A/N: Thanks to San Antonio Rose for a very helpful review. You make a lot of good points and I'll work on your ideas as I have time. I have fixed a couple typos on the footnotes (chapters 3 and 7). Luthien married Beren not Eärendil and Celebrían did recover from her wounds but was too traumatized to remain in Middle Earth. I don't know that I'll act on all of your points because some of them would be awkward to work around at this point in the story, but I'll see what I can do about some smaller changes. Still, thanks for your thoughts. I appreciate reviews like that.
Thanks, too, for the other reviews. Enjoy!
Chapter 8
When morning came, Aragorn's party was ready for battle. They had seen the red glow of fire from Minas Tirith all night, and it grew more intense as they approached. The wind that brought them to the city also cleared the gloom from the sky, and there was light when they approached the city mid-morning.
To the city's defenders, the black sailed ships looked like reinforcements for the enemy, but as they approached, Aragorn raised a new standard. It bore the White Tree of Gondor and the Seven Stars and crown of Elendil. Even the Elves stared at it in awe, for no one had borne those symbols for a very long time, even in their reckoning. In that moment, Elewen knew there was hope—hope for Men, and for Middle Earth. Aragorn's childhood name, Estel, served him truly, even now. The word meant hope, and hope had not deserted them.
Aragorn was first off the ships, but barely. The Dúnedain were close behind him, and Legolas, Gimli, Elladan and Elrohir, and Elewen. The forces of Mordor found themselves caught in the midst of three forces: Aragorn's from the north, Éomer and the Rohirrim from the south, and Prince Imrahil and the forces of Dol Amroth from the east.
Elewen drew her sword and knife before she was even off the ship. She threw herself into the fray, blades flashing. The ages hadn't dulled her skills with her blades at all, nor had they dulled the excellent blades. She had always preferred to use one long sword and a shorter knife. It gave her flexibility. She had used a shield before, but it was cumbersome and it wasn't useful to counterattack.
Elewen stayed with the Dúnedain for a while, but she soon found herself driving deeper into the fray, away from the Dúnedain. Her mithril armor deflected a few stray arrows, but she would soon be surrounded by orcs. She might have been able to turn around and make her way back to them, but it would have been as dangerous as continuing.
In the midst of the battle, Elewen's mind flashed back to her new relationship with Legolas. In the free corner of her mind, she pondered what would happen to him if she were to die there. He might care for her, but not so much that he would die from grief if she fell in battle. In the light of day and in the midst of the battle, she finally admitted to herself that she didn't truly love him, and never would. She might be lonely, but she would never fall in love with Legolas Greenleaf.
With that realization, Elewen threw herself deeper yet into the fray, swords flashing faster than most of the orcs could even comprehend. She knew a stray arrow or blade would probably hit sooner or later, but it was inconsequential. While she had no desire to die, death would not be a tragedy for her, either. She had fought Morgoth and Sauron with her life, and if her death would help to stop Sauron, then so be it. She would do what she could to stay alive, because as long as she was alive, she could keep fighting, but Elewen had nothing to lose, and it made her a deadly force on the battlefield.
Eventually, Legolas, Gimli, Elladan and Elrohir fought their way to Elewen's side, and the five of them continued to slaughter orcs and Men who served Mordor. Legolas gave her an odd glance when he finally reached her, but there was no time to talk or even ponder the situation, and both put it from their minds. They fought for the entire day, and it wasn't until nightfall that the battle was finally over.
In the exhaustion after the battle was finally over, Elewen made her way to Éomer's side. She let him see the illusion she'd worn among the Rohirrim so he'd recognize her.
"Rian?" Éomer was exhausted, and thought he was imagining things.
"Yes, my lord, though my name is actually Elewen."
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to fight. I rode with Aragorn on the Paths of the Dead from Dunharrow."
"You are obviously no simple healer." There might have been brighter things to say, but Éomer was too exhausted to think of any. Elewen let the illusion fade.
"You are right. I am one of the oldest Elves in Middle Earth, and one with a grudge against Sauron. I would not pass up such an opportunity to fight Mordor." Elewen glanced up to see Aragorn and Prince Imrahil looking at them. "I believe your sword-mates are waiting for you."
"And yours for you," Éomer said, glancing behind her at Legolas, Gimli, and Elrond's sons, before he turned to rejoin Aragorn and Imrahil.
Elewen turned and walked back to her friends. Legolas looked at her oddly again, but didn't say anything. Pushing aside her own weariness, she wiped as much grime as she could off her face. "Take your rest, but I am going to help with the wounded."
Legolas shook his head, smiling through the grime that covered him as thickly as it did Elewen. "You will not do it alone," he spoke in Sindarin, then continued in the Common Tongue. "Come, Gimli, let us find a place to rest."
Indeed, after he was certain Gimli was asleep, Legolas returned and helped with the wounded, as did Elladan and Elrohir, for Aragorn had sent for them. Elewen was grateful for the chaos of the night. She had abilities that the humans from the Houses of Healing would never comprehend, and she had no desire to explain herself to them. It also meant they were less likely to question the presence of another Elf. The healers worked through the night, and the numbers of wounded also gave Elewen some privacy to work in her own way.
Coming to a young man, she knelt over him, examining a wound in his stomach. It was a fatal wound, and she had no desire to cause him additional pain, so she didn't probe much after realizing that it was mortal.
"How bad is it?" the young soldier asked, coughing and wincing in pain.
"Bad." Elewen didn't try to hide it from him. He had a right to know he was dying.
"Is there anyone who can take a message to my family?"
"I'm sure there is."
"My wife went into labor just as I left for the fight. She was a little worried because she miscarried our last baby, and our little son just died, so she's with her mother at her parent's house. The Houses of Healing were so full… Her name's—"
"Wait." Elewen sighed. This boy had too much to live for, and he couldn't have been more than twenty years old. She would not be the one to take news of his death to a young wife. Elvish healing could not heal all ills, but she had lived in the light of the Trees and learned healing from the Melian herself, and the Maia had been a good teacher. Kneeling beside the boy, she spoke quiet words in Quenya. Pouring out all her power, Elewen repaired the damage and closed the wound. She would not let the boy die.
When she was finished, Elewen collapsed back to sit on her heels. A moment later, Legolas was beside her, helping her up. He had been aware of what she was doing, and he helped her to a quiet place where she could recover. He left to check on the boy, and returned a moment later. "The boy will be fine. Once he's rested, he should be ready to return to his family."
Elewen nodded weakly. The boy would require some time yet to heal, but he would recover. "Thank you for checking on him. I need a few minutes to rest, but I don't need help. You should rest yourself."
Legolas nodded and kissed her lightly before slipping off into the night. Elewen rested for an hour, but soon returned to help the healers.