Wolves of Isengard
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the LOTR characters, although there were some I wish I did. ;) This story is based on the TTT movie, not the book itself. Marissa is of my own design.
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"What? What news, Eowen?" Marissa asked seeing her striding slowly, thoughtfully down the long stone corridor in Helms Deep.
The blonde niece of the king glanced up with a strange, perplexed look in her eyes. It was almost as if she had forgotten how much she despised the raven-haired woman before her. But in a moment, she regained her cool expression. "Royal business."
"Royal business, is it?" she repeated, irritated with the blonde already.
"It is." She began her forward movement again, past Marissa but the latter wouldn't have it.
"Listen, if this is about Aragorn again, I..."
"It is about Aragorn."
The dark haired woman sighed. Legolas had forgiven her for whatever part she may have had in Aragorn's death, but not Eowen. So the stories went, the kingly Aragorn had an elvish love and his heart belonged to no other. Why then should Eowen continue to hold such an impenetrable anger towards her? But still, it existed.
Eowen continued, slowly, seeming stunned by her own words. "Aragorn... he's still alive. He's here."
"He's here!" Marissa exclaimed. She grabbed Eowen by the shoulders. "That's unbelievable news."
"Isn't it," she replied rather blankly, wringing her hands together, continuing to pace across the stony floor.
Marissa had already leapt off in the other direction, eager to confirm Eowen's words with her own eyes. Dashing up the stairs onto the look-out, she noticed a small crowd of soldiers had formed, which blocked her view.
"Where is King Theoden?" came a commanding voice from somewhere inside the mass of men. Impatiently she waited, but not for too long because the group began to dissipate and Aragorn emerged from the pack. She would only be told later that Legolas too thought he didn't look his usual self. He looked positively exhausted, a deep gash in his left arm had left a shiny black stain on his blue sleeve, but still he walked with purpose.
Trailing only behind Gimli who followed the king closely, Legolas noticed a curious Marissa. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, suggesting a smile. She could immediately feel herself begin to blush when she turned away.
*********
Near mid-afternoon, Aragorn sighed and looked out over the soon to be battle field just below the wall. "Theoden neither expects nor desires any assistance from Gondor," he said turning towards the elf and dwarf who stood behind him and had already heard the conversation the man was repeating. "Move all of the women and children down into the caverns."
The two former fellowship members and several of the Rohan guards already dressed in armor moved in different directions down the stairs to begin their work.
Blue elvish eyes noticed a small figure perched high atop the wall of a lookout post, so on long legs he easily ascended the narrow staircase, easily stepping over two or three of the dark grey platforms at a time.
"Marissa," he said interrupting her train of thought.
"Legolas," she mirrored, as his lanky frame effortlessly leapt onto the wall and came to stand next to where she sat. "He's alive," she began, her somber face showing her relief and gratitude. Swinging her legs around, her feet found the solid stone surface and she rose to meet him.
"He is," he nodded just before she moved a little closer and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He was taken off guard by this sudden flood of emotion but still looped his arms around her. "Are you all right?"
She nodded in the affirmative and pulled away, averting her eyes. She wasn't sure why she'd done that exactly. Or rather, there were too many reasons to have done that, but she couldn't pick out one specifically.
"I'm glad you have your friend back," she said quietly, trying to facilitate her escape as she leapt down from the wall and began towards the stairs he'd just come from.
Legolas arched a dark eyebrow, noticing how she dropped down from the wall. Her graceful body moved with a certain rhythm and her calculated steps were so light, so fluid, it appeared as if she were gliding rather than walking across the cold stone. He thought it very strange, because he had never seen a human move like that before. Intrigued by this observation, he went to go find her on the main wall.
Once she left the staircase, she realized they were in the midst of battle preparations. The Rohan soldiers' armor squeaked and clanked as they clamored about, yelling to each other to get the weapons and themselves in place along the fortress wall.
"What..." she said out loud, but to herself, watching the seeming chaos unfolding in front of her. When she'd been on top of the lookout post, her hawk-like vision had taken note of no approaching danger, nor had she seen an army trampling over the hills in the distance. So what was going on?
Pushing past the young men with swords at their sides and near panic in their voices, she made her way into the main hall where they'd had supper the night before. Now it was nearly empty, the tables all hastily pushed aside.
"What are you doing here?" King Theoden asked, turning from two of his senior soldiers. They had apparently been speaking very seriously, very quietly to Theoden, planning their defense. She saw the men had nearly finished outfitting their king in his gold armor. When she did not answer him, but continued to stand stiffly and stare at them, the king continued. "You should not be here. You should be with the other women and children. Master Elf, please see her to the caverns with the rest."
"Marissa," she heard her name being called from behind, but hearing the king's words, could not in good conscience act so concedingly. Spinning on her heel, her dark hair swinging around her shoulders, she faced the blonde elf standing ten feet away at the doors. Biting her lip, she strode past Legolas and did not speak to any of them.
Even when she was outside with the blue-eyed elf looking patiently at her, she still could not find words. The situation seemed suddenly so overwhelming that she was forced into silence. It wasn't fair. None of it. Her dark eyes darted away from his, towards the grey sky over his shoulder, and then to the small boys that trudged past her. They were dressed in oversized armor and looked no older than ten or eleven.
Mesmerized and so disturbed by the children?s' presence, she realized her people were going to war, and they would not survive the attack. "Give me a sword," she told him. She was able to speak despite the feeling that her throat was closing up.
He shook his head so she continued. "My people are going to die. I will fight along with them."
"You're going to be with the rest of the women in the caves," he replied, stepping past her.
"I refuse to go down there with them!" she cried, feeling the flame of anger rising. It frustrated her even more that he would not discuss it, but just walked away, so she caught up with him.
He did not lead her toward the cavern entrance, but instead went to one of the smaller armories. Large orange torches along the walls reflected off the dull silver blades of swords and other pieces of worn or dented armor.
"Legolas, please, listen to me," she requested as calmly as she could as she looked around at the weapon filled room.
"I'm listening," he answered sliding several more arrows into his quiver. He then began to strap on his own shoulder armor.
"I can do this, I can fight. I've done it before."
He paused for a brief moment and looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Not like this."
"Perhaps not," she said quickly trying to discover the correct way to plead her case, "but I am not completely helpless like some of those women down there. I deserve the right to fight!"
His fair-skinned features tensed and he shifted his jaw. "You deserve the right?" he hissed, stepping closer. He glared down at her and immediately saw the flicker of uneasiness in her expression that even he could illicit by challenging her. "You feel like you're being left out? You think this is some kind of game? You think that this will be something enjoyable that you'll be missing out on? Battle is never, ever, enjoyable. Even in victory. You're only interested in your personal crusade, wanting vengeance..."
She squinted up at him, just then finding it impossible to back down. "I will fight for my people. I will die for my people."
He shook his head and took a step back. "If that is true, it is a noble intention, but intentions will not win wars. You should be thankful you are not being asked to participate."
"Thankful!" she cried. "Why can't you understand? It's because I'm a woman isn't it... I'd have thought you, an elf of all things, would understand. And you expect me to be thankful to who? To you?"
He finished adjusting the leather straps across his chest and stood up straight. "Yes."
Unable to take it anymore, she reached back and planned on slapping him as hard as she could, but he caught her wrist. With her free hand she tried it again, but he caught that one too. Breathing hard, she clenched her jaw and glared hard at him. He still looked calm and poised as ever. "Let go," she said through her teeth.
After a long moment, his grip released and she took her hands back long enough to rotate her wrists briefly and then leapt forward, intent on trying it again. His long fingers closed around her hands, but this time he spun her around so that one arm was twisted behind her back and the other was across her chest. She was captured, completely immobile, and unable to even look at him because her back was now pressed against his chest. "Does this hurt?" he asked.
"Yes," she breathed, not lying this time.
"Then that means I have your attention, since it seems pain is the only thing you can understand." He wished he had not said that. It was an unconscious observation he'd made, but never planned on expressing. But it was too late to take back now, so he continued, feeling the furious heat radiating from her. "Once the fighting starts, I will not be able to protect you."
"I don't need you to protect me," she snapped. "I've told you that."
"You have," he agreed, "but that was before."
"Before last night?" she finished, putting her head back against his chest, unwilling to give into the dull throbbing in her arm. "A kiss means nothing if it's not shared between people who respect each other. I don't know if it was pity but I realize now you saw, you see, me as something less than yourself."
"You assume too much. I'm only interested in the safety of your kind, and that means going down into the caves..."
"I know what I feel. I'm not a girl who needs you or anyone else. If you saw that, you'd let me fight."
"You're not backing me into a corner about this. Forgetting last night, I'm doing what is best for you."
"You mean for your own conscience. It is apparent I mean nothing to you," she hissed again, and then laughed lightly, "and you mean nothing to me."
With that he released her, and she lethargically moved away. "So, what now?" she asked turning towards him. Her features were softer as if the anger was too exhausting to continue for any long period of time. She had done her work well though; the ice in his stare lingered.
Taking one long stride forward, his tall frame bent slightly and scooped her up, placing her over one shoulder. Seeing from the shadow on the floor it would soon be turning dark, he moved quickly towards the barred doors at the entrance of the caverns. "Yes, for my own conscience, you will be safe."
Putting her down in front of the two guards at the entrance, he looked at her one last time. She had nothing left to say, that was apparent, but more than that she had an unusual expression grace her features. Had he not been able to sense it, he certainly could have seen the hurt in her eyes. But there was no time for any of this any longer. He had to find Aragorn and his place on the wall.
"There are only two of you," he said in a commanding tone when he spoke to the Rohirem. "Where are the others?"
"I can go look for them," said one through his gold helmet.
"No," Legolas replied, putting a hand up, "I will send more guards. Stay here."
With that he turned and in an instant had disappeared into the dark. Turning to one of the guards as he unlocked and opened the door, she looked around to see his face. "Johanen is that you?"
"Yes, my lady," he said, his posture suddenly straightening.
"I haven't seen you since we were... how old were we?"
"A long time ago, my lady."
The other one answered, fingering the hilt of his sword. "Six years ago."
"Six?" she questioned glancing the other. "Lindolor?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Well isn't it odd that we should meet again in these circumstances! How have you been my friends?" she asked politely.
"My lady," Johanen said stepping back to the door, "it is time to go inside."
"Oh, but," she began, but was interrupted by an unusual trumpeting echoing off the men's helmets and armor. "What was that?"
Silently, she shut and locked the doors and then leapt on long legs through the dark back towards the armory.
"Orc horns?" Lindolor guessed, preoccupied with the sound. "Inside, my lady."
"No no," Johanen corrected, "not an Orc horn. The elves!"
"Elves?" Both stepped absentmindedly through the dark, listening carefully. It would be amazing news if the elves themselves were there to fight alongside the men of Rohan.
Marissa went back to the room she had been in previously and picked up a heavy sword with both hands. This promised to be difficult, she thought to herself. Just as she was about to strap the belted sheath around her hips, she heard someone clear their throat behind her.
With a sigh, she turned and saw a rather unexpected creature. He was an elf, of that she was sure, with the long blonde hair and pointed ears, but he looked to be a very important one because of the white clothes he wore over the nearly blinding silver armor that gleamed in the torchlight. She was unsure if she should bow or hug him. The elves certainly were welcome considering the state of their pathetic Rohan army, so in that thread, she decided to lower her head.
"I have come for more arrows," said the stately elf, gliding to the place she pointed to in the corner. "These troops of yours are terribly ill-prepared." Three other elves dressed in the same manner followed him in and took the bundled arrows from the room back outside. "Are you quite all right?" he asked.
When she looked up, she could see he had the slightest smile across his face so she righted herself. "My dear Marissa," he said touching her shoulder and then in a smooth motion pulled her closer and hugged her tightly.
"Who are you?" she asked over his shoulder. To be liked was nice, but this was just odd.
"No doubt you do not remember me," he sighed, releasing her. She still stood stiffly even though he let her go. "It is quite all right," he smiled warmly again. "I am Haldir of Lorien."
"Lorien," she repeated, remembering Legolas' arrows.
"That's right," he said almost touching her shoulder again, but let his hand fall to his side. "So you want to fight? And so you shall." Immediately two more of the elves with silver helmets appeared with another set of full armor in their hands which they quickly began outfitting her with. "Mariwenen, I present your sword," Haldir said, taking the light blade onto the flats of his palms to give to her. She noticed the elvish inscription along the side but could not read it.
"I don't understand," she said once the elves moved away and she moved around a bit, unable to feel the light silver armor that encompassed her body.
"In time, you will," Haldir nodded, taking the silver helmet from her hands and putting it on her. "Come, the battle begins."
"But," she began touching his arm as he moved away. She was surprised she had done so, but the look in his blue eyes was somehow so comforting, it did not seem inappropriate to have done so.
He lifted her chin with his fingers. "You are a warrior. It is in your blood. What you do not know, it will come when you need it. Have no fear."
A slight smile came to her reddened lips because for the first time since she could remember, she felt she belonged to the winning team. And Haldir had confidence in her. With a nod, she followed him out into the darkness and listened to the rumble of thunder. Stepping out against the wall ledge where a line of poised elves stood with their taut bows and arrows, she realized it was not thunder, but the line of tens of thousands of Uruk-Hai coming directly for them.
Lifting the bow at her back, she set the white-feathered arrow and listened silently to the sound of her own breathing, forcing her racing heart to slow. Aragorn's voice rose over the troops giving commands in elvish.
Feeling a square hand fall upon her shoulder, she turned her head just slightly. Aragorn moved in more closely to whisper in the common tongue, "Welcome, friend Marissa." She could not help but smile, but still nodded solemnly and returned her gaze to the approaching line below. She was not sure how Aragorn knew, but somehow he did and approved. The battle had not even yet begun and already it felt as if some small victory had been won.
Sheets of rain pelted down from the black sky, spreading over the masses, making a ticking sound against shields and swords. Flesh against metal quickly began to ache, for the armor and helmets retained little heat against the arduous, stinging cold.
The front line of the massive Uruks below the wall remained completely motionless and silent, something entirely uncharacteristic of the ghastly, monstrous creatures. One Uruk leapt onto a large rock so he could be seen as the leader of these thousands. Without being commanded, they began pounding on the ground, on shields with swords, while giving an otherworldly shriek. The sound was nearly deafening, but once the muscular beasts began running forward again, the wall itself quaked under men and elves' feet.
Aragorn's voice resonated in the ears and minds of his troops, so immediately hundreds of arrows sliced through the air with deadly precision, knocking down the first few lines of the Uruks. Huge ladders landed hard against the wall, breaking off pieces of the solid rock where they'd hit. The first of the shadowed enemy began climbing up. Taking aim, Marissa drew back her bowstring and released, striking the Uruks who had reached the top first, knocking him off the wall several hundred feet from the ground.
"Wooooo!" she cried throwing her hands into the air victoriously. Five other elves dashed forward and leaned over the huge ladder sending several more back to the muddy ground. Regaining her composure, she began rapidly slicing arrows through the air like the others. She glanced over momentarily and saw how many had actually made it up over the wall, so she took a step back and began firing into the crowd.
"Legolas!" Aragorn's shouted over the metallic clashing, growls, and moans. She looked over the edge just enough to see the blonde elf aiming for the Uruk with a torch running for the small grated drain in the wall. So focused on his task, he did not see the huge Uruk with a hooked sword dripping with blood moving into position just behind him. The beast gurgled a thick, wet cry before he fell away from Legolas and Marissa lowered her bow. Just as she did so, yellow and orange flames exploded upwards and huge chunks of the broken wall shot up into the air.
She ducked, as did the rest around her, as pieces of sharp rocks flew overhead. She coughed clearing her lungs of the smoke but almost immediately the rain beat down all of the dust and floating debris.
"Get back!" she heard Aragorn once again, saying the wall had been breached and they were to fall back. With wide eyes, she watched all of the tall figures sweep past her and disappear down the stairs back towards the main hall. She didn't think elves ever retreated, but that's exactly what they were doing. Following all of the men in silver, she too dove down the slick staircase and plunged into thick, claylike mud that reached to mid-calf at the bottom.
Her attention darted to the huge gap in the wall where the massive Uruks flooded in swinging, pounding, and shrieking. She had never seen anything like them, and had not expected them to be so large. They looked almost twice her height and certainly weighed several times what she did even without the ponderous swords they wielded with no effort. They had pointed, sharp teeth and long black mangled hair under helmets that matched their dark armor. It seemed they almost had no use for the armor though, considering their powerful veiny muscles that comprised their entire stature.
Either from fear or the mud that seemed to suck her legs down into it, she did not move but stood, and watched as men, elves, and beasts fell with a splash to the cold ground. Before she knew what had happened, two of the elves had taken her by the arms and pulled her from the thick slime.
"Behind you!" she cried to one of the many elves. Legolas whipped his sleek white blades around in his hands and took down that particular giant just as she screamed. Marissa only had a brief second to look at Legolas' dark eyes from behind her elvish helmet before she and the two Lorien elves dashed for the hall and he called his count out to Gimli.
She stepped into the hall with a few elves who had volunteered to secure inside while the rest had found another perch outside on which to rain their arrows down on the enemy. The Rohan soldiers and elves began passing planks to Theoden himself who nailed them up, barring the entrance from further Uruk attack. She did not see Gimli, Legolas, or Aragorn but she did not have time to look.
After what seemed like an eternity of clawing and bellowing that shook the boards and resonated all throughout the hall, Theoden was pulled away from the Rohan front line. The men quickly closed in where he had been standing and pushed against the planks. Marissa closed her eyes, focusing entirely on putting all of her weight and strength into the beam pressed against their wooden wall at an angle to stabilize it.
"How long do you need?" Aragorn shouted.
"As long as you can give me," replied the injured king.
The Ranger stepped up, positioning two large hands against the timber she'd wrapped her whole body around and pushed back hard against the planks that Uruk hands had managed to creep through. She gasped feeling the strength of the sudden forward motion wondering if she had managed to accidentally break through the barricade.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No," she answered quickly, surprised to see his blue eyes staring back at her.
"Good, put your foot here," he directed, showing where to shove her foot against the bottom for more leverage. Patting her on the shoulder, he then unsheathed his sword and dove through the men so far keeping the Uruks out of the hall.
She could feel the strain of the two forces pushing against the wall was too much, the boards creaked and splintered under the pressure. It wouldn't be long before they would break through and all of the Rohanian effort would have been in vain. The only thing left to do was to push and hope, and that's what she did with everything she had in her. That focus faded for only a moment when she heard another familiar voice telling several men to move out of his way.
Legolas supplied a new, thick plank from somewhere, she was not quite sure where, but it was more than welcome to the men who smashed writhing Uruk hands behind it. Her shoulder touched his when he shoved another supporting timber near to hers. Her first impulse was to remain silent. He would be angry if he knew she was here instead of venturing into the mountains like the rest of the women, so she did not say a word, but instead clung to her steady position.
Just as the white light of the morning sun peaked through the small window near the ceiling, Theoden called for his horse. Her sense was confirmed when she looked once again past the edge of her silver helmet. Legolas had left her side and was now atop his white horse just like Aragorn, Theoden, and several Rohan soldiers in the middle of the hall.
Her heart sank and suddenly she felt dizzy. They were riding out. None would survive. Now she wished she had said something, anything, to the elf but it was too late.
The Rohanians backed out of the way, as did she. The hissing Uruks broke through and the men and elf with swords drawn raced into the mass of beasts just outside.
She backed up against the cold stone wall and dropped the post still in her hands. She wished it had not come to this. She wished she had not seen it; these brave men dashing out into a hopeless situation, and for what, she wondered. But it was too late for questions like that, she conceded, because the more pressing situation was now growling right outside the doorway.
Legolas had spoken earlier of having a clear conscience and if nothing else in this dire situation, she could grant that much to herself. She would join the others, whatever it meant in the end. At least she would not be a coward. Unsheathing her own elvish blade, she lifted her voice in a second battle cry and leapt into the massacre.
When she stepped out into the sunlight, she looked to her right and saw hundreds of Rohan riders dressed in green coming like thunder down into the pit of Uruk-Hai. Glowing red eyes and sharp teeth came straight for her when she looked away but sensing their quick advancement she ducked, slicing into the creature's side. Being relatively shorter than some of the elves she was dressed like meant her stature was not so visible, making it easier to hedge their fury only long enough to stab her sleek blade into them one at a time.
"They're beginning to retreat!" Aragorn called out to his friend who stood only a few feet away, slicing through the air with his white knives. Legolas said nothing, being the poised, collected elf that he was, but instead only nodded to the Ranger and cut down two more at a time.
The thunder that was present the night before now could be heard as the remaining Uruks began back the way they had come, pushing and climbing over each other.
Eomer, leader of the Riders of Rohan, who had been convinced by Gandalf the White to return to Helms Deep now found himself and his men in the midst of a winning battle. One mortally injured creature managed with it's dying breath to reach up and jerk hard on Eomer's reigns, pulling the horse down and knocking the Rider off to the ground.
Before he could get to his feet, a friend of the shadowed fallen one raised it's hooked sword high above the Rider, but it too growled and fell in a heap to the ground. With a throaty sound of effort, Marissa whipped her elvish blade around and slid it deep into the back of the Uruk, finishing it off.
"You're not hurt are you?" she asked offering Eomer a hand which he took and righted himself.
"No, not at all. You have a wicked... excuse me," he said moving past the disguised woman to slip his own heavy sword into the body of a raging Uruk all the way to the hilt. He heard only a brief "Ohh..." behind him so he turned and saw three had thrown themselves onto the elf. Quickly, methodically, he took them on one at a time.
"Master Elf?" Eomer called out, rolling the bludgeoned bodies away. The elf lay in the midst of all three covered with not black blood but red. "You are injured," he explained before plucking her from the muddy mess. He immediately took her to a large boulder that jutted out from the side of the hill they had moments before rode down on and lay her behind it, hoping the elf would remain far enough out of sight until all of the Uruks had fled or been killed.
"Oh, my... I..." she breathed moving her hand instinctively over her side.
"Stop moving or you may make it worse," he instructed, pulling her hand away. He reached up and slipped both of their helmets off and was most surprised to see the pale face that looked back at him. He'd heard of the graceful features of the elves, but he'd never considered the men would have been so beautiful too.
She inhaled sharply when he touched only over the blood-soaked clothing she wore. Knowing the elf would not be returning to the battlefield that day, he tugged on the ornate leather straps of the smudged silver armor and pushed the metal aside. Lifting her once white tunic, he inspected the deep gash in her side which he immediately applied pressure to with both hands.
When he shoved his palms into the wound, she whimpered from the pain that slammed into her body. His attention diverted from the red liquid sifting through his fingers long enough to see that she, not he, had fainted. Realizing his mistake, he reached a slick hand to the bottom of her shirt and pulled it down to cover her.
"We shall rest here tonight," Aragorn said putting a hand on the shoulder of his elf friend. "Tomorrow we shall plan our next attack with Gandalf."
Legolas nodded, looking out over the mud and so much death. Loss of life stung a little even if it was the enemy. "The troops?"
"Tired, but the ones remaining are still hungry."
"The women and children...?"
"In the mountains," Aragorn answered, knowing instinctively what the elf was not saying that he meant to. He wasn't about to keep secrets from Legolas. "Marissa was not with them."
The elf's blue eyes leapt to the man's, seeking further explanation. His lips parted, but being an elf of few words, remained silent. His nearly horrified expression said enough to express what he felt and what he'd sensed.
"She survived well into the night," Aragorn explained, wiping his blade with a piece of torn green cloth he'd found. "I saw her this morning in fact, fighting well but when another wave of the Uruks came, I lost sight of her and have been unable to find her since."
"Dead?" Legolas breathed, his attention suddenly darting to the bodies strewn across the vast expanse of ground.
"I do not know. But I shall help you look." Both the elf and the man began stepping over the fallen persons, looking for any sign of her. Legolas' heart was heavy, recounting over and over the last words they'd said to each other. He knew better than to leave things that way before going into battle, but she tested everything that was curtail to his inner being, making him frustrated and defensive. He couldn't help himself, but he should have. And now he feared that his harsh words and actions would never be taken back nor forgiven. The victory received in battle was suddenly outweighed by his need to see her again and make things right.
*****
Marissa moaned a little, feeling the throbbing pain now restored to her mind when she returned to consciousness. This place was hazy when she opened her eyes. The sky was dark, brown, flickering and ropes came from the center outwards. It was a tent, she decided finally. There was a fire just outside and soft fur underneath of her that she could feel with the hand at her side that did not hurt so much. She closed her eyes again. Her head ached, but not so much as the stinging that seemed to resonate in the rest of her body.
It should have been a comfortable place to rest, but she was alone, didn't know where she was, and in pain.
"Legolas, where are you?" she breathed before the hot tears came to her eyes and spilled over the sides of her cheeks. Harsh fabric rustled against itself and soon there was a shaded figure hovering above her.
"No, no, don't cry," Eomer said in a whisper, his blonde hair falling over the fronts of his shoulders as he leaned over her. She blinked wanting to see his face, but the clear image wouldn't come, so she gave up trying.
Legolas didn't want her to cry, so she would try her best not to. Even if she couldn't see him, she could feel him and through the haze and that was good enough at the moment.
"Is there anything I can get for you? Anything you'll be requesting right now?" the Rohan rider whispered to her once more. She shook her head, and then after a moment, reached over with her good hand and took his, suggesting by the light tugging that he move closer. He laid down beside her carefully, not wanting to disturb her. He bent his arm and propped his head up with his hand and watched her.
"I shall linger here as you rest, daughter of Rohan," he breathed to her, wrapping her clenched hand in his. Her grip released and her features became less tense which he took as a good sign. Gently he ran his fingertips over her forehead and cheek, pushing her dark hair away from her face as she began to fall off to sleep again.
She dreamed not of Eomer, but a different blonde. She had in mind an elf with beautiful blue eyes who's long fingers caressed her cheek and then placed a soft, warm kiss on her forehead. He said he forgave her, that he loved her too much not to. His tall, lanky body deceptively thin but exceptionally powerful, drew her close, encompassing all of her. Their bodies fit together perfectly, as did their thoughts, because she knew the warmth inside was her love for him. Together they laid in a grassy field, wrapped up in each other's arms completely content and so happy she nearly wanted to cry, but she remembered he did not want her to cry.
Shaken by this thought she woke again, but the haze remained until she slipped back into a dream.
*****
Back inside the hall that night, Legolas allowed himself a troubled sleep. Vivid colors like the gardens of Rivendell were replaced with pale and dark like his vision on the wall the night before. He dreamt of two large trees, blowing together in a steady fall breeze, but as close as they were, their leaves never touched. Deep underground though their roots grew entwined in each other, made stronger by the water supply drawn in by the other. So together they co-existed, but to him as he stood watching the trees, survival was not enough. It still made his heart heavy and his eyes drop low.
It felt as an intrusion seeing the tall silhouette of an elf standing between the trees, so Legolas approached, wanting to understand what he saw. Seeing Haldir standing here, the younger elf smiled slightly, but it soon faded remembering the Lorien elf's fate on the battle field.
"I come to you not in sorrow, but in peace," Haldir began, touching the other' shoulder. "You have done all that you can. Do not mistrust your own judgment."
"But so many have been lost," sighed Legolas, watching how slowly he moved in this place.
"Legolas, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood, have you learned nothing of despair?" Haldir lashed out at him with a quick tongue. "A better day, a sweeter fruit is coming. Patience, patience."
"Marissa is dead," was the first that came to his mind, so he expressed it.
"If what you are saying is true, then what you have sensed is denied. My daughter's love was not caught in death's trap, for she loves more than has yet been seen. Patience."
With that, Haldir was gone and Legolas was left to himself. If only what he were saying was true. An image, a voice, smashed through his consciousness.
"Legolas, where are you?" Marissa's sweet voice permeated his mind. If only he knew where she was, that he might soothe her whimper and answer her question.
"I am here," he answered, not knowing if it was even possible for her to hear. "Where are you?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly. It was unclear to her exactly what had happened to cause the dull pain in her side. "Legolas?"
"Yes?"
"Don't go."
"I won't." He felt the soft embrace move around him and he held her back, unwilling to let go. "We will survive this," he said gently rocking her back and forth.
"I know we will," she answered, placing a kiss in the center of his chest. And together they swirled just on the edge of consciousness and a dream until morning came.
*******
Legolas awoke long before anyone else in the whole of the fortress. The walls were silent, as were the steps that he took across the stone floor after he pulled on his dark leather boots. It was too quiet because it gave him time alone with his thoughts. His mind and feet should have been lighter, but upon waking and spreading his fingers over the white pillow next to him, he realized outside of the dream, he was alone again.
It had not been an exceptionally happy night, but cleansing somehow. He almost wished he could return, but he was far too disheartened so he continued to walk. He was now more convinced than ever that she was gone because her beautiful voice now haunted his dreams. Somewhere deep inside he suspected she always would.
Stepping out into the cold morning air, his breath came out in a white stream over his lips. There was something to be said of those whose dreams were guarded by friendly spirits. Even so, he should have preferred the alternative.
Lost in thought, a tune crept into his mind. It was soft, but there. Closing his eyes, he listened to every note he was sure he'd never heard before. The song came to a slow stop.
"Legolas," came the voice from the dream clearly to his thoughts. His pointed ears lifted when he smiled, knowing now that he was not in a dream.
"You must concentrate, Marissa, and tell me where you are."
"I can't."
"Yes..."
"I feel sick."
"Why?" he became nearly frantic. "What's going on?"
"So much smoke... I..."
She must have lost consciousness. Opening his eyes to the still pale blue sky, he turned back towards the door and leapt down the hall for Aragorn. He doubted it, but possibly Aragorn had seen or heard something too that night. Now it was even more desperate to continue the search. ***
Aragorn had not witnessed anything that night, except for the smooth voice of a dark-haired elf waiting for him back in Rivendell. Arwen had provided some small amount of rest to his mind as he slept, even though there was such a distance between them.
Seeing the rigid form of the Mirkwood elf that woke him, Aragorn recognized the tenseness in Legolas' expression. He had found no similar comfort during the night.
The taller of the two spoke quickly. "Come, quickly Aragorn. She is yet alive, though I fear it will not be much longer."
Immediately Aragorn rose, collecting the sword at his side. "Do you know where?"
"She has no idea herself, but I have seen it. Two valleys away in the Rohirem camp." Legolas turned and stalked down the stone hall in the direction of the livery, Aragorn striding shortly behind him.
"How do you know this if she did not tell you?" Ordinarily Elendil would not have questioned the perceptions of his friend because the man had both witnessed and experienced elvish heightened awareness, but this time he could not understand the connection.
"I have seen it. To the west a thick cloud of smoke rises. Their tents have been set ablaze."
***
With several of the guards that had remained at the West Fold, they shortly arrived at the burning camp.
"Get me down. I want down!" Gimli cried from the back of the white horse he rode in on. He held his axe in a readied position across his chest and once he was helped down from the animal by one of the soldiers, he leapt across the singed grass toward a fallen but not yet flaming tent. Lifting one of the edges of the canvas with his axe, he roared and swung hard separating the head from the body of the goblin that had been hiding.
"Anyone else want to come out and play with the dwarf?" he shouted bouncing in a circle, but did not stay there taunting the enemy long, before a wooden poll cracked sending another structured to the ground. Aragorn began asking everyone he saw standing around staring almost blankly if they'd seen her as they all continued the search.
Eomer appeared to be covered in ash, smudged over his face and white tunic that was unfastened. He was only half dressed, wearing dark pants and no boots as he stood in the center of the camp circled by flame and smoke acting dazed.
"What has happened here?" Aragorn yelled above the roaring fires.
"Goblins and Orcs. Goblins and Orcs slipped through during the night. I don't know how. Several of my men have died. We're not meant to lose."
Elendil negotiated piles of still burning wood and canvas, the sparks still spraying up occasionally with a crack that made him squint and move more quickly. Once he had reached Eomer, Aragorn took him by the shoulders to gain his attention. "We need to find your men and we need to leave."
With a furrowed brow, Eomer looked at him as if he'd just been asked to walk into Isengard alone. "I don't know how this happened," he repeated.
"My lady!" Gimli shouted, moving and dumping things over with the edge of his axe looking for her.
"Marissa!" Legolas finally said out loud as he too continued his search, making his way around to the other end of the tents.
Aragorn glanced over his shoulder at Gimli and then back to the Rider he stood in front of. "Yes, we believe you had a woman here with you, and we should very much like to know where she is and if she is all right."
"My lady!" ... "Marissa!" they called out again without reply.
Aragorn tried not to sound impatient, but the flicker behind his blue eyes said he felt otherwise. "Eomer, where is she?"
"Lady... lady? There was no lady."
"Yes yes, come speak up now. We haven't all day!" Gimli approached the two, gripping the handle of his weapon and wringing it with each hand.
"I..." Eomer broke off, seeing the Mirkwood elf stalking directly towards him. Recognizing the seething fury in the dark eyes of Legolas, Gimli raised his eyebrows a little and backed up, foreseeing what was to happen next.
"She was injured. You looked after her. Personally. What have you done with her?" Legolas' usually smooth voice was raspy because of the thick swirls of smoke he'd inhaled during his urgent searching.
Eomer instinctively step up to the elf. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes you do," Aragorn tried to reason, but Gimli's cry made him take pause.
"Aragorn! Come here. ...Leave the lad."
"What?" Legolas asked, pushing past the two men, knowing Gimli referred to him in his warning as 'the lad.'
His stomach muscles immediately tightened when he came upon the place where the dwarf was hovering.
"No no lad," Gimli said stepping in front of Legolas, wrapping his rough hands around the elf's gauntlets. But he could still see over the dwarf's head.
"Oh... no..." Aragorn sighed, shutting his eyes painfully after watching the blonde come to his knees.
Legolas scooped her up in his arms, lifting her up a little from the still warm ground where she'd crawled to so as to escape her own death. Letting her head rest against his shoulder, he pulled the hair away from her ashen face and tried to close out the world, everything except the sharp breath she took.
He whispered, "You're safe," to her in elvish to which she replied in the same tongue, "I know."
He watched much to his amazement how she looked up at him and smiled. "My father is waiting for me."
"No," the blonde answered quickly, with a set jaw and steely eyes. His deep concern showing more in his expression by the second. "He can wait."
"He has."
"No melanin, here," he said giving her his hand though still held her close with the other, "hold on. Hold onto me just a little bit longer."
"I'm sorry," she breathed, allowing her forehead to be cradled between his shoulder and the nape of his neck. What little grip she had faded into nothingness and he became the only one just then keeping them together.
Aragorn approached slowly, watching the elf gently place the lady on her back on the ground beside him. Putting his hands around her waist, he leaned forward and touched his forehead to her chest.
"Legolas..." Aragorn said calmly, placing a hand against his shoulder.
The young looking immortal glanced up at the man momentarily.. His eyes had turned an unusually dull white-greyish color. So surprised by the transformation, Aragorn moved his hand away, allowing the elf to press his forehead against her breast again.
"She's gone."
Gimli took off his helmet but Elendil would have nothing of it. "Stop that Gimli, she's not died." He came down near the elf, but the blonde did not move until he spoke again.
"She should be taken back to Rivendell. It's where her mother is."
"Her mother? But I don't unders..." Gimli began, but momentarily the dwarf silenced. Legolas stroked his fingers over her hair, pushing back thick strands until a pointed ear was exposed.
"...Stand. She's an elf..." Gimli continued after a long silence.
"It's what she wanted. Rest now, melanin." With that he kissed her hand and laid it back onto her stomach where she'd been wounded. "At least she won't hurt anymore."
"No. There are plenty to do that for her now," Aragorn added.