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Disclaimer: Based on 'The Lord of the Rings', by JRR Tolkien. This is a non-commercial work. No infringement of copyright is intended.

"Window of the Sunset" is the fourth in the Broken Fellowship Series. It is strongly recommended that you read the previous stories first.


The Broken Fellowship, Book IV:

Window of the Sunset

Chapter 5: Promises of Death

by Lizardbeth Johnson


The creatures attacked. They were some sort of serpents, Legolas saw as one came at him. It had silver fish-like scales mottled with green and brown, was twice as long as he was high and as thick as his arm, with a broad, spade-shaped head. It had launched itself out of the water like a spear.

He fired his arrow straight into its open, toothless mouth but the arrow didn't even slow it down. It slammed into his chest, knocking him backward into the water. The cold water was almost as much of a shock as the impact, especially as his head splashed and the water closed over his face. The serpent's heavy weight settled onto him even as he grabbed coils of it, to keep it from wrapping him around the neck. The tail slid around his waist and then a second coil joined it, wrapping him tightly even while he struggled to hold onto it. But his fingers could barely grasp the slick skin.

He struggled not to breathe underwater, even as it wrapped his chest and abdomen in an ever-constricting grip. He fought to keep his hands free, having strength enough for that, but not enough to pull it off him. He grabbed the snake behind the head with both hands and squeezed. It seemed not to notice. Coils flowed up his arm, threatening to trap his hands.

Knowing the only way out of this was to take a risk, he opened his right hand and grabbed for the hilt of a weapon behind his head. Quick as lightning the serpent pulled loose of his other hand and had a coil around his neck.

His fingers grasped the sword hilt, but he was lying atop the scabbard and he had no leverage to pull the sword. He let go to search for a knife, but couldn't find one. His weapons harness had shifted position when he fell, and he fumbled behind his head, fingers digging in the mud.

Valar, help me, he prayed.

He couldn't breathe. It was tightening on his throat, like a noose around his neck slowly strangling him. He wanted to take a desperate breath, draw air in through his tortured throat, but could not beneath the water.

What of Sam? he thought suddenly. There was another creature.

Filled with a last burst of panicked strength, he struggled and stretched, one hand trying to pull the serpent off, and the other still feeling for his knives.

There. The tips of his fingers felt the hilt of his knife under his opposite shoulder and with a heave that caused a sharp pain in his wrist, he managed to grasp the hilt and pull it.

He stabbed the serpent just below the head. The coils tightened, and he stabbed again, seeking to sever its spine.

It writhed in its death throes, putting painful pressure on his ribs and squeezing his wound in a vise, but finally, he thrust the blade between two vertebrae, cutting the snake apart. It gave a shudder and was still. The coils loosened enough that he pulled one off his neck and pushed himself up, gasping for air and unable to believe he had nearly drowned in less than three handspans of water.

He glanced around for Sam, seeing a snake-wrapped form to his left in the water. "Sam!"

Legolas yanked limp and heavy coils off himself so he could stand, and freed his sword as he ran, hoping his little halfling friend was still alive.

Though wrapped by at least six coils around his body, Sam's head was out of the water. His eyes were open and when he saw Legolas, he gasped for help with scarcely any breath.

There was not much time.

Legolas grabbed the serpent behind the head, ignoring the open, unfanged mouth, and pulled. Sam gasped as the coils tightened around him, but Legolas pulled again, forcing the creature away from Sam.

With his other hand, he brought the sword down. It cut cleanly, severing the serpent's head from its body. He flung the head away and bent to help loosen the rest of the serpent.

After he was free, Sam continued to sit in the water and rub his throat.

"Are you hurt?" Legolas asked in concern, kneeling beside him. He too was soaked through to the skin, and it no longer seemed to make any difference whether he was in the water or not.

Sam shook his head. "I thought you were dead," he said finally. "You didn't come, and I thought it had gotten you."

"It was a near thing," Legolas wrung the excess water out of his hair. "Come, Samwise, it is cold and we are both wet. We need to get clear of this fen and build a fire."

He stood and extended his hand to help Sam up. But Sam didn't take it immediately. He looked up at Legolas, who could see the anger spark in those usually mild eyes. "Gollum betrayed us."

"Yes, he did," Legolas agreed. He turned once in a circle, looking for a sign of the creature. There was none. Nor was there any mercy left in his heart, not after this. Not after both he and Sam nearly died. Coldly he answered Sam's unspoken question, "The next time I see him, I will kill him. And this time, Samwise, do not stop me."

It did not even bother him that the ring felt warm on his hand at the oath, and his various aches completely disappeared. His desire and the ring's desire were, in that moment, completely in accord.

Gollum would die.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was with a great sense of relief that Sam climbed the slope that marked the end of the Entwash and onto the plain of Anórien. At least they were out of the water and could now start to dry. Unfortunately there were no trees, so little in the way of fuel for a fire.

Though the air was cold, while they kept moving it was not so bad. Only when they paused did the air seem to cut right through his clothes and make him feel like a walking icicle.

"I thought the south was supposed to be warmer," he muttered as he trailed behind Legolas.

"Once the sun rises, it will be warmer," Legolas promised, glancing back over his shoulder at Sam. "Do you want to stop?"

"No," Sam shook his head adamantly, shivering just thinking about it. "Not yet." He glanced eastward where the stars were just beginning to fade with the coming of first light. "Hurry up, Sun," he muttered.

Not long after, the sun rose with a flash of color along the undersides of the wispy clouds and immediately, the air was warmer.

Sam looked at his companion by the bright light, and couldn't help a smile. The elf's usual immaculate look was rumpled -- there was mud drying in his hair and one braid had come undone. The fletchings on some of his arrows were bedraggled, and his clothes were wrinkled and muddy.

"What is it?" Legolas asked, catching his smile.

Sam gestured toward him then down at his own equally disheveled state. "We look as though --"

"We fought giant water-serpents and barely escaped with our lives?" Legolas finished, with a flicker of a smile of his own. "We should make camp. I need to check my gear, and you need to rest."

Legolas found a stand of strange bushes with short little thorns, their branches already carrying new, dark green leaves, for their camp.

"Rest for a little while, Sam," Legolas urged him. He laid both their cloaks and his outer tunic over the bushes to dry. Sam likewise laid out items from his pack, carefully inspecting everything for damage and damp, from when the serpent had clasped him in its tight embrace.

He found his blanket was merely wet on one edge, though it smelled like damp horse, and he sat on it to keep off the dewy grass. Luckily his tinderbox and the tin of salt had remained dry.

As Sam inspected his pack, Legolas did the same with his weapons. The elf seated himself on a flat-topped rock and examined each arrow remaining in his quiver, smoothing the fletchings back into place and laying two aside that needed repair. He then looked at his quiver, frowning at a crack that marred the upper half. He examined his bow minutely, removing the wet string so the wood would dry in the proper shape.

Sam fell asleep to the soft, repetitive sounds of Legolas combing out his hair.

He awoke when Legolas touched his shoulder and shook gently. "Sam, forgive me, but we must continue on."

Sam did not open his eyes for a moment, basking in the sun shining overhead. He felt warm for possibly the first time since Lothlórien.

Legolas' voice sounded amused. "You remind me of a lizard sunbathing on a stone."

"I feel like one," Sam admitted and shifted onto his side, to open his eyes and look up at Legolas.

The disarray from last night was gone. Legolas had put on his overtunic and cloak again and had made some effort to brush off the mud so he looked clean. But more than that, his eyes seemed brighter in the sunlight, and his lips were turned up in a little smirk.

Sam couldn't help smiling back as he sat up and brushed his fingers through his hair. "I guess we should be on our way." He stretched and noticed that his elf-friend had not been idle. He had built a small fire with the dead branches off the bushes of their shelter, and next to it, lay a coney.

"Breakfast first?" Legolas suggested. "It very nearly ran across my foot. I only had to throw a knife at it."

Sam had it cleaned and in his pan quickly and soon the smell of broiled rabbit filled the air. His stomach growled, causing Legolas to laugh.

Unfortunately the rabbit was one of the active ones and was therefore very tough and stringy, but Sam didn't complain. Chewing determinedly, he asked, "So, what's the plan for the rest of the day?"

Legolas, who had been standing on the large rock upwind of the cooking meat, jumped down to the ground. "Walking," he answered, and Sam rolled his eyes at the obvious statement. "Crossing the Anduin if we can. The closer to Cair Andros we come, the more likely we are to encounter Gondorians. I would like to avoid that if possible."

Sam frowned at him. He wanted to ask a question, but couldn't while he was chewing. Legolas waited patiently for him to finish, looking amused. Finally, Sam swallowed his bite. "I thought Cair Andros was an island. Wouldn't it be easier for us to cross there?"

"Yes, it would be, if we were not trying to cross without being seen. However, Boromir said that Gondor had fortified the island and stationed many men to guard it," Legolas answered. "It has a bridge only on the Gondor side, but that still makes it a route for Mordor to gain entry to these lands." His gaze moved off to stare eastward, brow narrowed in thought. "Especially with Saruman's betrayal to the west, Cair Andros will be caught between Angrenost and Mordor. It will likely fall, and the Gondorians retreat to protect Minas Tirith. The city is less than twenty leagues to the south."

"Then, let's be on our way."

Sam repacked his things, and very soon the two were walking south.

*~*~*~*~*~*

That evening Sam returned to the camp and their small fire with water to boil for tea. He found Legolas with Boromir's sword across his lap, drawing a sharpening stone methodically along the edge. For just a moment, Sam hesitated and looked -- truly looked -- at his elvish companion. He suddenly remembered how, at the very beginning of all this, he'd been so thrilled at the mere thought of meeting some elves. He and Frodo had seen them that first night out of Hobbiton, and it had been wondrous. But after Rivendell and Lothlórien, and traveling all these weeks with Legolas, the novelty had quite worn away. Legolas was his friend, and he rarely had a thought that Legolas was an elf. He was no longer blinded by the mystique of the ageless race.

Now, in that quiet moment, he looked at Legolas -- whose skin seemed ash pale in the flickering firelight -- and he saw the weariness that Legolas tried so hard to conceal. The thin angles of his face surely were sharper than when they had started out from Rivendell, and though the lean form still was deceptively strong and quick, it wasn't quite as straight nor as taut like a strung bow as it had been. Of course, nearly dying was bound to do that, even to someone as hardy as an elf.

Having heard Sam approach and then stop, Legolas glanced up with a lifted brow. "Sam? Is everything all right?"

"I was just wondering about you," Sam confessed as he came forward to put the pot in the coals. "You look weary."

With slow steady strokes, Legolas continued sharpening the blade. He didn't try to claim he was well, Sam noticed. "I was thinking," he said instead, watching his hands. "Of a story."

Sam made an encouraging sound, hoping that Legolas would continue. He had spoken very little lately, and not told a story in even longer.

"When I was born," Legolas continued, "my father received a gift from Amroth, who was then king of Lórien. He had received it from the dwarves of Moria -- a child's tunic of mithril mail. It was beautiful -- bright and sparkling like silver, yet light to wear. I wore it only once, when my father and I traveled to a human kingdom. I was quite young, and my father feared for my safety. After I grew, my father intended to trade the tunic to the dwarves in payment for their help with the delving, but I didn't want to give it up. I hoped to make it an heirloom for my child, but," he hesitated for a moment and sighed softly. "I have none. So it gathers dust on the wall of my chamber in my father's halls. Not long ago I realized that the tunic would likely fit a hobbit quite well, if I had thought to bring it with me to Rivendell."

Sam shook his head, hearing what Legolas was not saying in his story. "It's not your fault, Legolas. You couldn't have prevented Frodo's death. You were on the other side of the room, killing the goblins. I was right there -- Strider was there -- and we couldn't stop it. At least you killed the troll before anyone else died."

Legolas ran his fingers down the length of the glimmering edge testing for imperfections, and then turned the blade to work on the other edge. "Perhaps. I do not know. Mortal death is not something I understand. Rarely does bodily death come to those who live under the trees of Mirkwood, as perilous as it is there, and even then we know all the Eldar go to the Halls of Waiting in Valinor."

For a long moment, the fire crackling and the stone rubbing against the metal blade were the only sounds. In a quiet voice, not looking at Sam at all, Legolas said, "I no longer know my fate. That doubt sticks in my mind like a thorn in my hand, and I cannot escape it."

Sam frowned, not liking the turn of the conversation at all. "Well, why should it be any different?"

"Servants of the Shadow are not permitted in Aman."

"You are not a servant of the Shadow!" Sam retorted immediately. "You're not, Legolas. I know you fear the ring, but don't let that fear make you doubt what we're doing. We're going to destroy it, and end the evil."

The elf lifted his head to gaze at Sam across the fire, and his lips curled in a sudden smile. "You say that with such confidence."

Sam glanced away, abashed, but muttered, "Well, one of us has to."

Legolas let out a peal of laughter and suddenly the evening did not seem as dark. "I stand rebuked, young master Samwise. Indeed, we will destroy the evil of the ring." He slid the sword back into its scabbard and took out his knives to sharpen them as well.

"Can I ask you something?" Sam asked, suddenly giving into curiosity. "When were you born?"

Legolas glanced thoughtfully up at the sky. "I do not know what the reckoning of your people would be, if you even have one for those years. It was before the shadow had come to the forest, in the spring of this age when all was bright and green. When the heart of my people was still the mountains, before we went north to dig ourselves a refuge and fortress underground." He glanced at Sam, a smile hovering at his lips again. "I remember when halflings lived in Anduin vale before your people continued westward over the Misty Mountains. I was well past grown then."

Sam considered this for a time. It was no more than he had suspected, knowing that Elrond had lived through the last war with Sauron, but it was still beyond his comprehension. "Doesn't your head, I don't know, get full of stuff after so many years?"

Legolas shook his head. "My people do not count days. We only reckon years of the sun to deal with mortals. Much of our lives are the same, season to season, year after year. It all flows together into one river. There are moments I remember, as clearly as I see you now, but I could not tell you how long ago they were. But I know that it was autumn and the light slanted through the leaves like gold..." His voice dwindled and his expression was distant and wistful, looking north as if he could see the forest of his home.

He returned to stroking the blade of his knife across the stone with a little shake to rouse himself from the memory. "I am glad that I am old enough to know what the forest was like before the poison of Dol Guldur spread northward. When I sleep that is what I remember. When Sauron is gone, my people will cleanse the forest and return to what they were before."

Sam nodded. "Then that's something to hold onto, isn't it? It's just like Master Elrond said at the Council -- Mordor threatens everybody, from Mirkwood to the Shire." He thought about the Shire for a moment, and felt sympathy for Legolas who remembered his home as a place of peace and beauty, though it hadn't been that way for some two thousand years. At least the Shire was still untouched. "Though it seems to me that your people and Gondor have faced the worst of it."

"At least Mirkwood and Gondor still stand. And they will stand." Legolas finished with his knives and put them back in their leather sheaths. "But you're right -- that is no little thing to hold to. Here, hand me Sting, and I will check the blade."

Sam handed the elvish short sword to him, hilt-first, relieved to see that there was no glow to the blade.

Legolas held it in his hand, admiring its lines in the firelight. "Made in the First Age, if I read the markings correctly. Do you know how Bilbo acquired it?" Legolas asked as he tested the edge.

Sam nodded. "Of course, it was one of his favorite tales." He added ruefully, "After the dragon, and escaping from your house in a barrel."

Legolas flashed a little smirk. "I told Bilbo in Imladris that there are gates in the river now. He would not be able to escape that way today. My father was quite... chagrined to discover such an obvious hole in our security. But go on, Sam, tell me the tale of the finding of Sting."

As Sam made himself tea with water and a sprig of mint, he told the story, glad that Legolas' spirit seemed lighter, even as he sharpened all their weapons, as if in preparation for a battle to come.



Continued in Chapter 6: Cair Andros