A/N: Brego the horse is not in this story (sorry to all of his devoted fans!) He's being omitted because (1) that scene in the movie was about establishing how Eowyn is drawn to Aragorn and doesn't really fit into this story; and (2) I always felt sorry for Hasufel, seeing how he's just dismissed in favor of Brego; if memory serves me right, he was also cast aside without a word in the book version of Return of the King when the rangers brought Aragorn's horse from the North. At the very least he should be allowed to stay in my story.
Eowyn anxiously awaited the arrival of the fighters at Helm's Deep. As she oversaw the organization of what little food and supplies they had a cry came up from the gate: "Make way for Theoden king!" Letting out the tiniest gasp of relief, she rushed to the front of the crowd full of people hoping to see their loved ones returned safely. As the riders came in, her heart sank. "So few," she murmured to her uncle. "So few of you have returned."
"Our people are safe," Theoden told her gruffly, almost succeeding in hiding his grief from her. "We've paid for it with many lives."
Eowyn's blood ran cold at the implication in his tone. With whose life had they'd paid? She looked around frantically, her breath hitching when she saw the elf and dwarf. Legolas sat as still as could be on top of Arod. Some servants and stable-hands were hovering nearby, waiting for the chance to lead the horse away, but one of Legolas' hands gripped the reins so tightly that his knuckles were white. The look on his face was one of pure shock and utter grief.
Gimli had already dismounted and now stood beside Arod. "Let go of the reins," he coaxed gently. "Arod must be attended to and you need to lie down. A little rest might do you some good."
"A little rest," whispered Legolas dully. "Yes, soon I will rest forever."
"I didn't mean it like that!" cried Gimli, alarmed. "Stay with me here. Stay with us, like you promised Mithrandir, remember?"
The White Lady of Rohan approached them hesitantly. "My lady," Gimli said solemnly, "would you send for a healer or anyone who could help?"
Eowyn stared at the elf, transfixed in horror. "Where is Lord Aragorn?" she asked, already knowing but not wanting it to be.
Gimli's voice cracked. "He fell."
Legolas cried out as if Gimli's word had broken him. He was crumbling as he stared at what he was clinging to in his other hand: the gem that Aragorn wore, the one she asked about earlier that day, Eowyn realized. His grip on the reins faltered and he fell in a slide off of the horse's back. Gimli and Eowyn caught him before he hit the ground. "Stay with us laddie," Gimli urged.
"I can't stay in here," sobbed Legolas. "Please open the gates. Please let me out!"
"If we opened the gate," said Gimli, "you'd run right back to that field. Evil things are coming. No. you have to stay safe in here."
"Why?" asked Legolas miserably. "I'd rather be dead beside Aragorn on the green earth then stay in here while I waste away in grief surrounded by stone. Let me out!"
"Perhaps," Eowyn interjected while trying to stop her own tears from falling, "we should go out to the battlements. You and I, Legolas, can look out over the plains while Gimli sees to it that Arod is being taken care of properly."
Legolas suffered himself to be led by the lady to a quiet corner of the battlements. HE stared out at the green grass that stretched out before the fort. "I can't see where Aragorn is," he said. "I can't see anything through my grief."
Eowyn nodded. "It's a long way from the field," she whispered.
He held up the greenleaf gem. "I gave this to him 66 years ago," Legolas murmured, his face scrunching in pain as the memory came to him in full force. "He said he'd never be parted from it as long as he lived."
She felt increasingly helpless as another wretched sob escaped his lips. "He told me that you gave it to him," she said lamely.
"And he gave me this ring," Legolas said softly, pulling out the chain at his neck to reveal the silver ring. "It's a token of his love for me." He looked up at her suddenly. "You love him, don't you?"
Now there was a question she wasn't expecting. "Yes," she told him. He already knew the truth; there was no point in denying it. "Do you resent my feelings?"
"No," said Legolas simply, a look of empathy in his eyes. "It's easy to love Aragorn. I can't fault you for it."
"It's just that he seems to be the only one who believes in me," Eowyn offered in explanation. "I'm not used to people thinking me capable of doing what all women of the Mark can do. Not that my family mistreats me, mind you; they just smother me with protection. I don't know if you can understand this..."
"Overprotection by well-meaning relatives when you know the world is falling apart around you?" mused Legolas. "Not being allowed to join in the battle when you know that your people need every skilled warrior they can get? I understand better than you guess." He fell silent for a moment before continuing. "I don't resent your feelings towards him. I trust Aragorn, and I see that you're not a malicious or deceptive person."
Eowyn looked at him, trying to find something to say that would let him know how much she appreciated his understanding without sounding trite or condescending. Instead she said, "You keep talking about him as if he were still here. Is there some hope that an elf can sense and Men cannot?"
"My fear and doubt tell me to despair," Legolas said. "My heart refuses to accept that he's gone. One cold reality, the other foolish hope. Which should I listen to?"
"Which one will keep you from fading with grief before you know for certain?" Eowyn asked in response.
Legolas gave her a grateful smile before turning his gaze back to the plains. "He still lives; I'll choose to believe that for now," he murmured, closing his eyes. "May the grace of the Valar protect you, meleth, until we can be together again."
##################
Pain. Wet. Cold. That 's all Aragorn could feel. Where was he? Lying on his back, it seemed. Was he ill and now resting in bed? No, not unless the bed was made up of sand and small stones. A wave of cold water washed around him again. He was apparently lying on a river's shore. How did he get there? Where was everyone else?
He forced his eyes open and was rewarded by a vision of Legolas' face. "May the grace of the Valar protect you, meleth, until we can be together again," his voice said, sounding like it was an echo from far away. He could still hear the words all around him when Legolas joined their lips together in a kiss that felt like everything and nothing at the same time. His lover then dissolved before his eyes.
Was it just a dream? Aragorn reached towards the gem at his neck to finger it as he always did when he dreamed of Legolas, but it wasn't there. Where could it be? His memory came crashing back: the scuffle with the orc on the warg, his hand stuck in the creature's saddle, the cliff's edge looming up on him. 'That orc must have pulled the greenleaf gem off of my cloak!' he realized in outrage. 'Curse his foul hands!' His fury gave way to worry as he remembered the sadness in Legolas' echoing voice. Had he found it? Did Legolas think he was dead? Aragorn had to get to him, now!
However, his body refused to match the strength of his will. Aragorn rolled, trying desperately to get up, but all he would manage to do was wiggle around. For several minutes he continued his futile attempts to rise. Just as he wondered if he'd truly come to the end, heavy footfalls came up beside him. 'Am I about to be rescued or captured?' he wondered.
A warm mouth touched his face. Unlike before, this kiss was very much flesh and blood and Aragorn knew exactly from whom it was coming from. "Hasufel," he muttered, trying to roll away.
The horse heard his name and knew his master was alive. He lied down next to the fallen man. Aragorn summoned not his own spent strength but the power of his and Legolas' love and raised his arms, clutching Hasufel's mane. With all that was left in him, he rolled onto the horse's back. Without a sound of command, the horse took off towards Helm's Deep.
Aragorn rode for awhile almost unconscious before slowly rejoining the waking world. Trusting that Hasufel knew the way, she scanned the surrounding land, looking for any sign that something had happened to the refugees. All he found was the rumor of their passing, much to his relief. That feeling was fleeting, though, as he rode to the top of an incline and looked out over the valley below. It was filled with marking uruk-hai. It was Saruman's army, 10,000 at least and heading straight for the fortress. "Noro lim," he urged his horse. "Isengard has been unleashed on the people of Rohan."
Hasufel ran as swiftly as he could, putting as much distance between them and the uruk-hai that he could. Soon Aragorn found himself on another rocky incline, this time looking at the fortress that sheltered the Rohirrim and two of the three hunters. Despite the danger, he smiled. "Hannon lle, Hasufel, mellon nin," he murmured, patting his faithful horse. "Hurry. There is much that I must do before Saruman's army gets here."
To be continued...
Eowyn anxiously awaited the arrival of the fighters at Helm's Deep. As she oversaw the organization of what little food and supplies they had a cry came up from the gate: "Make way for Theoden king!" Letting out the tiniest gasp of relief, she rushed to the front of the crowd full of people hoping to see their loved ones returned safely. As the riders came in, her heart sank. "So few," she murmured to her uncle. "So few of you have returned."
"Our people are safe," Theoden told her gruffly, almost succeeding in hiding his grief from her. "We've paid for it with many lives."
Eowyn's blood ran cold at the implication in his tone. With whose life had they'd paid? She looked around frantically, her breath hitching when she saw the elf and dwarf. Legolas sat as still as could be on top of Arod. Some servants and stable-hands were hovering nearby, waiting for the chance to lead the horse away, but one of Legolas' hands gripped the reins so tightly that his knuckles were white. The look on his face was one of pure shock and utter grief.
Gimli had already dismounted and now stood beside Arod. "Let go of the reins," he coaxed gently. "Arod must be attended to and you need to lie down. A little rest might do you some good."
"A little rest," whispered Legolas dully. "Yes, soon I will rest forever."
"I didn't mean it like that!" cried Gimli, alarmed. "Stay with me here. Stay with us, like you promised Mithrandir, remember?"
The White Lady of Rohan approached them hesitantly. "My lady," Gimli said solemnly, "would you send for a healer or anyone who could help?"
Eowyn stared at the elf, transfixed in horror. "Where is Lord Aragorn?" she asked, already knowing but not wanting it to be.
Gimli's voice cracked. "He fell."
Legolas cried out as if Gimli's word had broken him. He was crumbling as he stared at what he was clinging to in his other hand: the gem that Aragorn wore, the one she asked about earlier that day, Eowyn realized. His grip on the reins faltered and he fell in a slide off of the horse's back. Gimli and Eowyn caught him before he hit the ground. "Stay with us laddie," Gimli urged.
"I can't stay in here," sobbed Legolas. "Please open the gates. Please let me out!"
"If we opened the gate," said Gimli, "you'd run right back to that field. Evil things are coming. No. you have to stay safe in here."
"Why?" asked Legolas miserably. "I'd rather be dead beside Aragorn on the green earth then stay in here while I waste away in grief surrounded by stone. Let me out!"
"Perhaps," Eowyn interjected while trying to stop her own tears from falling, "we should go out to the battlements. You and I, Legolas, can look out over the plains while Gimli sees to it that Arod is being taken care of properly."
Legolas suffered himself to be led by the lady to a quiet corner of the battlements. HE stared out at the green grass that stretched out before the fort. "I can't see where Aragorn is," he said. "I can't see anything through my grief."
Eowyn nodded. "It's a long way from the field," she whispered.
He held up the greenleaf gem. "I gave this to him 66 years ago," Legolas murmured, his face scrunching in pain as the memory came to him in full force. "He said he'd never be parted from it as long as he lived."
She felt increasingly helpless as another wretched sob escaped his lips. "He told me that you gave it to him," she said lamely.
"And he gave me this ring," Legolas said softly, pulling out the chain at his neck to reveal the silver ring. "It's a token of his love for me." He looked up at her suddenly. "You love him, don't you?"
Now there was a question she wasn't expecting. "Yes," she told him. He already knew the truth; there was no point in denying it. "Do you resent my feelings?"
"No," said Legolas simply, a look of empathy in his eyes. "It's easy to love Aragorn. I can't fault you for it."
"It's just that he seems to be the only one who believes in me," Eowyn offered in explanation. "I'm not used to people thinking me capable of doing what all women of the Mark can do. Not that my family mistreats me, mind you; they just smother me with protection. I don't know if you can understand this..."
"Overprotection by well-meaning relatives when you know the world is falling apart around you?" mused Legolas. "Not being allowed to join in the battle when you know that your people need every skilled warrior they can get? I understand better than you guess." He fell silent for a moment before continuing. "I don't resent your feelings towards him. I trust Aragorn, and I see that you're not a malicious or deceptive person."
Eowyn looked at him, trying to find something to say that would let him know how much she appreciated his understanding without sounding trite or condescending. Instead she said, "You keep talking about him as if he were still here. Is there some hope that an elf can sense and Men cannot?"
"My fear and doubt tell me to despair," Legolas said. "My heart refuses to accept that he's gone. One cold reality, the other foolish hope. Which should I listen to?"
"Which one will keep you from fading with grief before you know for certain?" Eowyn asked in response.
Legolas gave her a grateful smile before turning his gaze back to the plains. "He still lives; I'll choose to believe that for now," he murmured, closing his eyes. "May the grace of the Valar protect you, meleth, until we can be together again."
##################
Pain. Wet. Cold. That 's all Aragorn could feel. Where was he? Lying on his back, it seemed. Was he ill and now resting in bed? No, not unless the bed was made up of sand and small stones. A wave of cold water washed around him again. He was apparently lying on a river's shore. How did he get there? Where was everyone else?
He forced his eyes open and was rewarded by a vision of Legolas' face. "May the grace of the Valar protect you, meleth, until we can be together again," his voice said, sounding like it was an echo from far away. He could still hear the words all around him when Legolas joined their lips together in a kiss that felt like everything and nothing at the same time. His lover then dissolved before his eyes.
Was it just a dream? Aragorn reached towards the gem at his neck to finger it as he always did when he dreamed of Legolas, but it wasn't there. Where could it be? His memory came crashing back: the scuffle with the orc on the warg, his hand stuck in the creature's saddle, the cliff's edge looming up on him. 'That orc must have pulled the greenleaf gem off of my cloak!' he realized in outrage. 'Curse his foul hands!' His fury gave way to worry as he remembered the sadness in Legolas' echoing voice. Had he found it? Did Legolas think he was dead? Aragorn had to get to him, now!
However, his body refused to match the strength of his will. Aragorn rolled, trying desperately to get up, but all he would manage to do was wiggle around. For several minutes he continued his futile attempts to rise. Just as he wondered if he'd truly come to the end, heavy footfalls came up beside him. 'Am I about to be rescued or captured?' he wondered.
A warm mouth touched his face. Unlike before, this kiss was very much flesh and blood and Aragorn knew exactly from whom it was coming from. "Hasufel," he muttered, trying to roll away.
The horse heard his name and knew his master was alive. He lied down next to the fallen man. Aragorn summoned not his own spent strength but the power of his and Legolas' love and raised his arms, clutching Hasufel's mane. With all that was left in him, he rolled onto the horse's back. Without a sound of command, the horse took off towards Helm's Deep.
Aragorn rode for awhile almost unconscious before slowly rejoining the waking world. Trusting that Hasufel knew the way, she scanned the surrounding land, looking for any sign that something had happened to the refugees. All he found was the rumor of their passing, much to his relief. That feeling was fleeting, though, as he rode to the top of an incline and looked out over the valley below. It was filled with marking uruk-hai. It was Saruman's army, 10,000 at least and heading straight for the fortress. "Noro lim," he urged his horse. "Isengard has been unleashed on the people of Rohan."
Hasufel ran as swiftly as he could, putting as much distance between them and the uruk-hai that he could. Soon Aragorn found himself on another rocky incline, this time looking at the fortress that sheltered the Rohirrim and two of the three hunters. Despite the danger, he smiled. "Hannon lle, Hasufel, mellon nin," he murmured, patting his faithful horse. "Hurry. There is much that I must do before Saruman's army gets here."
To be continued...
