Chapter 6
Pain, excruciating pain, then blackness...
***
Too slow, he wouldn't make it. The end, it was so close. Every second drew him closer, but all the while, he drifted farther away. He was almost there, could see the cave.
The knife pierced the executioner as he raised his blade. Aragorn did not stop running, even as the body fell to the ground in a heap, the axe clanking to rest by his side. He made for the pedestal and the immobile figure upon it.
"Legolas, nin mela, my love!" he cried as he picked up the body. Legolas shifted a little, opening his eyes. Aragorn cradled him close to his chest, rocking back and forth.
Legolas felt the darkness departing, knowing the observer was an observer no longer. He wrapped his arms around Aragorn, sobbing into his cloak, all the fear of death and parting crashing over his head at once.
"Damn Galadriel," Aragorn whispered as he lifted up the golden prince, calm once more in his embrace. Legolas hiccupped, and Aragorn gently wiped a clear tear from his cheek.
"I though..." Aragorn silenced Legolas with a quick kiss on the lips.
"Come, dear beauty of the elves, I cannot explain here. We have many words to exchange before the end, if there be time." He helped Legolas to the mouth of the cave and down a small incline to where he left Alana. She walked up to Aragorn, nosing Legolas. He winced at her touch and he made no move to acknowledge her.
Aragorn jumped onto the horse's back, and he held down his hand for Legolas, but Legolas, not waning in physical strength, sprang up without help. He clasped his hands around Aragorn's waist, resting his head on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes, the tears flowing despite that barrier.
"Where are you taking me?" he choked out between sobs.
"Away, far away. We will never return to that cursed city, at least, you shall not. You shall be safe, wherever we go, away from the false convictions, away from your hurt."
What hurt, that is, I can send you from.
***
The figure crept silently through the almost deserted streets of Minas Tirith. There were a few weak candles glowing in some dirtied windows, but besides that, there was little sign of life.
With unnatural silence and stealth, the figure slipped under the noses of the guards, into the central ring of the City. He cast sharp eyes around him before hurrying off at a run through the streets. When he came to a small side street, he swerved, slowing as he entered a little known about and dilapidated part of town.
These were the servants' homes; little shacks out of plain sight, near to the palace, but out of the way enough that no one would know they were there. There was much activity here, people bustling about in the streets, maids calling to each other as they exchanged shifts, people out cleaning some of the filthy roads, children running underfoot. It was a community, made for the servants alone, a small town inside a vast city.
The figure spotted a serving woman to one side, stepping out of a flower shop. He approached her.
"May I ask you a question?" She jumped at his voice and almost dropped the flowers she held, her hand clutching at her heart.
"Don't startle me like that, please," she asked. "And of course, you can ask me something." Her brow furrowed together as she suddenly studied the cloaked man, trying to peer into the depths of his hood.
"Where might I find a serving person who would serve the King directly, their business completely in His rooms?"
"Well, there's one girl I know of, Mlina's her name. She lives not far from here actually, down this street and then to the right. She brings his Majesty food and drinks when needed and waits on him when he holds meetings in his chambers." She lowered her voice. "If you want information, she will not give it to her. She won't even tell her family what she heard. It's a mighty position that she's in, but she can't say a word 'bout it."
"Do not fear. I desire no news of the King. Thank you for your assistance." He bowed to the woman and departed, a shadow flitting away in the dark.
The woman hurried in the other direction to spread the news of his coming around the town.
Mlina almost dropped her brush when she heard the knock on her door. She looked up from where she was trying to untangle a large knot in her dirty brown hair and called:
"Who is it?" When the only reply she received was another knock, she impatiently stood and went the front of her one room house. She pulled back a hole-filled curtain and saw a mysterious man in front of her door. She gasped and covered the curtain, darting from the window. Painful memories flowed back to her. The man knocked again.
"G-go away," she stammered. "Leave me alone!"
Suddenly, the pounding increased, and the weak timbers of the door cracked. Mlina shrieked and she dove for a corner of the room where she stored a small knife for occasions like this.
The flimsy door broke, and the figure strode inside, his cloak billowing out from his feet. He made no sound as he advanced on her.
"Get away! I have a knife!" she cried.
"I mean you no harm if you will assist me," he tried to comfort her. "I only ask that you do me a small favor."
"I said stay away!" She felt the wall behind her, and she held the dagger out in front of her with trembling hands.
"I mean you no harm," he cooed, but Mlina did not budge. With a sigh, the man swatted at her hand, which held the dagger. Her hand stung on impact and she dropped the dagger. "I do not want to do this, but if you will not cooperate, I shall." He pulled out his own dagger, long and elegant, with a creamy white blade. He held it up to her neck, their faces only a foot apart.
"You know where the King has gone," he stated. Mlina gasped as with his free hand, he threw back his hood to reveal his face. "You will tell me where the King has gone."
"I-I am s-sworn to secrecy and cannot tell," she whispered.
"There will be much pain by that oath if you do not break it."
"If I broke it, I would be a traitor, and if I was a traitor, I would die. Even if you kill me, I will not speak." The man took Mlina's small wrist and massaged it. She flinched.
"You are soft; you know that, do you not? I know what it is that you fear more than death." He ran his hand along her arm and to her neck; the knife he pulled away, but now, he held her to the wall with his body weight. She tried to squirm away, but she could not. His fingers tickled her lips, and she screamed, but his hand muffled it.
"If you scream, that will follow. If you speak, there will be no pain of death or worse." Both hands he occupied by beginning to unclasp her dress, letting it slide down her shoulders. She pushed against him with her all her strength, but he was too much.
"Don't," she pleaded as he undid the final clasp. Tears leaked from her eyes as she bit her lip. The dress slipped lower, aided by his roving hands. Not again, she pleaded to every holy power. Please, not this again.
"Speak." He pushed a strand of hair away from her face, pressing harder against her. The dress fell lower, so low now. His hand ran down her shoulder and along her arm, colleting the folds of the cloth as it went, forcing it down past her elbows...
"I will speak!" she sobbed finally. "I will do anything but sate your lust. Now get away from me!"
***
Aragorn put a few more branches onto the warm fire, stoking it a little before settling down beside the elf nearby. The moon had just risen above the trees, providing little light for him to see by. Around him, the gentle breeze shifted the leaves of the trees bordering the glen.
Legolas had his knees pulled up to his chest, and his face was stark white, a great contrast to his puffy eyes. Aragorn pulled him close and stroked his hair.
"Legolas," he whispered.
"I suppose we need to talk. In fact, yes, I demand an explanation." He sat up, and Aragorn let his hands fall. Legolas' face was so cold.
"Legolas, I understand the pain that I caused before," he started. "Damn Galadriel, damn her to every end! I do not care anymore. You don't understand what it was to be away from you." Now, it was Legolas' turn to comfort the ranger, as he flung himself at Legolas, who wrapped his arms around the shaking form. "Don't die on me, please, Legolas."
"I can't die..." Legolas' voice caught in his throat. "I can die."
"What happened, Legolas, my love, what happened to the elf from long ago? Where did your strength go? Why do you cry now, when before no tears would fall from your delicate cheeks?" Aragorn reached up to wipe the water from Legolas' cheeks, running his hand along the soft skin. Legolas gulped.
"What happened to the lover I once knew, the lover who would not dare harm me in any way, that would never dare desert me," he spat, even while he let Aragorn smooth down his hair.
"Should I explain first?"
"Your lies will take longer." Aragorn sighed.
"Please, Legolas, hear me out. Let me speak before you pass judgment." Those words struck him, and he fell silent.
"Legolas, Arwen's passing was hard on all," he faltered, unsure how to begin. "There were so many pointing fingers, and when the bow was made of elvish wood, all elves in the City were called to question. One claimed the arrow to be from...Mirkwood. I would not harm you!" he cried, clutching Legolas. "My love, I meant you no harm."
"Why then did you summon me here? If I might remember, it was by your order that I came to this accursed city."
"Lord Elrond...it was he who called you here, against my orders. I could not stop him. He thought it was necessary. He was too engrossed in his own selfish thoughts to pay you any attention. Legolas, I only wanted you gone, safe and away. I caused you too much hurt." Legolas could not bring himself to retort. "If I could take it all back, I would. If I could stop all your suffering, I would. Would you like me to die? I would die for you, if that suits you." He spread his arms wide. "Whatever you want, I will give it to you!"
"Then stay with me," Legolas whispered. "I hate you." With that, he flung his arms around Aragorn, letting the man rock him. "I wanted you dead. I wanted to stay with you. I do love you, if you can ever faithfully return that."
"I never wavered, only clouded my on vision a little."
***
Night turned to day, the sun faded from the sky, and Haldir cursed as it rose above the horizon, easily giving away his position to any who might cast their eyes on the plain now. He sped his horse up a little, his only hopes to reach the forest before noon. So much was coming together, the pieces falling in perfectly...
"Sir, I can't keep up," a feeble voice called beside him. Haldir turned around on his horse and saw the serving girl, Mlina, struggling to stay balanced on her horse as it trotted obediently onward. She gripped the mane with her white hand and clung tightly to it to keep from sliding off.
"Just try. I need you still, even after what you have told me."
"Sir, if I may ask: what is it that you still want from me? I gave you all the information that I know..."
"You will see in due time." Haldir turned his horse, and he heard Mlina let out a muffled shriek as her horse too turned. He smiled and trotted on.
The dark cloud of doubt though hung heavy in his heart. Back in the City, news was just spreading of the disappearance of the prisoner Legolas, he knew. Yes, he had been there, seen the escape, the dramatic rescue on Aragorn's part. He knew what the king planned.
By nightfall, they would have moved out of the last ring of the City and into the wilderness beyond. If time boded well, Aragorn could make it across Middle-Earth in at least a month, maybe less, depending on how fast he traveled. Haldir had to reach them before that time. He could feel that something was going direly wrong, some turn for ill that could bring his downfall.
With Legolas here to prove his innocence—
"Sir, I see someone ahead. I think they might have food, and if you do not mind me asking, could we stop..."
"No, we can't stop! I thought that I heard you were a dependable servant, if not a little talkative, but you always followed orders." She bowed her head in fear, hiding behind her mass of hair and shielding her upper body. "Well, come on. We need to avoid these people if we can." He swerved to the right, a little off course, and hurried around the traveler.
Unfortunately for him, he did not recognize the man, out for a walk in the morning sun, spending time alone with his thoughts, and nor did he know the man also saw him.
***
Elrond sent out scouts as soon as possible to get to Haldir, seeing that he was leaving somewhere. After disappearing for so long, it was only necessary to wonder, and after Legolas escaped...
Elrond wondered, not for the first time, if what he was doing was right. He had known Legolas ever since the young elf had been a baby, always in close contact with his father.
For the first time, even after pronouncing Legolas as his son, his thoughts turned to Thranduil. Legolas was his only link to a life long past: his wife. It would be too much for Thranduil to have to bear that grief on his old heart. Long was he Elrond's friend and companion, and here he was, ruthlessly chasing after his son.
Still, Legolas was clearly at fault, and it was what had to be done to bring justice to this horrid crime. Even if it would grieve him, it was true, and Thranduil needed to know what his son's fate was to be. He was an oblivious father, probably expecting that Legolas be happily wed to Aragorn, the husband to the King of Gondor. Little did he guess of the struggle behind those seven gates and walls.
Elrond pulled out a piece of parchment from the desk he was sitting at in his chambers and sighed, scribbling down the best note that he could to break this news to his friend.
Dear Thranduil,
My friend, I grieve that I must send you a letter under these circumstances, but what must be done must be done.
I do not know if you have heard, but a month (was it really that long, he asked himself) ago a horrible tragedy befell Minas Tirith. My daughter, Lady Arwen, was found dead, shot by an elvish archer of some type.
After must speculation, we came to the conclusion of who did the deed. I wish not break this news to you, but I must. Thranduil, it was your son Legolas. He was the one that murdered her. I cannot explain in full the predicament that brought this about, and so I will not attempt it, but if you wish to see your son again, it may be wise that you come. By Gondorian law, he is to be put to death. He has escaped, but I expect we shall find him. Please, I urge haste.
Elrond
He looked over the letter with distaste, but it was all he could bring himself to say, so he called for a messenger and sent him away bearing the news.
***
Legolas woke at dawn, though he was not eager to move, as in the normal fashion of now, but these reasons were different. After so many starving nights, he was not ready to relinquish his spot tucked beside Aragorn, the arms wrapped around him, the man's breathing tickling his nose. Legolas smiled and closed his eyes contentedly, despite the boiling anger.
Last night was a long night, most of it spent in discussion of the times, of any subject that came to mind. After an hour or so, even Legolas let his tongue loosen, and he conversed freely amid tears and soft caresses.
"Morning, my love," Aragorn mumbled as he opened his eyes to see a pair of dark blue ones staring at him affectionately. He pecked Legolas on the cheek and rose, stretching. "The day dawns clear, and there is much for us to do in only a short time." Last night's bliss faded as reality struck Legolas.
"Yes, they will come for me," he said hollowly, his eyes glazing over, but he vigorously tossed his head from side to side to clear it. "You said that you would come back?"
"I cannot go to Valinor beyond or to any of the Magic Isles. I would even follow you to the very doorstep of death if I could, so do not feel as if I am abandoning you."
"I do not. To tell you the truth, I still much regret ever meeting you, but regardless of the nagging of your blunders, I still love you. I will not mourn too much at our parting, I can say."
"I will," Aragorn complained. "I will miss every second from your side."
"And in your sorrow you can contemplate what might have gone wrong." Aragorn pulled the lithe form to him, wrapping his arm around the thin waist.
"Oh dear love Legolas, I have done enough of that to last a lifetime." He tickled the elf's lips with his, but Legolas gave him a little shove, and they were apart.
"Come, we must leave here if we want to escape the guards." Suddenly, his face turned grim. "What will become of you afterwards? They know that you did this." Aragorn thought for a moment while he pulled some food out of the pack.
"Truthfully, my love, I do not know."
"Promise me something though," he pleaded.
"I will promise you anything."
"If it happens that you die, please, send word. I would like to know of it so I can rejoice through my grief." Aragorn frowned, Legolas smirked triumphantly, coming to his side to look for food amidst the pack, humming a tune under his breath, and Aragorn smiled despite himself to see his lover's recovery.
"Do you still expect there is a ship to Valinor?"
"Galadriel insisted that we take a sooner one; she herself would stay, I believe now, and Elrond..." He growled. "There should be a later ship sometime. Do not worry; we shall not be too late."
This though did not comfort Aragorn, and he felt an unexplainable dread growing in the back of his heart.
***
Haldir notched an arrow and fired a second later, bringing down the large rabbit he was hunting. It died with a squeal, and he walked over to it, picking it up, and brought it back to his camp in the shelter of the woods.
Mlina huddled against a tree trunk, her eyes red from silent crying. Haldir almost felt pity for the girl, after what he had done to her. He did not expect it to scar her that much.
"I brought back dinner," he said. "Do you know how to cook rabbit? I can if you don't," he added to the silence. Mlina looked up from the tangle of her hair, and she gulped, convulsing when she saw the rabbit in his hand, dripping with blood. "Don't worry, it is only a rabbit. Even elves kill them." He knelt by Mlina, but she screamed and tripped over herself trying to get away.
"Stay away from me!" she shrieked. Haldir sighed.
"Please, I will not harm you again, rest assured," he comforted, but she still sobbed hysterically. "I suppose then I shall cook this rabbit." He left the poor shaking girl and went to the fire, carefully skinning the rabbit and staking it upon a spit to turn over the fire.
His thoughts turned to arrow beside him, and he found himself smirking. So close he was to his final target. Once again, he would need to use his archery skills. Once again, he would take aim. Once again, he would fire.
And this time, like the last, he would not miss.