Legolas became aware of an aching pain all over his body, and he blinked his eyes open, remembering where he was. Then he remembered Nimoë. Swiftly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked down at the girl beneath him. Her eyes were closed, and she hardly seemed to be breathing. With trembling hands, he shook her by the shoulder, hoping to rouse her, but there was no response.
"Nimoë! Wake up, my heart. I need you to come back to me. Please!" With one last shake, her eyelids began to flutter, and she gasped in a breath. That proved to be too much for her soot-filled lungs, and she began to choke, gasping for air, her face turning a frightening shade of reddish-blue.
Legolas lifted her into a sitting position, and held her close against him, supporting her body as she fought to breathe. His hands clenched in her long hair, willing his strength to flow into her, to help her to calm her tortured lungs.
After long, frightening moments, her wracking heaves slowed, then faded away. She pulled back away from him, and he saw tears sliding through the black soot on her face, leaving muddy trails along her skin. "Is it over?" she asked, in a cracked voice.
Legolas nodded. "The fire has passed, but we must not linger. As soon as the Men of Gondor and Ithilien are certain that it is safe for them to enter our realm, they will follow in its wake, intent on killing any who might have survived." He unconsciously brushed her hair back from where it fell over her face. "We must run. There is only one way open to us, but I greatly fear it. We must cross the Mountains of Shadow and make our way into the land of Mordor. Even Men dread that foul place, and will not enter it."
Nimoë's pale grey eyes grew wide, and she stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. "Mordor? But we cannot! There are things of evil which still remain in that cursed place. We will not survive!"
The Elf Prince reached out and pulled her close against him, offering what little reassurance he could. "We may not, but here our doom is certain. I can see no other choice. I need you to be strong Nimoë. You told me earlier that you are not a child. Now is the time to prove it."
The girl pulled back from him, the set of her features telling him that she would take up the challenge that he had thrown, knowing she could not refuse it. "I will prove it to you, my Prince. I will not be a burden."
Legolas nodded briskly. "Good. Come, we must go." He rose to his feet and pulled Nimoë up after him. His head almost grazed the overhanging boulder, which had likely saved their lives. "I will lift you up."
Nimoë stepped to the underside of the large boulder which did not quite reach to the overhanging rock, forming the opening they had slithered into. Legolas lifted her with strong arms, and she reached out through the small hole, grabbing on to the edges of the stones above, then pulled herself out, while the Prince pushed from below.
What she saw as she stood there, staring out at what had come to pass, made her heart die inside her. All around were the charred remains of once noble trees, now silenced forever. Blackened embers littered the ground, and Nimoë could feel the pain and devastation of the forest radiating throughout her own body. Slowly she sank to her knees, crushed by the grief of loss, and tears fell from her eyes, watering the stones beneath her with their salty wetness.
A hand on her shoulder made her aware that Legolas had also emerged from the cave. Looking up, she could see the same pain that she was feeling reflected in his eyes. Yet there was also something more. A hard glint burned behind his clear blue gaze, a fire of determination to seek revenge against those who had wrought such utter devastation. He reached a hand down to her, and she laid her own within his firm grasp. His voice hard, he said, "Come. We have little time."
They fled.
The ground was treacherous, for there were many places where fires still smoldered, sometimes hidden underneath what appeared to be cooled embers. Even through the hard leather of their boots they could feel the heat emanating up, and they stepped quickly, both to hasten their escape and to keep their feet from burning.
Their path led them steadily upwards and Nimoë struggled to keep her breathing under control, afraid to be caught again in the terrifying fits of coughing. Legolas did not release her hand and she drew courage from his silent strength.
Even in the midst of the surreal events of the night, she found that some small part of her heart beat the faster at being near him, at being wrapped in the cocoon of his protective presence. She did not know if what she felt was love, but it was most certainly infatuation. His heroic actions had ignited a fierce longing within her, and she felt her battered body yearning towards him. How beautiful was Legolas! His eyes as blue as the morning sky, hair of sunlight gold, skin as fair as the glow of dawn on snow covered peaks, and the powerful strength held close within him until such time as it was needed…
Nimoë glanced behind them, and gave a short cry. "Legolas! There are lights behind us. They are coming!"
He turned and looked through the charred remains of the forest. Sure enough, all about there were lights flickering among the corpses of the trees. Lanterns and torches. His keen eyes made out the flash of flame on drawn steel.
"Faster, Nimoë. We must move faster if we are to escape."
Forcing her legs to run, she chased after her Prince. Smothering her need to cough, she raced on, although her head spun from the lack of air. Almost without warning they burst out of the burned forest and onto the rocky precipices that formed the Mountains of Shadow. Ahead of them, high in the craggy rocks, Nimoë saw a great number of Elves, huddled close together, peering back into the forest.
Legolas saw them as well and shouted up to them, "Keep climbing! Men are on our heels! Our only hope is to cross the Mountains into Mordor." When they hesitated, he roared his command again, waving his arm emphatically, to make his order clear, "Climb! That is not a request!"
As one, the massed bodies turned and began to find holds which would bring them further from the life they had known and into a world of unknown dangers. Nimoë looked up at the sheer rock wall that rose in front of her, trying to make out any holds for her hands and feet. It seemed that only a spider would have a chance of successfully scaling the cliff.
"Go, Nimoë. I will guard your back."
Reluctantly, she placed one foot into a small fissure, then pulled herself up on a protuberance so small that she could not even see it, anxious lest she should fail. Once the first move was completed, however, she began to gain confidence, and she moved, slowly but purposefully, up the face of the cliff.
Standing sentinel at the base of the cliff, Legolas felt naked. He had left his bow in his arboreal home, never for a moment thinking that he might need it. The only weapon he had with him was a boot knife, and he pulled it from its place of concealment. The lights were still some distance away, so he looked up, and saw with relief that Nimoë was already halfway up the perilous wall.
When, several minutes later, she reached the first ledge, Legolas re-sheathed his knife, then scrambled up after her. He reached the ledge quickly, for he had the advantage over her in height, and therefore the climb was less difficult, although by no means simple, as the blackness of the night made finding stable holds challenging.
Nimoë clutched the wall, leaning in against its stability, as she looked down over her shoulder at the approaching Men. Already they were close enough that she could make out their dark-robed forms, for her eyes were keen. Legolas' voice in her ear startled her, and she nearly jumped in shock. "Keep going. We are not safe yet."
So she scrambled onward, fingers probing through the darkness for solid handholds, levering herself ever higher over the perilous drop back down to the forest floor. Vainly, she tried to forget the obvious fact that one small slip would be the end of her, and she pressed on.
At long last, Nimoë reached the broad flat space where the rest of the Elves had been huddled when they arrived. She collapsed onto her face, hugging the ground as if she wanted to sink into it, never to be separated again. Once she had regained control of her breathing, however, she scrambled onto her knees, and crawled away from the edge of the precipice.
After a few long moments, Legolas' fair head surged up and over the rim of the cliff as well, and he ran to her, swooping her up into his arms, as he fled towards the back of the broad ledge.
"What…" she began, but when an arrow flew just over their fleeing heads she understood. The Men had reached the bottom of the cliff.
As soon as the Elf Prince reached the base of the next pitch, he set her down on her feet. "If we remain here, their arrows cannot reach us, but on the cliff we will be easy targets. We cannot move quickly enough to hope to evade their arrows." Legolas' eyes burned into hers, and she felt fear sink into the very depths of her soul. He did not think they would survive.
A loud cry came up the cliff face from below, "You are trapped, Elves! Our Men are already approaching, and our archers will shoot you down if you try to climb. Get ready to leave this world, Elves! Immortal or no, you can still bleed, and you can still be killed!"
Nimoë clung desperately to Legolas' arms, praying that some miracle would save them, but instinctively knowing that it was unlikely.
The Elf Prince detached Nimoë's arms from about him, and he unsheathed his boot knife, preparing himself for his last stand.
