Hello! Thanks for those who took the time to review the teaser chapter for this fic!! I really appreciate your input!
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Rating: R
Pairing: Legolas/Elrohir
Landslide
By NekoMegami_chan
Chapter II
I took my love and
I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide brought me down
Every manner of creature that walked, flew, or swam was moving about. The storm that had brought a deep layer of fresh snow the previous night had abated, but dark clouds hovered on the distant horizon.
As the day drew to its close, Legolas mounted the crest of the mountain and turned back to gaze down in the direction he had come. The Misty Mountains were laid out at his feet and in the growing twilight the heavy clouds settled down into their crags and canyons like dogs curling around the leg of the master's chair.
The sun was setting at his back, and the beauty of Middle Earth was so tangible in the fading light that he was moved to song. It was a reflection of his soul to see the snow-kissed cliffs extending as far as even his keen eyes could see, as wild and free as his heart. Oh, how he loved this land! Legolas thought as he sang the chorus of an ancient tune. It was a praise for the living things of the earth and he could feel the trees that dotted the gentler slopes sigh in response to his voice.
Not wishing to spend the night at the top of the mountain, for the wind that swept over the treeless peak chilled even elven flesh; he began to pick his way down the opposite slope in the deepening gloom.
As he reached the sparse tree line he noticed that the large branches of the thin copse of evergreens were heavily laden with it. These trees were different from the ones from whence he had only just come. They spoke of a fire that had burned here seasons ago, leaving those that had survived brittle and weak. Several appeared ready to crumble from the strain.
Taking pity on the trees he sang his song once more; seeking to give the tired trees hope. His kindness was to prove his undoing.
The war was over and nearly two years had passed since the One Ring had been destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom, and Saruman the White cast down. Yet the remnants of the armies of evil were yet widely scattered. Orcs had returned to their ancient haunts, hiding out in caves and wild places thick with vegetation, anywhere they could conceal their presence from the Men who hunted them without mercy. They still hungered for the flesh of their enemies.
Legolas felt the weary trees withdraw as they sensed something distasteful moving in their midst, though their warning was nearly too late for it to be of any use. The wind rushed loudly, making the elf's golden mane lift from his shoulders like a silken banner, the same wind that had taken his scent to the nearby orcs and masked the sounds of their movement as effectively as if the prince had had wax plugs in his ears.
Snarling and swinging their rusty blades and nail-studded clubs they leapt from the top of a nearby embankment. They had lain in ambush beneath the shelter of some tall shrubs waiting for just such an opportunity. Elk were good, but elves were better!
Their numbers Legolas could not yet discern, but his seasoned instincts took over ere the first of the monsters touched the snowy ground once more. Swiftly he drew his bow, notching an arrow that flew almost as soon as it had touched the string. The orc snarled and grasped at the shaft sticking out from its ribs. Still thrashing it toppled to the ground, befouling the once pristine snow with its black blood. However, the felled beast was just one of a group of two score or more who now descended upon Legolas, roaring with pleasure at having found such beautiful meat to fill their empty bellies.
He fired shot after shot into the scarred and misshapen bodies, keeping them at bay until his quiver was empty. Even as he was drawing his long knives, a sickening crack followed by a low rumble sounded over the deafening roars of his assailants. The ground trembled as if in pain or fear. He watched as a great hunk of the steep embankment of snow and rock give up its tenuous hold on the mountain.
Although Legolas had never run from an enemy, he knew that his life was forfeit to this act of nature. The mountain cried out in anger, seeking to purge itself of the foul parasites living off of it, shedding blood for sport as much as for sustenance. Sheathing his weapons he ducked under the halfhearted sword swipe of one confused orc and took to his heels.
Legolas all but flew down the slope, his light feet barely touching the snow. Leaping over boulders and dodging trees he sought only escape. Behind him the smarter orcs belatedly followed his example, their crude legs propelling them surprisingly quickly through the deep powder. The slower creatures were swallowed up by the avalanche without as much as a cry.
Halfway down the slope Legolas' lungs began to burn. The icy night's chill had set in, searing through his chest with every frantic breath. The grey darkness of a fog-shrouded night oppressed his senses. He forced his body harder as rocks began to break loose from the frozen ground. It was as if they too tried to escape the mountain's unchecked fury.
The landslide drew closer, picking of speed and force as it went. The strangled yelps of nearby orcs reached his ears ere their voices were abruptly swept away.
Charging out of a stand of pine, Legolas' wild flight was arrested in mid-leap. A solid wall of snow, ice and earth hit him, knocking him clear of his breath and his senses. His mind darkened by pain, he was vaguely aware of being carried downhill. He could neither see, nor hear, nor breathe and yet his barely conscious thoughts were of Elrohir. He would never see his beloved's finely featured face again. For he could only hope that Elrohir would sail away to the Grey Havens and there live for eternity. The other alternative; that his lover might die from grief and guilt - the products of a broken heart - never occurred to him.
* * *
A new agony arose to wrench Legolas from his dreamlike state. Something unseen flailed around beside him, an orc's club shredded the flesh of his right shin. The fresh pain galvanized his fighting spirit back into action and he sat up, kicking with his good leg and clawing at the snow as he sought the open night air above.
Like a drowning man, his pale face sprang over the onslaught of snow and debris and he sucked in a shallow breath, coughing pitifully. His back was to the direction the avalanche was dragging him but even the endurance of an elven prince and warrior had limits. It took all of his waning strength to keep above the surface.
The terrifying ride ended abruptly when first his left arm, then hip collided with a large granite boulder as he passed it by. Ere he could cry out he tumbled head over heels and came to land atop a drift of unmoving snow.
After long moments he managed to rise and made for the relative shelter of a tree that stood close by. Pain gnawed at him like a ravenous wolf and Legolas observed the scene around him through half-lidded eyes heavy with ice encrusted lashes.
Sure enough, a good number of the orcs seemed to have survived as well. The evil creatures were scrabbling for purchase on the rocks and trees as they passed. All nursed their own injuries as they sought escape. The fell monsters had their own problems now, and if he stayed out of their direct line of sight then he may yet see Elrohir's beautiful face once more.
One passed quite closely to Legolas' hiding place, its hideous snout sniffing loudly as it caught the scent of elf-blood. Through the dense grey mists it came, limping from some unseen injury and snuffing with steadily increasing excitement. "Where are you, you fair one? I can smell your cooling corpse!" It muttered gleefully to itself.
Not wishing to be discovered in this wounded state, Legolas hurriedly covered his still bleeding leg in the snow to mask the scent and drew one long knife. To the elf's advantage the orc thought him dead, giving him the element of surprise.
Though the orc wandered within a dagger's-throw, it seemed to grow confused. Finally it pulled one of its half dead companions out of a snow drift and slung the groaning creature over one shoulder. The dying orc would take his place in the belly of its fellows this night. Legolas knew this with grim certainty and he nearly pitied it.
The elf fell into a light slumber, no longer able to remain conscious. It was the deep of night when he next awoke to find his frigid fingers still wrapped firmly around the dragon-ivory handle of his weapon. Sheathing it, he rubbed his eyes clear and peered through the vale of pine needles.
The shadowed bulk of uprooted trees rested like hulking black ships upon a luminescent sea. The weak light of a nearly full moon filtered through the fog to shimmer along the bared branches. In the distance a small heard of deer stood amid a cluster of low bushes, their ears only lazily swiveling 'round to scan their surroundings. The animals' lack of distress was comforting.
Thanking the tree at his back, he began to take stock of himself. His upper left arm and left hip were clearly broken. The latter hurt far worse, the ache spreading into his side and lower back. His head swum, making him nauseous. Gingerly, he extracted his damaged leg and inspected the torn flesh beneath the mutilated fabric of his leggings. He could make little sense out of the bloody mess, but the white gleam of bone could be seen beneath the thin covering of skin, muscle and sinew of his shin.
Having traveled light, Legolas carried only a pouch at his belt. The oiled leather bag contained a half-eaten wafer of lembas, a coin purse, a piece of flint, and a small roll of bandages. A flask of dwarf spirits was also included; a parting gift from Gimli.
Drawing his sodden cloak closer around his shoulders, he upended the contents of the pouch. He took a long drink of the spirits and grimacing at the fiery liquid, poured a liberal amount over his swollen leg. Clenching his teeth at the burning sting of the alcohol on his raw flesh, Legolas cut away the tattered remnants of his leggings and firmly bandaged the leg from knee to ankle.
Replacing the flask after a second strengthening swallow, he bit off a corner of lembas. The way bread was somewhat stale from dampness and age, the last remnants of his most recent visit to Lorien. Nevertheless it was food and he chewed thoughtfully, resting back against the tree.
* * *
Oh, mirror in the
sky - what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
As Legolas lay attempting to regain his lost vitality, he wandered through his mind. His eyes stared fixedly at the sky, seeing the far away images of another time. Times when Elrohir, Elladan, and he had hunted in the forests of Rivendell. O, how often they had returned home laughing and singing, the meat of their kills slung across their shoulders!
So many beloved memories vied for his attention that his heart ached with desire to hold Elrohir in his arms once more. He longed to be held in return, to be soothed. Although it would not have been unwelcome for Elladan and his healing skills to be here at present.
Young elves often found themselves in love with Love itself, but Legolas knew that he had indeed been fortunate to have found his precious Elrohir so early in their immortal lives. While it was not uncommon for elves well into their fifth millennia to couple with those only entering their second, it was rare for such a relationship as Legolas had with Elrohir to blossom so fully. Youths were known to experiment, and such experiments were seen as an acceptable stage in finding personal identity; although those who did were often counseled to move on after a short time.
Legolas had long suspected that his deep love for Elrohir went without discussion simply out of respect for the two princes' positions.
Dawn was slowly approaching and in the distance, Legolas could make out the figure of a pale bird wheeling over the peak of the mountain. His mind instantly turned to thoughts of the sea. He had heard the cry of the gull. He dared not leave too soon; his ties to Middle Earth were yet too strong to be broken. He had mortal companions whom he loved and would not care to be parted from so long as they lived, to do so would feel too much like abandonment. No, Legolas would not sail into the west, not yet.
He was young still, but the world was changing around him. The age of the Elves had passed, and the age of Men already begun, like the changing of the seasons. Aragorn, the adopted son of Elrond, the twin's little foster-brother Estel, was now King Elessar of Gondor. Legolas had become the best of friends with Gimli, a dwarf! The Dwarves had finally begun to emerge from the darkness of their great mountain halls and were working side by side with Men to forge roads and rebuild cities, no less. The land itself was being altered as the newly reawakened Ents herded their trees and tended the newly law protected forests of Middle Earth. The Shire was now a sovereign state recognized by all races. The world was a new place and Legolas. For the first time in his life, he began to feel that he did not quite belong. The spring of his youth was giving way into the eternal summer of his maturity...
