Chapter 8

~'~

For a moment as he woke up, Gimli believed that he was back home. That particular smell that he could only find in deepest of caves was all around him, a mix of earth and fresh water that never failed to ease his spirit and make him feel safe.

"How do you feel, my friend?"

Gimli jumped from the cot where he was laying and looked at Aragorn.

"It was true then," he said smiling, his short arms surrounding the ranger, "I thought my eyes were deceiving me… we had you for lost!"

Aragorn smiled in return, glad to see the dwarf well again.

"I was lucky."

The dwarf nodded.

"Perhaps… though I believe that Lady Death has been losing her touch, "he smiled, "many have been able to escape her clutches lately!" Gimli's expression lost all its joy as he remembered, "How's the elf?"

Aragorn moved a little to the side, so that Gimli could see for himself. A small distance away, surrounded by the light of the burning torches, Legolas unmoving figure lay on his stomach. His back was bare and a man with an old face and steady hands, carefully and meticulously threaded with a needle and string on the elf.

"It's not too deep, but it is a long slash." the ranger explained. "How did this come to happen?"

"Orcs!" Gimli snarled, and then cursed. "How could I forget such a thing?! Aragorn," he said, grabbing the ranger's arm, "the King must be warned! A large army of Uruk-hai… they make way to this place!"

Aragorn placed a hand on the disturbed dwarf's shoulder.

"Take ease, my friend… the King's already been warned."

Gimli frowned in confusion.

"I too saw that army on my way here." Aragorn explained.

"Oh!" Gimli said, ready to rise "Then we should prepare to meet them!"

"You should rest a bit more." Aragorn stopped him, "Your body is still weary and your wounds could use the time to heal."

The dwarf took notice, for the first time, of the bandages in his arm and hands.

"Nonsense" he shrugged it off, "we Dwarves are sturdy people". He got up. The wave of dizziness that hit him did not go with out notice by Aragorn.

"You fainted shortly after arriving"

Gimli raised an eyebrow.

"Dwarves don't faint!" and he wouldn't accept a second opinion on that, "Besides, I'll give my wounds as rest when I see you doing the same for yours." he said with a meaningful look towards the white cloth wrapped around the man's arm.

Aragorn couldn't argue with that.

"What is this place?" Gimli asked, as he took a better look at the cave where they stood. The walls shimmered, as if covered in jewels. Natural galleries, formed by mould rock, stretched as far as his eyes could see. The Rohans seemed to have taken advantage of that natural division and had transformed each rocky niche into separate rooms. This one, it seemed, had been reserved for the healing.

"The Glittering Caves." Aragorn explained, "We are beneath the fortress of the Helm, in the mountain's roots."

"Glittering Caves indeed." Gimli whispered in awe, admiring Nature's work at is best. In his mind, he could not help to imagine all that he, and a couple of good and hard worker dwarves, would be able to do in such a place. Dwarrowdelf in its prime days would pale in comparison.

"It is done, my Lord." the older healer called to Aragorn.

"Thank you Eother." the ranger said, clasping the man's wrist in camaraderie, "You may return to the others now."

The man bowed and left them alone.

Aragorn kneeled beside Legolas, searching for something in his bag. Gimli followed him.

"He still sleeps?" he asked, noticing the closed eyes.

"Yes." the ranger said. He had taken a dry plant from his pouch and was now adding it to some water. Instead of turning the liquid green, as the leaf was, the mixture evolved in to a yellow paste as Aragorn stirred it.

"I thought they always slept with them open." Gimli continued to talk, his eyes following the ranger's actions.

Aragorn started to spread the yellow salve over the stitched cut.

"Not always." he explained, "They close their eyes when they are too tired or ill." or dying, he failed to add.

"He believes you died by his hands." Gimli whispered. In the silent cave, the dwarf's grave tone sounded like a vibration of the rock itself.

Aragorn's hand stilled their motion. He looked at the dwarf.

"Why would he think that?"

Gimli looked at the ground beneath his knees.

"We saw you battling that beast, heading for the edge." he explained, "We tried to stop it… Legolas used his bow."

Aragorn could now understand. His eyes sought Gimli's.

"No arrow hit me." he assured him.

The dwarf sighed in relief. When he had seen Aragorn's bandaged arm, his heart had skipped a beat.

"Aye… but he knows it not." he said, his fingers picking at the ragged edges of Legolas' cot.

Aragorn cleaned his hands and covered his friend's back, first with a piece of clean linen and then with the animal's skin that covered his legs. The cave was well protected from the elements, but still, as he touched the elf's forehead, Aragorn could feel the clamminess of his skin.

The ranger would not let his heart admit it, but he knew how strange it was for an elf to loose touch with reality for this long. If anything, the pain of closing such wound would have awoken him.

But it hadn't.

~'~

At some point, just as it had started, the voice stopped. And in the silence that followed, the darkness became more present and menacing than before. He searched for a wall and sat against it, the cold of the rock digging in to his back like fingers of ice, pushing him away. He shivered.

The silence stretched, bringing the walls closer, enclosing him in. He could no longer hear the sound of his own breathing, nor the sound of his heartbeat. He touched his face, his chest, suddenly not sure if he was really there. He could feel the flesh beneath his fingers, and the fear in his heart, but still he would not move.

And then, the distant sound of crying started.

~'~

Théoden King was not an optimist man. Life had taught him too much for him to be any different.

The numbers could not be ignored. Ten thousand strong marched to the Deep and whom did he have to defend his keep? His personal guards, a few soldiers and his people. The same people that he had the duty to protect, the same young men and children that would have been the future of his kingdom, had now weapons in their hands. Swords as big as themselves, steel as heavy as their bones. Most would not survive.

No, he wasn't an optimistic man. He was forced to face reality, for the sake of his people. And their reality was that they stood alone, facing a foe ten thousand times more numerous and strong. But face it they would and, if nothing else, their honor and bravery would live on.

~'~

Aragorn could do no more. The sun was setting and the Huruk-hai army would arrive with the darkness. Their defenses had been planned as best as they could, with what little they had. Provisions had been stored in the caves and the women and children too small to fight or those too ill to wield a sword had been moved there as well.

The ranger followed them to the caves and made straight to the small recess where he had left Legolas. Gimli had not strayed from his side.

"He still sleeps." he said, answering the silent question in Aragorn's tired eyes.

The ranger knelt by his friend's side, taking Legolas' hand in his.

"He grows cold." he noted, pulling the animal's skin to better cover the elf.

"Aye," the dwarf had already realized that, "and yet the place is warm and the healers say his body is not feverish." Gimli rubbed his tired eyes and sighed, "He is fading, isn't he?"

The ranger couldn't meet the dwarf's gaze. He refused to believe that to be true. He refused to accept it. But the truth was that Legolas should've awakened by now.

Elves were much more resistant to injury than Humans, Aragorn knew that for a fact. It was something that he had witnessed time and time again. Wounds that would often kill or disable men for many months, easily mended in Elven kind. In Legolas' wound, Aragorn could already see the skin healing and covering the slash. He should, by all reasoning, be awake and up by now. 

Aragorn feared that his friend had been deprived of light for too long. He feared that the belief that one of his arrows had hit the ranger was dragging the elf away from Arda. This was not the natural order of things, and yet, he could not deny it any longer.

"He is fading." Aragorn whispered, the words too painful to his heart.

Gimli cursed.

"My Lord?" a shy voice called to the ranger.

The future King turned, one hand holding Legolas', the other wiping away the tears that had escaped his eyes.

"My Lord… the King calls you to his side." the young soldier, a boy, with a helmet too large for his head, said, "Lights can already be seen at a short distance."

"Thank you." Aragorn said, his attention back to his friend, "You may tell the King we will be there shortly."

The boy bowed and was gone without either of the warriors taking notice.

"We have to go." the ranger said.

"Aye"

But none could bring himself to rise. Neither could bear to leave behind a friend that they were not sure to find alive upon their return. If they returned at all.

Aragorn searched the clasp of the silver string around his neck and carefully placed it in Legolas' hand.

"Keep this safe for me…" he said, closing the flaxen fingers around the shimmering star. Leaning down, the ranger kissed the elf's cold forehead "…mellonin"

Gimli blinked bright eyes, mumbling about the smoke from the fires.

"We have a few things to settle, you and I, elf" the dwarf complained, the anger in his voice trying to mask the pain in his heart, "I will not have you go thinking you are the best warrior of the two of us, just because you saved me! I'll be waiting, and then we shall see who the best dwarf is!"

Picking up their weapons, the two warriors left with swift steps and heavy hearts.

Everywhere they passed, women of all ages, wept for their loved ones. Fathers, husbands, sons, brothers and even grandfathers, had gone to defend their families, and families were left in tears, in fear of what was to come.

Mothers pressed their babies to their breasts, taking comfort, giving protection.

Someone started a prayer. Others joined in, praying for those gone, for those that would not return, for those who remained.

Hands of compassion and gratitude reached out to touch Aragorn and Gimli as they went by, the last warriors leaving for the battle that was about to begin. Their hopes went with them.

~'~

Maybe he had fallen asleep, or maybe he had left to some other place that his mind could not recognize. He knew not… he only knew that he was back inside the cave again. His cave.

He opened his eyes and saw, not the darkness of before, but what had been hidden behind it. The earthen ground with rocky, rough walls and the dusty, old air.

The place where he had sat in the dark was now bathed in a soft light. Legolas opened his hand and looked at the shinning star-shaped jewel in his palm.

The Evening Star, elven symbol of a choice that only the descendants of Eärendil could make, symbol of the love between Arwen and Estel and that he always carried near his heart.

He closed his eyes and smiled. A symbol of Aragorn's love and presence in his life. And somehow he knew that the ranger was alive.

Rising to his feet, testing the strength in his legs, Legolas took a deep breath and once more searched for the crying sound he had, so hard, tried to ignore. It was still there, waiting for him. And he followed, the star's light in his hand.

~'~

Outside, the night was bright, lit by the many torches, burning across the great wall, and by the red sky, promising heavy rain.

Soldiers were already on their posts, divided in to those who knew and those who didn't know how to shoot a bow. There weren't many arrows, and none could go wasted.

Above the gate, behind the large sheltering stones, large fires were kept alit, ready to boil water and oil, to be thrown down on their enemies.

Smiths worked till the last possible second, sharpening blunt swords, fixing spears, bows and arrows. Their hammers sounded like thunder in the otherwise silent fort. Heart beats of iron and fire.

The King stood in the wall's highest point, behind the front line defenses. The lords of the court and his personal guard stood beside him, all in shimmering armors. Warriors of the old days drawn in gold and leather in the vests of the warriors of the present.

All were watching the lights, yellow spots marching at the sound of horns. Aragorn heard the sound too, as he reached the caves' entrance.

"Those are no Orc horns!" he said, racing to a higher point.

By now, the guards at the gate had too seen to whom these horns belonged to, but they still could not believe their eyes.

"Open the gates!" someone shouted.

The army of Elves, bearing the colors of Lothlorien, marched not as a group of soldiers, but like a single entity, fluid, graceful and synchronous, with a promise of deadliness that lingered in the air.

The humans watching them enter the fort were lost between silly grinning expressions of joy and pure wonder, for the army contingent before their eyes seemed unreal, ethereal, a moving and breathing legend coming to life from the books and tales of old days.

Théoden's breath had caught in his chest. He, who thought to be alone and to possess no allies, was seeing his prayers answered in a way he could have never dreamed of. For the beings in front of his eyes, armed with bows and swords, and displaying such power and confidence in every movement, could only have come to fight alongside Men. Once again.

"How is this possible?" the King whispered.

Their captain, a blond elf with regal face and dressed in colors more cheerful than the rest of troops, addressed the King:

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."

Aragorn raced down the stairs, two at a time, smiling. He knew this elven captain.

"Haldir!"

The elf turned when he heard his name, his face too braking in to a smile. He had harbor some doubts about how the Galadhrim would be received in this place of Men, for Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel had not offered many explanations when their request had reached him. Now, he knew he should have never doubted.

"Mae govannen" Haldir saluted the familiar face in the way of the Elves.

Aragorn shortened the distance between the two of them and greeted the elf in the way of Men, with a brotherly embrace.

"Mae govannen, Haldir," he smiled, "you are most welcomed here!"

~''~

The closer he got, the clearer the sobbing sound became. He could now recognize it as belonging to a child, but still, he found no trace of whom it belonged to.

For how long he had traveled, he could no longer tell. Time had no meaning in this place. He just listened and followed.

The sobs led him to a dead end. A tall wall of jagged rock, higher than his eyes could see or the light of the Evening Star could reach, stretched like a giant in front of him. Nowhere could he go, except back to where he had come from, or up.

Securing the silver star around his neck, Legolas started to climb, hoping to find the source of the disturbing sound when he reached the top.

The rock wall, like a polished black jewel, offered little support for the elf to secure his hands and feet. He had to carefully search for each small indention in the stone, sometimes such a small one that only his finger tips would fit, sometimes large enough for him to secure a foot while his hands searched for the next hold.

Fat droops of sweat caressed the outlines of the elf's face, lingering for a fleeting moment in his nose and jaw before falling to the ground, that stood farther and farther away as Legolas slowly eased his body up. His movements were no longer thought or measured, his mind no longer cared how far he stood from the earth bellow. His eyes and his entire being were focused on one single thing now: the edge of the cliff, coming closer and closer.

The sound was so near now, so close he could almost touch it, but as Legolas finally reached the top of the cliff, he saw naught there. The edge was small, a mere platform, limited by the abyss behind him and two other rock walls, mountains of stone so high that in his mind he doubted them to have an end.

In between the two cliffs, a narrow canyon split the stone like a sword's blade cutting through black ice, surrounded in a mist as dense as the clouds, and cast in shadow by the two rock walls.

'Mist and shadow'

Gandalf's words seemed whispered in his ear, so real that the elf turned around, looking for the wizard. But there was no one there. He was still alone. But now, he knew what path was his to take.

Holding his guiding star in his hand, Legolas entered the dark passage, knowing that his answers lay beyond the mist.

~''~