I am really sorry this took a while to post. I've had a lot going on right now! But, I should post more regularly after this because the school play's (what has been taking up my time) opening night was last night! ^_^ It was fun though, and I didn't screw up! So happy!
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Chapter 2: Calls of silence
Legolas ran behind the boy, shoving at every man that dared to get in his path, frenzied because Aragorn was so close. Aragorn, Aragorn, the one man he longed to see in this crowd of mortals. Aragorn awaited him there, a little farther, a little farther.
Suddenly, Legolas stopped, for dread coursed through him now. The waiting, after so much waiting, he would finally see Aragorn, but would he in fact see the Aragorn that left this forsaken keep? Would it be a changed man? Would he even be conscious enough to recognize Legolas at all, or be able to look around and speak? Horrid images flashed through the elf's mind of a mutilated body, lying on the stones, men gathered around it while blood poured from his wounds. Then, there was another of Aragorn staggering in, but he fell to the ground before Legolas could reach him, and he never got back up. To go on could possibly mean meeting with one of these fates.
His legs once again began pumping, and the elf ran with as much ferocity as before.
The twang of bowstrings reverberated through his head, and he glanced over to see lines of archers firing down into the ranks of Uruk-hai. During his run, he had not even noticed the start of the battle. Still, that was insignificant to him now. He would join them only when he confirmed that Aragorn lived.
The gate appeared, and Legolas almost jumped down the stairs from the battlement to the base of the gate. He was panting, but he did not stop until he reached the group of five people. Théoden was one of them, along with Éomer and Gimli. Legolas skidded to a halt, and Théoden and Éomer bowed their heads to him as he stood between them. His heart slowed its beating at the sight in front of him, and he fell to his knees, crawling to his lover's face and holding his head with both hands.
"Aragorn, Aragorn," he whispered. The man groaned and shifted his weight a little, away from the gushing wound on his side. Flesh and blood mixed as pieces of his skin still clung desperately to the edges of the wound. There was another gash on his shoulder, not as horrid but still dangerous, and bruises covered every surface of his body. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, and Legolas wiped this away with a shaking hand. He bowed his head and rested it on the man's forehead, but no tears came to his eyes. He looked up and glared around him.
"Don't stand there!" he whispered harshly. "A battle rages outside, one that Aragorn would have risked his life in instead of his petty mission," he spat the last word, "and he needs assistance. He will die!" Éomer and two men lifted up Aragorn gently. The man mumbled something but did not awaken from his state, and they carried him away. Legolas made to follow, but a hand came to rest on his shoulder. It was Théoden.
"Legolas," Théoden said. He tried to speak more, but no words came. None was needed, as it were. That one little word spoke volumes. Gimli took Legolas hand, and Legolas steadied himself on the dwarf's shoulder. His world spiraled around him, darkness sometimes creeping through it, little patches of white and red flashing before his eyes. He took a deep breath, but the air burned his lungs. It was thick with the smell of blood, Aragorn's blood, and the torturous scent of the Uruk-hai.
There was a crash, and Théoden started. He glanced up to the battlements, and to his dismay, Uruk-hai raised up ladders upon the wall. Gimli turned his head, and anger festered in his blood. He growled and felt for the handle of one of his axes.
"Legolas, my dear friend, those are the bastards that gave Aragorn his grievous wounds. Let them feel their own pain now." Legolas turned his glazed eyes at the Uruk-hai. Their roars filled his ears, but all he saw was Aragorn. There was no battle before him at all, just a face, just mangled flesh, just blood. "Let us fight for him now!" Legolas shook his head though.
"The battle calls to you, my stout friend, but Aragorn calls to my heart. Let him live! I must see him through this!"
"You will fight, though. I could not see you turning down this opportunity." Gimli tried to chuckle, but the sound caught in his throat, which might have been for the better. Legolas sighed and patted Gimli on the shoulder.
"My love calls." Without another word, he stepped away from the battle and towards the keep where Aragorn rested and healers rushed to revive this waning man of the North. Gimli looked at the receding back, of the slump of the shoulders, of the tired way that Legolas moved, and he did not call after him or run towards Legolas. Instead, he looked back to the battle.
"King Théoden," he said, "this will get bloody before the end." He raised his axe, and let out a great cry. "For Aragorn!" he shouted as he charged up the steps taking them as best he could with his short legs, and jumping into the fray above. He swung left and right in a fury, roaring and shouting; cursing every foul being that dared to cross path's with his axe head.
Legolas entered a room in almost as much frenzy as the battle outside. At least ten healers ran about, all at the shouted orders from Éomer. Some carried herbs over to Aragorn, others holding cloths to his head and pouring liquids down his throat. Some inspected his wounds. All almost tripped over the other in the little room that there was.
"Legolas!" Éomer called. "Come here!" Legolas walked over towards Éomer, who stood a little ways off from the bed to permit the healer's room to work. His face was grave, his eyes stony. He shook his head and clapped a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Excuse me for before," he whispered. "I was wrong to doubt the word of an elf." Legolas looked back at Aragorn and felt no compassion towards Éomer.
"I am not so ready to forgive one who permitted my love to go on this suicidal mission," he spat, jerking out of Éomer's grasp and hurrying to the bedside. He kneeled by Aragorn. The man was sleeping now, sleeping from the herbs. His breath came in short gasps, but Legolas put his face close to Aragorn's to feel the short little breaths. Warm breaths, tinted with blood, but alive still, the man breathed all the same. Legolas grasped his hand and squeezed it.
"I am here now, nin meleth. I am here for you now. There are no worries anymore. Capable healers," he said those words a little louder, "will take care of you, and I shall watch over you, always here. The battle is ours; I know it. We shall triumph in the end." His heart broke to lie like this to Aragorn, but it helped him. No matter if, the man was asleep and could not hear. Let him think pleasant words so that his death was not that of worry and strife.
"No, but you will not die," Legolas muttered. "You are Aragorn, and you will not die." The words ran through his head and became a litany that he whispered silently, mouthing the words as he sat beside Aragorn. You are Aragorn, and you will not die. He looked up now. Around him, the healers had gone to look at his wound. One shook his head, only to receive a sharp kick and a whispered warning that "Lord Aragorn must live somehow." Legolas dared not actually stare at the wound itself, so he turned back to the man's face. He knew this would happen. In his gut, he felt that Aragorn would return in this ruined state or not return at all. Here he was, dangling his feet over the precipice of death.
"Excuse me," one healer said. She had a drink in her hands. "Lord Aragorn must have this, for now." She handed it to Legolas. "If you could give it to him?" Legolas took the steaming mug in his hands. It smelled strongly of herbs, herbs that would cause deep sleep. Aragorn would not wake after this for at least a few hours. Legolas lifted up the man's head and tipped it down his throat. He moaned a little, but Legolas shushed him gently until all of it was down. He rested Aragorn's head on the pillows and smoothed back his hair. He put his face down beside Aragorn and smelled the strong scent of his sweat, felt the soft touch of his hair along the elf's face, smelled his blood. Legolas closed his eyes to keep back the tears, but they came all the same. He held them back so long, and now he wept, wept upon the pillows where Aragorn slept. He cried out for Aragorn, pleaded with him to live, that the world of men needed him, that he needed him. He could not die now!
Finally, Legolas' tears abated, and he fell into a restless sleep kneeling by his lover's bedside.
***
"You fight with the ferocity of two!" Éomer shouted to Gimli, who had just brought down another Uruk-hai. Gimli briefly turned to him, all the while his axe still striking out, and grunted.
"I should be fighting for three," he responded, "but I don't know how to shoot a bow!" He thrust his axe out to the right and caught an Uruk-hai before it could make its way up the ladder. All around him, men fought the same way, desperately slashing, hacking, and trying anything to slow the flow of orcs. The deluge of rain around them continued, mixing with the blood and making the stones slippery. Many men fell at their own clumsiness and found themselves trampled then having died at the hands of an enemy. It had been this way for at least two hours, fruitless fighting. There was no end to the Uruk-hai, no relief for the men at all.
Or the sole warrior who fought like none other, a Rohan man, one of their own army he looked, but he fought better than any there. In fact, this was no 'he'. Éowyn swung her sword out and cleaved an Uruk-hai in two with a yell. Though she was much slighter than most men, she fought alongside them and better than they. A pile of Uruk-hai bodies surrounded her as she killed them before they even climbed over the wall. With each one she struck, she chanted the word 'Aragorn' in her head.
Legolas had run off from her, but she did not follow. No, the battle was there, and no matter what came, she would not desert her post, not even if that was Aragorn who they called about. She doubted it, and in her heart, she felt that he was dead, that strong, valiant man dead. She would keep her promise though. If he were dead, she would find him in battle, even if Legolas were not there to die with her, he the forsaken lover, and she the admirer without any hope. But Legolas ran off.
Maybe Aragorn had returned. Maybe Legolas was with him, and he was injured beyond help. Maybe he had died, and the elf killed himself alongside of Aragorn. Possibilities swam around her head, but she shook it free and cleaved another Uruk-hai in two. There was no time to speculate now. Little chance remained that Aragorn would live.
What awaited her was here. What did it matter of Aragorn or how he died? Oh, she moaned, Aragorn, why now, when men need you, Ranger from the North, Aragorn, tall as the Sea Kings, grey-eyed, strong Aragorn.
"Look out!" someone called behind her. She swung her sword up, now hearing the familiar swish of metal, and caught the blade of a coming Uruk-hai. He roared at her, but she swung low, catching his foot. He screamed in pain, and Éowyn pierced his stomach. He fell to the ground. She glanced around, curious about who would care if a warrior fell in this battle.
No, she thought. Éomer fought his way close to her. Had he seen who she was? Had he noticed? He looked as though he had. Éowyn tilted her chin up and stared at him with cold eyes. He faltered in his step. She bowed her head, but slowly turned away, returning to the battle around her. This is not the time, dear brother, to worry over the safety of your sister. No, sweet Éomer, not now.
With a cry, she charged away, to where the battle was thickest, waiting for the wave of death to take her in its arms.
***
Legolas gulped back the lump in his throat as he focused on Aragorn's still face. The man had not stirred because of the herbs, and his face was peaceful. There was a slight smile on his lips almost. Legolas' mouth twitched, and he smoothed back a strand of wet hair.
Beside him, three healers worked tirelessly. Legolas had briefly seen what they were doing: sticking thread into Aragorn to close his wound. A human practice, one he had never heard of before. The elves would never dare to use thread to heal a wound, never. Still, the healers assured him that it would "ensure a recovery by Lord Aragorn," so Legolas did not complain. But he could not help that queasy feeling in his stomach as he heard with his elvin ears the needle piercing skin then coming back out.
"Excuse me, my lord," a young woman said beside him. She had wide eyes and a small face filled with fear. Legolas smiled sadly at her. "Lord Aragorn will be resting for a few hours more at least. He is doing quite well now, but..." She stopped, unsure how to word her next question. "Maybe you would like to...you must...help...maybe you want...get a chair...or a bed..."
"You want me to fight?" he asked for her. She started and nervously nodded her head.
"Yes, my lord," she responded meekly. Legolas glanced at the body beside him, his heart breaking again at the sight of Aragorn. But color had returned to his face, and there were signs of life in his breathing now. He was improving, that was for sure. But leave him now; leave Aragorn? What if he died during battle? Would Legolas know?
"Yes, I would know, would I not?" he whispered. "When you fade I shall know, meldanya."
"Excuse me?" Legolas turned a glassy look to the woman.
"But, no, watch over him I must," Legolas said finally. The woman bowed her head and turned to the other healers.
"There are many men coming with wounds, those that could drag themselves here, less fighting. My lord, please go to the battle. Lord Aragorn shall live. I know he shall, but the men...I don't care if you are an elf or not, but please, do fight. Even if you must you elvin witchcraft, any aid is welcome aid!" she cried, desperate. Legolas glanced back at the pale face to keep his calm as the woman rambled about elvin evils.
"Do you have a lover?" Legolas asked. The woman stopped, nodded slowly, gulping back her tears. "Perchance your lover fell and came to your healers. Would you tend to only him or heal those around you, help those also in need. Would your love consume you?" She guiltily thought for a moment.
"I would remain with my lover," she whispered. Legolas inclined his head to Aragorn.
"Then do not pressure me to leave his side. An elvin bond of love is the strongest bond felt, and if he were to die, I too would fade. I cannot part from his side when I know that every moment could bring him closer to death." She gasped and bowed low.
"I am sorry, my lord. I did not know," she replied quickly. Legolas put a hand on her shoulder.
"I will watch him now. That should serve you, correct? You said there were others." Her mouth twitched into a smile.
"Yes, my lord. Healers will come occasionally, but you may watch the Lord Aragorn, if you wish. Please, do tell us when he awakens." Legolas nodded his head in agreement and sat beside the bed. Aragorn shifted in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent. The healer watched as the elf stared intently at the man's face, thinking deeply for a moment.
"My lord," she said, "please say if Lord Aragorn does not awaken." With that, she departed, leaving the room empty except Legolas and Aragorn.
Now, alone, Legolas began to pace. Aragorn was recovering, yes, but how would that continue when he awoke. Surely he would know of the futile battle fought without his aid and deem himself ready to fight, though there was no chance he could. And he would wish to move, not stay bedridden. Legolas knew his lover to well. Last time he fell to injury in the elf's presence, it was all that Legolas could do to keep him restrained during healing. His own hand itched for the feel of a bow beneath it and his heart burned with rage at the Uruk-hai. If those feelings ran through him, they would be tenfold for the man. Legolas' head swam at the possibilities.
And he had no idea the progress of the battle...
"Brace the gates!" he heard Théoden yell with his increased hearing. Legolas' heart sank at those words. So they were breaking through now. He plopped down on the ground beside Aragorn and rested his head on the man's pillow. His breath tickled Legolas' face and stung his eyes, but it was even and smooth, calming to the stressed elf. What if they broke through? Made it inside the keep? How could he defend himself, along with the men, and Aragorn, all at the same time? Aragorn could not die now. Men needed him far past this one night.
Legolas closed his heavy eyes and felt exhaustion catching up with him. Oh, his mind was so weary. He needed just a little rest, just a bit. Aragorn would awaken soon, the men were...strong enough to hold the gate, and they had Gimli, and Éowyn. That should help them greatly. He could rest now; gather his strength until the battle came. He would fight in due time. He would fight once Aragorn was safe, out away from death's icy grip.
Legolas slipped into a troubled rest.
***
He heard the marching line before he saw them, felt the trembling of ground beneath his horse as they marched. His horse snorted and stepped back, pawing at the ground. He turned him away from the line and cantered towards the safety of the cliffs. He had to make it, could not be overrun by the army. No, he would make it.
He slowed his horse to a trot, safe now, and finally stopped it beneath the cliff. Around him were the others, unharmed. They nodded to him in acknowledgement of what he had done just then. They are coming, he said, and the men bowed their heads. He pointed towards the great keep. Make for home, he told them sternly. We must go...Around him, the men screamed as they heard the cries of other riders. Suddenly, three scouts and their Warg beasts sprang towards them. The men easily fell, except for one. He fought on and felled two of the riders on his own, while the other men died around him. But it was not enough. His horse reared as the last charged and threw him to the ground. He held up his sword in defense, but the beast slashed down with his great claws, gashing his stomach. He gasped and quickly severed that leg. The beast, screaming in pain, fled from him. He brought down the rider without any trouble. Still, he could barely move, and the army bore down on him. He looked once despairingly at the keep—
Pain, anger, loss. Blurry vision, clouded thoughts. Troubled dreams that stirred unnerving images, dark dreams of death and ending. Men fell into despair. Yet a light at the end, shining like a star. Soft skin, trembling lips, gentle hair caressing him. The images wavered, the visions faded at that sweet touch. Long lashes hiding cold yet loving eyes, filled with worry. The pain vanished, the memory fled from the beauty beside him.
A shaking hand reached out and touched Legolas' face. He stirred from his fitful sleep and opened his eyes. He was still in Aragorn's room. And he was alone, but for that mysterious hand. Legolas reached for it and wrapped his hand around the wrist, ready to yank it away from his face.
But he knew that hand.
Legolas turned his head just slightly. Two grey eyes looked at him through a mist of tears. He gulped back the lump in his throat and felt tears coming to his own eyes. He grabbed the face in both hands. The man smiled a teary smile and stroked the elf's hair.
"Oh, it cannot be true!" Legolas whispered. Aragorn leaned forward and quickly kissed Legolas on the lips. "Meldanya, oh Aragorn meldanya!" he cried. Aragorn grabbed the elf and kissed him again. Pain shot through his side, but the touch of those angelic lips drove it away. He felt death in him, felt death closer than he ever had. But this, this in front of him shone with life, and he readily took every bit of it he could. He wiped away the elf's tears, felt the gentle water on his hand. His heart pounded in his chest and threatened to burst away from its bounds. Legolas smiled again and rested his head on Aragorn's shoulder, crying onto his soft skin. Aragorn was awake, and he was alive too, able to move and not bedridden totally. Oh, it was too much to ask for?
"What is happening?" Aragorn questioned suddenly, his overall joy dimming at the clash of weapons above. Legolas' face darkened. "How long have they fought?"
"For at least five hours now," Legolas responded. "You have slept that long also, but that is what the healer's made you do, with their drinks. They said that you would heal fine if you slept and remain still." Aragorn glanced back to the stairs in the hallway, but Legolas' took his hand. "Meaning that you cannot fight, my love," he said sternly.
"And what of you?" Aragorn countered. "You can fight. How does the battle fare, for I would assume you did not lie idle in wait for me." Legolas hung his head, but a hand lifted up his chin. Aragorn was smiling. "If you did, then I shall not punish you for it."
"Not that you would be capable of punishing me," Legolas laughed. Aragorn grinned at him, and for reassurance kissed him again. "But nay, I have not fought, though my hand itches to fell those creatures that brought you to this state. I could not fight unless sure that you would live through the night."
"I understand that."
"And as for the battle, I question as I have always questioned the reliability of these men. Hope is little, but in my heart, there is light, a glimmer that in fact they might live out this night to the day beyond. Oh Aragorn," he suddenly sobbed. "I had no hope for you though. No matter how many times I repeated you were strong, I felt as if there was no more hope for you."
"But we meet again," Aragorn whispered. "Do not fear now, Legolas, dear elf, for I cannot fall now that I am awake. I shall not succumb to death." Legolas rose now and stretched out his stiff legs. Aragorn tried to lift himself into a sitting position, but his side burned with white-hot fire and he bit his lip to keep from yelping. Legolas kneeled and gently shushed Aragorn.
"Do not move," he said. "It will only slow your healing. The humans did well and I do not question you shall heal, but it is in your hands how long that takes." Aragorn sighed.
"But I must move," he cried. "Give me my sword and let me fight now, no matter my injuries. These men need me!" Legolas firmly put his hands on the squirming man's shoulders to restrain him, glaring down at him.
"In due time you shall fight. There is enough strength now; do not fear. Did you not say yourself that even if these are not warriors we should not distrust them totally?" Aragorn glanced around before giving in, nodding his head slowly.
"But let me fight before this battle ends. I will not wait it out." Legolas growled, and any further words out of Aragorn stopped. The elf raised himself up onto the bed and sat on the edge of it. He looked down at Aragorn and saw anguish in the man's eyes. That wound did more to him than met the eye. He was a warrior, not a bedridden invalid. The man smiled suddenly, once he realized Legolas was looking at him. Legolas put a hand to his forehead and smoothed back his wet hair lovingly.
"Mela," he whispered. Aragorn closed his eyes and brought his arm up to hold on to Legolas' wrist. He closed his eyes and let the torrent of emotion wash over him. Fight, he must fight, but how his side burned. The healing though, fight, Legolas told him to remain. He could not obey those words, and Legolas knew that. He spoke empty commands, impossible commands to fill. How could he sit still while a battle raged above him? But, how could he escape from the elf while the tireless immortal watched him? From now, Legolas would not sleep. He was too keen to slip away now.
Suddenly, Aragorn felt a rumbling spreading through him. Legolas glanced up and gripped onto the bed tighter. He slipped over to one side as the room shook, accompanied by a large explosion. Aragorn clung to the elf, his eyes wide. The explosion ended, and Aragorn let out a sigh. Legolas, instead uneasily got up and cautiously crept to the doorway. He looked out the hall when suddenly a cry came to his ears.
"Get out! Get out! Retreat to the second level! Retreat!" Legolas glanced back at Aragorn.
"They've broken through the first level," Legolas said plainly. Aragorn jumped up, yelped at the fire in his side, and fell back down onto the bed. Legolas closed his eyes and opened them with a glare.
"Do not move until I return," he commanded sternly. Aragorn turned pleading eyes to him, but Legolas was already bolting down the hallway. He took the steps two at a time and rushed into the large hall in the center of Helm's Deep. His footfalls echoed in the empty hallway, and he threw open the doors in front of him.
A blast of cold rain hit him as he rushed out. The air reeked of Uruk-hai blood and humans, their sweat mixing with the blood. In front of him was Théoden and his two most trusted men, though they did not even turn at the sound of the doors. Legolas ran to the wall and peered down at the battle in front of him. There was still one gate left, but the forces were no match for the flood of Uruk-hai blasting them. The Deeping Wall was breached.
"What happened?" he whispered, but the sound carried to Théoden, who turned and caught sight of the elf for the first time. He gave Legolas a warning glare.
"Devilry of Saruman: it undid stone with fire, blowing a hole into the wall. There is only one gate left to hold back before the Keep is taken." Legolas could hear the fatigue on that voice, and guilt spread through him. He glanced back to the chambers within before making up his mind.
"Then let me retrieve my bow, for you need as many hands as you can gain." With that, Legolas nodded his head in respect and dashed away, back to the chamber where Aragorn awaited his return.
"What is it?" Aragorn asked as the flustered elf ran into the room and grabbed up his quiver and bow. He strapped the quiver to his back and readied his bow.
"They have broken through the Deeping Wall. This is the last defense," Legolas said breathlessly. "I have left you in the charge of a healer for now. She will be good to you, trust me, but you must listen to her and obey her," he warned. He took a deep breath and kneeled by Aragorn, taking the man's hand. "You are in no condition to fight. Do not try to convince her you must. The defenses will hold; do not fear for that. And as for me," he added as Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, "I can take care of myself, nin meleth."
"Legolas, I cannot let you..."
"I will not die!" Legolas shouted. "I can watch over myself. But you, Aragorn, cannot fight. Stay here! You are not fit to move yet." He kissed Aragorn tenderly on the lips before rising and running from the room, leaving Aragorn alone in his sickbed.
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I hope you liked that!
Heheheheh...the next chapter will be fun; I'll just say that! *is scheming* I can't wait to start writing! *maniacal laughter* My evil muse is getting to me.
Please review!