DISCLAIMER: I own everything! They're all mine! MINE!
Uh oh. Guys? What are you doing with that strange white jacket? Ahhh,
sorry, but white doesn't suit me at all. No. I'm not going to wear this.
No! Leave me be! Help! Legolas!!!
L: why should I help you? Look what you've done to me! No, I don't think
so. It's payback time! *smirks*
Ah well, felt the urge to babble on the disclaimer. ;o)
White Wolf: See? Lots of Legolas in this chapter. There's really no need to send more evil bunnies after me, I think I have enough rabid plot bunnies of the size of mini-Balrogs haunting me.*sigh* Off with you! Will you please let go of my leg, NOW! Back into your cage- Shush,shush. By the way, what about an update in the "Wrong Path"? Maybe it should be me sending some shape-shifters after you. Yes, I definitely like the idea.
SHANDRIAL: WOW!! It's really great to be reviewed by such a talented writer like you.. *points at Shandrial* Lookie, one of the current top authors actually reviewed my story. Every single chapter! *gloats* Ahhh.*pattes herself on the back* Well, what about a sequel to "The Choices We Make" And I mean real soon. Say, right now? With 'ro and 'dan and Glor, Thrandy and Elrond struttong around, the whole staff, you know. Did I mention that you're evil? Well, you certainly are. *grins* Like me.
FEAR: Well, since I'm currently studying Chemistry, or more precisely Biochemistry, I think I'm stuck with it. I certainly don't know what possessed me when I choose such cruel a subject. I think Saruman whispered some evil words to me, and from what I read in your bio, also to you. ;o) I hope you will be able to read this fic in pite of it, though.
Thanks for liking the funeral scene. I really had a hard time writing it, since how should I describe a ceremony which actually sholdn't be happening at all.
Enough babbling, here comes the story.
Chapter 6 AWAKENINGS
Trapped. Trapped in a sea of pain and darkness. Frantically he started to thrash, trying to break away from the strong maelstrom which threatened to swipe him away, further into the depth, the blackness he easily recognized as death. Each breath proved harder and harder, he could feel him slowly slipping away, drowning in despair.
"Legolas. las.las." A faint voice echoed hollowly. A loud shattering yanked him out of the mire. He gasped out, greedily filling each inch of his lung with the precious good. He didn't know what the sounds meant, nor did he know their source, but they were strangely comforting. Something seemed to pull at him, and he found himself taking hesitant steps towards the source.
"Legolas! Lasto bêth nîn." [Hear my voice]
There again! He looked around, trying to discern anything among the shadows, anything to show him the way. Although he saw nothing he felt an intense urge to keep on moving, moving towards the voice.
".mellon nîn.Tolo. Legolas. Lasto. nîn. Legolas. Legolas." [my friend. come. hear..]
The voice grew stronger and more persistent with every step, as did the pain. Every movement sent an excruciating agony through him, draining his strength.
"Legolas. Legolas.las. las."
Legolas. Who was that? Somehow the name sounded familiar to him, and something deep inside him stirred. He felt so exhausted, so utterly tired, the journey starting to take its toll on him. A current tugged at him viciously, trying to pull him back. *And why not? At least the pain was bearable back there. Why should I continue? Maybe it would be just better to relax and to rest. Yes, rest.*
Yet it proved impossible. Maybe his warrior instincts kicked in, forbidding him to give up and cease struggling, or maybe it was the stubbornness the House of Oropher was notorious for which compelled him to fight. Maybe both, but he found himself dragging onwards, his strides lengthening, his shoulders straightening.
"Legolas!"
Legolas. His name! Now he remembered. It was him the voice was calling. Whatever the reason, he simply knew he had to comply and follow.
A faint glow pierced the darkness, slowly growing bigger. Legolas stared dazedly at the swirling spot, paralyzed. Suddenly he found himself swept off his feet and sucked into the light.
"He's awake!"
"Thank the Valar!"
"Welcome back, mellon nîn!"
Brightness assaulted his senses, blinding him. The voice turned into many, roaring and ringing in his ears. He moaned.
Something delightingly cool brushed over his face, soothing him. After a while his spinning world calmed down, allowing his strained senses to analyze the various signals of his surroundings.
A soft touch caressed his face, something warm squeezed his hand. A faint whisper reached his ears; he could make out single words, though he couldn't grasp their meaning. It felt good though. Slowly he pried one eye open, and after the pain had receded into a dull throbbing in the back of his head he dared to open the other one. Amidst the white light two large dark spots hovered above him. Panic seized him, and he tried to recoil but found it very hard to move a single muscle. Soothing sounds were made by the spots, something pressed him down, effectively pinning him down.
"Legolas?" Faramir frowned. Finally they had succeeded to bring Legolas back to consciousness, but his gaze was unfocused and held no recognition, only pain and fear. "Mellon nîn, you're safe now. You're here, in Minas Ithil. You're with us, with Eowyn, Boromir and me."
At least he was awake, they had feared never to see their friend again. It had been a very rough couple of days in which they had never dared to leave his side. Faramir could still feel the shock and anger he had felt when he had seen his friend's bloodied and broken body in his son's arms. That he had survived the breakneck ride through Ithilien's forest had been a miracle itself, and they had despaired for his life; several times he had stopped breathing, his heart beating, and when everything had seemed lost, something had returned him to them. The Elf was far from healed, but although his condition was still grave Faramir could feel the icy hold of despair on him slacken, making room for hope. Now that he had made it that far Legolas would never give in. He was far too hard-headed to do so.
Something cool was pressed against his lips, and before he knew what he was doing he was taking tiny sips, swallowing softly the cool liquid.
"Legolas? Mellon nîn, you're safe now. You're here, in Minas Ithil. You're with us, with Eowyn, Boromir and me." His gaze flicked up, seeking the source. The dark spot looked vaguely familiar. Eowyn, Boromir. who were they? Why should he feel safe with them? Eowyn. Eowyn! Faramir! A weak smile spread on his face. He remembered!
"Faramir." He mouthed, unable to produce a sound apart from faint moans. "Faramir." So relieved he was to find out he was with his friend and partner ruler he allowed the blackness to claim him, knowing for once it was safe to.
"Faramir." A huge grin split his face in two as he discerned the barely breathed word. He recognized him. Now all would be well. So he was not utterly surprised as he saw the lids of the Elf-lord closing again, slipping into oblivion for now. He knew for certain that Legolas would awake again.
*****
"How is he?"
"Better, much better. His fever has broken, he's breathing more freely now, and it seems he's in less pain."
*Less pain. Ay, Faramir, I think we should discuss your definition of pain, for your and my opinion seem to diverge greatly. Not much pain.* Legolas groaned mentally as a new jolt of fire tore through his body, as it did with every breath he took. *Less pain indeed!* he snorted. Slowly he tried to open his eyes; it was still the same unamusing experience it had been the past attempts. Angrily he tried to shake his head, an action which proved fruitless and extremely stupid, as tidal waves of nausea washed over him, leaving him wishing to be everywhere but in this mad roller-coaster which bore the name of bed.
"I think he's not unconscious anymore, but finally sleeping."
"That's fine. He will need as much rest as possible to heal properly. Let's leave in order not to disturb him."
Legolas cleared his throat. "Well, I think it's already too late for that, my lady." His voice was raspy and hoarse and sounded incredibly weak.
"Legolas! You're awake!" With a joyful cry which made his ears ring two persons came rushing to his side. He winced.
"Unfortunately."
"Well, well, well, look who has finally decided to grace us with his presence. Enough beauty sleep for now, my lord?" Faramir's deep baritone rumbled then he beamed "Welcome back to the living."
Legolas glared at him. His vision was still blurry, but he could see the fine lines of worry around Faramir's eyes, and although mirth filled his voice a hint of underlying worry was still detectable.
"I think you mistake us. I'm definitely not the one in need for a beauty sleep. You're not either, for even if you slept for a century I doubt there would be any change in that thing with ears you call your face. I'm afraid, but it's a completely hopeless endeavour."
A silvery laugh floated through the air, and Eowyn gently ruffled his hair. "Still as saucy and arrogant as ever. It's good to have you back, mellon nîn."
Legolas smiled softly. It definitely felt good to be back.
"How do you feel?"
Pondering the question for a few seconds Legolas settled for the truth, if a somewhat slim version of it, omitting some minor details like finding it extremely difficult to breathe and wanting to cry out in agony whenever he as much as blinked.
"Like I have been cut in half and swept down a waterfall."
"Is that what happened to you?" Faramir asked softly. From what he had garnered from his son, Legolas had mumbled something about an attack, Eryn Feredron and cant-ûlun, whatever this meant.
"More or less." Legolas waved it off tiredly. Suddenly the memories slammed into him, causing him to suck in his breath sharply. The shape-shifters!!! Lólindir, Galdor, his men. Eryn Feredron. He would bet his life on it that that was the next target intended.
Desperately he grabbed Faramir's sleeve, and with a strength which surprised both he pulled him down, closer to him.
"Faramir! Eryn Feredron is in danger! Please," he pleaded, "please, you have to send your soldiers to our aid. Saes!" [please] With a visible effort Legolas composed himself again. "As the Lord of Eryn Feredron I formally request your military support, Prince Faramir."
Faramir disentangled himself gently from Legolas' hard grip. "As your friend, your ally and your brother in arms I will more than pleased to personally kick any enemy of yours back to the hole where it has crept from."
Legolas nodded gratefully and then launched into the tale.
*****
"It's a lone rider!"
"An Elf!"
The sentries on the wall stood ready, arrows notched, patiently waiting for orders.
Nilturiel felt her blood rushing, pounding so loud in her ears she was barely able to understand the shouts of her warriors. Aragorn and Gimli stood beside her, watching alertly. They were serene and composed, only Aragorn's intense stare and Gimli's tight hold on the handle of his axe betrayed their apprehension. They're mere presence was comforting, and although she was a warrioress in her own right, having fought more battles than she cared to remember, she felt afraid. Truly, Mirkwood had always lived under the shadow of Dol Guldur and subsequently under the imminent threat of attacks and destruction, but there had been always her father or her eldest brother to assume the full responsibility. She had been a Captain of the Mirkwood army, like most of her siblings, Legolas included, being among the highest ranking officers and therefore greatly used to issue spontaneous orders adapting to the changing conditions. But. not until know she had realized what it felt to be burdened with the fate of your people, not only playing a mere part to protect them. Her orders were paramount and decisive; any outcome of a battle would be solely her responsibility. Only know she started to comprehend what it meant to be a leader of people, and she felt incredibly awed by her father, Aragorn and even her baby brother Legolas, how they had managed to convey so much faith and confidence in such a nonchalant manner was beyond her.
To the outside spectator she looked completely unruffled and cool as ice, but beneath the surface she could feel her emotions in a raging turmoil. Doubt and fear filled her heart.
Aragorn surveyed the elleth [Elf-maid] next to him from the corner of his eye, he could sense her inner battle. A surge of sympathy rushed over him, he knew what she was going through only to well from his own experience. Every day he stood at the mirror, looking at his own reflection and wondering what he had done to deserve to be king, doubting his worth and his aptitude. It was always a struggle to come to terms with himself and the fact that he was king and therefore leader of a nation, something he wasn't able to change by now, nor, if he was completely honest, something he wanted to change. The only thing he could do was do his best and more to be a worthy servant of his people.
And Nilturiel, Princess Nilturiel and now Queen of Eryn Feredron was learning to be her people's leader the hard way, without a second of respite, without a break to draw breath. Gently he laid his hand on her shoulder, trying to convey as much strength and reassurance into this small gesture as he could muster. Nilturiel simply leaned her cheek against his hand, a gesture who spoke more than thousand words of gratitude.
"It's Vorwen!"
"Open the gates!" her voice rang clear and confident, not betraying anything at all.
A few minutes later a horse charged in, stumbling in his attempts to stop, carried forward by its own momentum. Finally it stood there, flanks heaving, mouth foaming. Quickly a few warriors approached, taking charge of the exhausted horse and gently lifting the injured Elf from the horse back. It was Vorwen, an Elf from Lothlorien, member of the still overdue scouting party. And from the look of it, it was highly to be doubted that the rest would return. He had a nasty black arrow protruding from his back, and a large crimson stain coloured his tunic.
Quickly she ran beside him.
"My lady." he gasped, face twisted in pain. "Uruks. Three days from here. Huge." He coughed, spitting blood. After a few seconds he had regained enough breath to speak again. "Huge army, at least two thousand, preparing to march against us." At these words the faces of the surrounding Elves blanched. Vorwen was attacked again by a violent coughing fit which nearly left him senseless. The healers had arrived by now and were readying everything for his transport to the house of healing, when he held up a hand, signalling that his report was not over. "The rest of us are dead. There were creatures. I've never seen anything like them. Only I escaped alive, and only by fluke."
"Thank you Vorwen. You did exceptionally well. You have my and Eryn Feredron's undying thanks." With a nod and small flicker of her hand she signalled the healers to take over and see after the wounded warrior.
She turned around to face the stricken Elves. These were ill tidings indeed. Breathing deeply she tried to calm her nerves before addressing the rest.
"Very well, you have heard. We have three days. Let's start working, for I for my part desire nothing more than to show all Orcs ever spawned that it was the most stupid thing to dare to attack the Elves of Eryn Feredron!"
Loud cheers and approving shouts instilled a great pride in her. Maybe they would even survive!
*****
"So you see, Eryn Feredron is in great danger. And if we fall, then there won't be anything standing between them and the free people of Middle Earth." The conclusion of his report left Legolas drained and empty. It had been hard to relive what had happened, and there had been several moments the emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Only his long training as a warrior and prince helped him to keep his composure. Faramir and Eowyn had listened with utmost attention, and the grief he felt clearly mirrored in their eyes.
After a few minutes of silence they used to collect themselves, Faramir cleared his throat. "As soon as you were brought to us four days ago, I issued the order to raise the army. In two days we will be ready to set off for your home."
Legolas nodded. His energy was completely spent, he felt his eyes drooping, fighting against the overwhelming desire to sleep. Duty had been fulfilled now, and he knew that everything possible to prevent the disaster was being done. Slowly he started to drift back into the welcoming blackness, his thoughts loosing coherency. But he knew that a single thought would still haunt him in his dreams.
*I hope it won't be too late.*
TBC
See? No real cliffie. Not this time anyway, but later on. Oh, there will be so many evil cliffies later on! Mwahahaah
See this cute little button? I'm sure you all already know the procedure by heart now. Just press and,,, It will feel really good, really, really good, promise!
So please!!!!!!! RATE!!!!!!! *pleads with puppy eyes* Rate or I will send the Cant-ulûn after you *cough* Now where did this line drop from? *shrugs*
RATEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
See ya soon ;o)
Ah well, felt the urge to babble on the disclaimer. ;o)
White Wolf: See? Lots of Legolas in this chapter. There's really no need to send more evil bunnies after me, I think I have enough rabid plot bunnies of the size of mini-Balrogs haunting me.*sigh* Off with you! Will you please let go of my leg, NOW! Back into your cage- Shush,shush. By the way, what about an update in the "Wrong Path"? Maybe it should be me sending some shape-shifters after you. Yes, I definitely like the idea.
SHANDRIAL: WOW!! It's really great to be reviewed by such a talented writer like you.. *points at Shandrial* Lookie, one of the current top authors actually reviewed my story. Every single chapter! *gloats* Ahhh.*pattes herself on the back* Well, what about a sequel to "The Choices We Make" And I mean real soon. Say, right now? With 'ro and 'dan and Glor, Thrandy and Elrond struttong around, the whole staff, you know. Did I mention that you're evil? Well, you certainly are. *grins* Like me.
FEAR: Well, since I'm currently studying Chemistry, or more precisely Biochemistry, I think I'm stuck with it. I certainly don't know what possessed me when I choose such cruel a subject. I think Saruman whispered some evil words to me, and from what I read in your bio, also to you. ;o) I hope you will be able to read this fic in pite of it, though.
Thanks for liking the funeral scene. I really had a hard time writing it, since how should I describe a ceremony which actually sholdn't be happening at all.
Enough babbling, here comes the story.
Chapter 6 AWAKENINGS
Trapped. Trapped in a sea of pain and darkness. Frantically he started to thrash, trying to break away from the strong maelstrom which threatened to swipe him away, further into the depth, the blackness he easily recognized as death. Each breath proved harder and harder, he could feel him slowly slipping away, drowning in despair.
"Legolas. las.las." A faint voice echoed hollowly. A loud shattering yanked him out of the mire. He gasped out, greedily filling each inch of his lung with the precious good. He didn't know what the sounds meant, nor did he know their source, but they were strangely comforting. Something seemed to pull at him, and he found himself taking hesitant steps towards the source.
"Legolas! Lasto bêth nîn." [Hear my voice]
There again! He looked around, trying to discern anything among the shadows, anything to show him the way. Although he saw nothing he felt an intense urge to keep on moving, moving towards the voice.
".mellon nîn.Tolo. Legolas. Lasto. nîn. Legolas. Legolas." [my friend. come. hear..]
The voice grew stronger and more persistent with every step, as did the pain. Every movement sent an excruciating agony through him, draining his strength.
"Legolas. Legolas.las. las."
Legolas. Who was that? Somehow the name sounded familiar to him, and something deep inside him stirred. He felt so exhausted, so utterly tired, the journey starting to take its toll on him. A current tugged at him viciously, trying to pull him back. *And why not? At least the pain was bearable back there. Why should I continue? Maybe it would be just better to relax and to rest. Yes, rest.*
Yet it proved impossible. Maybe his warrior instincts kicked in, forbidding him to give up and cease struggling, or maybe it was the stubbornness the House of Oropher was notorious for which compelled him to fight. Maybe both, but he found himself dragging onwards, his strides lengthening, his shoulders straightening.
"Legolas!"
Legolas. His name! Now he remembered. It was him the voice was calling. Whatever the reason, he simply knew he had to comply and follow.
A faint glow pierced the darkness, slowly growing bigger. Legolas stared dazedly at the swirling spot, paralyzed. Suddenly he found himself swept off his feet and sucked into the light.
"He's awake!"
"Thank the Valar!"
"Welcome back, mellon nîn!"
Brightness assaulted his senses, blinding him. The voice turned into many, roaring and ringing in his ears. He moaned.
Something delightingly cool brushed over his face, soothing him. After a while his spinning world calmed down, allowing his strained senses to analyze the various signals of his surroundings.
A soft touch caressed his face, something warm squeezed his hand. A faint whisper reached his ears; he could make out single words, though he couldn't grasp their meaning. It felt good though. Slowly he pried one eye open, and after the pain had receded into a dull throbbing in the back of his head he dared to open the other one. Amidst the white light two large dark spots hovered above him. Panic seized him, and he tried to recoil but found it very hard to move a single muscle. Soothing sounds were made by the spots, something pressed him down, effectively pinning him down.
"Legolas?" Faramir frowned. Finally they had succeeded to bring Legolas back to consciousness, but his gaze was unfocused and held no recognition, only pain and fear. "Mellon nîn, you're safe now. You're here, in Minas Ithil. You're with us, with Eowyn, Boromir and me."
At least he was awake, they had feared never to see their friend again. It had been a very rough couple of days in which they had never dared to leave his side. Faramir could still feel the shock and anger he had felt when he had seen his friend's bloodied and broken body in his son's arms. That he had survived the breakneck ride through Ithilien's forest had been a miracle itself, and they had despaired for his life; several times he had stopped breathing, his heart beating, and when everything had seemed lost, something had returned him to them. The Elf was far from healed, but although his condition was still grave Faramir could feel the icy hold of despair on him slacken, making room for hope. Now that he had made it that far Legolas would never give in. He was far too hard-headed to do so.
Something cool was pressed against his lips, and before he knew what he was doing he was taking tiny sips, swallowing softly the cool liquid.
"Legolas? Mellon nîn, you're safe now. You're here, in Minas Ithil. You're with us, with Eowyn, Boromir and me." His gaze flicked up, seeking the source. The dark spot looked vaguely familiar. Eowyn, Boromir. who were they? Why should he feel safe with them? Eowyn. Eowyn! Faramir! A weak smile spread on his face. He remembered!
"Faramir." He mouthed, unable to produce a sound apart from faint moans. "Faramir." So relieved he was to find out he was with his friend and partner ruler he allowed the blackness to claim him, knowing for once it was safe to.
"Faramir." A huge grin split his face in two as he discerned the barely breathed word. He recognized him. Now all would be well. So he was not utterly surprised as he saw the lids of the Elf-lord closing again, slipping into oblivion for now. He knew for certain that Legolas would awake again.
*****
"How is he?"
"Better, much better. His fever has broken, he's breathing more freely now, and it seems he's in less pain."
*Less pain. Ay, Faramir, I think we should discuss your definition of pain, for your and my opinion seem to diverge greatly. Not much pain.* Legolas groaned mentally as a new jolt of fire tore through his body, as it did with every breath he took. *Less pain indeed!* he snorted. Slowly he tried to open his eyes; it was still the same unamusing experience it had been the past attempts. Angrily he tried to shake his head, an action which proved fruitless and extremely stupid, as tidal waves of nausea washed over him, leaving him wishing to be everywhere but in this mad roller-coaster which bore the name of bed.
"I think he's not unconscious anymore, but finally sleeping."
"That's fine. He will need as much rest as possible to heal properly. Let's leave in order not to disturb him."
Legolas cleared his throat. "Well, I think it's already too late for that, my lady." His voice was raspy and hoarse and sounded incredibly weak.
"Legolas! You're awake!" With a joyful cry which made his ears ring two persons came rushing to his side. He winced.
"Unfortunately."
"Well, well, well, look who has finally decided to grace us with his presence. Enough beauty sleep for now, my lord?" Faramir's deep baritone rumbled then he beamed "Welcome back to the living."
Legolas glared at him. His vision was still blurry, but he could see the fine lines of worry around Faramir's eyes, and although mirth filled his voice a hint of underlying worry was still detectable.
"I think you mistake us. I'm definitely not the one in need for a beauty sleep. You're not either, for even if you slept for a century I doubt there would be any change in that thing with ears you call your face. I'm afraid, but it's a completely hopeless endeavour."
A silvery laugh floated through the air, and Eowyn gently ruffled his hair. "Still as saucy and arrogant as ever. It's good to have you back, mellon nîn."
Legolas smiled softly. It definitely felt good to be back.
"How do you feel?"
Pondering the question for a few seconds Legolas settled for the truth, if a somewhat slim version of it, omitting some minor details like finding it extremely difficult to breathe and wanting to cry out in agony whenever he as much as blinked.
"Like I have been cut in half and swept down a waterfall."
"Is that what happened to you?" Faramir asked softly. From what he had garnered from his son, Legolas had mumbled something about an attack, Eryn Feredron and cant-ûlun, whatever this meant.
"More or less." Legolas waved it off tiredly. Suddenly the memories slammed into him, causing him to suck in his breath sharply. The shape-shifters!!! Lólindir, Galdor, his men. Eryn Feredron. He would bet his life on it that that was the next target intended.
Desperately he grabbed Faramir's sleeve, and with a strength which surprised both he pulled him down, closer to him.
"Faramir! Eryn Feredron is in danger! Please," he pleaded, "please, you have to send your soldiers to our aid. Saes!" [please] With a visible effort Legolas composed himself again. "As the Lord of Eryn Feredron I formally request your military support, Prince Faramir."
Faramir disentangled himself gently from Legolas' hard grip. "As your friend, your ally and your brother in arms I will more than pleased to personally kick any enemy of yours back to the hole where it has crept from."
Legolas nodded gratefully and then launched into the tale.
*****
"It's a lone rider!"
"An Elf!"
The sentries on the wall stood ready, arrows notched, patiently waiting for orders.
Nilturiel felt her blood rushing, pounding so loud in her ears she was barely able to understand the shouts of her warriors. Aragorn and Gimli stood beside her, watching alertly. They were serene and composed, only Aragorn's intense stare and Gimli's tight hold on the handle of his axe betrayed their apprehension. They're mere presence was comforting, and although she was a warrioress in her own right, having fought more battles than she cared to remember, she felt afraid. Truly, Mirkwood had always lived under the shadow of Dol Guldur and subsequently under the imminent threat of attacks and destruction, but there had been always her father or her eldest brother to assume the full responsibility. She had been a Captain of the Mirkwood army, like most of her siblings, Legolas included, being among the highest ranking officers and therefore greatly used to issue spontaneous orders adapting to the changing conditions. But. not until know she had realized what it felt to be burdened with the fate of your people, not only playing a mere part to protect them. Her orders were paramount and decisive; any outcome of a battle would be solely her responsibility. Only know she started to comprehend what it meant to be a leader of people, and she felt incredibly awed by her father, Aragorn and even her baby brother Legolas, how they had managed to convey so much faith and confidence in such a nonchalant manner was beyond her.
To the outside spectator she looked completely unruffled and cool as ice, but beneath the surface she could feel her emotions in a raging turmoil. Doubt and fear filled her heart.
Aragorn surveyed the elleth [Elf-maid] next to him from the corner of his eye, he could sense her inner battle. A surge of sympathy rushed over him, he knew what she was going through only to well from his own experience. Every day he stood at the mirror, looking at his own reflection and wondering what he had done to deserve to be king, doubting his worth and his aptitude. It was always a struggle to come to terms with himself and the fact that he was king and therefore leader of a nation, something he wasn't able to change by now, nor, if he was completely honest, something he wanted to change. The only thing he could do was do his best and more to be a worthy servant of his people.
And Nilturiel, Princess Nilturiel and now Queen of Eryn Feredron was learning to be her people's leader the hard way, without a second of respite, without a break to draw breath. Gently he laid his hand on her shoulder, trying to convey as much strength and reassurance into this small gesture as he could muster. Nilturiel simply leaned her cheek against his hand, a gesture who spoke more than thousand words of gratitude.
"It's Vorwen!"
"Open the gates!" her voice rang clear and confident, not betraying anything at all.
A few minutes later a horse charged in, stumbling in his attempts to stop, carried forward by its own momentum. Finally it stood there, flanks heaving, mouth foaming. Quickly a few warriors approached, taking charge of the exhausted horse and gently lifting the injured Elf from the horse back. It was Vorwen, an Elf from Lothlorien, member of the still overdue scouting party. And from the look of it, it was highly to be doubted that the rest would return. He had a nasty black arrow protruding from his back, and a large crimson stain coloured his tunic.
Quickly she ran beside him.
"My lady." he gasped, face twisted in pain. "Uruks. Three days from here. Huge." He coughed, spitting blood. After a few seconds he had regained enough breath to speak again. "Huge army, at least two thousand, preparing to march against us." At these words the faces of the surrounding Elves blanched. Vorwen was attacked again by a violent coughing fit which nearly left him senseless. The healers had arrived by now and were readying everything for his transport to the house of healing, when he held up a hand, signalling that his report was not over. "The rest of us are dead. There were creatures. I've never seen anything like them. Only I escaped alive, and only by fluke."
"Thank you Vorwen. You did exceptionally well. You have my and Eryn Feredron's undying thanks." With a nod and small flicker of her hand she signalled the healers to take over and see after the wounded warrior.
She turned around to face the stricken Elves. These were ill tidings indeed. Breathing deeply she tried to calm her nerves before addressing the rest.
"Very well, you have heard. We have three days. Let's start working, for I for my part desire nothing more than to show all Orcs ever spawned that it was the most stupid thing to dare to attack the Elves of Eryn Feredron!"
Loud cheers and approving shouts instilled a great pride in her. Maybe they would even survive!
*****
"So you see, Eryn Feredron is in great danger. And if we fall, then there won't be anything standing between them and the free people of Middle Earth." The conclusion of his report left Legolas drained and empty. It had been hard to relive what had happened, and there had been several moments the emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Only his long training as a warrior and prince helped him to keep his composure. Faramir and Eowyn had listened with utmost attention, and the grief he felt clearly mirrored in their eyes.
After a few minutes of silence they used to collect themselves, Faramir cleared his throat. "As soon as you were brought to us four days ago, I issued the order to raise the army. In two days we will be ready to set off for your home."
Legolas nodded. His energy was completely spent, he felt his eyes drooping, fighting against the overwhelming desire to sleep. Duty had been fulfilled now, and he knew that everything possible to prevent the disaster was being done. Slowly he started to drift back into the welcoming blackness, his thoughts loosing coherency. But he knew that a single thought would still haunt him in his dreams.
*I hope it won't be too late.*
TBC
See? No real cliffie. Not this time anyway, but later on. Oh, there will be so many evil cliffies later on! Mwahahaah
See this cute little button? I'm sure you all already know the procedure by heart now. Just press and,,, It will feel really good, really, really good, promise!
So please!!!!!!! RATE!!!!!!! *pleads with puppy eyes* Rate or I will send the Cant-ulûn after you *cough* Now where did this line drop from? *shrugs*
RATEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
See ya soon ;o)