legolas looked away towards the other side of the field. The dwarf fallen, by two arrows in the back. Arrows made by an orc…but never shot by one.
Legolas felt like an orc as he watched, for his body was numb…and he felt nothing. His hands were stained with his best friend's blood, and they still shook from having shot the arrows that murdered Gimli. Legolas barely discerned the weight of heavy chains on his wrists, on his gore-stained limbs.
And he cared not. For the waiting had been too much, the horrible uncertainty had come to an end. Legolas had made it end.
He had known he would murder them all…he had made it happen at long last. No more waiting, no more anguish of seeing them live when he knew that by his fault they were soon to die. They were dead now…it had come to pass. No more anguish…just the torture of living forever with the knowledge that he had murdered his friends, with the shame put upon him by everyone…even himself.
And there was no more voice…
Legolas, confused by his own thoughts, frightened by his very mind, had finally been able to break the healing trance the following morning, to see that he was the last of them to wake, the others already working in giving burial to the deceased.
{There is no place to escape, little one}
In a panic he had looked around, only to see Aragorn and Gimli helping with the same work. And the both of them were very much alive as he watched them. Forcing his legs to move, he had walked to their side in silence, reassured that it had all been a bad image brought on by too much stress…
Nay, he knew it to be a lie.
Elves do not sleep as mortals do. If even their resting place was haunted by horrible visions, there had to be something seriously wrong. But Legolas shook his head, and stubbornly repeated over and over that it was possible for him to have human nightmares, and that had just seen the proof of it.
{Not even your own thoughts are safe any longer princeling}
After tiring work, when the sun was almost upon the hills, the whole company had finally departed. Now surrounded by the trees that the humans seemed to fear so much, Legolas found a small amount of peace…along with a very small amount of sanity.
{You cannot ignore me forever, little one. I am here…even if you choose not to listen. Concentrate on your beloved surroundings then, for believe me, you will not enjoy them for much}
Awareness had returned to his senses on this day, and after so much time without total control over his own body, to have it back seemed like too much. He still felt that it was overwhelming. He went in the same horse with Gimli, and they followed Gandalf closely, for Gimli feared the wood. But Legolas did not. This nature reminded him of his beloved Mirkwood, and the trees around them, however mysterious they seemed, sang in joy when among times of war they sensed a Wood elf between them.
{You are pathetic child. Looking at the trees as if they would save you from what you have done to yourself}
Legolas would have sung to them, had he been able. He would have smiled and climbed one, and sung to them the songs of this home, to help them visualize forests beyond this dark lands. He would have sat with them for hours, just singing and relaxing…and smiling… but he could not. He could not smile, nor could he sing…and heading towards war, it was very unlikely that he would be allowed to stop his advance. Still, he needed these trees. They gave him the strength that he no longer felt. Their song with mixed themes of joy and sorrow made him feel needed, something that he had not felt since…since Moria? The elf sighed, and attempted to focus on the task at hand. They were headed to save the land, to fight the Dark Lord, and here he was thinking of the trees…
{Pathetic}
But he wanted to be with the trees…
Stealing side-glances to them, Legolas felt frustration building up, among with the strange desire to burst out laughing. He felt like a child. He felt like an exhausted child that carried two lines of thoughts instead of one, a child that carried another presence on his mind. A desperate child trying to cling into whatever small light there was among so much darkness.
Choosing to distract his thoughts, and hopefully the taunting voice inside his thoughts, Legolas rode his horse closer to Mithrandir's.
"It is hot in here," said Legolas to Gandalf. "I feel a great wrath about me. Do you not feel the air throb in your ears?"
"Yes," answered Gandalf, his glance towards the blue eyes of the elf, told Legolas that he knew what he was trying to do.
"What has become of the miserable Orcs?" Legolas asked, refusing to give up his hope to distract himself.
"That, I think, no one will ever know," Gandalf responded, with a touch of finality to his voice.
{Not even your friends will help you any longer}
Disappointed, Legolas gave up his attempt at conversation with the wizard, and concentrated back on the trees. They were his only hope then…the only thing that would keep him from listening to the foul voice. The company rode in silence for a while; but Legolas was ever glancing from side to side, and would often have halted to listen to the sounds of the wood, if Gimli had allowed it.
"These are the strangest trees that ever I saw," Legolas tried to explain to the stubborn dwarf "and I have seen many an oak grow from acorn to ruinous age. I wish that there were leisure now to walk among them: they have voices, and in time I might come to understand their thought."
{Please…let me stop for a second…I need something, and the trees provide it}
{Child}
"No, no!" said Gimli. "Let us leave them! I guess their thought already: hatred of all that go on two legs; and their speech is of crushing and strangling."
Legolas frowned, displeased with the assumption. He vaguely realized that this was working; he was not listening to anything but his friend's voice.
"Not of all that go on two legs," said Legolas. "There I think you are wrong. It is Orcs that they hate. For they do not belong here and know little of Elves and Men. Far away are the valleys where they sprang. From the deep dales of Fangorn, Gimli, that is whence they come, I guess."
"Then that is the most perilous wood in Middle-earth," said Gimli. "I should be grateful for the part they have played, but I do not love them. You may think them wonderful, but I have seen a greater wonder in this land…" The dwarf started to tell him about the caves of Helm's Deep, and Legolas sighed. No cave would ever breath, and no stonewall would ever sing to him the song of endless years.
"…Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief glance!" Gimli said then.
Seeing his chance to tease the dwarf, he spoke "And I would give gold to be excused," said Legolas dryly; "and double to be let out, if I strayed in!" Mithrandir glanced back at him with the barest of grins, and Legolas allowed his face to break into the slightest smile. This felt good.
{You do not deserve good}
Seeing the elf's expression, Gimli controlled his urge to laugh, "You have not seen, so I forgive your jest," said he. "But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood…"
And *then* he really started to ramble. Legolas smiled at him, listening to the tales that spoke of real beauty hidden beneath the work of art that was nature.
{Neither do you deserve that smile; erase it from your face. Boromir no longer smiles because of you. Neither does Frodo, nor Merry, nor Pippin…}
"…The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them." Gimli concluded, with a sigh that made Legolas grin.
He had not smiled this way in months.
"Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli," said the Elf, extending as long as he was able the most pleasing talk he had had with anyone since this burden had been added to his shoulders.
{The burden of your deeds, little one?}
"That you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made."
Gimli answered with such eloquence, that he just knew his father would be on the floor laughing now. He had not believed dwarf to be capable of such moving words. But Legolas was not laughing…for in his words, he saw hope.
{Hope with a dwarf? Your father would be so proud, princeling…}
"You move me, Gimli," said Legolas. "I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. Come! Let us make this bargain-if we both return safe out of the perils that await us, we will journey for a while together. You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to see Helm's Deep."
"That would not be the way of return that I should choose," said Gimli carefully, noticing the new light entering pools of blue. "But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to come back to the caves and share their wonder with me."
"You have my promise," said Legolas, as a weight was lifted from his shoulders. "But alas! Now we must leave behind both cave and wood for a while: See! We are coming to the end of the trees. How far is it to Isengard, Gandalf?"
"About fifteen leagues, as the crows of Saruman make it" said Gandalf. The wizard, not having missed one detail of the conversation that had just transpired, was able to see some light at the end of the tunnel…yet it seemed dim: "five from the mouth of Deeping-coomb to the Fords: and ten more from there to the gates of Isengard. But we shall not ride all the way this night."
"And when we come there, what shall we see?" asked Gimli. "You may know, but I cannot guess."
{I tell what you will see, little prince. You will see your future, your doom…}
"I do not know myself for certain," answered the wizard calmly. "I was there at nightfall yesterday, but much may have happened since." He paused and inwardly smiled, glancing at the smiling elf "Yet I think that you will not say that the journey was in vain - not though the Glittering Caves of Aglarond be left behind."
Finally, they reached the end of trees. Legolas looked back to them with regret, knowing he would not be listening to their song in a long time to come. Suddenly, his keen gaze detected something so surprising; he was unable to retain his cry. "There are eyes!" he said. "Eyes looking out from the shadows of the boughs! I never saw such eyes before."
{Delusional}
The others, surprised by his cry, halted and turned; but Legolas started to ride back.
{If I hear real voices, then I see real eyes} he thought angrily, finally answering the taunting voice that had mocked him for the entire ride.
"No, no!" Cried Gimli. "Do as you please in your madness, but let me first get down from this horse! I wish to see no eyes!"
Aragorn was biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Now that was the elf he knew. That was his dear friend.
"Stay, Legolas Greenleaf!" said Gandalf. "Do not go back into the wood, not yet! Now is not your time."
Even as he spoke, there came forward out of the trees three strange shapes.
With wide eyes the elf halted and watched, even as he felt Gimli get impossible tense behind him. The shapes were enormous with long limbs and many fingers. They gazed towards the north, ignoring the riders that stood gaping at them. Suddenly they lifted their long hands to their mouths, and sent forth ringing calls, clear as notes of a horn, but more musical and various. The calls were answered; and turning again, the riders saw other creatures of the same kind approaching, striding through the grass from the North. The riders cried out, and some even attempted to draw their swords, but Gandalf advised them against it.
Legolas stared in wonder and glee, for he believed to know what these creatures were, and ever since his childhood, all those centuries ago, he had desired to see them. Now he could barely believe his eyes.
{You are still a child}
The Ents paid them no mind as they strode into the wood and vanished from their sight. Gimli let out a sigh of relief at his back, and Legolas laughed. If he did not have Aragorn's eyes on him he would have rode after them, with or without the dwarf at his back. Fighting his impulse to ride towards the wood, Legolas nodded to Aragorn and listened half-heartedly to the conversation going on between Gandalf and Théoden.
The company turned then away from the Coomb and from the wood and took the road towards the Fords. Legolas followed reluctantly, while Gimli patted his shoulder in mock comfort. Legolas glared at him over his shoulder. The sun had set, already it had sunk behind the rim of the world; but as they rode out from the shadow of the hills and looked west to the Gap of Rohan the sky was still red, and a burning light was under the floating clouds. The company rode at an easy pace, as the moon ascended the skies and dark fell around them.
They had ridden for some four hours from the branching of the roads when they drew near to the Fords. Grief along with the sense of losses and death weighted heavily on this land, as Legolas looked around in silence: This had been a battlefield that was for certain. Théoden's words later confirmed it. Following Gandalf's lead the riders passed through the sorrow filled fields, and Legolas ignored as best as he could the cries of the grieving nature.
{You hide from the battle that you know you must fight, little one. You ignore my presence as if I did not exist…but I do, princeling, I exist. And I shall be with you beyond the day in which you receive your punishment…for you shall receive it soon}
"…That wolf-riders and plunderers might ride nonetheless to Meduseld, while it was undefended. But now I think you need not fear: you will find your house to welcome your return." Gandalf was saying
"And glad shall I be to see it again," answered King Théoden, "though brief now, I doubt not, shall be my abiding there."
{Keep your silence, foul one; I am tired to listen to your ramblings. I shall hear thy words no longer}
{Brave words for such a coward, little one}
With that the company said farewell to the island and the mound, and passed over the river, and climbed the further bank. Then they rode on, glad to have left the mournful Fords. As they went the howling of the wolves broke out anew. It brought a strange kind of calm to Legolas' mind. They rode now more swiftly, and by midnight the Fords were nearly five leagues behind. Then they halted, ending their night's journey, for the King was weary. They were come to the feet of the Misty Mountains, and the long arms of Nan Curunír stretched down to meet them. Dark was the scenery, and darker Legolas' thoughts became.
{You cannot send me to be quiet, Prince of Mirkwood. I am more than you are…I am stronger than you are. And I am the one in real control of you. You cannot send your mind to be quiet, for you mind is what I have become}
Ignoring the conversation going on about the seemingly burning Wizard's Vale, Legolas focused his mind in only one task. The camp. They camped beside the bed of the Isen River; it was still silent and empty. Some of them slept a little. But late in the night the watchmen cried out, and all awoke.
Legolas jumped up from the ground and looked around them in alarm. His blood froze at the sight. . The moon was gone. Stars were shining above; but over the ground there crept a darkness blacker than the night. On both sides of the river it rolled towards them, going northward.
"Stay where you are!" cried Gandalf. "Draw no weapons! Wait! And it will pass you by!"
But Legolas saw beyond the mist that gathered about them. He saw the shapes, the bodies and the faces…
{Here is your future little one}
Voices they all heard, whisperings and groanings and an endless rustling sigh; the earth shook under them. But Legolas heard beyond that.
"Death" "Blood" "My blood" "My soul" "My light" "My life" "They are gone" "My daughter…" "My brother…" "What have I done?" "Betrayed" "Tortured" "A shadow I have become" "Your fault…" "My fault…" "Murder" "Cruelty" "Unfair" "Injustice" "Traitor" "My price…"
The agonized cries went on around him; in a gloom so intense he could not see his own two feet. But he could see their blood; he could see their faces…
{You see it, then?}
Wait…
Nay…
It was an illusion!
Shaking his head in anger, fright and confusion. Legolas closed his eyes tightly, and focused his mind on the tales of his childhood, of the gentle voices of the shepherds of the trees. The sweet song that they called their language…he could feel nature now. Not death, not grief…
When he reopened his eyes the shadows were slowly getting past them, and he no longer heard their cries nor did he see their faces. For they had never been there. At last, when the last wall of shadow passed him by, he could hear the tired sigh of a long life that had revenged the unfairness. That had slain the orcs.
His face pale beyond what was normal. His eyes wide like one who has faced a Balrog, Legolas sat in the ground.
{My future?}
To be continued
R&R please! Let me know your opinion!
Author Notes: I had to pinch myself three times before I believed all the reviews I got on my Author's Note. Thank you, honestly and deeply for your support and the way you scared my doubts away :) Apparently (let's hope!) the writer's block has left me, and I present you here (finally!) with Chapter 22 of my story.
To everyone who reviewed my note, I would love your opinion on this. And for those who did not reply to my author's note, I would love your opinion on this *grin*
Once again, my deepest thanks. And for those who said I had bored them, or that rather than this being a roller coaster it was a bumping cars ride () sorry! But apparently there are people who still like it ^_^ I deeply regret that I seemed to have bored my best reviewers however *pout*
English is my second language, so I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes made on this story. Quotes are taken from the book, with lines of my own added in between. Elvish (however few of it) is how I believe it to be, most likely with ten thousand grammar mistakes on it.
Master in Deceiving
By Yours Truly
Blood.
It was all over him…and it was not his.
Blood.
It was on his hands, on his clothing…on his daggers…on his very soul.
He was forever stained with the red, upon the once bright light of his existence…and his eyes were to be forever marked with the image that lay in front of him.
Aragorn was being buried among the fallen ones of the battle, his body mutilated, almost beyond recognition…his face frozen in such surprise, such betrayal, that it was unbearable to glance at it without looking away. He had been stabbed…by a dagger…multiple times…and not in battle.
Gimli was being covered with earth when Legolas looked away towards the other side of the field. The dwarf fallen, by two arrows in the back. Arrows made by an orc…but never shot by one.
Legolas felt like an orc as he watched, for his body was numb…and he felt nothing. His hands were stained with his best friend's blood, and they still shook from having shot the arrows that murdered Gimli. Legolas barely discerned the weight of heavy chains on his wrists, on his gore-stained limbs.
And he cared not. For the waiting had been too much, the horrible uncertainty had come to an end. Legolas had made it end.
He had known he would murder them all…he had made it happen at long last. No more waiting, no more anguish of seeing them live when he knew that by his fault they were soon to die. They were dead now…it had come to pass. No more anguish…just the torture of living forever with the knowledge that he had murdered his friends, with the shame put upon him by everyone…even himself.
And there was no more voice…
Legolas, confused by his own thoughts, frightened by his very mind, had finally been able to break the healing trance the following morning, to see that he was the last of them to wake, the others already working in giving burial to the deceased.
{There is no place to escape, little one}
In a panic he had looked around, only to see Aragorn and Gimli helping with the same work. And the both of them were very much alive as he watched them. Forcing his legs to move, he had walked to their side in silence, reassured that it had all been a bad image brought on by too much stress…
Nay, he knew it to be a lie.
Elves do not sleep as mortals do. If even their resting place was haunted by horrible visions, there had to be something seriously wrong. But Legolas shook his head, and stubbornly repeated over and over that it was possible for him to have human nightmares, and that had just seen the proof of it.
{Not even your own thoughts are safe any longer princeling}
After tiring work, when the sun was almost upon the hills, the whole company had finally departed. Now surrounded by the trees that the humans seemed to fear so much, Legolas found a small amount of peace…along with a very small amount of sanity.
{You cannot ignore me forever, little one. I am here…even if you choose not to listen. Concentrate on your beloved surroundings then, for believe me, you will not enjoy them for much}
Awareness had returned to his senses on this day, and after so much time without total control over his own body, to have it back seemed like too much. He still felt that it was overwhelming. He went in the same horse with Gimli, and they followed Gandalf closely, for Gimli feared the wood. But Legolas did not. This nature reminded him of his beloved Mirkwood, and the trees around them, however mysterious they seemed, sang in joy when among times of war they sensed a Wood elf between them.
{You are pathetic child. Looking at the trees as if they would save you from what you have done to yourself}
Legolas would have sung to them, had he been able. He would have smiled and climbed one, and sung to them the songs of this home, to help them visualize forests beyond this dark lands. He would have sat with them for hours, just singing and relaxing…and smiling… but he could not. He could not smile, nor could he sing…and heading towards war, it was very unlikely that he would be allowed to stop his advance. Still, he needed these trees. They gave him the strength that he no longer felt. Their song with mixed themes of joy and sorrow made him feel needed, something that he had not felt since…since Moria? The elf sighed, and attempted to focus on the task at hand. They were headed to save the land, to fight the Dark Lord, and here he was thinking of the trees…
{Pathetic}
But he wanted to be with the trees…
Stealing side-glances to them, Legolas felt frustration building up, among with the strange desire to burst out laughing. He felt like a child. He felt like an exhausted child that carried two lines of thoughts instead of one, a child that carried another presence on his mind. A desperate child trying to cling into whatever small light there was among so much darkness.
Choosing to distract his thoughts, and hopefully the taunting voice inside his thoughts, Legolas rode his horse closer to Mithrandir's.
"It is hot in here," said Legolas to Gandalf. "I feel a great wrath about me. Do you not feel the air throb in your ears?"
"Yes," answered Gandalf, his glance towards the blue eyes of the elf, told Legolas that he knew what he was trying to do.
"What has become of the miserable Orcs?" Legolas asked, refusing to give up his hope to distract himself.
"That, I think, no one will ever know," Gandalf responded, with a touch of finality to his voice.
{Not even your friends will help you any longer}
Disappointed, Legolas gave up his attempt at conversation with the wizard, and concentrated back on the trees. They were his only hope then…the only thing that would keep him from listening to the foul voice. The company rode in silence for a while; but Legolas was ever glancing from side to side, and would often have halted to listen to the sounds of the wood, if Gimli had allowed it.
"These are the strangest trees that ever I saw," Legolas tried to explain to the stubborn dwarf "and I have seen many an oak grow from acorn to ruinous age. I wish that there were leisure now to walk among them: they have voices, and in time I might come to understand their thought."
{Please…let me stop for a second…I need something, and the trees provide it}
{Child}
"No, no!" said Gimli. "Let us leave them! I guess their thought already: hatred of all that go on two legs; and their speech is of crushing and strangling."
Legolas frowned, displeased with the assumption. He vaguely realized that this was working; he was not listening to anything but his friend's voice.
"Not of all that go on two legs," said Legolas. "There I think you are wrong. It is Orcs that they hate. For they do not belong here and know little of Elves and Men. Far away are the valleys where they sprang. From the deep dales of Fangorn, Gimli, that is whence they come, I guess."
"Then that is the most perilous wood in Middle-earth," said Gimli. "I should be grateful for the part they have played, but I do not love them. You may think them wonderful, but I have seen a greater wonder in this land…" The dwarf started to tell him about the caves of Helm's Deep, and Legolas sighed. No cave would ever breath, and no stonewall would ever sing to him the song of endless years.
"…Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief glance!" Gimli said then.
Seeing his chance to tease the dwarf, he spoke "And I would give gold to be excused," said Legolas dryly; "and double to be let out, if I strayed in!" Mithrandir glanced back at him with the barest of grins, and Legolas allowed his face to break into the slightest smile. This felt good.
{You do not deserve good}
Seeing the elf's expression, Gimli controlled his urge to laugh, "You have not seen, so I forgive your jest," said he. "But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood…"
And *then* he really started to ramble. Legolas smiled at him, listening to the tales that spoke of real beauty hidden beneath the work of art that was nature.
{Neither do you deserve that smile; erase it from your face. Boromir no longer smiles because of you. Neither does Frodo, nor Merry, nor Pippin…}
"…The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them." Gimli concluded, with a sigh that made Legolas grin.
He had not smiled this way in months.
"Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli," said the Elf, extending as long as he was able the most pleasing talk he had had with anyone since this burden had been added to his shoulders.
{The burden of your deeds, little one?}
"That you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made."
Gimli answered with such eloquence, that he just knew his father would be on the floor laughing now. He had not believed dwarf to be capable of such moving words. But Legolas was not laughing…for in his words, he saw hope.
{Hope with a dwarf? Your father would be so proud, princeling…}
"You move me, Gimli," said Legolas. "I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. Come! Let us make this bargain-if we both return safe out of the perils that await us, we will journey for a while together. You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to see Helm's Deep."
"That would not be the way of return that I should choose," said Gimli carefully, noticing the new light entering pools of blue. "But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to come back to the caves and share their wonder with me."
"You have my promise," said Legolas, as a weight was lifted from his shoulders. "But alas! Now we must leave behind both cave and wood for a while: See! We are coming to the end of the trees. How far is it to Isengard, Gandalf?"
"About fifteen leagues, as the crows of Saruman make it" said Gandalf. The wizard, not having missed one detail of the conversation that had just transpired, was able to see some light at the end of the tunnel…yet it seemed dim: "five from the mouth of Deeping-coomb to the Fords: and ten more from there to the gates of Isengard. But we shall not ride all the way this night."
"And when we come there, what shall we see?" asked Gimli. "You may know, but I cannot guess."
{I tell what you will see, little prince. You will see your future, your doom…}
"I do not know myself for certain," answered the wizard calmly. "I was there at nightfall yesterday, but much may have happened since." He paused and inwardly smiled, glancing at the smiling elf "Yet I think that you will not say that the journey was in vain - not though the Glittering Caves of Aglarond be left behind."
Finally, they reached the end of trees. Legolas looked back to them with regret, knowing he would not be listening to their song in a long time to come. Suddenly, his keen gaze detected something so surprising; he was unable to retain his cry. "There are eyes!" he said. "Eyes looking out from the shadows of the boughs! I never saw such eyes before."
{Delusional}
The others, surprised by his cry, halted and turned; but Legolas started to ride back.
{If I hear real voices, then I see real eyes} he thought angrily, finally answering the taunting voice that had mocked him for the entire ride.
"No, no!" Cried Gimli. "Do as you please in your madness, but let me first get down from this horse! I wish to see no eyes!"
Aragorn was biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Now that was the elf he knew. That was his dear friend.
"Stay, Legolas Greenleaf!" said Gandalf. "Do not go back into the wood, not yet! Now is not your time."
Even as he spoke, there came forward out of the trees three strange shapes.
With wide eyes the elf halted and watched, even as he felt Gimli get impossible tense behind him. The shapes were enormous with long limbs and many fingers. They gazed towards the north, ignoring the riders that stood gaping at them. Suddenly they lifted their long hands to their mouths, and sent forth ringing calls, clear as notes of a horn, but more musical and various. The calls were answered; and turning again, the riders saw other creatures of the same kind approaching, striding through the grass from the North. The riders cried out, and some even attempted to draw their swords, but Gandalf advised them against it.
Legolas stared in wonder and glee, for he believed to know what these creatures were, and ever since his childhood, all those centuries ago, he had desired to see them. Now he could barely believe his eyes.
{You are still a child}
The Ents paid them no mind as they strode into the wood and vanished from their sight. Gimli let out a sigh of relief at his back, and Legolas laughed. If he did not have Aragorn's eyes on him he would have rode after them, with or without the dwarf at his back. Fighting his impulse to ride towards the wood, Legolas nodded to Aragorn and listened half-heartedly to the conversation going on between Gandalf and Théoden.
The company turned then away from the Coomb and from the wood and took the road towards the Fords. Legolas followed reluctantly, while Gimli patted his shoulder in mock comfort. Legolas glared at him over his shoulder. The sun had set, already it had sunk behind the rim of the world; but as they rode out from the shadow of the hills and looked west to the Gap of Rohan the sky was still red, and a burning light was under the floating clouds. The company rode at an easy pace, as the moon ascended the skies and dark fell around them.
They had ridden for some four hours from the branching of the roads when they drew near to the Fords. Grief along with the sense of losses and death weighted heavily on this land, as Legolas looked around in silence: This had been a battlefield that was for certain. Théoden's words later confirmed it. Following Gandalf's lead the riders passed through the sorrow filled fields, and Legolas ignored as best as he could the cries of the grieving nature.
{You hide from the battle that you know you must fight, little one. You ignore my presence as if I did not exist…but I do, princeling, I exist. And I shall be with you beyond the day in which you receive your punishment…for you shall receive it soon}
"…That wolf-riders and plunderers might ride nonetheless to Meduseld, while it was undefended. But now I think you need not fear: you will find your house to welcome your return." Gandalf was saying
"And glad shall I be to see it again," answered King Théoden, "though brief now, I doubt not, shall be my abiding there."
{Keep your silence, foul one; I am tired to listen to your ramblings. I shall hear thy words no longer}
{Brave words for such a coward, little one}
With that the company said farewell to the island and the mound, and passed over the river, and climbed the further bank. Then they rode on, glad to have left the mournful Fords. As they went the howling of the wolves broke out anew. It brought a strange kind of calm to Legolas' mind. They rode now more swiftly, and by midnight the Fords were nearly five leagues behind. Then they halted, ending their night's journey, for the King was weary. They were come to the feet of the Misty Mountains, and the long arms of Nan Curunír stretched down to meet them. Dark was the scenery, and darker Legolas' thoughts became.
{You cannot send me to be quiet, Prince of Mirkwood. I am more than you are…I am stronger than you are. And I am the one in real control of you. You cannot send your mind to be quiet, for you mind is what I have become}
Ignoring the conversation going on about the seemingly burning Wizard's Vale, Legolas focused his mind in only one task. The camp. They camped beside the bed of the Isen River; it was still silent and empty. Some of them slept a little. But late in the night the watchmen cried out, and all awoke.
Legolas jumped up from the ground and looked around them in alarm. His blood froze at the sight. . The moon was gone. Stars were shining above; but over the ground there crept a darkness blacker than the night. On both sides of the river it rolled towards them, going northward.
"Stay where you are!" cried Gandalf. "Draw no weapons! Wait! And it will pass you by!"
But Legolas saw beyond the mist that gathered about them. He saw the shapes, the bodies and the faces…
{Here is your future little one}
Voices they all heard, whisperings and groanings and an endless rustling sigh; the earth shook under them. But Legolas heard beyond that.
"Death" "Blood" "My blood" "My soul" "My light" "My life" "They are gone" "My daughter…" "My brother…" "What have I done?" "Betrayed" "Tortured" "A shadow I have become" "Your fault…" "My fault…" "Murder" "Cruelty" "Unfair" "Injustice" "Traitor" "My price…"
The agonized cries went on around him; in a gloom so intense he could not see his own two feet. But he could see their blood; he could see their faces…
{You see it, then?}
Wait…
Nay…
It was an illusion!
Shaking his head in anger, fright and confusion. Legolas closed his eyes tightly, and focused his mind on the tales of his childhood, of the gentle voices of the shepherds of the trees. The sweet song that they called their language…he could feel nature now. Not death, not grief…
When he reopened his eyes the shadows were slowly getting past them, and he no longer heard their cries nor did he see their faces. For they had never been there. At last, when the last wall of shadow passed him by, he could hear the tired sigh of a long life that had revenged the unfairness. That had slain the orcs.
His face pale beyond what was normal. His eyes wide like one who has faced a Balrog, Legolas sat in the ground.
{My future?}
To be continued
R&R please! Let me know your opinion!