Author: Mirrordance
Title: Last Stand
Summary: The battle at the Black Gate leaves Legolas strange wounds that do not heal. He knows he is slowly dying & keeps it a secret, as he tours the fleeting mortal pleasures of the world before his last breath. He finds an unwilling coconspirator in Eomer
* * *
8: Breaking
* * *
Rohan
3019
* * *
The man had been right of course… but then again when was he not? Legolas was never quite sure if there was just so much wisdom lodged in that single person or perhaps, Aragorn was just one of the most convincingly insane person there ever was. Maybe he was both. It wasn't altogether such an awful thing.
Either way, one thing was certain: the adan was remarkably contagious. Whether Legolas acquired wisdom or insanity from him was a different question altogether, he supposed. What he knew for certain was that when they met Estel gave him life. Thereafter he taught the elf how to live it. And now… well, Estel inadvertently ends it too.
Legolas shivered. The cold was getting to him. The short jog across the unroofed way from the stables to the palace got his clothes wet from the rain once again.
He patted Butter's side one last time and called for Lenne. The boy would know to care for the corpse… he was, after all, in Rohan where they were animals much revered and respected (even the fat, old, groat-selfish ones).
He looked gloomily out into the rain, and made his way back.
* * *
Eomer hurriedly chewed at the food in his mouth and downed it with a gulp of wine. He was on his feet even before he placed the goblet upon the table, eager to follow after Legolas.
He was accosted in the halls by his majordomo, who had a worried expression on his face.
"What is wrong?" the King inquired.
"The maid was fixing the elf's room, my lord," the majordomo replied, "She found an anomaly."
The King strode toward Legolas' room, trailed by the majordomo who strides were shorter.
"Explain," the King ordered as they navigated the halls.
"She ran to me and said that there was blood," the majordomo replied, "blood on his clothes, bloodied bandages in his packs. She says when she realized there was something amiss, she dropped everything as she found them and searched for me."
Eomer pushed the door to Legolas' room and indeed found the bloodied cloths. He picked them up, and studied them. He scowled in displeasure. The elf must have been bleeding to death where he stood, with these ridiculously copious amounts!
"Leave me be," Eomer told the majordomo quietly, "And send a healer here at once. Send Avia." The man nodded and closed the door behind him. Eomer strode to the window, and watched as Legolas jogged through the rain from the stables to the main palace.
* * *
Legolas stepped inside his room and closed the door. He turned toward his bed absently, and found the King of Rohan glowering at him. Legolas' eyes darted from Eomer's face, to the bloodied strips of cloth he gripped in his hands.
"I passed by the dining hall to find you gone," Legolas said tentatively, gauging the mood, "They said you had retired to the bed chambers. I did not know they were referring to mine."
Eomer's sharp eyes were devouring his face, but refrained from immediately speaking of his main concern, succeeding in heightening the tension and anxiety in the room. "How fares Butter?"
"Butter died," Legolas replied.
"I'll have a fresh horse for you," Eomer said, "As soon as you our business here is settled."
"Does that mean I've worn out my welcome?" Legolas asked him coolly.
"No," the King replied tersely, "That means you will leave when I permit it, and only then. I do not like being kept in the dark, elf." He raised up the bloodied cloths at last, "What in the world does this mean? Did you by any chance kill anything or anyone that I should know of?"
"Those are mine," Legolas said evenly, "And hardly yours or anyone else's business."
"The maids clean the rooms," Eomer replied, "That is their job. Just as it is my job to know if anything is amiss."
"Yes, those are mine," Legolas informed him.
"Your cloths," Eomer retorted, "That is already quite apparent to me. And the blood? I need to hear it from your own lips."
"Mine as well," Legolas replied, "It is not a concern. Trivial wounds, I assure you."
A knock on the door interrupted the exchange.
"Enter!" Eomer commanded, and a shapely middle-aged woman with cunning eyes stepped into the room.
"Avia," Eomer decreed, "Shall be the judge of that. I want those wounds seen to, Legolas. If you have any respect for me or this House, you will suffer whatever she wishes to subject you to."
"That leaves much to define," the woman said mildly, looking at the elf in a most suggestive manner. Legolas looked at her miserably, thinking, I miss Estel.
"Hers are the best hands in my land," Eomer said, "And though she likes to pretend to be mindless, it is her caring that saw Our soldiers through the war."
"They all love me," she said to Legolas with a shrug.
"I would wager," Legolas muttered.
"Don't be snide," she warned him.
"Make sure he lives," Eomer said to the woman wryly, as he headed for the door, "Anything happens to him and Elessar will have my head. No use courting another war now, is there?"
"No sire," she said easily, taking Legolas by the elbow and leading him to his own bed.
"The wounds are not serious," Legolas told her quickly, wondering if he could escape her scrutiny now that Eomer left. But this was an old woman well-used to the antics and stubbornness of soldiers, and she will not be dissuaded.
"Then it wouldn't hurt to see to them," she said plainly, her deft hands unfastening his tunic. She removed all the bandages he had previously put on, and looked at the wounds upon his chest, side and arm carefully.
"These are not serious," she concluded, "But they are yet to clot. I can tell you've lost much blood. I bet you do not take care of yourself very well." She looked at his face, "Dizzy?"
He considered lying, he did. But there was something about healers… it's almost as if it wasn't simply seeing to wounds and ills that were the matter of their studies. They were well-versed in the detection of liars as well. These were prying eyes likened to Estel's. And he would save a lot of time and breath not bothering with pretenses.
"Some," he admitted at last.
"Apparently your mind has also slowed," she murmured.
"No," he found the heart to chuckle, "I was merely contemplating lying to you."
"Breathless?" she inquired wryly.
"At times," he answered.
"Cold?"
"Yes."
She frowned. "And you are pale, and trembling. Weaker, than when I saw you last, pounding away at your enemies."
"Elves do not pound, ma'am," he said.
"It's the same thing," she muttered, turning away from him and grabbing some herbs from her pack, laying them neatly on the night table, "I was at Helm's Deep, of course. And I was amongst the healers brought toward Pelannor Fields. I've seen you. You took our breaths away. And now… well, you seem to have succeeded in taking your own breath away, hm?"
"You must think you're very clever," he said dryly.
She slipped the robe over his shoulders to keep him warm, but did not fasten the links. "Give me a moment," she murmured, grabbing some herbs and heading for the door. She gave some quiet orders to a servant accosted outside, and then returned to Legolas empty handed.
She sat beside him and watched his face. "You are a very handsome boy. Do you know that I have a daughter?"
He indulged her with a smile. "I'm sure she is wonderful. Do you want me to marry her?"
"Can you wait? She is seven years old right now and when she grows up, she wants to be an elf," Avia laughingly pronounced.
Sounds familiar, Legolas thought, his eyes growing distant, remembering Estel.
"It was meant to make you smile," she told him wistfully, "Well. I know a few years is very long to wait. Since you're old."
"Not any more older than you, I bet," he teased.
"Now that's a mean thing to say to a vain old woman," she pointed out in sham offense, walking to the door at the sound of approaching footsteps. She relieved a maid of a large bowl of water and a mug of tea. Legolas rose to help her but she looked at him pointedly and carried the load herself, closing the door behind her by kicking at it.
She meticulously treated and bound his wounds, and she was so careful he was tempted to tell her not to waste her time on a cause that he knew to be lost. But he bit his tongue, and let her do as she pleased.
"Reach for that mug, will you?" she asked him nonchalantly as she worked, "Drink it please."
"Do I look like a fool?" he asked her.
"It's only just to lend you strength for lost fluids," she muttered distractedly, "Besides, you have no choice. I distinctly remember my lord's orders that you are to do all that I ask if you have any respect for this House. You are, after all, a helplessly honorable person."
Growling slightly, Legolas did as he was told. The drowsing effect was quick, and his eyelids were feeling as leaden as the rest of his body.
"Help me solve a mystery, ma'am," he drawled at her in displeasure as his mind drifted, "Do they teach healers lying as well as the medicinal art in your schooling?"
"No," she smiled genuinely up at him, "We're simply taught how to deal with really difficult people."
* * *
When he next woke, he felt much refreshed, and wondered for a brief moment if he was healing at last. Legolas blinked up at the ceiling, his vision hazy. He raised up his arm, and found the bandage there already stained. He sighed. He wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment, because he wasn't entirely sure what it was he ultimately wanted.
Legolas turned his face to the window, where streaks of the afternoon sun lent light to his room. And so the rain has stopped. The day was pleasantly warm and breezy, and it was the way he knew Rohan best.
He sat up, and leaned his head upon the board of his bed to let the dizziness and lethargy pass, closing his eyes and running his hands over his face. His fingers drifted up to his tangled hair, and he grimaced in displeasure. The mere fact that one was ailing was no excuse to look like a wild man.
Slowly, so as to keep his balance, he made his way to the wash basin in a corner of the room and splashed water upon his face. He dried himself with a towel, and changed into the fresh clothes laid for him on the dresser.
He strode to the mirror, frowning at his reflection. What else could he do, really… He undid the remnants of his braids and his fingers deftly combed through his hair. His hands still shook, and his arms were feeling uncharacteristically strained. The idea of fading this way was creating a profound sadness. The simplest of things was a struggle, it seemed. He finished with the braid. Not his best, but it was a triumph in a day just begun and already so much filled with hardship.
He walked to the window… the breezes outside were inviting, and he knew they would soothe his heart, as the outdoors almost always did. He looked up at the clear skies, and his eyes drifted down to the horse plains of Rohan, then lower still to the stables below. Beside it was a bordered ring, within which Eomer was trying to break the wild mare from yesterday.
The King seemed to be determined to break his neck, though Legolas had to admit the entire process was an arrestingly beautiful sight. Man upon beast, desperately clinging and at the same time fighting to make the horse submit. Defense and offense all at once, and the same went for the horse who was trying to free itself and at the same time, assert its force. A battle of wills it was, the horse thrashed and reared, swinging its head from side to side. It was almost brutal, possibly violent. It was also inalienable beautiful and honest. It was like a lethal dance, expressive, wordless. Pounding hooves was music, and dust swirled around them like a mysterious fog.
Legolas had heard of this 'breaking,' but never saw it before, or never saw it the way he was seeing it now. This was Rohan after all. Land of the horse masters, its legend and lore founded by this very dance. The elves preferred talking their horse-friends into submission. Clever and painless, yes of course, with the end result very similar. But the sight of this 'breaking' was powerful and enchanting.
The riders of Rohan seemed just as arrested, surrounding the ring and watching fixatedly. It must have been a sight they were used to. But this was Eomer too, and he was amongst the very best of them.
The horse reared up violently, and then reversed the move completely and kicked up its hind legs, throwing Eomer off his back and sending him to the ground. Legolas pressed closer to the window in alarm, feeling ridiculous. What, was he going to jump to aid the King?
I could have, he thought mournfully, Had this been any other day…
He turned away from the window and hurriedly ran out the room, down the halls, out the palace. He burst into the open air breathlessly, eyes darting to the ring which was now dominated by the horse, looking as if it was proud of itself. Legolas sighed and shook his head, deciding it was a crazy game after all. He found Eomer seated at one of the weathered old benches strewn here and there, a cut upon his forehead being sewn up by Avia. Lenne was hovering like a mother hen.
"Back
away, fool!" Avia exclaimed at the boy, "You are
taking my light!"
Legolas
caught his breath and walked over. The
soldiers he passed were looking at him with awed expressions on their faces and
they murmured amongst themselves. Eomer watched his approach slyly. There was a youth regained in his powerful
eyes.
"Glad to see you on your feet, Master Elf," he greeted.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Legolas asked him flatly, annoyed at the carelessness, annoyed that the fool king caused him so much worry that he ran out here and revealed his secret presence to Rohan at last.
"No," Eomer replied as Avia finished with a flourish, "I am actually feeling so delectably alive."
The sun on his cheeks, his eyes glimmering… he seemed so warm and vibrant that Legolas almost envied him.
Eomer waved Avia and Lenne, and the rest of his surrounding entourage away.
"Not even a 'thank you,'" Avia muttered, and Eomer shot her a shameless smile as she walked away.
"I'm glad to see you on your feet," Eomer said to Legolas.
"You talk as if I had been severely incapacitated," Legolas retorted, "But I was off my feet not because of a grievous condition but precisely because the woman you sent put something in my drink."
"Ah, she has a whole bag of tricks," Eomer conceded, "How do you feel?"
"I'm recovering my heart," Legolas replied wryly, "Your fall made it drop to my stomach."
"It's but one of many that came before it," said Eomer, rubbing his shoulders, "And many more will follow. You know we have the best horses bred and raised in our stables, but to break a horse is an older tradition." He looked away from Legolas and at the corralled horse. "What a spirited animal."
"I could say the same of you," Legolas commented wryly, turning away from the King to face the horse as well. The beast must have known he was being watched, because he showed off a few more of his brutal force with kicks and neighs, though he was imperviously refusing to look at the pair of warriors.
"Look at that cocky face," Eomer said, and Legolas could hear the delight in his tone, "Oh, he will learn."
"Which makes him cleverer than you," Legolas kidded, "I once thought this was a battle of wills. It isn't. It's but a contest of who has the thicker head."
"Isn't he magnificent?" Eomer asked, ignoring the barb, "And he knows it. As all horses do. You know, Legolas, they are fair, intelligent and equitable creatures. All the battering they give you is how you earn their respect. It's pre-payment, if you will. They will happily and heartily give you a lifetime of the greatest servitude for a few days of earning their respect. They cannot fathom taking orders from anyone lesser than them, you see. The rules are so simple, and honest."
"There are other ways," Legolas told the King, his pride sparking, wanting to show the King his kin's own manner of subduing a horse. He whistled to catch the mare's attention. It was a strange, haunting melody. The horse heard, paused its kicking. It turned toward Legolas, contemplating him. The horse hesitated, not wanting to seem kind to anyone, and at the same time enchanted by the hymn.
Legolas looked into its deep eyes, ceased the music and let the horse do as it wished. It seemed to blink just before resuming its rearing and thrashing with gusto.
"I cannot say I am unimpressed," Eomer conceded, "But I do not find convincing them or perhaps even enchanting them into submission as fair."
"Ah," breathed Legolas, "That is why yours is still a kin that wars itself into 'agreements.' Everything is a question of strength rather than reason."
"Our lives are shorter," Eomer said wryly, "And along it you find that everyone has some good point or other. Tackling them all and settling upon the best way of living takes time we cannot afford."
Legolas simply shrugged, accepting the idea as fair. "Can you tell me the etymology of 'breaking' a horse? What is broken? It's will? It's spirit? Your bones?"
Eomer mulled it over with a slight smile. "Ha. I suppose you know by now that you may spend an entire lifetime winning a person over and still never have them as loyal as a horse. 'Tis a mystery, isn't it? How these glorious beasts could resist so fervently one moment, and then suddenly be forever yours. It's like a stroke of lightning. Some may say it is indeed breaking a horse's spirit, but I believe otherwise. I think the shattering is mutual, and you bind together at last. One telling moment in time, can easily be missed by the blink of an eye, and then you find you belong to each other, you complete each other."
Legolas stared at the horse. He knew by experience that this breaking was not exclusive to that species, and he figured Eomer was all the less for not finding such a shattering and binding in his own kind. Because he, an elf, certainly did.
TO BE CONTINUED…
MASSIVE THANKS TO ALL WHO TOOK THE TIME TO READ!!!
THANKS ESP. TO MY REVIEWERS: silvertongue, elessar*lover, stoneage woman, gozilla, amy, grumpy, kirsten, dragonfly, LOTRfaith, sareh, barbara kennedy, platy, knight kenobi of eryn lasgalen, starlit hope and deana :)
Thanks everybody!!!
Not much of a confrontation, is it? :) that's because up to this point, they don't know how lethal the wounds are yet… that's for chapter 10 :) nine will be another strider memory :) 'til the next post guys!!!