"Merry!"
"Merry!"
Merry looked back at Pippin in annoyance. "What?"
"I think we've bin goin' in circles," Pippin whispered, glancing up nervously to make sure Aragorn had not heard. Merry, too, looked up quickly. Aragorn had grown steadily angrier, until the slightest provocation set him off. The rest of the company walked on eggshells, though their nerves were also on edge.
They had entered the dark forest quite some time before. The exact amount of time was difficult to judge. The sun seemed to rise and fall randomly, without reason. Their food had long since disappeared, suggesting that they had, in fact, been wandering for a month. Yet it felt like only a few days. Following the path around the base of the mountain, they had reached a point in which the path veered away. At first, Aragorn had attempted to slash directly through the undergrowth. He had been unable to cut through many of the plants however and they had almost seemed to constrict around him.
"You're not alone, Pip," Sam said, catching up. "This is the third time we crossed that creek. Look!" He held up a small leather bag. "I left this at the edge, the last time we went over. That was six or seven sunsets ago." Frodo and Merry exchanged glances.
"And nothing.feels right, if you know what I mean," Sam said, rubbing his arms apprehensively. Pippin nodded emphatically. His hand rested on the hilt of his short sword. His skin had been crawling since they'd entered the woods.
"I feel it, too. But unless you fancy having a chat with him," Merry said, jerking his thumb back at Aragorn, "We follow his lead."
Elrond stood near the edge of their encampment, staring off into the wood. The darkness was unlike any he had known before. The heavy branches above shut out all starlight. The atmosphere seemed cloying, as though it were holding them in place. The humans and Hobbits fell drowsy more and more often. They were sleeping nearly half the day away now. Even he was feeling the heaviness inherent around him. The air was suffocating, pressing him down.
He turned with difficulty, and saw the humans and Hobbits fast asleep, lying in odd positions, as though they had simply fallen over. Elrohir was leaning heavily on his bow, blinking rapidly, while Ellahan was making his way slowly towards his father.
"A sickness?" he wheezed. Elrond tried to shake his head, but it would no longer respond. He slid to the ground; his body heavier than it had ever felt before.
"Dark." he whispered and his eyes closed involuntarily. "Sleep." The trees and vines formed a sinuous tarp, blocking out all light and closing in around the sleeping forms as though in perverse protectiveness.
High above, a dark figure watched in satisfaction.
"Not yet, bright one, not yet."
********
**Water.** Thirst penetrated her slumber. **Need water.** Miranda blinked open her eyes, wincing at the thin shaft of light that fell through the canopy of leaves above. **I will never, ever drink again,** she though as she tried to roll to her side. But instead of feeling the soft mattress of her cot beneath her, she felt dried leaves and soft mud. Her foot slipped from its perch fell six inches with a soft splash.
"Water," Miranda croaked, and tried to sit up. White-hot pain shot up her thigh to her groin muscle and stomach as she twisted her leg. Better to lie still. If she didn't move, the pain wasn't there. But her throat was scratchy and her tongue felt oddly huge, as though it had swollen to three times its normal size. She was so thirsty.
"Drink slowly," said a soft voice near her ear. Legolas. She felt droplets of water hit her jaw and instinctively opened her mouth. Water, blessedly cool water slid over her tongue and down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, but a heavy hand held her shoulder down. "If you move, it will hurt." So she tried to lie quietly, allowing him to trickle handfuls of water into her open mouth.
As her thirst was slowly quenched, she noticed the taste of the water. It tasted rusty, lots of iron, like blood- her eyes opened wide in shock as the full reason for the pain in her leg and the hollow sound of Legolas's voice came rushing back.
Gimli. Gimli was dead.
Tears formed in her dry eyes, and spilled down her cheeks to her temples. Gimli was dead. Legolas. He must be hurting. She turned her stiff neck slowly and he swam into focus. He was seated not six inches away, staring into the stream vacantly.
"Legolas," she said, her voice cracking. He did not look at her, but continued to stare at the water. She tried to reach out her hand, but hissed in pain as the movement jarred her leg. Legolas didn't move.
"I set your leg, but you are badly injured. It is best if you rest." His tone was curt, abrupt. Miranda lay still, hurt by his utter indifference both to her motion of empathy and to her pain. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back asleep.
********
Legolas blinked and came back to himself. The feeble light that had shone through the forest was gone and the night was starless. He had traveled within his memories, reliving his journeys with Gimli. He smiled as he recalled their inauspicious first meeting in Imladris- Gimli's harsh words and passionate decree of hate for all Elves. He, Legolas, had been no better. Set in his ways, certain that he knew everything.
"So arrogant," he murmured. Gimli had cured him of that, though. In spite of his gruff demeanor and growling temper, Gimli laughed often and hard. He'd taught Legolas to take himself less seriously, no small feat for an Elf. And he'd given his life for Legolas-for Legolas and Miranda. He laid his head on his knees and withdrew into himself again, grieving for a brave warrior and dear friend.
As morning dawned, Miranda felt herself being lightly shaken. She opened bleary eyes and was greeted by Legolas's angry face.
"Wha- Legolas?" She reached out to touch him but he looked away.
**He blames me,** she thought. **He blames me for Gimli's death.** And he was right to. It was her fault Gimli was dead. If she hadn't been hurt, if she hadn't fallen, if she hadn't gotten them caught in the damned mountain in the first place..
"Legolas..I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her voice trailed off as she struggled with the inadequacy of her words. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have-"
"No," Legolas said abruptly. "It is not your fault. But I.I cannot look at you. Not yet." He rose to his feet, still looking away. "His axe." He stopped. "Gimli dropped his axe. I am going to retrieve it. I will be gone less than a day. You will be safe here, I believe. Stay close to the water. If someone should happen by, you may conceal yourself in the waterweeds. The beasts cannot scent you there."
Miranda nodded, and turned her head, but he was already gone, his path silent and swift. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her how long it had been since her last meal of lembas.
**What I wouldn't give for a hot, greasy plate of chips. And a bottle of aspirin,** she added silently as her leg throbbed hotly.
************
Legolas dropped from the tree he had climbed, landing silently. He was lost. Having never been lost before, he was confused by the very idea. The woods seemed to be shifting, somehow, swallowing the path as he moved. Baring his teeth in frustration, he reached behind him, grasping the carved-handled daggers on his back. Slashing angrily at the vegetation before him, he made his own way, away from the path towards the mountain. He broke through into a clearing, suddenly, nimbly sidestepping a prone body.
"Master Elrond?" The form before him stirred and blinked in the bright light shining behind Legolas. As though a spell had been broken, the other bodies began to wake, rubbing eyes and stumbling to wobbly feet.
"Aragorn! What has happened?" Legolas dropped to his knees beside his friend. Aragorn rubbed his head, as though confused and looked slowly from left to right.
"We were circling the mountain, looking for a way to enter when the forest seemed to.seemed to close in around us. And we became tired, too tired to continue. That is the last thing I remember." Legolas nodded.
"The forest seemed to hide the path from me, doubling back and changing direction. But when I left it and cut directly through, the plants offered little resistance."
"Where's Miranda? And Gimli?" said Pippin, rubbing his sore rear. He had fallen asleep on a rather uncomfortable root.
Legolas's face darkened and he looked away. "Gimli is dead. Miranda badly injured." Aragorn gazed at Legolas, and grasped his shoulders firmly. He'd never seen Legolas look so lost.
"How?" Aragorn asked simply. Legolas haltingly explained their journey through the mountain, ending it with his leave-taking of Miranda. After picking up their encampment, the entire group returned to find Miranda. While the others rested, Elrond placed his hand on Miranda's leg and fell into a healing trance. When she woke, Miranda found herself surrounded by familiar faces.
"Sam!" She found herself wrapped in a several arms with a furry tail thwapping her leg.
"Gimli-" Sam began, tears coursing down his face. Miranda nodded and buried her face against his small, but sturdy shoulder. Together, they all mourned their loss. All too soon, however, they continued on the path, searching for the mountain. As the sun rose the following morning, Aragorn and Elrond were conferring with Legolas about the best way to enter the mountain.
"If we can find the cave from which Miranda and I exited we might-Look!" The Elves and Hobbits turned at Legolas's exclamation. Directly behind him was the open expanse of rocks that led to the entrance of the mountain. Concerned glances were exchanged.
"That was not there five minutes ago," Merry said carefully.
"The forest seems to have opened up," Aragorn said, creeping towards the opening in the trees. Ahead, he could make out the dark entryway, though it was very far off. As he scanned the area for signs of life, he caught movement from the far left.
"Legolas! Something moves there," Aragorn said, pointing off in the distance. Legolas stared hard and grabbed Aragorn's arm.
"It is General Mangor and his men. They come swiftly, as though-" Instinctively, Legolas reached for his bow. "As though being chased." The group waited tensely, but nothing appeared behind the general's men.
"Milord!" General Mangor said, sliding off his mount. He was bloody, his sword in hand. "There are Orcs and enormous wolves," he wheezed. "They appeared from a hidden entry into the mountain and attacked, but retreated as the sun rose. I fear they will come once the sun sets again. We must leave, now!" Miranda and Sam started to turn, only to happy to run, but Aragorn's voice rang out.
"No." He drew his sword. "If that is the only way into the mountain, then we will fight." His tone was final. He and the Elves would not stop until they had freed Arwen and Legolas would not stop till he had avenged Gimli's death. General Mangor sighed, but nodded.
"I suggest we seek the higher ground there," he said, nodding with head. As the day progressed, they set up a barrier, stocked weapons and prepared to fight. Miranda watched Legolas, her heart heavy. She started as one of the general's soldiers tapped her shoulder.
"My lady, may I offer you a mount? It would be safer for you, I think. The Elf advised it," he said, offering her reins. She took them, comforted by Arod's familiar face.
As the sun started to sink, Aragorn gave Miranda and the Hobbits strict instructions to stay back, and only fight to defend themselves. Merry and Pippin pulled back, insulted, but Sam thought it sound advice. He remembered only too well, his previous encounters with Orcs. As the last vestiges of sun disappeared, movement started at the mountain entry.
"Miranda?" Miranda looked down in surprise. Legolas stood next to her, his hand on her leg. "I wanted only to say that I-" he broke off as Aragorn appeared.
"They come now. Be ready." Legolas nodded and tighten his hold on Miranda briefly then followed Aragorn.
"They'll come," said Frodo quietly. "They'll come and then-" Miranda looked over at him.
"And then"" she asked.
"And then we fight."
The last glimpse of wolf and Orc, and the terror that accompanied it were fresh in Miranda's mind, as was the pain of loss.
**You were the ones who did that to him,** she thought, shuddering at the memory of the proud Dwarf reduced to blood and bones. Added to that was the pain of seeing Legolas grieving, grieving and feeling guilt. He thought himself at guilt for not saving his friend. Miranda felt guilt at having caused she whole situation. She hated these beings more than anything she had hated before.
Every sense felt suddenly alive with her hate; she breathed it, smelled it, tasted it. Nearby, Legolas's eyes were bright with a terrible look, one she had never seen. He sought revenge and punishment on these creatures and was happy to do it.
The hair on her arms stood on end as the battle cry rose. Every nerve ending seemed to be on fire and she hefted her sword and clamped her knees tight around Arod's muscled body. And suddenly, before she could comprehend it, her arms were swinging and a heavy THUD vibrated up her torso. Her left arm went numb and she almost dropped the sword. It had cleaved into a shield when she had expected flesh.
With a cry of rage, she reversed her swing and came at the beast from the other side. There was nothing smooth or clean in her attack, as she had seen with Legolas or Aragorn. She missed its neck and her sword was embedded in its shoulder. Growling, it spat at her and reached out clawed hands. As she recoiled in disgust, one gray hand closed round her knee and tugged. Though she grasped wildly at Arod's mane, she started to slide.
**This is it. All that training, and I'm going to die in the first minute of battle,** she thought dimly. Suddenly, however, her seat jerked back and instinctively she rose in the stirrups keeping her balance. Arod's heavy, sharpened hooves came crashing down and with a crunch, crushed the Orc's head.
**Battle-trained.** Such a major detail and she'd forgotten. As feeling began to return, she realized the sword was still in her right hand. Arod was attacking with vengeance, but it was not his fight; it was hers. As something black came at her, she whipped the blade over her head and down, ripping off an arm from the monster.
It came again and she plunged the sword into its neck and felt hot, sticky blood spray her face. As though it were a cool, refreshing drink, the blood revived her and she stabbed at her next victim, relishing the feeling of her blade sliding into its stomach. Dead. She wanted them all dead.
Bloodlust had hit with a vengeance and she loved it. Only in novels had she read of blood singing, and yet now it occurred in reality. Never had she felt more alive. All horror, fear and reluctance fled, leaving her scarcely aware of anything but her prey.
When a spear caught under her leg and pulled her off Arod, she fell into the mud, pulling at the dagger in her belt. When the yellow teeth and grotesque face came at her, she grabbed it, pulled it close as though in an embrace, clutched it to her in a perverse parody of love, and sank her dagger deep in its skull. The weight crushed her into the mud, and a sickly sweet smell met her as the Orc's bowels released in death. She felt like laughing. It was dead. She was alive.
She lost track of time, lost track of other people. All she knew was the kill. The Orcs were vast in number, but stupid. They fairly threw themselves onto her blade, or so it seemed. Thrust, stab, plunge, rip, destroy.
After a minute, an hour, a day, reality slowly began to creep in to her mind. She began to notice that Orcs no longer fell on top of her, that there was a space roughly a sword's length long where nothing moved surrounding her. Shaking her head as though dazed, she realized the sun was out and someone was calling her name.
"Miranda!" She tried to locate the sound, but it was far away and her head wouldn't quite obey her orders.
"Miranda!" The voice was panicked and idly she tried to raise her sword, as though to say ''here I am!'' but it was too heavy. Stumbling, she sat on a pile of dead Orcs and tried to speak. Her voice was hoarse, from screaming her own battle cries and rage, though she did not know that.
"Legolas?" Little more than a croak issued from her lips, but his Elven- hearing caught the sound and whirled.
"Alive! You're alive!" He leapt over the wall and sprang up to her, catching her shoulders in a hug so tight, she couldn't breathe. When she made squeaking noises he released her, but began running hands over her arms and legs and torso, making sure she was not hurt. "I lost you." His voice was low, tight. "You disappeared so quickly, I thought.....I thought...." Roughly, he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was hard and angry and bruising, but she wanted it and she gave back as much as she got. She tangled her fists in his hair and drew his mouth even more tightly against hers, digging her nails into his shoulders.
Bloodlust.
He raised his head, though he still held her in an iron grip. His eyes were on fire and they blazed with fierceness. He began backing into the forest and pulled her along, though had she use of her feet, she would have come willingly. When at last they were away from the battlefield and in a dark, warm hollow, he turned to her and she dragged his mouth back to hers biting and sucking.
Bloodlust.
Together, they sank to the earth in one fluid movement. Long finger struggled with buckles and leather, but there was little in the way of what was most important.
Bloodlust. She now understood what it meant.
************
"We should get back, the others will worry," he said, after far too short a time. He looked at her and suddenly grabbed her upper arms.
"I could not find you. I thought... I thought..." He could not finish the sentence, but instead wrapped his arms around himself and backed away. He appeared angry, but she knew him well enough now to recognize the pain in his eyes.
"You thought I was dead." He nodded. She tried to stand, but her legs would not work, so she held her arms open to him. He stared at her a moment and she thought perhaps she had misjudged his emotion. But then he came at her and knelt again before her, placing his head in her lap. She leaned over him, wrapping her arms as tightly as she could and cried. For long moments, neither moved, as they worked through their own feelings. Finally, she spoke,
"I liked it, Legolas." He looked up.
"The killing and the blood. I liked it. God, I loved it." Fresh tears fell as she realized the things she had done. "I'm a monster!"
"No!" he said sharply, pulling her to her feet and against him.
"No," he said again, softly. "You have the heart of a warrior. Your heart was happy because it was defending what it loved and destroying that which threatened it. You are no monster. You are astonishing." She smiled a bit at that.
"Do you-- Did you--"
"Did I feel it? Yes. I loved it as well. Inflicting pain, causing death. But I fear the student has outstripped her master!" She chuckled at this, knowing she would never come close to his level of expertise, even with a sword.
"Did you keep count?" she asked. He stopped abruptly.
**Shit. Now I've done it.** But he relaxed and turned with a smile.
"96, and you?"
She grinned. "Thirty. It's a start."
"Merry!"
Merry looked back at Pippin in annoyance. "What?"
"I think we've bin goin' in circles," Pippin whispered, glancing up nervously to make sure Aragorn had not heard. Merry, too, looked up quickly. Aragorn had grown steadily angrier, until the slightest provocation set him off. The rest of the company walked on eggshells, though their nerves were also on edge.
They had entered the dark forest quite some time before. The exact amount of time was difficult to judge. The sun seemed to rise and fall randomly, without reason. Their food had long since disappeared, suggesting that they had, in fact, been wandering for a month. Yet it felt like only a few days. Following the path around the base of the mountain, they had reached a point in which the path veered away. At first, Aragorn had attempted to slash directly through the undergrowth. He had been unable to cut through many of the plants however and they had almost seemed to constrict around him.
"You're not alone, Pip," Sam said, catching up. "This is the third time we crossed that creek. Look!" He held up a small leather bag. "I left this at the edge, the last time we went over. That was six or seven sunsets ago." Frodo and Merry exchanged glances.
"And nothing.feels right, if you know what I mean," Sam said, rubbing his arms apprehensively. Pippin nodded emphatically. His hand rested on the hilt of his short sword. His skin had been crawling since they'd entered the woods.
"I feel it, too. But unless you fancy having a chat with him," Merry said, jerking his thumb back at Aragorn, "We follow his lead."
Elrond stood near the edge of their encampment, staring off into the wood. The darkness was unlike any he had known before. The heavy branches above shut out all starlight. The atmosphere seemed cloying, as though it were holding them in place. The humans and Hobbits fell drowsy more and more often. They were sleeping nearly half the day away now. Even he was feeling the heaviness inherent around him. The air was suffocating, pressing him down.
He turned with difficulty, and saw the humans and Hobbits fast asleep, lying in odd positions, as though they had simply fallen over. Elrohir was leaning heavily on his bow, blinking rapidly, while Ellahan was making his way slowly towards his father.
"A sickness?" he wheezed. Elrond tried to shake his head, but it would no longer respond. He slid to the ground; his body heavier than it had ever felt before.
"Dark." he whispered and his eyes closed involuntarily. "Sleep." The trees and vines formed a sinuous tarp, blocking out all light and closing in around the sleeping forms as though in perverse protectiveness.
High above, a dark figure watched in satisfaction.
"Not yet, bright one, not yet."
********
**Water.** Thirst penetrated her slumber. **Need water.** Miranda blinked open her eyes, wincing at the thin shaft of light that fell through the canopy of leaves above. **I will never, ever drink again,** she though as she tried to roll to her side. But instead of feeling the soft mattress of her cot beneath her, she felt dried leaves and soft mud. Her foot slipped from its perch fell six inches with a soft splash.
"Water," Miranda croaked, and tried to sit up. White-hot pain shot up her thigh to her groin muscle and stomach as she twisted her leg. Better to lie still. If she didn't move, the pain wasn't there. But her throat was scratchy and her tongue felt oddly huge, as though it had swollen to three times its normal size. She was so thirsty.
"Drink slowly," said a soft voice near her ear. Legolas. She felt droplets of water hit her jaw and instinctively opened her mouth. Water, blessedly cool water slid over her tongue and down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, but a heavy hand held her shoulder down. "If you move, it will hurt." So she tried to lie quietly, allowing him to trickle handfuls of water into her open mouth.
As her thirst was slowly quenched, she noticed the taste of the water. It tasted rusty, lots of iron, like blood- her eyes opened wide in shock as the full reason for the pain in her leg and the hollow sound of Legolas's voice came rushing back.
Gimli. Gimli was dead.
Tears formed in her dry eyes, and spilled down her cheeks to her temples. Gimli was dead. Legolas. He must be hurting. She turned her stiff neck slowly and he swam into focus. He was seated not six inches away, staring into the stream vacantly.
"Legolas," she said, her voice cracking. He did not look at her, but continued to stare at the water. She tried to reach out her hand, but hissed in pain as the movement jarred her leg. Legolas didn't move.
"I set your leg, but you are badly injured. It is best if you rest." His tone was curt, abrupt. Miranda lay still, hurt by his utter indifference both to her motion of empathy and to her pain. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back asleep.
********
Legolas blinked and came back to himself. The feeble light that had shone through the forest was gone and the night was starless. He had traveled within his memories, reliving his journeys with Gimli. He smiled as he recalled their inauspicious first meeting in Imladris- Gimli's harsh words and passionate decree of hate for all Elves. He, Legolas, had been no better. Set in his ways, certain that he knew everything.
"So arrogant," he murmured. Gimli had cured him of that, though. In spite of his gruff demeanor and growling temper, Gimli laughed often and hard. He'd taught Legolas to take himself less seriously, no small feat for an Elf. And he'd given his life for Legolas-for Legolas and Miranda. He laid his head on his knees and withdrew into himself again, grieving for a brave warrior and dear friend.
As morning dawned, Miranda felt herself being lightly shaken. She opened bleary eyes and was greeted by Legolas's angry face.
"Wha- Legolas?" She reached out to touch him but he looked away.
**He blames me,** she thought. **He blames me for Gimli's death.** And he was right to. It was her fault Gimli was dead. If she hadn't been hurt, if she hadn't fallen, if she hadn't gotten them caught in the damned mountain in the first place..
"Legolas..I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her voice trailed off as she struggled with the inadequacy of her words. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have-"
"No," Legolas said abruptly. "It is not your fault. But I.I cannot look at you. Not yet." He rose to his feet, still looking away. "His axe." He stopped. "Gimli dropped his axe. I am going to retrieve it. I will be gone less than a day. You will be safe here, I believe. Stay close to the water. If someone should happen by, you may conceal yourself in the waterweeds. The beasts cannot scent you there."
Miranda nodded, and turned her head, but he was already gone, his path silent and swift. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her how long it had been since her last meal of lembas.
**What I wouldn't give for a hot, greasy plate of chips. And a bottle of aspirin,** she added silently as her leg throbbed hotly.
************
Legolas dropped from the tree he had climbed, landing silently. He was lost. Having never been lost before, he was confused by the very idea. The woods seemed to be shifting, somehow, swallowing the path as he moved. Baring his teeth in frustration, he reached behind him, grasping the carved-handled daggers on his back. Slashing angrily at the vegetation before him, he made his own way, away from the path towards the mountain. He broke through into a clearing, suddenly, nimbly sidestepping a prone body.
"Master Elrond?" The form before him stirred and blinked in the bright light shining behind Legolas. As though a spell had been broken, the other bodies began to wake, rubbing eyes and stumbling to wobbly feet.
"Aragorn! What has happened?" Legolas dropped to his knees beside his friend. Aragorn rubbed his head, as though confused and looked slowly from left to right.
"We were circling the mountain, looking for a way to enter when the forest seemed to.seemed to close in around us. And we became tired, too tired to continue. That is the last thing I remember." Legolas nodded.
"The forest seemed to hide the path from me, doubling back and changing direction. But when I left it and cut directly through, the plants offered little resistance."
"Where's Miranda? And Gimli?" said Pippin, rubbing his sore rear. He had fallen asleep on a rather uncomfortable root.
Legolas's face darkened and he looked away. "Gimli is dead. Miranda badly injured." Aragorn gazed at Legolas, and grasped his shoulders firmly. He'd never seen Legolas look so lost.
"How?" Aragorn asked simply. Legolas haltingly explained their journey through the mountain, ending it with his leave-taking of Miranda. After picking up their encampment, the entire group returned to find Miranda. While the others rested, Elrond placed his hand on Miranda's leg and fell into a healing trance. When she woke, Miranda found herself surrounded by familiar faces.
"Sam!" She found herself wrapped in a several arms with a furry tail thwapping her leg.
"Gimli-" Sam began, tears coursing down his face. Miranda nodded and buried her face against his small, but sturdy shoulder. Together, they all mourned their loss. All too soon, however, they continued on the path, searching for the mountain. As the sun rose the following morning, Aragorn and Elrond were conferring with Legolas about the best way to enter the mountain.
"If we can find the cave from which Miranda and I exited we might-Look!" The Elves and Hobbits turned at Legolas's exclamation. Directly behind him was the open expanse of rocks that led to the entrance of the mountain. Concerned glances were exchanged.
"That was not there five minutes ago," Merry said carefully.
"The forest seems to have opened up," Aragorn said, creeping towards the opening in the trees. Ahead, he could make out the dark entryway, though it was very far off. As he scanned the area for signs of life, he caught movement from the far left.
"Legolas! Something moves there," Aragorn said, pointing off in the distance. Legolas stared hard and grabbed Aragorn's arm.
"It is General Mangor and his men. They come swiftly, as though-" Instinctively, Legolas reached for his bow. "As though being chased." The group waited tensely, but nothing appeared behind the general's men.
"Milord!" General Mangor said, sliding off his mount. He was bloody, his sword in hand. "There are Orcs and enormous wolves," he wheezed. "They appeared from a hidden entry into the mountain and attacked, but retreated as the sun rose. I fear they will come once the sun sets again. We must leave, now!" Miranda and Sam started to turn, only to happy to run, but Aragorn's voice rang out.
"No." He drew his sword. "If that is the only way into the mountain, then we will fight." His tone was final. He and the Elves would not stop until they had freed Arwen and Legolas would not stop till he had avenged Gimli's death. General Mangor sighed, but nodded.
"I suggest we seek the higher ground there," he said, nodding with head. As the day progressed, they set up a barrier, stocked weapons and prepared to fight. Miranda watched Legolas, her heart heavy. She started as one of the general's soldiers tapped her shoulder.
"My lady, may I offer you a mount? It would be safer for you, I think. The Elf advised it," he said, offering her reins. She took them, comforted by Arod's familiar face.
As the sun started to sink, Aragorn gave Miranda and the Hobbits strict instructions to stay back, and only fight to defend themselves. Merry and Pippin pulled back, insulted, but Sam thought it sound advice. He remembered only too well, his previous encounters with Orcs. As the last vestiges of sun disappeared, movement started at the mountain entry.
"Miranda?" Miranda looked down in surprise. Legolas stood next to her, his hand on her leg. "I wanted only to say that I-" he broke off as Aragorn appeared.
"They come now. Be ready." Legolas nodded and tighten his hold on Miranda briefly then followed Aragorn.
"They'll come," said Frodo quietly. "They'll come and then-" Miranda looked over at him.
"And then"" she asked.
"And then we fight."
The last glimpse of wolf and Orc, and the terror that accompanied it were fresh in Miranda's mind, as was the pain of loss.
**You were the ones who did that to him,** she thought, shuddering at the memory of the proud Dwarf reduced to blood and bones. Added to that was the pain of seeing Legolas grieving, grieving and feeling guilt. He thought himself at guilt for not saving his friend. Miranda felt guilt at having caused she whole situation. She hated these beings more than anything she had hated before.
Every sense felt suddenly alive with her hate; she breathed it, smelled it, tasted it. Nearby, Legolas's eyes were bright with a terrible look, one she had never seen. He sought revenge and punishment on these creatures and was happy to do it.
The hair on her arms stood on end as the battle cry rose. Every nerve ending seemed to be on fire and she hefted her sword and clamped her knees tight around Arod's muscled body. And suddenly, before she could comprehend it, her arms were swinging and a heavy THUD vibrated up her torso. Her left arm went numb and she almost dropped the sword. It had cleaved into a shield when she had expected flesh.
With a cry of rage, she reversed her swing and came at the beast from the other side. There was nothing smooth or clean in her attack, as she had seen with Legolas or Aragorn. She missed its neck and her sword was embedded in its shoulder. Growling, it spat at her and reached out clawed hands. As she recoiled in disgust, one gray hand closed round her knee and tugged. Though she grasped wildly at Arod's mane, she started to slide.
**This is it. All that training, and I'm going to die in the first minute of battle,** she thought dimly. Suddenly, however, her seat jerked back and instinctively she rose in the stirrups keeping her balance. Arod's heavy, sharpened hooves came crashing down and with a crunch, crushed the Orc's head.
**Battle-trained.** Such a major detail and she'd forgotten. As feeling began to return, she realized the sword was still in her right hand. Arod was attacking with vengeance, but it was not his fight; it was hers. As something black came at her, she whipped the blade over her head and down, ripping off an arm from the monster.
It came again and she plunged the sword into its neck and felt hot, sticky blood spray her face. As though it were a cool, refreshing drink, the blood revived her and she stabbed at her next victim, relishing the feeling of her blade sliding into its stomach. Dead. She wanted them all dead.
Bloodlust had hit with a vengeance and she loved it. Only in novels had she read of blood singing, and yet now it occurred in reality. Never had she felt more alive. All horror, fear and reluctance fled, leaving her scarcely aware of anything but her prey.
When a spear caught under her leg and pulled her off Arod, she fell into the mud, pulling at the dagger in her belt. When the yellow teeth and grotesque face came at her, she grabbed it, pulled it close as though in an embrace, clutched it to her in a perverse parody of love, and sank her dagger deep in its skull. The weight crushed her into the mud, and a sickly sweet smell met her as the Orc's bowels released in death. She felt like laughing. It was dead. She was alive.
She lost track of time, lost track of other people. All she knew was the kill. The Orcs were vast in number, but stupid. They fairly threw themselves onto her blade, or so it seemed. Thrust, stab, plunge, rip, destroy.
After a minute, an hour, a day, reality slowly began to creep in to her mind. She began to notice that Orcs no longer fell on top of her, that there was a space roughly a sword's length long where nothing moved surrounding her. Shaking her head as though dazed, she realized the sun was out and someone was calling her name.
"Miranda!" She tried to locate the sound, but it was far away and her head wouldn't quite obey her orders.
"Miranda!" The voice was panicked and idly she tried to raise her sword, as though to say ''here I am!'' but it was too heavy. Stumbling, she sat on a pile of dead Orcs and tried to speak. Her voice was hoarse, from screaming her own battle cries and rage, though she did not know that.
"Legolas?" Little more than a croak issued from her lips, but his Elven- hearing caught the sound and whirled.
"Alive! You're alive!" He leapt over the wall and sprang up to her, catching her shoulders in a hug so tight, she couldn't breathe. When she made squeaking noises he released her, but began running hands over her arms and legs and torso, making sure she was not hurt. "I lost you." His voice was low, tight. "You disappeared so quickly, I thought.....I thought...." Roughly, he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was hard and angry and bruising, but she wanted it and she gave back as much as she got. She tangled her fists in his hair and drew his mouth even more tightly against hers, digging her nails into his shoulders.
Bloodlust.
He raised his head, though he still held her in an iron grip. His eyes were on fire and they blazed with fierceness. He began backing into the forest and pulled her along, though had she use of her feet, she would have come willingly. When at last they were away from the battlefield and in a dark, warm hollow, he turned to her and she dragged his mouth back to hers biting and sucking.
Bloodlust.
Together, they sank to the earth in one fluid movement. Long finger struggled with buckles and leather, but there was little in the way of what was most important.
Bloodlust. She now understood what it meant.
************
"We should get back, the others will worry," he said, after far too short a time. He looked at her and suddenly grabbed her upper arms.
"I could not find you. I thought... I thought..." He could not finish the sentence, but instead wrapped his arms around himself and backed away. He appeared angry, but she knew him well enough now to recognize the pain in his eyes.
"You thought I was dead." He nodded. She tried to stand, but her legs would not work, so she held her arms open to him. He stared at her a moment and she thought perhaps she had misjudged his emotion. But then he came at her and knelt again before her, placing his head in her lap. She leaned over him, wrapping her arms as tightly as she could and cried. For long moments, neither moved, as they worked through their own feelings. Finally, she spoke,
"I liked it, Legolas." He looked up.
"The killing and the blood. I liked it. God, I loved it." Fresh tears fell as she realized the things she had done. "I'm a monster!"
"No!" he said sharply, pulling her to her feet and against him.
"No," he said again, softly. "You have the heart of a warrior. Your heart was happy because it was defending what it loved and destroying that which threatened it. You are no monster. You are astonishing." She smiled a bit at that.
"Do you-- Did you--"
"Did I feel it? Yes. I loved it as well. Inflicting pain, causing death. But I fear the student has outstripped her master!" She chuckled at this, knowing she would never come close to his level of expertise, even with a sword.
"Did you keep count?" she asked. He stopped abruptly.
**Shit. Now I've done it.** But he relaxed and turned with a smile.
"96, and you?"
She grinned. "Thirty. It's a start."