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

* * *

9: Strider: A Memory III

(A Stroke of Lightning)

* * *

Outskirts of Fornost, 3000

* * *

      Legolas looked up at the skies, almost just to reassure himself that the rain was falling from above… the winds blew the droplets of water so fiercely it was as if they were falling sideways!

      The storm, according to the barrister, was the worst the sleepy town has seen in years.  Legolas reckoned it's the worst he's ever seen himself, and he knows he's seen much. 

      The town was situated at the base of a row of hills, next to a river.  They were near to thick woodlands, but the humble cluster of homes they have crafted for themselves were generally plains peppered by a tree here and there.  The town had a population of a few hundred.  These were a people who seemed to defy the pressing of the times, part of the stubbornly surviving scattered remnants of the fallen kingdom of Arnor.  

      The prince and his contingent of Mirkwood soldiers emerged from the west, having come from bearing a message to the elven realms in Lindon.  They came to the town in search of some shelter, but instead were drafted toward saving the town from the rising waters of their river, and the threat of a landslide from their nearby hills.

      The men folk of the town were already long at work by the time the elves of Mirkwood lent their strength into the fold.  Some were assigned to the filling of sacks with soil and sand.  Others were tasked with transporting some of the filled sacks to the riverbanks, some to the base of the hills.  The younger boys and a lot of the women were tasked with the gathering and rationing of the food; much of the crops have been destroyed by nature's onslaught and they will need to save their provisions for the weeks of lacking sure to come.  The children and the younger women were sheltered in the small town hall, preparing warming meals and heating blankets for those who worked to save their town.

      The knowing way by which people darted to and fro toward their own duties was proof of how long this struggle has been ongoing.  But the people looked weary, and the storm showed no sign of relenting any time soon.

      Legolas and his soldiers gave aid by helping transport the sacks to the river and the hills; they were heavy, and elves were hardier than men folk.  The elements took very little out of them.  They made quick work of the sacks, especially with the added strength of their horses.  Legolas ordered his small group split in half between the two places of concern, and found himself delivering sand-filled sacks before a raging river.

      The banks were already lined with two layers of sacks, but the water seemed to just rise and rise.  There were tens of men hard at work here, and as Legolas dismounted his horse and relieved it of its burdensome sack, he found a familiar face grabbing its other end.

      His brows rose in recognition, and Strider blinked at him.

      Grunting, the two old acquaintances wordlessly bore the weight of the sack and quickly moved to lay it upon the low, makeshift wall.

      "Why am I not surprised to see you here?" Legolas told the Ranger.

      "This is Arnor still," replied Strider as he caught his breath, "They are my people."

      "Yes, of course," said Legolas, "But I meant it more along the lines of bumping into you in the strangest of places and situations."

      "Ah," said Strider, his eyes lightening, "As you said before.  We are where we need to be."

      Legolas smiled slightly at him as the elf lifted himself up to his horse.  The man was soaked to the skin, shivering slightly and his hands had a multitude of cuts upon them.  He's obviously been hard at work for quite some time.  He offered the adan a hand.

      "Come," the elven prince commanded, "To town with you.  To warmth and rest.  You can afford it.  My soldiers and I shall provide extra hands.  You can order your men into the same respite."

      Strider hesitated.  "But there is much work to be done…"

      "There are many who could do it," Legolas said, insistently shaking his hand before Strider, "You can aid no one if you fall ill.  You know that elves can more than compensate for your efforts.  Hurry now.  There is much work to be done!"

      Strider took the elf's hand and pulled himself up, riding behind Legolas into town, chuckling slightly.

      "What?" Legolas asked, craning his head to look at the adan.

      "Nothing really," Strider replied, "I guess it's just funny."

      "What's funny?' Legolas inquired.

      "I am where I need to be," Strider answered, "And curiously, now, as well as the last times we met, you were always where I needed you to be."

      "What's so funny about that?" Legolas asked, as they reached the cluster of homes and dismounted.

      "I'm not sure," Strider admitted.

* * *

      Hours later, Legolas blinked his eyes at the rain that obscured his vision.  The cursed sky was falling, just all of it! The storm has been pestering the town seemingly endlessly!. 

      He stepped back from the makeshift wall he helped reinforce.  It would hold the ravages of the river, if only just a little while longer.  The clear of its waters had become a thick mud of deep red-brown from silt and soil.  Once in awhile, small-sized tree trunks would pass them by, more victims of the onslaught from somewhere upriver.

      He sighed, and turned to look at the weary men and his own soldiers step back and survey their work.  The three-layered sack wall bought them some time to breathe, but they were by no means out of danger.

      A young man with whom Legolas has been wordlessly working with these past hours suddenly found the time to stare at the prince in wonder.

      "You're an elf," the boy said, awed.

      Legolas found the heart to chuckle, turning his eyes to the boy.  "That I am."

      "I hadn't noticed," he confessed.

      "I know," Legolas jested, "Well.  You've been very busy."

      The boy opened his mouth to say something, but his voice froze in his throat and his eyes widened in alarm.  Legolas looked behind him to see what this new worry was, and sensed the electrifying cackling of the air a breath before the clouds seemed to part for a single, crooked stroke of lightning to touch a tree below.

      Wisely, many men who stood beneath the tree ran away in a rush.  But one fellow remained, just a shadow in the thick curtain of the rain, as a large, thick branch snapped with the force of the lightning and began to descend over his head.

      "Get out of the way!" Legolas yelled, springing forward in a mad rush.  He tackled the adan out of the way of the descending branch, gritting his teeth at the sharp pain of the twisted stems and smaller branches that scratched at his back.  As they hit the ground at a roll, he comforted himself that they at least missed the bulk of the thick branch.

      Legolas pushed himself up to his knees, looking the man over.  Strider, he realized. 

      "You again," the adan greeted him lightly, though Strider seemed rather embarrassed.

      Since he seemed unscathed, Legolas therefore decided it would be fair game to scold him.  "You should be more cautious.  Or better yet, if you are hard of hearing and not careful, you should not be here at all. Did you not hear me call?"

      "I'm sorry," Strider said coolly, still mortified.  He rose to his feet and offered the elf his hand.  "I really am.  Thank you.  Mellonamin."

      Legolas blinked at the elven endearment.  It's been awhile since he's been called thus.  Friend… And after so long, it felt right that such words should come from this curious man, with his liquid silver eyes, who appeared at strange moments.

      Legolas took the man's hand and pulled himself up, unsure of what to say, so he kept his mouth shut.  He was slightly bewildered at the things he was feeling.  Distracted and off-guard, he unknowingly winced at the soreness of his injured back.

      Strider saw his discomfort, and turned Legolas' hand over and noticed the cuts and bruises from the fight with the storm and this most recent debacle. 

      "You're hurt," Strider remarked.

      "Negligible," Legolas guaranteed him.

      "It makes sense to have them seen to while we have time," Strider said evenly, "Come.  To town and warmth, eh?"

      Legolas glanced at the wall of sacks.  It will hold, for the next few hours.

      They strode to the elf's horse and shared the steed.  Strider was chuckling again, and Legolas asked him if he was addled.

      "No, no," Strider replied, "I was just thinking of something.  Are you cursed, by any chance?"
      "I occasionally think so," Legolas replied wryly, "You come up with the strangest questions at the strangest of times—"

      "My brothers used to say that anyone charged with my well-being must be cursed," Strider shared.

      "I'm not charged with your well-being," sighed Legolas melodramatically, "But you're right.  I am also finding things seem to be ending up that way."
      They soon reached town.  Strider commandeered a tiny stock room in the town hall, and asked Legolas to sit upon a rickety old table. 

      "Are you kidding?" the elf asked him, wrinkling his pert nose.

      "It will hold you," Strider promised.

      Uneasily, Legolas sat.  The adan was right, and the table did not protest his weight at all.  Strider divested him of the layers of his tunic, exposing his scratched and bruised back.

      "I really am sorry," Strider told him.

      "It's all right," Legolas told him evenly.

      "No, really--," Strider said again.

      "It's all right," Legolas repeated, "You know when we first met, I thought you were an intelligent boy.  But why must I keep repeating myself?"

      Strider smiled slyly at him, deftly working on his back, and then upon his hands.  The door behind the healer suddenly burst open with Legolas' right-hand man looking harried.

      ~I heard you were injured, my lord!~ he exclaimed, his eyes raking over Legolas' face, ~What happened? Are you well?~

      ~I'm fine,~ Legolas assured him with a warm smile, ~The injuries are poor excuses for a respite.~

      ~All the men are worried, sire,~ the elven soldier told him, trying to crane his neck over Strider's shoulder to get a better look at the prince.

      ~Halt!~ Legolas warned him, adapting a very regal tone, ~Take my word for it, captain.  These are just scratches.  Tell the soldiers so.~

      The elven captain gulped, and visibly paled.  ~A scratch, sire? Like your uh… other scratches from before?~

      ~Yes, like before,~ Legolas replied.

      ~That's not very comforting, sire,~ the other elf confessed.

      ~I'll live, I promise,~ Legolas told him wryly, ~Off with you now.  I'll see you back at the river.~

      The soldier sighed melodramatically, but did as he was told and closed the door behind him.  Strider was watching the elven prince with amusement.

      ~What?~ Legolas asked him testily.

      ~Excuse him,~ Strider said mildly, ~They seem to be mad about you.  And… and well, I see that you seem much lighter toward them.~

      ~I took to heart what you said to me the last time we met,~ Legolas confessed, ~I have many lifetimes, I might as well try this tack of yours.  For awhile, that is.  If it works.~

      ~What did I say?~ Strider's brows furrowed in thought.

      ~You said I lived as if I loved nothing at all,~ Legolas replied, ~A situation remedied, of course.  As you have seen.  Although the change was abrupt.   I could tell right after that my soldiers wanted to hurry home, as if they feared perhaps I've finally lost my mind.~

      ~Well you did take the advice of a crazy person,~ Strider said casually, winking at him and then continuing the work.  His hands upon Legolas' were warm and comforting, and it reminded the elf of how those very fingers once held his, and anchored him to life.

      ~Thank you,~ Legolas said quietly.

      Strider looked up at him and smiled warmly.  ~I owe you my life.  It's the least I could do.  That branch would have split my head open.~

      ~I don't know,~ Legolas said wryly, ~It seems a very sturdy, really rather thick head to me.~

* * *

      They shared a humble stewed meal upon an abandoned house's porch, as the rain continued to fall about the town, persistent but no longer threatening.

      "You have to remind me," Legolas swallowed his food, rocking the weathered chair he was sitting on, "Remember last year you asked me to bear your messages to Rivendell?"

      "Ah, yes," Strider replied, "What of them?"

      "I have your replies," Legolas told him with a laugh, "Lord Elrond said I should bring them in case I run into you.  I don't know if it is just his common sense or a premonition.  Curious, curious thing though.  No letters from a ladylove."

      "Ha!" Strider retorted, "You're one to speak.  Unless you actually have one?"

      "No," Legolas replied, "But I have time."

      Strider chuckled helplessly, "You're nosy.  This is very unbecoming of a proper messenger."

      "Ah, but I'm just incidentally a messenger," Legolas told him evenly, "It's the King's doing.  My ada.  He's very practical.  I dart from one place to another with my data gathering work and people inevitably ask if I'm headed here or headed there and if I could bring this or that.  And so the King decided to give me two duties, since that was what I was doing anyway."

      "It makes sense," Strider commented wryly, "Why burden a soldier and give him his due later when a son would do twice the work for free?"

      Legolas chuckled.  "Why indeed.  You could learn a thing or two from King Thranduil, when you become King yourself.  Make several heirs and several spares.  And burden the youngest most useless one."

      "One must acquire a wife first," Strider pointed out.

      "There is that," Legolas agreed, his sharp eyes noting a shift in the Ranger's glance.  "There might be a lady love after all," he murmured.  The adan was going to try to deny, he really was.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Legolas turned his face away, deciding to spare him the misery.  He smiled at the slowing rain.

      "Good job, Estel," he said wistfully, "Looks like we all managed to survive."

TO BE CONTINUED…

MASSIVE THANKS TO ALL WHO READ!!!

THANKS ESP. TO MY REVIEWERS: cotume, MSL, dragonfly, Kelsey, jenzy, elessar*lover, platy, elveneyes, LOTRfaith, starlit hope, deana, knight Kenobi of eryn lasgalen, slea, tychen, sodalite, miss attitude.

To slea: wow, thank you.  haha, I'm so glad you find my OC likeable.  I always get afraid about my OC's.  they're like your babies, and people are not always receptive :)

To elessar*lover: no, unfortunately I don't own one.  I'm terrible at pets and things, I can only keep fishes alive, haha.  Although I've had a ton of memorable experiences with horses and they are magnificent :)

To Kelsey: I guess the only way I can try to better explain it is that the love that once kept him alive is killing him because he is so afraid to lose it.  the inevitability of this loss is magnified only post-war because he realizes he has no real enemy anymore, just a destiny he cannot change :)  the daughter of avia is just a little bit of a reminder of Estel, just like the whole fic is peppered by reminders.  You won't even be seeing her at all, much less seeing her take such a pivotal part of the story.  I'm to wary to come up with a legomance :) maybe one day, but not in this fic :)

THANKS EVERYBODY AND 'TIL THE NEXT POST!!!  The next post takes us back to 3019, and eomer discovers at last just how serious the situation is.  'til then!!!