Okay guys, thanks for being so patient. There are many Legolas/Éowyn moments at the end of this chapter. Thanks for waiting!
Raisse and Katie have made a fan listing for this story. You would not believe how excited I am. Anyways, anyone who enjoys this, please go and join. It would be sinful to have their hard work go unrecognized and unappreciated. If the link does not show up here, it is in my For Raisse and Katie, who are so INCREDIBLY awesome!
*when you see a star, it means that I have made the dialogue up.
Pelennor FieldsPart 2
Éowyn hurried through the fields of men and beast. All around her were the bodies of those who had fallen in battle. In death, she thought solemnly, we all look the same.
She could not find her friend Merry, and feared that he was lost amidst the large crowds. Temporarily abandoning her search, Éowyn began to look for any familiar face. But all around her was chaos. She could not distinguish the cries of the enemy from those of her friends, nor could she tell one face from another. The horrors of the battle were getting to her.
Just then, a piercing shriek echoed above the din of the battle. Éowyn dropped to the ground, holding her hands over her ears. She looked towards the heavens, where the sound came from, and saw the giant black Nazgul starting their descent towards the battlefield.
One of the black creatures dove quite near her, and Éowyn had to leap out of the way to avoid being smashed in the creature's mouth. She pulled herself up from the ground and began to run wildly, in search of anyone who was familiar to her.
Éowyn ran for what seemed like an eternity, before she heard the voice of her uncle, King Theoden. "Surround the beasts!" he was screaming, directing a group of Rohirrm riders towards the giant creatures.
She began to move over to him, no longer caring if he recognized her or not. There was nothing that could be done this far into the battle. Éowyn moved quickly, parrying many blows that came her way. She stopped briefly to engage in a duel with a Man of the South, but his skills were quite inferior to hers. Moving quickly, Éowyn managed to come within a close distance of King Theoden.
Out of nowhere, the largest of the Nazgul flew down and hit Theoden's horse. He flew through the air and landed hard several feet away, pinned down under the weight of his steed. Éowyn screamed out in shock and pain, and ran towards her uncle with all her strength.
She stumbled over the bodies of the dead men, but did not slow in her pursuit. Éowyn scrambled with her sword to reach the fallen body of her beloved mentor, and moved closer with each step. She began to regain hope that she would reach him and be able to save him.
But then the giant Nazgul landed, and the figure shrouded in black got off slowly and deliberately. Éowyn screamed once again as the ghoul moved closer to Theoden and raised his sword to strike. She propelled herself towards her wounded uncle as quickly as she could.
The Wraith's arms were suspended in the air, poising to knock the life out of Theoden of Rohan. Éowyn dove with all her strength at the last instant, throwing her sword out in front of her. She fell to the ground and flinched as the powerful blade of the Wraith connected with her inferior sword.
It laughed at her foolish attempt. But Éowyn knew she had saved her uncle, at least for the moment. She picked herself up from the ground and took a shield from a fallen warrior. She would not abandon her mentor in his one time of need.
The Witch King took his long chain into his hands, daring Éowyn to come closer. She firmed up her inadequate shield, bracing herself for the blow. The creature swung his weapon into the air, and threw it down near her. She dodged lithely, keeping her wits about her.
The giant chain crashed down to the Earth yet again, but Éowyn managed to deceive her foe. She could sense the anger within him mounting with each passing moment. I shall defeat you yet, Éowyn swore under her breath, clutching her sword closer to her.
Another swing and another miss. The Witch King grew angrier and angrier, and his strokes became harder and faster. Éowyn continued to avoid the blunt of his weapon. She concentrated on moving quickly, yet did not notice the pile of rotting debris that lay in her path.
Éowyn fell over the debris and back onto her knees. She brought her blade up just in time to protect her head from the chain of the Witch King. He laughed evilly as she fell back in pain.
It is all over, Éowyn thought, as the monster swung his giant weapon above her head. She felt a wave of peace wash over her, and almost smiled. My life has been good, and I shall leave my time with one regret. I did not tell my love how I felt about him.
Éowyn prepared herself for the pain of the blow, as the weapon crashed down near her. She shut her eyes, and braced herself. But the pain never came. Instead, she heard a great crash and her eyes flew open. The tiny blade of Merry had protected her yet again.
While the Witch King's attention was on Merry, Éowyn dragged herself to her unsteady feet. She grasped the sword in her hand, determined now to beat down her foe. The monster fell back onto his knees, crying out in anger at little Merry. Éowyn saw her chance.
As if reading her mind, the Witch King of Angmar began to laugh. "No living man can hinder me," he said throatily, rising up again to begin to fight.
Éowyn laughed and grasped the sword more firmly in her grasp. "No living man am I! You look upon a woman." With that, she swung the sword around her small body, and connected it with the neck of the Witch King.
The head of the monster flew off, and it sank to its knees, disintegrating. Éowyn fell the ground in pain as hot steam poured from the Witch King's body and enveloped her. She heard Merry cry out beside her as well.
Éowyn curled up, her hands burning. She did not wish to live to endure such pain. She blew desperately on her hands, trying to cool them. But her efforts had no rewards. All around her the battle raged on, while Éowyn was trapped inside the pain of her injuries.
--
"How far until we reach the White City, Aragorn?"
The Ranger looked up from his duties and stared at Legolas levelly. "We are coming up on Ithilien. Prepare yourself for battle."
Legolas nodded and hurried off to fetch his bow. He would be prepared to fight, for he did not want to be left out of such a battle. On the other ships, Legolas could see the Army of the Dead preparing for their final war. It would be a battle that decided the fate of the world.
"We've reached the White City."
The Elf of Mirkwood hurried from his spot and ran towards the side of the ship. He crouched down low beside Aragorn and Gimli, waiting for the signal from his Ranger friend. Their weapon would be the element of surprise.
Aragorn whistled low, under his breath. Legolas caught the message and grinned. If all went well with this battle, he would be reunited with his beloved Éowyn again. Fitting an arrow to his bow, the blonde elf swung over the side of the ship, coming face to face with a legion of Uruks.
He grinned and began to shoot. Legolas of Mirkwood had found his place again.
--
Éowyn lay in pain. She had fits of deliriousness, passing in and out of conscience. She wanted nothing more than to rest her head down and never awaken again. Éowyn of Rohan had helped to change the tide of the battle. She could not ask for more.
Behind her, she heard a fit of coughing. Éowyn suddenly dragged herself into an upright position, remembering her Uncle, who still lay trapped underneath his horse. She dragged herself to his side with all the strength she could muster.
"Uncle!" she cried out in anguish, grasping his cold hand.
He moaned again under his breath, and Éowyn rubbed his hand. "Uncle," she said, feeling resigned and defeated.
He mumbled something and opened his eyes. They were empty and blank, searching
up into the contours of her face. She grasped his hand tighter, waiting for
some sign of recognition.
"I know your face," Theoden said quietly, holding onto her hand. "Éowyn.."
She held Theoden's hand, willing some of her strength to go into her Uncle's body. He deserved to live for a longer time, while she was so unworthy.
"I shall save you, Uncle," Éowyn said fiercely, holding his hand to her breast.
He laughed hoarsely, coughing up blood. The amusement on his face was quickly replaced by pain and anguish. "You have saved me in so many ways, sister-daughter. Do not despair. You have done more than what was expected of you. You have exceeded my expectations in every way."*
Éowyn began to cry then, her salty tears dripping down her dirty cheeks and onto the bloodstained armor of her uncle, the King. "You do not deserve death, Uncle. It is not your time."
He brought her hand up to his mouth, and kissed it softly. "It is my time to leave this Earth, whether or not you except it. Your stubbornness cannot solve everything, my dear. I am passing into the Shadow, but I do not despair. Death is but another adventure."*
"Uncle," she gasped out, clutching his hand tighter. He opened his mouth and called out her name once more. Éowyn shook his hand in hers, begging him to speak more. But the Light faded from his eyes, and his soul was claimed by the Shadow.
Éowyn wailed out loud, for her safety was not assured now that her Uncle had passed from the land. Fear and anger consumed her being until Éowyn finally succumbed to the tormented sleep that had been hanging over her.
--
Legolas picked through the pile of the wounded and dead, fear claiming his soul. The battle was over, for the most part. His side had been most victorious. With the help of himself, Aragorn, Gimli, and the Army of the Dead, they had over taken the Uruks with alarming ease.
He was now searching through the bodies of the unfortunate, looking for any sign of Éowyn. Legolas had seen Eomer before, but he had not seen his Uncle or his sister. He had not even known that Éowyn came.
Legolas was not sure how he had known, either. Éowyn had never mentioned going into battle to him, they had not had the time to speak of such matters. Yet in his heart he knew that his love would be there, waiting for him to come to her.
With each passing moment, however, the courage of the Elf began to dwindle. He had not seen any sign of his meluiel, though there was no doubt that she had been there. "Aragorn," Legolas said softly to his friend, "If she has passed on, I fear I shall have no reason to live any more."
Aragorn placed a comforting hand on Legolas' back. "Do not despair yet, my friend. There are still many more places to search."
The pair wandered in vain for a while longer, and Legolas had almost given up all hope. "I am a fool to keep on searching. She is probably dead."
As soon as the words passed from his lips, Legolas felt a wash of dread, as if his lack of faith had sealed the Shield Maiden's destiny.
"There is always hope," Aragorn comforted, "We shall find Éowyn before the sun sets."
Legolas sat down on the muddy ground, burying his head in his hands. "I cannot bear to search, Aragorn. I do not want to see what fate she met."
Aragorn felt a wash of pain for his friend. He was about to move on, when he caught a glimpse of gold near a fallen brown steed. His eyes followed the golden hair, and saw that it was attached to the body of a slim warrior, still breathing under the heavy armor.
The armor was emblazoned with the crest of the Rohirrm. It was beautiful and costly. Only someone of the King's person could have had such an amazing piece made. Aragorn smiled softly to himself, for he knew now who lay under the mass of golden curls.
"You do not wish to know the fate of your love?" Aragorn asked.
Legolas shook his head. "No, I could not bear to know."
Aragorn ran over to Legolas' side, and tilted the Elf's eyes up to meet his own. "Do not fear for the fate of Éowyn, my friend. For she lives still." He grinned widely, and pointed to the fallen warrior.
Legolas jumped from his seat and ran to Éowyn's side. He gently brushed the blonde curls out of her face, revealing creamy white skin marred by the dirt and grime of war. "Return to the light, mell nín."
Working quickly, Legolas removed the majority of her armor, so that Éowyn lay before him in only a long brown dress. He cast the armor to the side, not caring where it landed. Gently, Legolas lifted Éowyn from the battlefield and into his arms.
She moaned softly, and opened her eyes. "Legolas?" Éowyn murmured in sleepy surprise, barely lifting her head.
"Hush, meluiel. I must bring you to the House of Healing. Your injuries must be attended to. Do not waste your strength."
Éowyn smiled weakly. "I do not need anyone's help on my injuries. I shall manage fine on my own."
Legolas snorted, and hugged her tighter to his person. "You are not healthy, my dear, not matter how much you wish to believe it. I am taking you to be healed, and you should not complain."
He expected her to argue more, but instead Éowyn melted into his embrace. "I am so sorry, Legolas, for everything I said to you. My heart has longed for you since we last parted."
Legolas stared down at her, her hair and face matted with blood and grime, yet the expression in her eyes sincere. "I have missed you too, Éowyn, more than you can ever imagine. But this is not the time for words." He smiled down at her small figure.
Éowyn summoned the rest of her strength and pulled herself up so that she was quite near his face. "You are right, Legolas. This is not the time for words. It is the time for actions."
With that, Éowyn of Rohan tilted her chin and kissed Legolas of Mirkwood passionately. Time slowed for both of them, and for that moment, it did not matter who saw them together. All that mattered was that they were together again.