Dear Readers: I intended to have only two chapters in Moria, but as so often happens, my previous chapter ended up being too long and I decided to split it. So we're back in Moria again (I can't wait to get out of there!). Please do continue reviewing--your feedback is important to me!
Mystique: Thank you so much for the WONDERFUL review! It really inspires me to keep on writing.
Kelly: I'm glad Orlando Bloom was born too, since I can't imagine a more perfect Legolas than him!
To dear, dear Kris, the best beta ever--another big THANK YOU! You are a blessing! (And you make me laugh! It's great to know I'll have company you-know-where!)
CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE UNTHINKABLE
Legolas approached her as she quietly stood leaning against a column, healing her wounded shoulder. Her eyes were closed and his steps were silent like always, but she sensed his presence--his watchfulness--long before he placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder.
"How badly are you hurt?" he asked her, his voice thick with concern. The wound had not been deep, but it had bled profusely, and Ellie knew that, to his eyes, it must look much worse than it actually was.
She sighed, but did not look at him. "Not badly."
Legolas frowned. She was distancing herself from him, and he did not like it one bit. Was it because of what had happened in the tunnel, or was it because of her vision? Recalling their kiss and how she had surrendered to it, he thought it was most likely the latter. What did you see, Ellie,that would cause you to withdraw from me so completely? What terrible thing did I do? And he could not let it go.
"Tell me again about your vision." But she shook her head, and still refused to open her eyes.
He slowly slid his hand from her shoulder to her neck, pausing briefly at the sensitive place where her pulse--beating fast and erratically--belied the calm she was trying to project. Then his hand continued upward to cup her chin.
"Ellie, look at me," he said, as he lifted and turned her face toward him. And this time her somber eyes met his.
"How could you think that I would ever hurt you? Such a thing is unthinkable," he told her. Legolas' voice was hushed and his manner gentle, as if he were trying to soothe a frightened child. "Whatever you saw has not happened. It was wrong."
But Ellie shook her head again. "It is not over yet…" she said simply.
The pair turned, as Gandalf approached. "We need to move on. Ellie, are you all right?" The blood splattered over her arm and dress was red--not black--and therefore obviously hers. But what worried Gandalf even more was her strange withdrawal from the Fellowship, and from Legolas in particular. Something was amiss. And although he had not been told about her vision, the old wizard suspected that Ellie might have foreseen other horrors facing them.
"I am fine," she muttered, jerking her chin from Legolas' grasp. Without saying another word, she walked away from the Elf and the wizard to join the others, who were adjusting their packs and wiping their weapons clean. Legolas and Gandalf followed her with troubled eyes.
"That was some fight, wasn't it?" Sam was saying when she reached them. The stout little hobbit had fought bravely with his short sword, as well as with his frying pan, and he felt proud.
Ellie smiled at him, and quickly looked over each of her companions. They all had countless cuts and bruises, but as far as she could tell, none of them were serious or life threatening. Boromir, however, did have a nasty gash on his head that he had suffered when the troll threw him across the room. Ellie had seen it happen and now she flinched at the recollection.
"I'll take care of that," she told the young man and raised a hand to heal it. But before her fingers ever touched him, a horrible, discordant screeching erupted again--much stronger and louder than before and seemingly from every corner of Moria. Orcs were coming--and not just a few dozen.
Now it begins…Ellie thought, forgetting all about Boromir, as a dreadful feeling of helplessness swept through her mind. What can I do?
"We make for the bridge of Khazad-dum," Gandalf yelled. And with the old wizard leading the way, the Fellowship fled into the Great Hall. The noise from the approaching Orcs was deafening. It bounced off the stone walls and pillars--growing in intensity--and reverberated inside the minds of the eleven companions. But no matter how fast they ran, they could not get away from the frenzied horde that descended upon them from every direction, shrieking and jeering and waving their crude weapons. Within minutes the Fellowship was completely surrounded by thousands of the creatures—exactly as Ellie had foreseen. And there was no hope for escape.
Legolas, Gimli and the men faced the Orcs with their weapons drawn and ready, forming a protective circle around the more vulnerable members of the Fellowship. It was a futile gesture and they knew it, but it kept the creatures at bay for the time being.
The Orcs fell silent…and waited…
"Stay close to me," Legolas said, glancing over his shoulder. He expected to find Ellie and Jamie there, seeking his protection as always, and was surprised to find Merry and Pippin instead. What? And then he saw her, on the other side, standing behind Boromir with Jamie squeezed between them. She was watching him--Legolas--and not the Orcs, and there was such an odd look in her eyes--at once vigilant and accusing and afraid--as if she were waiting for him to… Gods, Ellie! And Legolas realized, with a pang, that she was purposely keeping as far away from him as possible.
It hurt. It cut him so deeply that he could not stand to look at her anymore. And so he turned and missed the small group of Orcs that had inched ever so closer to Ellie's back. But Aragorn saw them. They were leering and gesturing suggestively, and one went so far as to extend a filthy hand toward her braids. The man's blood froze when he realized what they intended. The Orcs would not kill Ellie outright--perhaps not even Jamie.
Aragorn tapped Legolas on the shoulder and motioned for him to look back. He did--and said nothing. But Aragorn could feel the cold and impotent rage that swept over the Elf.
"Remember Celebrian," the man whispered in Elvish, so that the others would not understand. "We cannot let that happen to her or the boy. There is no one to rescue them here."
"What are you suggesting, Aragorn?" Legolas hissed. His voice was cold and laced with menace. He did not like where his friend was leading him. He was not ready to go there yet.
"In the end, they will be killed. You know this…"
Much as he hated to admit it, Legolas knew that Aragorn was right. The Elf recalled the shocking tales he had heard about the fate of women and children captured by Orcs. He had seen the anguished eyes of Elrond's wife after her brief captivity. Celebrian had been rescued, but Ellie would not be so lucky. She would be raped--raped!--and tortured to death. A wave of nausea washed over Legolas as he pictured her small body, broken and battered and defiled, with the foul stench of Orcs clinging to her torn flesh. And to think, she was yet a maiden! She should have been his. But now an Orc would be the first to take her…
Legolas' mind recoiled in horror, and his heart despaired. What kind of Elf would I be if I knowingly leave her to such a fate? "Gods!" he exclaimed, and silently cursed the Valar, as he accepted the inevitable.
Once again, Aragorn whispered in Elvish to him. "Do you want me to…"
"No!" Legolas interrupted him, instinctively knowing what his friend was about to offer, "You take care of the boy. Ellie…" and his voice faltered, as he sought and held the girl's gaze, "Ellie is mine…"
And it appalled him to think that she had known all along that it would come to this…
So you have decided, Ellie thought as she stared into Legolas' tormented eyes. She had guessed what he and Aragorn were discussing, although she could not understand all of their Elvish words. She had known what the outcome would be. But it didn't lessen the pain. The intensity of it took her breath away, shook her to the very core of her existence, and left her broken and…floundering. She had no one to turn to--chivalrous beings that they were, her companions would side with him in this. She had only her faith, but, surprisingly, it offered little comfort. Ellie smiled bitterly. If it had not been for her faith, Legolas would have been hers, and she would have died knowing what it was like to have been loved by him. With the pain, came regret.
As if in a hazy dream, she saw Legolas sling his bow behind him and take a step toward her, gently pushing Merry and Pippin out of the way. He comes. Then another, as he grimly reached back for his long knife. And Ellie shuddered, mouthing the word "no" but uttering not a sound. She had expected to die soon--they were, after all, completely surrounded--but she did not want to die by his hands. Her soul shrank from it. It was obscene. How could those beautiful hands that had caressed her so tenderly--that had awakened her body and made her feel so much--now cut her down, and spill her life's blood?
Had she the courage, Ellie would have done the deed herself and spared him the trouble--but she couldn't. For a moment, she considered throwing herself at the Orcs. But she knew Legolas would kill her anyway. Even if the creatures attacked now and struck him down, Legolas would kill her before he fell. She knew this as surely as she knew her own name.
How can he do it? Ellie wondered, as he took yet another step. Because he has no choice, her reason answered. Because he was a noble Elf and a warrior--and he would not see her suffer needlessly. She too had heard tales of Orcs and female captives, and she had felt the heated stares of the creatures standing nearest to her. But Ellie rejected reason. Fool! she ranted silently at Legolas, as hot anger suddenly bubbled up inside of her. Don't you realize that no torture the Orcs inflict upon me could ever hurt more than knowing it is you who will take my life?
Legolas did not realize it. He was too overcome by the horror of what he was about to do. Gods, that the last memory of her life should be the image of me raising my blade against her! She had foreseen the unthinkable, and in his arrogance he had doubted her. The Elf's heart shattered, and his soul was all but wrenched from his body.
And yet, he was convinced of the rightness of his decision.
With his free hand, Legolas now moved Frodo out of the way. "Legolas?" the little hobbit asked uncertainly, but the Elf ignored him.
It was then that Ellie noticed for the first time that Aragorn too had been approaching. But the man's eyes were not on her--they were fixed on Jamie. Jamie! Oh, gods… And in a maternal gesture as old as time, Ellie hugged the boy fiercely and pressed his face to her chest, so that he would not see--so that he would not know. For a moment, Aragorn's gaze shifted to her, and there was so much compassion and pain in his eyes, that she felt her own throat swell with renewed grief. Ellie's brief spark of anger fizzled away, as the man gently took the boy from her arms and embraced him.
In the next instant, Legolas was standing before her. It had only taken him a few short seconds to reach her. But to the Elf and the girl, it had seemed a lifetime. Now, time had run out on them.
They stared at each other in silence--their eyes mirroring each other's hurt and regret--and, yes, even longing. I will remember you, Ellie, Legolas vowed as he looked down at her. Every feature, every curve, every lash, will be forever branded in my soul. And if the Valar will it, we will soon be together again in the Hall of Mandos. Then he raised his free hand to her face and whispered, "Meldanya."
Beloved.
Ellie knew that word, and her eyes welled up with bittersweet tears. He called me "beloved." She could sense the Orcs begin to move restlessly all around them, but Legolas seemed unhurried as his fingers tenderly traced the curve of her cheek. He called me "beloved." She felt the tension in his body--the alertness in his stance--but his hand was gentle as it caressed her neck and slowly eased her head back. He called me "beloved." She saw the silver glint of his knife as he raised it toward her throat, but his lips were ever so soft and loving when he pressed them to her mouth. He called me "beloved."
As she closed her eyes, a few more pieces fell out of Ellie's already broken heart. Her tears fell unbidden, burning fiery trails down her cheeks. And when she felt the cold blade first touch her skin, she could not help but wonder if the very gods themselves were punishing her for daring to feel too much for him.
And then she could wonder no more. Her body stiffened the moment Legolas' knife first cut her, and a terrible roaring filled her ears. She felt no pain, only encroaching darkness, and Ellie knew she would swoon before the merciful deed was done.
But she did not faint and she did not die.
Just when she was about to succumb to the blackness, she felt Legolas' strong arms wrap tightly around her and his warm lips press against her temple. "They're fleeing, Ellie!" she thought she heard him say. She opened incredulous eyes to discover that this was true. And standing right next to her, was Jamie, safe and unharmed in Aragorn's arms.
Without loosening his hold on her, Legolas grabbed Ellie's hand and lifted it to her throat. His own hand was shaking uncontrollably. "Heal yourself!" he urged her, in a voice raw with emotion. And she would. But before she closed her eyes to do so, she looked up into his face.
Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, was crying.
