STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY!
CHEYSULI: Thank you again for your help!! I lost a lot of sweat on the battle scene, it's more difficult than I thought at first. As for Legolas getting to Faramir... Read on!
WHITE WOLF: You know, I've just read the WRONG PATH and I find chillingly angsty! I was very busy at the moment, so I couldn't review. Please acknowledge this as an review! Can't wait for more!
DARKNESS STIRS
Chapter 4 LINDELLE I MORNIE
He stood gazing out of the window, so immersed in his thoughts he nearly jumped out of his skin as someone called his name. The voice sounded very exasperated, as if having done so for several times.
"King Elessar!"
Aragorn turned around, facing the very dour face of Raledh, Legolas' second advisor.
"Are you sure you haven't found any evidence of the attackers? No bodies, no blood, no trails leaving the site?"
Aragorn sighed. He was not in a mood to be bothered with such stupid questions, and anybody who knew him would have recognised the signs and run for cover.
In a flash he was beside the stunned advisor, their faces mere inches apart, and slammed his fist on the table. The advisor jumped and retreated a few steps. With a visible effort he regained his composure.
"No, nothing at all. How often will I have to repeat it? Which part of it don't you understand? The n or the o?" He had barely risen his voice, but its fierceness thundered on the Elf, making him cringe. "The only blood we found on the blades was Elvish, and the only trails to find were those of Legolas' company."
With as much dignity as he could muster the Elf straightened himself. "That cannot be. They were Elves! We do not yield before taking a great amount of enemies with us!" he replied haughtily.
"You don't say!" Aragorn sneered. His eyes were narrowed to slits, blazing. "And you truly believe that anything could have sneaked upon them, on Legolas of all people, taking them by surprise, if not by dark magic? Scaring the horses out of their wits, so that they leave their masters behind. Horses that would usually kick any creature from here to Mordor and back if they attacked their riders? Do you think that anything short of the Dark Lord himself could have accomplished such a feat? If you do, Legolas made a grave mistake by choosing you for the position as his advisor!" With every word Aragorn's voice had risen until reaching an ear-shattering volume that carried his yells throughout the palace.
"What?" he snapped, turning around furiously as someone placed a calming hand on his back.
"Calm down, Estel, there's no need to rip off his head, even if its only use is to protect his throat from the rain." Aragorn averted his eyes abashedly, looking at the floor.
"I'm sorry Nilturiel, I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."
"Well, then, let's sit down again and discuss how to proceed. Today is a dark day, and I feel danger looming for Eryn Feredron." She shuddered, clasping her arms around her, a far away look on her face.
"Messengers have been dispatched to Eryn Lasgalen, Minas Tirith and Minas Ithil, my lady, to summon troops. Word should be sent to Eomer, too, and request his assistance. He will be more than willing to send his Rohirrim to our aid. Knowing him, he will lead them personally, as will Faramir." Aragorn looked into the council, meeting approving looks and nods. Even Raledh gave his approval, disgruntled as he probably felt.
"And we need runners to Aglarond." Gimli cut in, adding in afterthought "And to the Lonely Mountains." At this there were some gasps and incredulous stares, but Nilturiel smiled at him fondly. "Thank you, Elvellon. We will need them." This elicited even more incredulity, for it was a rare thing indeed that an Elf would accept aid from a Dwarf willingly. Gimli looked at her, grateful for being allowed to help.
"If they succeed! The problem of them being intercepted by the same evil still remains. We cannot afford to loose more warriors, and there are already two patrols overdue! That we need aid is out of question. But, how will we get it? The patrols report of an increased Orc activity at the northern border, and I cannot belief it to be a coincidence. We will be able to withstand a major attack easily, but if they join forces... " the voice of Threlan, Legolas' chief advisor trailed off, leaving an uncomfortable silence as everyone gathered was left to finish the thought by themselves.
"If Eryn Feredron falls, so will Gondor." Aragorn whispered.
"Eryn Feredron will not fall! Nor any realm else!" Nilturiel's jaw was set determinedly, a defiant gleaming in her eyes. "We will dispatch runners as well as carrier pigeons and falcons. That combined should be able to get the message through to our allies. They will inform one another, should the other messengers fail. Another pressing matter is the fortification of the city, since an attack is likely to occur. I agree with Treladh, the increase of Orc activity is no coincidence, for no one would dare to attack an Elf-Lord without powerful allies."
They went on discussing how to proceed for hours, until deep into the night. From time to time they would fall into silence, fighting off the overwhelming grief, thinking hard what creature might have been able to perpetrate such gruesome deeds. Finally the council ended with everyone retiring to fulfil his appointed tasks.
*****
Gimli stood on the balcony, staring at the stars above. How many times had he stood there with Legolas, discussing, bickering and bantering, or simply sitting there, enjoying each other's silent company, gazing at the sky, much the same as he was doing at the present. Usually Legolas would be sitting on the railing, his feet dangling, humming one song or other, or both staring at the wide sky, absorbing the beauty of the night.
But it was different now. The only melodies to be heard where the haunting, bittersweet tunes of the laments. The air carried the mourning voices as they were telling of their pain and despair, enhancing the beauty of the night in a heart-wrenching way. Only Elves were capable of creating something so beautiful out of the innermost pain. Gimli's heart wept. The colony had been dealt a shattering blow, and the Firstborns were walking the halls and the roads like ghosts, shock and anger emanating from them in huge waves, wrapping the air in despair. Not only sixteen immortal lives had been extinguished this day, but they had been deprived of their beloved leader as well. Their hope had perished.
Sobs raked along the halls, and you could see many Elves standing lost and lonely, tears streaming down their usually aloof faces. A blow from which they wouldn't recover easily, if at all.
As they had entered the colony earlier that day, they had been awaited by the warriors' relatives. Gimli wouldn't forget their faces in all his life, for they were burnt into his soul. As were the heart-wrenching cries as they discovered what had become of their loved ones. Many seasoned warriors had fainted, overcome at the sight of their husbands, wives,children, brothers, sisters, parents, relatives or friends. How they had managed to do them the last services, washing and dressing them, trying to assign the limbs to the corresponding bodies or trying to identify them, was a miracle itself, but they had succeeded. A now the colony was reeling in shock, desperately seeking something to hold on to, finding nothing.
Gimli found himself joining them in their laments, singing softly the song of Elbereth.
Elbereth Gilthoniel,
"Earendil is bright tonight, Elvellon." Started out of his reverie it took him a few seconds to realise the speaker's identity. Behind him stood Nilturiel, trailed by Aragorn. Her look was lost as she gazed out into the night.
Gimli blushed at being caught unaware. *A Dwarf, singing an Elven song! How preposterous!*
But the smile that greeted him was soft and kind, not mocking.
"Aye, my lady. But his light doesn't touch my heart tonight."
"Sometimes it is hard even for the Eldar to find comfort in the stars, Elvellon. But you must try, you must try."
Together they stood in silence, lost in thought.
Aragorn was gripping so hard at the railing that Gimli feared he might break the stone in two. Guilt marred his handsome face.
"If I only had not come! He wouldn't have gone on patrol, and none of this would happened!" He burst out.
"Still playing the game of guilt, little one?" Despite her kind words her voice was clipped and hard, a dangerous gleaming in her eyes, not due to the moonlight.
Aragorn bowed his head, giving her a rueful grin. "Old habits die hard."
"Indeed. You and Legolas had a running competition on who of you was able to put more blame on himself. Every time one of you was injured the other would spent the time wallowing in guilt. You only stopped short of blaming yourself for the weather. Although, on second thought, you did even that. The time you fell ill when travelling to Mirkwood due to the rain, Legolas actually blamed himself for it!" Her eyes were blazing with anger at the memory, shacking her head furiously at such folly. "And now you claim responsibility for an attack nobody foresaw!" Suddenly she laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Indeed, old habits die hard! Now I find myself scolding you again, knowing that it would be more useful to try to convince the sun to shine at night."
"We gave you a hard time, didn't we?" Aragorn asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth, "Every time dragging one of us halfdead to our homes..."
"You two were the death of us, of this I can assure you. Never did I meet someone so prone to danger! We had bets running whose turn it was to play the victim again."
"Don't look at me, it's not my fault that your brother had danger glued to his tunic. I lived a very peaceful live till meeting him!"
Nilturiel snorted. "Peaceful, you say? I remember it a little bit differently. You know that your father claims you're the cause for his grey hair? You and those two disgraces of your brothers did everything within your power to kill yourselves! Trouble had no trouble finding you at all."
"Well, let's simply say that we complemented each other fully..."
Nilturiel broke into laughter. "Yes, you were two halves of the same. Not once, not a single time you made it home in one piece. If you were late for three days, we knew that one of you must have broken some part of your body. Five days and you would surely have run into a band of Orcs, or wargs, or met some trolls, or spiders discovered you to be a rather tasty meal. A week and we would send out search parties. You didn't disappoint us once! Ada and Lord Elrond had an agreement to send you to the other realm after three months at most, to be able to replenish the supplies on herbs. Besides, that was the only way how for them to remain sane."
"Now come, that's not true! There were several times when we arrived on time, and unscathed. Remember the time when we returned from Lothlorie... No, wait, there was that arrow... Ah, yes, when we went to retrieve... no, Legolas ate those berries... when... the hunting trip with Ro and Dan... Ugh, I got poisoned. Well, I cannot recall anything right now, but I'm sure there had to be an occasion... All right, we returned never in only one piece!"
At this the small party broke into a fit of laughter, momentarily forgetting the grief by reliving better days. They where so absorbed it took sometime to discover the small form leaning against the door frame. Eldarion was looking at them, eyes wide, a grey storm raging in them, cheeks flushed with agitation.
"Eldarion, ion nîn, come, join us!" Aragorn called him, smiling, wiping away a tear of laughter. He extended his hand as invitation.
Eldarion recoiled as if it had been a snake offered to him. Gaping, he stood there, watching them with an ill-concealed loathing. With a snap he closed his mouth, pressing his lips tightly together. His face became a mask, blank, stony. Only his eyes betrayed his emotions, mirroring his inner turmoil. "Nay, Sire, I feel a little bit indisposed." He spat through clenched teeth."I think I will retire to my rooms, with your permission. Good night." With a stiff bow he turned at his heels and fled.
Aragorn looked after his sun, dumbstricken. The words had hurt him, as had the look in those silvery grey eyes. They had been like daggers, piercing his already broken heart. Never had he imagined to be looked at with so much hatred and loathing, least of all by his son, whom he cherished more than the sun and the moon. "Eldarion!" A slender hand restrained him, as he moved to follow his son.
"You must give him time, he's too young and doesn't understand." Nilturiel said to him sympathetically.
"He has no right to behave like this, with such disrespect towards you!" Aragorn hissed.
"I worry for him, Aragorn. I fear his hatred is consuming him!" Gimli wore a very worried expression. "And who can blame him, after having to witness such... such destruction! I'm craving to lay hands on those monsters and to rip them apart with my bare hands, myself!" A cruel lust for revenge blazed in his eyes, his lips curled to a venomous snarl.
"I will talk to him, Aragorn." With a small nod she left after the infuriated heir of Gondor.
******
Eldarion was seething with anger. How dare they? Legolas was dead and they were laughing as if nothing had happened. Didn't they care?
He paid no attention were he was heading to, so he was mildly surprised when he found himself in the middle of the palace gardens instead in front of his chamber. Apparently his feet had felt the despair of their owner, and had dragged him to one of his favourite places. Loving the outside was another trait he had inherited from his parents, for his father had been wandering the wilds for so long he could rightfully claim them as his home, and her mother was bound to nature by her Elven soul. As often as both could manage to escape the governing duties they retired to the gardens.
Kicking a stone angrily he sat down on the grass. It was a chilly night, a cold breeze tugged at his tunic, leaving him shivering. Sombrely he looked up at the stars, searching for solace through their soft lights, finding none. Frustrated he started plucking the grass.
*Legolas, why did you go? You promised always to be there! And now you've gone. You've lied to me, liedtome, liedtome, liedtome...*
Tears threatened to overpower him as he recalled his friend, someone nearly as close to him as his father.
How much he had been looking forward to his training in Eryn Feredron! Finally he was considered old enough to receive a full warrior training. Though terrified at the prospect to be separated from his parents for over a year the joy and pride had outweighed it. He had been determined to work as hard as he could and to give his best, for it was the minimum expected from him. Legolas was a kind, generous friend, humorous, noble and ferociously loyal, but he was a severe and demanding mentor, too, a fiery warrior, hardened and seasoned. Eldarion had yearned to please him, to prove himself a worthy student, well knowing that it meant getting up before sunrise and sleeping after midnight, pushing himself to his limits and beyond.
And now there was nothing. Legolas was gone, leaving his heart aching, and his father was laughing!
Softly rustling leaves made him jump. Warily he looked around, searching the source, spotting the intruder two paces from him.
A rabbit. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be up and about, little one?" He spoke softly in order not to startle the tiny being. Crouching, he approached it slowly. "My, you're a pretty one, do you know? May I stroke you?"
Something felt amiss. He sat there kneeling, about to caress its silvery fur,as icy needles prickled his skin, restraining him. A sensation of imminent danger washed over him. Eldarion scanned the area. He was completely alone, his only company the rabbit in front of him. The leaves were rustling in the wind, everything was dark, the only light the pale moon and the stars.
Eldarion shook his head to dispel the dreadful feeling, as he noticed the rabbit's eyes.
They were white, empty and piercing at the same time.
*Must be the reflection of the moonlight* he thought numbly. His senses were urging him to run, to get away from the place as quick as possible, but he found himself unable to. He sat there, frozen, loosing himself in the rabbit's eyes. He felt so cold, so very cold. His eye lids were heavy, he had to struggle to keep them open. A tiredness gripped him, pulling him down into the depth of oblivion.
"Eldarion." The melodious voice came from very far away. Somehow it sounded familiar, though he couldn't remember. And why should he care? He simply wanted to give in to sleep.
"Eldarion? Eldarion!" Something shook him, it was rather annoying, really. Why couldn't they leave him alone? He opened his eyes reluctantly. A blond face was peering at him, concern written all over it.
"Eldarion? Are you all right? Speak to me?" Slowly he awakened from his stupor, recognising the face. It was Princess Nilturiel. Immediately he stiffened and straightened himself, shrugging her hand from his shoulder.
"My lady?"
"Eldarion, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, my lady."
She didn't belief him for an instant, but recognising the stubborn set of his jaw she desisted from probing further. A small sighed escaped her. How much he remembered her of Legolas and Aragorn. Why did they have to be so stubborn?
She stood up from her kneeling position and rearranged her clothes. The night was crisp and clear, and she could see Eldarion shivering. "Walk with me, Eldarion." It was not a request, but a demand, and Eldarion found himself walking next to her obediently.
Both walked out of the gardens without looking back. If they had, they would have seen the tiny rabbit with the silver fur turning into a big raven, spreading its wings and flying to the sky. Its cry pierced the night.
**********
"Don't move." His arrow was aimed unwaveringly at the figure kneeling in front of him. It was a very dark night, and the torches brought little light. However, the form didn't stop moving. "Stop, I said. Identify yourself!"
The figure stopped, but he doubted he did due to his orders, for he simply collapsed into a heap, lying sprawling on the ground. *What creature is this? Is it human? It looks more like an Orc* Indeed, the creature beneath him looked pityful, clothed in rags, filthy and dirty. He couldn't even define the colour of his hair, for it was dark with grime.
It was moaning weakly, and he choked as he discerned the sounds uttered. He didn't understand them, but the soft lilting, melodious sounds stated the obvious.
The creature was an Elf.
Swiftly he lowered his bow and moved closer to kneel beside him. From the immediate closeness his appearance was even more shocking. Blood covered him from head to toe, staining his torn tunic. The eyes were half-lided and unfocused, his skin grey, the lips taking on a blueish tint. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, emitting a gurgling sound. Tiny bubbles of light, fresh blood at the corner of his mouth stated his grave condition, the effort of each drawn breath clearly visible.
The Elf was in great distress, for he never ceased mumbling and moaning, shifting and writhing. The words muttered were barely audible, but he could discern Eryn Feredron and the name of his Prince, Lord Faramir, several times. The rest was drowned in cries of despair and pain.
"Lales, go get the Captain and Rikar! Now!" The youth addressed quickly bolted in direction of the camp, fear and shock on his face.
Taron took his water bag and tore at his sleeve, after he had watered the cloth he began to wipe away the blood from the Elf's face. He winced and tried to recoil, horrified. Taron racked his brain for the few Elvish words he knew, while he shushed him, speaking in low, comforting tones. "Im sí, mellon nîn, im sí." [I'm here, my friend, I'm here.] The Elf relaxed against him ever so slightly, drawing comfort from the sound of the Grey tongue. Taron brought his flask to the Elves crached lips, letting the water trickle slowly inside his throat.
The Elf's skin was cold and clammy, sweat glistening on his brow. But the water seemed to have a positive effect, for the eyes cleared a little, and he focused his gaze on the soldier bending over him.
"Legolas!" At the cry from his captain Taron spun around. He saw him close the distance between them in a blink. He knelt down, taking the Elf in his arms, carefully, not wanting to worsen his injuries.
"Oh Elbereth, what happened to you, my friend? Who did this to you?"
Legolas became aware of his surroundings as a cool, soothing liquid glided down his throat. It was dark, apparently night. Someone was bending over him, speaking soothingly. His vision was blurred, but he felt safe. He heard his name called from a distance, and suddenly someone tool him inn his arms, brushing accidentally against his wounded side. He moaned slowly.
"Oh Elbereth, what happened to you, my friend? Who did this to you?" Legolas focused on the speaker, the sound of his voice ringing familiarly.
"Bo... Boromir?"
"Ay, im sí."
"Boromir... Eryn Feredron... Aragorn... the Cant-Ulûn... they attacked us. They're dead, all dead! Need... help! Help us!"
Boromir, Faramir's eldest son watched in horror as the Elf collapsed in his arms into a coughing fit, spitting blood. Legolas struggled for air, but it seemed in vain. The colour drained from his already pale face, taking on a blueish tinge. He grasped Boromir's tunic desperately as he fought to breathe, but slowly the strength left him. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, and blackness engulfed him.
He went completely limp, ceasing his struggle. His chest stopped rising, as did the gurgling sound. The silvery grey eyes glazed over before closing slowly .
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
TBC...
Yeah me, my first real cliffie! Did you like it or did you not? Any comments, suggestions or critics? I'm craving for your reviews!!! I'm living for them, each single one bringing light into my dark existence!
Well, see you soon!
Plz rrrrrrrrrr!
CHEYSULI: Thank you again for your help!! I lost a lot of sweat on the battle scene, it's more difficult than I thought at first. As for Legolas getting to Faramir... Read on!
WHITE WOLF: You know, I've just read the WRONG PATH and I find chillingly angsty! I was very busy at the moment, so I couldn't review. Please acknowledge this as an review! Can't wait for more!
DARKNESS STIRS
Chapter 4 LINDELLE I MORNIE
He stood gazing out of the window, so immersed in his thoughts he nearly jumped out of his skin as someone called his name. The voice sounded very exasperated, as if having done so for several times.
"King Elessar!"
Aragorn turned around, facing the very dour face of Raledh, Legolas' second advisor.
"Are you sure you haven't found any evidence of the attackers? No bodies, no blood, no trails leaving the site?"
Aragorn sighed. He was not in a mood to be bothered with such stupid questions, and anybody who knew him would have recognised the signs and run for cover.
In a flash he was beside the stunned advisor, their faces mere inches apart, and slammed his fist on the table. The advisor jumped and retreated a few steps. With a visible effort he regained his composure.
"No, nothing at all. How often will I have to repeat it? Which part of it don't you understand? The n or the o?" He had barely risen his voice, but its fierceness thundered on the Elf, making him cringe. "The only blood we found on the blades was Elvish, and the only trails to find were those of Legolas' company."
With as much dignity as he could muster the Elf straightened himself. "That cannot be. They were Elves! We do not yield before taking a great amount of enemies with us!" he replied haughtily.
"You don't say!" Aragorn sneered. His eyes were narrowed to slits, blazing. "And you truly believe that anything could have sneaked upon them, on Legolas of all people, taking them by surprise, if not by dark magic? Scaring the horses out of their wits, so that they leave their masters behind. Horses that would usually kick any creature from here to Mordor and back if they attacked their riders? Do you think that anything short of the Dark Lord himself could have accomplished such a feat? If you do, Legolas made a grave mistake by choosing you for the position as his advisor!" With every word Aragorn's voice had risen until reaching an ear-shattering volume that carried his yells throughout the palace.
"What?" he snapped, turning around furiously as someone placed a calming hand on his back.
"Calm down, Estel, there's no need to rip off his head, even if its only use is to protect his throat from the rain." Aragorn averted his eyes abashedly, looking at the floor.
"I'm sorry Nilturiel, I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."
"Well, then, let's sit down again and discuss how to proceed. Today is a dark day, and I feel danger looming for Eryn Feredron." She shuddered, clasping her arms around her, a far away look on her face.
"Messengers have been dispatched to Eryn Lasgalen, Minas Tirith and Minas Ithil, my lady, to summon troops. Word should be sent to Eomer, too, and request his assistance. He will be more than willing to send his Rohirrim to our aid. Knowing him, he will lead them personally, as will Faramir." Aragorn looked into the council, meeting approving looks and nods. Even Raledh gave his approval, disgruntled as he probably felt.
"And we need runners to Aglarond." Gimli cut in, adding in afterthought "And to the Lonely Mountains." At this there were some gasps and incredulous stares, but Nilturiel smiled at him fondly. "Thank you, Elvellon. We will need them." This elicited even more incredulity, for it was a rare thing indeed that an Elf would accept aid from a Dwarf willingly. Gimli looked at her, grateful for being allowed to help.
"If they succeed! The problem of them being intercepted by the same evil still remains. We cannot afford to loose more warriors, and there are already two patrols overdue! That we need aid is out of question. But, how will we get it? The patrols report of an increased Orc activity at the northern border, and I cannot belief it to be a coincidence. We will be able to withstand a major attack easily, but if they join forces... " the voice of Threlan, Legolas' chief advisor trailed off, leaving an uncomfortable silence as everyone gathered was left to finish the thought by themselves.
"If Eryn Feredron falls, so will Gondor." Aragorn whispered.
"Eryn Feredron will not fall! Nor any realm else!" Nilturiel's jaw was set determinedly, a defiant gleaming in her eyes. "We will dispatch runners as well as carrier pigeons and falcons. That combined should be able to get the message through to our allies. They will inform one another, should the other messengers fail. Another pressing matter is the fortification of the city, since an attack is likely to occur. I agree with Treladh, the increase of Orc activity is no coincidence, for no one would dare to attack an Elf-Lord without powerful allies."
They went on discussing how to proceed for hours, until deep into the night. From time to time they would fall into silence, fighting off the overwhelming grief, thinking hard what creature might have been able to perpetrate such gruesome deeds. Finally the council ended with everyone retiring to fulfil his appointed tasks.
*****
Gimli stood on the balcony, staring at the stars above. How many times had he stood there with Legolas, discussing, bickering and bantering, or simply sitting there, enjoying each other's silent company, gazing at the sky, much the same as he was doing at the present. Usually Legolas would be sitting on the railing, his feet dangling, humming one song or other, or both staring at the wide sky, absorbing the beauty of the night.
But it was different now. The only melodies to be heard where the haunting, bittersweet tunes of the laments. The air carried the mourning voices as they were telling of their pain and despair, enhancing the beauty of the night in a heart-wrenching way. Only Elves were capable of creating something so beautiful out of the innermost pain. Gimli's heart wept. The colony had been dealt a shattering blow, and the Firstborns were walking the halls and the roads like ghosts, shock and anger emanating from them in huge waves, wrapping the air in despair. Not only sixteen immortal lives had been extinguished this day, but they had been deprived of their beloved leader as well. Their hope had perished.
Sobs raked along the halls, and you could see many Elves standing lost and lonely, tears streaming down their usually aloof faces. A blow from which they wouldn't recover easily, if at all.
As they had entered the colony earlier that day, they had been awaited by the warriors' relatives. Gimli wouldn't forget their faces in all his life, for they were burnt into his soul. As were the heart-wrenching cries as they discovered what had become of their loved ones. Many seasoned warriors had fainted, overcome at the sight of their husbands, wives,children, brothers, sisters, parents, relatives or friends. How they had managed to do them the last services, washing and dressing them, trying to assign the limbs to the corresponding bodies or trying to identify them, was a miracle itself, but they had succeeded. A now the colony was reeling in shock, desperately seeking something to hold on to, finding nothing.
Gimli found himself joining them in their laments, singing softly the song of Elbereth.
Elbereth Gilthoniel,
"Earendil is bright tonight, Elvellon." Started out of his reverie it took him a few seconds to realise the speaker's identity. Behind him stood Nilturiel, trailed by Aragorn. Her look was lost as she gazed out into the night.
Gimli blushed at being caught unaware. *A Dwarf, singing an Elven song! How preposterous!*
But the smile that greeted him was soft and kind, not mocking.
"Aye, my lady. But his light doesn't touch my heart tonight."
"Sometimes it is hard even for the Eldar to find comfort in the stars, Elvellon. But you must try, you must try."
Together they stood in silence, lost in thought.
Aragorn was gripping so hard at the railing that Gimli feared he might break the stone in two. Guilt marred his handsome face.
"If I only had not come! He wouldn't have gone on patrol, and none of this would happened!" He burst out.
"Still playing the game of guilt, little one?" Despite her kind words her voice was clipped and hard, a dangerous gleaming in her eyes, not due to the moonlight.
Aragorn bowed his head, giving her a rueful grin. "Old habits die hard."
"Indeed. You and Legolas had a running competition on who of you was able to put more blame on himself. Every time one of you was injured the other would spent the time wallowing in guilt. You only stopped short of blaming yourself for the weather. Although, on second thought, you did even that. The time you fell ill when travelling to Mirkwood due to the rain, Legolas actually blamed himself for it!" Her eyes were blazing with anger at the memory, shacking her head furiously at such folly. "And now you claim responsibility for an attack nobody foresaw!" Suddenly she laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Indeed, old habits die hard! Now I find myself scolding you again, knowing that it would be more useful to try to convince the sun to shine at night."
"We gave you a hard time, didn't we?" Aragorn asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth, "Every time dragging one of us halfdead to our homes..."
"You two were the death of us, of this I can assure you. Never did I meet someone so prone to danger! We had bets running whose turn it was to play the victim again."
"Don't look at me, it's not my fault that your brother had danger glued to his tunic. I lived a very peaceful live till meeting him!"
Nilturiel snorted. "Peaceful, you say? I remember it a little bit differently. You know that your father claims you're the cause for his grey hair? You and those two disgraces of your brothers did everything within your power to kill yourselves! Trouble had no trouble finding you at all."
"Well, let's simply say that we complemented each other fully..."
Nilturiel broke into laughter. "Yes, you were two halves of the same. Not once, not a single time you made it home in one piece. If you were late for three days, we knew that one of you must have broken some part of your body. Five days and you would surely have run into a band of Orcs, or wargs, or met some trolls, or spiders discovered you to be a rather tasty meal. A week and we would send out search parties. You didn't disappoint us once! Ada and Lord Elrond had an agreement to send you to the other realm after three months at most, to be able to replenish the supplies on herbs. Besides, that was the only way how for them to remain sane."
"Now come, that's not true! There were several times when we arrived on time, and unscathed. Remember the time when we returned from Lothlorie... No, wait, there was that arrow... Ah, yes, when we went to retrieve... no, Legolas ate those berries... when... the hunting trip with Ro and Dan... Ugh, I got poisoned. Well, I cannot recall anything right now, but I'm sure there had to be an occasion... All right, we returned never in only one piece!"
At this the small party broke into a fit of laughter, momentarily forgetting the grief by reliving better days. They where so absorbed it took sometime to discover the small form leaning against the door frame. Eldarion was looking at them, eyes wide, a grey storm raging in them, cheeks flushed with agitation.
"Eldarion, ion nîn, come, join us!" Aragorn called him, smiling, wiping away a tear of laughter. He extended his hand as invitation.
Eldarion recoiled as if it had been a snake offered to him. Gaping, he stood there, watching them with an ill-concealed loathing. With a snap he closed his mouth, pressing his lips tightly together. His face became a mask, blank, stony. Only his eyes betrayed his emotions, mirroring his inner turmoil. "Nay, Sire, I feel a little bit indisposed." He spat through clenched teeth."I think I will retire to my rooms, with your permission. Good night." With a stiff bow he turned at his heels and fled.
Aragorn looked after his sun, dumbstricken. The words had hurt him, as had the look in those silvery grey eyes. They had been like daggers, piercing his already broken heart. Never had he imagined to be looked at with so much hatred and loathing, least of all by his son, whom he cherished more than the sun and the moon. "Eldarion!" A slender hand restrained him, as he moved to follow his son.
"You must give him time, he's too young and doesn't understand." Nilturiel said to him sympathetically.
"He has no right to behave like this, with such disrespect towards you!" Aragorn hissed.
"I worry for him, Aragorn. I fear his hatred is consuming him!" Gimli wore a very worried expression. "And who can blame him, after having to witness such... such destruction! I'm craving to lay hands on those monsters and to rip them apart with my bare hands, myself!" A cruel lust for revenge blazed in his eyes, his lips curled to a venomous snarl.
"I will talk to him, Aragorn." With a small nod she left after the infuriated heir of Gondor.
******
Eldarion was seething with anger. How dare they? Legolas was dead and they were laughing as if nothing had happened. Didn't they care?
He paid no attention were he was heading to, so he was mildly surprised when he found himself in the middle of the palace gardens instead in front of his chamber. Apparently his feet had felt the despair of their owner, and had dragged him to one of his favourite places. Loving the outside was another trait he had inherited from his parents, for his father had been wandering the wilds for so long he could rightfully claim them as his home, and her mother was bound to nature by her Elven soul. As often as both could manage to escape the governing duties they retired to the gardens.
Kicking a stone angrily he sat down on the grass. It was a chilly night, a cold breeze tugged at his tunic, leaving him shivering. Sombrely he looked up at the stars, searching for solace through their soft lights, finding none. Frustrated he started plucking the grass.
*Legolas, why did you go? You promised always to be there! And now you've gone. You've lied to me, liedtome, liedtome, liedtome...*
Tears threatened to overpower him as he recalled his friend, someone nearly as close to him as his father.
How much he had been looking forward to his training in Eryn Feredron! Finally he was considered old enough to receive a full warrior training. Though terrified at the prospect to be separated from his parents for over a year the joy and pride had outweighed it. He had been determined to work as hard as he could and to give his best, for it was the minimum expected from him. Legolas was a kind, generous friend, humorous, noble and ferociously loyal, but he was a severe and demanding mentor, too, a fiery warrior, hardened and seasoned. Eldarion had yearned to please him, to prove himself a worthy student, well knowing that it meant getting up before sunrise and sleeping after midnight, pushing himself to his limits and beyond.
And now there was nothing. Legolas was gone, leaving his heart aching, and his father was laughing!
Softly rustling leaves made him jump. Warily he looked around, searching the source, spotting the intruder two paces from him.
A rabbit. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be up and about, little one?" He spoke softly in order not to startle the tiny being. Crouching, he approached it slowly. "My, you're a pretty one, do you know? May I stroke you?"
Something felt amiss. He sat there kneeling, about to caress its silvery fur,as icy needles prickled his skin, restraining him. A sensation of imminent danger washed over him. Eldarion scanned the area. He was completely alone, his only company the rabbit in front of him. The leaves were rustling in the wind, everything was dark, the only light the pale moon and the stars.
Eldarion shook his head to dispel the dreadful feeling, as he noticed the rabbit's eyes.
They were white, empty and piercing at the same time.
*Must be the reflection of the moonlight* he thought numbly. His senses were urging him to run, to get away from the place as quick as possible, but he found himself unable to. He sat there, frozen, loosing himself in the rabbit's eyes. He felt so cold, so very cold. His eye lids were heavy, he had to struggle to keep them open. A tiredness gripped him, pulling him down into the depth of oblivion.
"Eldarion." The melodious voice came from very far away. Somehow it sounded familiar, though he couldn't remember. And why should he care? He simply wanted to give in to sleep.
"Eldarion? Eldarion!" Something shook him, it was rather annoying, really. Why couldn't they leave him alone? He opened his eyes reluctantly. A blond face was peering at him, concern written all over it.
"Eldarion? Are you all right? Speak to me?" Slowly he awakened from his stupor, recognising the face. It was Princess Nilturiel. Immediately he stiffened and straightened himself, shrugging her hand from his shoulder.
"My lady?"
"Eldarion, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, my lady."
She didn't belief him for an instant, but recognising the stubborn set of his jaw she desisted from probing further. A small sighed escaped her. How much he remembered her of Legolas and Aragorn. Why did they have to be so stubborn?
She stood up from her kneeling position and rearranged her clothes. The night was crisp and clear, and she could see Eldarion shivering. "Walk with me, Eldarion." It was not a request, but a demand, and Eldarion found himself walking next to her obediently.
Both walked out of the gardens without looking back. If they had, they would have seen the tiny rabbit with the silver fur turning into a big raven, spreading its wings and flying to the sky. Its cry pierced the night.
**********
"Don't move." His arrow was aimed unwaveringly at the figure kneeling in front of him. It was a very dark night, and the torches brought little light. However, the form didn't stop moving. "Stop, I said. Identify yourself!"
The figure stopped, but he doubted he did due to his orders, for he simply collapsed into a heap, lying sprawling on the ground. *What creature is this? Is it human? It looks more like an Orc* Indeed, the creature beneath him looked pityful, clothed in rags, filthy and dirty. He couldn't even define the colour of his hair, for it was dark with grime.
It was moaning weakly, and he choked as he discerned the sounds uttered. He didn't understand them, but the soft lilting, melodious sounds stated the obvious.
The creature was an Elf.
Swiftly he lowered his bow and moved closer to kneel beside him. From the immediate closeness his appearance was even more shocking. Blood covered him from head to toe, staining his torn tunic. The eyes were half-lided and unfocused, his skin grey, the lips taking on a blueish tint. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, emitting a gurgling sound. Tiny bubbles of light, fresh blood at the corner of his mouth stated his grave condition, the effort of each drawn breath clearly visible.
The Elf was in great distress, for he never ceased mumbling and moaning, shifting and writhing. The words muttered were barely audible, but he could discern Eryn Feredron and the name of his Prince, Lord Faramir, several times. The rest was drowned in cries of despair and pain.
"Lales, go get the Captain and Rikar! Now!" The youth addressed quickly bolted in direction of the camp, fear and shock on his face.
Taron took his water bag and tore at his sleeve, after he had watered the cloth he began to wipe away the blood from the Elf's face. He winced and tried to recoil, horrified. Taron racked his brain for the few Elvish words he knew, while he shushed him, speaking in low, comforting tones. "Im sí, mellon nîn, im sí." [I'm here, my friend, I'm here.] The Elf relaxed against him ever so slightly, drawing comfort from the sound of the Grey tongue. Taron brought his flask to the Elves crached lips, letting the water trickle slowly inside his throat.
The Elf's skin was cold and clammy, sweat glistening on his brow. But the water seemed to have a positive effect, for the eyes cleared a little, and he focused his gaze on the soldier bending over him.
"Legolas!" At the cry from his captain Taron spun around. He saw him close the distance between them in a blink. He knelt down, taking the Elf in his arms, carefully, not wanting to worsen his injuries.
"Oh Elbereth, what happened to you, my friend? Who did this to you?"
Legolas became aware of his surroundings as a cool, soothing liquid glided down his throat. It was dark, apparently night. Someone was bending over him, speaking soothingly. His vision was blurred, but he felt safe. He heard his name called from a distance, and suddenly someone tool him inn his arms, brushing accidentally against his wounded side. He moaned slowly.
"Oh Elbereth, what happened to you, my friend? Who did this to you?" Legolas focused on the speaker, the sound of his voice ringing familiarly.
"Bo... Boromir?"
"Ay, im sí."
"Boromir... Eryn Feredron... Aragorn... the Cant-Ulûn... they attacked us. They're dead, all dead! Need... help! Help us!"
Boromir, Faramir's eldest son watched in horror as the Elf collapsed in his arms into a coughing fit, spitting blood. Legolas struggled for air, but it seemed in vain. The colour drained from his already pale face, taking on a blueish tinge. He grasped Boromir's tunic desperately as he fought to breathe, but slowly the strength left him. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, and blackness engulfed him.
He went completely limp, ceasing his struggle. His chest stopped rising, as did the gurgling sound. The silvery grey eyes glazed over before closing slowly .
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
TBC...
Yeah me, my first real cliffie! Did you like it or did you not? Any comments, suggestions or critics? I'm craving for your reviews!!! I'm living for them, each single one bringing light into my dark existence!
Well, see you soon!
Plz rrrrrrrrrr!