To Mysse: I owe you a BIG thank you for plugging my story on your live journal. You are a sweetheart--and a terrific writer!
To Miyu: I'm sorry for making Legolas cry. But, just think how happy he'll be, after all of this heartache is over, when Ellie says "Yes!"
To Cali-luv: your review had me grinning from ear to ear. Thank you so much!
To all my other wonderful reviewers: you cannot imagine how much your kind words mean to me. I had a lot of doubts about coming back to this story, but I must say it feels GREAT to be writing about Legolas again. And your support really inspires me to continue!
And, finally, once again, a big hug and huge thank you to my wonderful beta and soon-to-be-again-collaborator, Kris!
CHAPTER TWELVE: OUT OF MORIA
He never cried. He was a Prince and a warrior, a proud Elf who had accepted long ago that pain and sorrow were an unavoidable part of Life, especially in these dark times. He had known and expected that sacrifices would be demanded of him, that he--and everyone else who stood for what was good and right, against the evil canker that was spreading throughout the world--would suffer heartbreaking losses. And he had. Over the centuries he had lost comrades and friends--both mortal and immortal--in numbers too great to count. Some he had had to kill with his own hands to spare them additional pain. He had seen unspeakable horrors that no person should ever have to see. He had watched in despair as his once beautiful and beloved forest home was ravaged and despoiled by the hideous creatures that served the Dark Lord. And, of course, he had lost his mother to the Undying Lands. But, he had never cried. He had never once shown weakness of any kind.
Until now.
It was a defining moment in his life. A humbling and sobering moment. To discover that he was as vulnerable as any mortal man, as frail. And all because of Ellie.
He looked down at the girl he carried in his arms as the Fellowship ran from the Great Hall, and tears pricked his eyes yet again. Ellie was dazed from shock and exhaustion, her skin unnaturally pale from loss of blood. And Legolas knew that she was scarcely aware of what was happening around her. The Orcs had fled from something far more evil and terrible than they--a Balrog, an ancient demon of fire and shadow. Now the Balrog pursued the Fellowship and, in all likelihood, would soon overtake them.
Legolas had nearly killed Ellie, and he could not help but think that perhaps it would have been a mercy, after all, if he had succeeded. But, gods, how it hurt! His heart and his soul would be forever scarred by the horror of what he had done to her. His memory would be forever imprinted with the image of her tender skin splitting open beneath his blade--and of her blood spilling. He was branded with her blood now--his hands and the front of his suede jerkin were soaked with it. And it made him sick.
She had not even resisted. In the end, she had simply closed her eyes and accepted…
"Legolas, above us!" Aragorn's urgent warning instantly brought the Elf out of his silent reverie. The Fellowship had just entered a huge cavern with countless flights of stairs carved into the bare rock. And now, a small group of Orcs was preparing to fire at them from a high ledge.
"I'll take her," Boromir told him, as Legolas started to put Ellie down. The man did not even give the Elf an opportunity to respond. He simply grabbed the girl from his arms and abruptly turned away. Legolas frowned, but said nothing, for his attention was diverted by the more pressing matter of having to defend the Fellowship. For only he and Aragorn had bows…
With the Balrog in pursuit and the Orcs shooting arrows from above, the Fellowship ran through many corridors and down an endless maze of steep stairs, toward the bridge that led to Moria's eastern entrance. The rest of the morning passed in a haze for Ellie, but she was aware of being in Boromir's arms--and of once nearly being dropped from them and into the bottomless depths of the mines. At that instant, Ellie's lethargy briefly vanished, and she frantically clawed at Boromir's neck trying to hang on to him. "Sorry, sweetling," the man muttered, stifling an oath, as he struggled to get a grip on the girl and stop them both from toppling over the edge of the stairs and into oblivion.
Despite her stupor, Ellie was also aware of the frequent, worried glances that Legolas aimed in their direction, when he wasn't busy killing Orcs. He didn't look too happy, but whether it was because of her or the Balrog, or both, she did not know.
Finally, the Fellowship entered another pillared hall, and Ellie--starting to recover her strength--asked Boromir to put her down, now that they were back on level ground. Although he never complained, the man was panting and huffing, and she could tell that his arms were beginning to tire. He must have been carrying me for hours, she thought in amazement, but in reality it had been much less. Still, slight as she was, it had not been easy for him to bear her weight and keep his footing on the narrow, treacherous stairs--especially when he also carried a heavy shield and sword and was hampered by his cumbersome clothing.
Boromir put her down, but he did not let her go. He kept her close to his side, half-dragging her, as they ran through the dark hall. In her muddled state, Ellie did not even think to question it. Nor did she think to return to Legolas' side--at least not at first. But when she finally thought of it, after the Elf had glanced back one too many times and slowed his pace so that she could catch up with him, Ellie was reluctant to go. She had never heard of a Balrog before, but its angry roars were more horrible than the shrieks of ten thousand Orcs and she could sense Gandalf's growing terror as the creature gained ground on them. Given the gravity of their situation, Ellie wasn't sure she could trust Legolas not to finish what he had started back in the Great Hall. So she continued to cling to Boromir's strong, callused hand and stumble along beside him--with Jamie close behind--knowing that her very life might well depend on the man.
For his part, Boromir was unwilling to relinquish his hold on the girl. While he had understood the necessity for Legolas' action in the Great Hall, the man had been shocked and repulsed by the cool, deliberate manner with which the Elf had approached Ellie and cut her throat. After kissing her. It was disgusting, unnatural. It just wasn't human. And the man couldn't understand how Legolas could do it. Standing only a few paces away from him at the time, Boromir had had to resist the urge to ram his own sword into the Elf's elegant neck.
He had done nothing on Ellie's behalf when Legolas had slashed her. And now Boromir felt ashamed, and obligated to protect the girl. She might be half-Elven, but she looked and acted human. Moreover, her Ilissan ancestry made her Gondorian--and of noble blood--just like him. It was his duty to look out for her. After all, there was no one else she could turn to.
With the Balrog threatening the Fellowship, Boromir--like Ellie--knew he could not trust Legolas. Nor was he sure he could trust Aragorn. Isildur's heir might be human, but he had been raised by the Elves and had adopted many of their strange ways. The old wizard was too preoccupied with getting them out of Moria. And the young man would not even consider asking the dwarf and the hobbits. No, if the Balrog and the Orcs did not kill Ellie, then Boromir knew it was up to him to make sure that an overzealous Elf and a misguided ranger didn't either! At least not before it was absolutely necessary…
It had not taken long for Legolas to notice that Boromir had assumed the task of keeping Ellie safe--from him, of all things. And it galled the Elf. Doesn't the fool realize that I cherish Ellie above all else? That I turned my knife against her only to save her from the Orcs?
Apparently not, from the looks the man had been giving him. Every time Legolas had glanced back at them, Boromir had glared at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes--as if he had expected the Elf to pounce on the girl at any moment. Once or twice, the man had even sneered at him in disgust. And now that Ellie was back on her own two feet, he would not let her leave his side. As if her very life depended on his protection.
The idea was laughable. If Legolas wanted to kill Ellie for her own sake, no mere man could stop him. Not even the son of the Steward of Gondor.
In truth, the imprudent man from Gondor had been a problem from the start. He was obsessed with wielding Sauron's Ring on behalf of his people and, to Legolas, he presented a real threat to the Fellowship's mission. And now he also presented a real threat to him. Or rather, a big nuisance. For it had not escaped the Elf's attention that Ellie seemed perfectly content to let Boromir "protect" her. When Legolas had slowed down to allow her to catch up with him, she had stayed by the man's side, her small hand clutching his as if it were a lifeline.
Legolas bitterly resented it. He wanted to be the one to hold Ellie and comfort her, as they fled through the dark corridors of Moria. He wanted to be the one to soothe her with loving words and make her feel protected. But what right do I have? the Elf asked himself, as he shot another Orc dead. None whatsoever, was the discouraging reply. For he had almost taken her life.
Legolas did not think that he could hurt anymore than he already did, but he was wrong. And with the new hurt came a strong pang of jealousy that caught him completely by surprise. How can this be? he thought in bewilderment. Elves are never jealous of men. What is there to be jealous of? But, sure enough, Legolas felt ridiculously jealous of Boromir. He notched two arrows together while he ran, and shot yet another Orc dead. One arrow would have sufficed, but in the face of his newly discovered jealousy, the Elf was suddenly feeling vindictive.
And then the most outrageous thought occurred to him. Surely Ellie won't turn to Boromir for "other" things too? After all, Legolas had refused to lay with her and had nearly killed her. And now the man was comforting her and protecting her. He wasn't all that unattractive for a human--in fact, if Legolas was honest, he would have to admit that Boromir was rather handsome, in a coarse sort of way. Moreover, he was Gondorian nobility. Ellie was obviously ready to have a daughter. So why wouldn't she ask the man to lay with her and sire her child? It made perfect sense to Legolas' tormented mind. Why he was thinking of all this now--when the Fellowship was in such mortal danger--was beyond him. All he knew was that the thought of Boromir laying with Ellie horrified him almost as much as the thought of an Orc raping her.
With so many emotions roiling inside of him, Legolas found it impossible to maintain his poise and equilibrium. And just as the Fellowship reached the Bridge of Khazad-dum, the graceful Elf stumbled and fell flat on his face.
Ellie started to run toward him, but Boromir held her back. Legolas seethed, and would have lunged at him, had an Orc arrow not landed at Gandalf's feet at that same precise moment. As Aragorn fired back at the Orc, Legolas fought the urge to take the girl forcibly from Boromir's arms, for he realized that such foolishness on his part could jeopardize the Fellowship's safety. Instead he cursed the man in Elvish as he picked himself off the floor, then turned and ran across the narrow bridge ahead of everyone else.
"What did he just call me?" Boromir demanded to know. But before Aragorn could tell him a lie, the Balrog appeared behind them.
It was the most hideous and terrifying creature Ellie had ever seen, and she could not stifle a scream. Neither could the hobbits. The Balrog stood upright, ten times taller than any man or Elf, and appeared to be engulfed in flames that kindled within his massive body. He had huge, pointed teeth--several rows of them it seemed--that made a loud, clanging noise like blades clashing as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. From that mouth spewed streams of fire and thunderous roars that shook the very foundations of Moria. In one hand he carried a whip of flame.
Gandalf the Grey knew they could not outrun the Balrog. He ordered the others to move ahead of him. The hobbits quickly crossed the narrow bridge, trailed by Ellie and Boromir with Jamie in his arms. Gimli and Aragorn brought up the rear. But Gandalf did not follow in their wake. At first his companions did not realize that he meant to take a stand against the demon. By the time they did, it was too late. The Balrog was mere yards away from the old wizard. And seconds later, both fell down a seemingly endless chasm. Ellie had not foreseen the tragedy.
Frodo's anguished scream echoed through the corridors as the remaining ten companions sped out of the mines. Boromir carried Jamie in one arm and grabbed Frodo with the other to prevent him from going back. Legolas saw his chance and took hold of Ellie. She was in shock, as they all were, and did not resist. In fact, she found his familiar embrace comforting and wrapped her arm tightly around his waist as they ran, completely forgetting that she was supposed to be afraid of him and that Boromir would protect her now.
Once outside, they were overwhelmed with grief. Frodo walked aimlessly away with tears trailing down his face. Jamie and the other hobbits sank to the ground and sobbed. Gimli tried to run back inside to continue fighting but was stopped by Boromir, who at the same time was eyeing the Elf and the girl with great concern. Legolas stood apart from the group, holding Ellie closely, and pressing his lips to her head as the two rocked back and forth. The man had never seen the Elf so visibly distressed. His flawless face was twisted in sorrow and his eyes were bright with pain and remorse. So he is not so cold-blooded after all, the man thought. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Boromir turned away from them and gave vent to his own grief over Gandalf's loss. Of the ten companions that remained, only Aragorn maintained his composure and, assuming control of the Fellowship, he urged his companions to move on.
But then something extraordinary happened. As her initial shock started to wear off, Ellie listened to her heart and instead of the silence she expected to find where Gandalf's heart had been, she felt a strong, steady beat.
"He's alive!" she yelled, her face brightening, as she pushed away from Legolas and turned toward the mines. But before she could take another step, the Elf grabbed her by the shoulders and looked at her, a puzzled frown on his face.
"Legolas, Gandalf is alive! His heart is beating strong inside of mine!" she exclaimed, and when he would not let go of her, "We need to go back for him!"
"Ellie, we can't," he said quietly, "it is too dangerous. We would not be able to reach him."
But Ellie was not listening. She was suddenly desperate to go back for Gandalf—frantic not to lose his heartbeat as she had lost so many others in Ravenwood. And when Legolas still would not let go of her, she began to struggle in earnest, pummeling his chest with her fists and trying to push away from him. He tightened his grip on her shoulders and then pulled her hard against his body, trapping her hands between them.
"Ellie, stop it! I don't want to hurt you…"again was the unspoken word. He did not want to hurt her again, in any way. And Ellie stilled, staring up at him with wide eyes.
But she could not give up on Gandalf.
When Aragorn approached them, she turned her face toward the dark-haired man and pleaded with him, "He is alive, Aragorn, he is ALIVE. We must rescue him!" The others gathered around and gaped at Ellie in astonishment, hope rekindling in their hearts.
However, Aragorn shook his head sadly and, understanding the reason for her anguish, gently said, "Legolas is right, Ellie. We would never be able to reach Gandalf, not where he has fallen. It would be folly to try. Nor would he want us to. This place will soon be crawling with Orcs. We cannot remain here." And then he reminded them all, "We must see Frodo and the ring safely to Mordor. That is our mission."
Ellie realized that what Aragorn said was true and bowed her head, pressing her face against Legolas' stained jerkin. After a moment, the Elf gently cupped her chin and lifted it. "I am sorry," he whispered. And Ellie knew that he was apologizing for far more than just Gandalf...
They did not speak again for many hours, as the Fellowship hastened toward the woods of Lothlorien. But, much to Legolas' relief, Ellie remained by his side the entire time.
Once they left Moria behind them, the Elf's face assumed its usual detached expression, and his pale blue eyes became twin shards of ice that softened only when they looked down at Ellie and Jamie. For Legolas was a proud being, and he was determined not to show any more weakness before the Fellowship. He knew that--with the exception of Aragorn--the others had been shocked and discomfited by his action in the Great Hall. Like Boromir, they had understood it, but they could not accept it. The hobbits now gave him a wide berth. Gimli a wider one still. And all five avoided his eyes, while Boromir continued to watch him warily.
Except for Ellie and Aragorn, no one had seen Legolas cry. They must think I have ice in my veins, the Elf mused. Let them think it! I do not care what they think, he told himself. I only care what Ellie thinks. And she was not talking. But she had not left his side either, and that at least was encouraging.
Ellie desperately wanted to talk to Legolas, but not while they were on the run, and not while she was still reeling from the horrors of the morning. There were so many conflicting emotions that were churning inside of her, that she no longer knew exactly what she felt. She only knew that she was suddenly shy around Legolas--and uneasy--yet, inexplicably, she wanted to stay close to him.
Did she forgive him? Ellie believed so. She certainly didn't feel any bitterness or resentment toward him--which was surprising, considering what he had done. But was she afraid of him? That question was not so easy to answer. Of all the members of the Fellowship, there was none she had trusted more than Legolas. And despite what had happened, she still felt that way--for the most part. She trusted his strength, his courage, his equanimity and his prowess as a warrior. She valued his friendship and knew that he cared deeply for her. And after Gandalf's fall, she had taken comfort in his arms and had felt safe. Yet, a part of her also felt betrayed by Legolas. And probably a part of her still feared him.
She looked at him as they ran, and as always, was struck by his beauty and grace. But that beauty had been tarnished now--if only temporarily. His hands and clothes were stained with her blood. Ellie's heart gave a lurch. For all his strength and valor, she knew that Legolas had paid a heavy price for what he had done to her. She had even seen him cry, and she did not think that tears came easily to someone like him. Suddenly, Ellie felt an overwhelming desire to comfort him, to let him know that everything was all right, even if it wasn't. Does this mean I love him? she wondered, stunned by the possibility. Ellie did not know. She only knew that she cared for Legolas more than any Ilissan had a right to care for a man or Elf. The events in Moria had not changed those feelings.
When Aragorn determined that they were far away enough from the mines to not be threatened by Orcs, he called the Fellowship to a halt. They had been running almost without pause since early that morning and it was now the middle of the afternoon. The hobbits had reached the end of their endurance; Jamie and Ellie too.
"We'll stop here to rest for a while and then continue on. We should be reaching Lothlorien before nightfall," the man told them. It was heartening news. The Fellowship would be safe among the Elves of the Golden Wood.
The hobbits immediately settled down to eat for they had already skipped three meals that day and were famished. Jamie, who despite his small size had a voracious appetite, joined them. Gimli dozed off, as he was wont to do during afternoon breaks. And the two men sat down on a fallen log to quietly talk.
Boromir was watching Ellie as she kneeled next to the stream and began to wash the blood off of her hands and arms. Legolas was at her side.
"How she can spend even a moment with him after what he did is beyond my ken," the man told Aragorn in a baffled voice.
"She loves him."
"She's not supposed to love him. She's Ilissan," Boromir countered.
"The heart does not always abide by the rules," Aragorn replied. He knew this well, for he loved Lord Elrond's half-Elven daughter. And because she loved him too, Arwen had given up her immortal life.
Boromir sneered and turned to the man sitting beside him. "Aragorn, Legolas kissed her, then slit her throat from ear to ear."
"And what would you have had him do? Leave her to the Orcs?"
The younger man shook his head. "I suppose not. But it was chilling to watch. I could not have done that to her. Not that way. Could you?"
"Yes," came the soft reply.
The stream was only ankle deep, but Ellie felt refreshed when she submerged her hands in the cold water, and began to rub her arms clean. Legolas crouched next to her and washed his own hands, then turned to look at her as she started to splash water on her neck.
"You need a rag," he observed.
Ellie's mouth quirked as she looked down at her tattered skirt. "Well, I've got plenty of those." But before she could rip a piece off, she heard a loud, tearing noise beside her. She raised her head and, to her surprise, saw that Legolas now held a long strip of shimmering gray silk in his hand. He had torn it off of the long shirt he wore under his jerkin.
"You must be mad to ruin such a lovely shirt!" Ellie scolded him, but was secretly touched by his thoughtfulness. His shirt was much cleaner than her skirt. She smiled and lifted her hand to take the rag from him, but Legolas did not give it to her.
"Allow me…to take care of you," he told her instead, and dipped the rag in the stream.
Ellie's eyes were huge, her expression guarded, as he slowly raised his hand to her throat. Oh gods, he's going to touch me there, she thought. Legolas watched her face intently, trying to gage her reaction. Ellie knew he was testing her and she fought hard to stay calm. But when the wet cloth touched her neck and his fingers grazed her skin, she flinched. She could not stop herself. Legolas did not speak, but his face tightened, and she could see a muscle begin to twitch in his jaw. And Ellie realized, with a sinking heart, that she had failed him.
He lowered his gaze to her throat and gently wiped away at the encrusted blood. A faint scar was visible near one ear, where Ellie's hand had apparently not finished healing the delicate skin. He traced the small scar with his thumb, then met her eyes again without removing his hand from her throat.
"You should be dead," Legolas said.
"Yes." Ellie could barely speak. She could barely breathe, so painful was the knot that settled in her chest. She knew he was punishing himself, and maybe even her for reasons she could not understand. It broke her heart.
"I slashed you from ear to ear," he now said in a savage voice, twisting his mouth into an ugly grimace. His eyes filled with cold and bitter anger--aimed not at her, but at himself.
"Please don't…" she whispered.
But Legolas persisted. "Why didn't you die?" He let the cloth drop from his hand and started to caress her soft skin, his gaze shifting back and forth between her eyes and throat.
Gods…Ellie closed her eyes for a long moment before meeting his again. "Because I am Ilissan. When my body perceived the threat to its existence, it started to heal itself from within. I do not die so easily, Legolas."
"You would not have died at all?" The Elf's face was incredulous.
"Without the healing touch of my hands, I would have…eventually."
Legolas dropped his hand from her throat. "Had the Orcs not fled, I would not have let you lift your hands," he told her brutally, and turned his face away. The thought of having to struggle with Ellie to prevent her from healing herself sickened him. But he had not lied-- he would have done it--or he would have kept cutting her until she was dead.
"It would not have come to that," Ellie told him softly. She grabbed hold of his chin and turned his face back toward her. "I was about to faint. I would not have been aware…"
He stared at her for a long time and shook his head. He did not know whether to believe her or not. May the Valar bless you, Ellie. She was trying so hard to assuage his guilt.
"Legolas, I forgive you," she said clearly. Her face told him that she meant it.
She makes it seem so easy, he thought. And yet, she had flinched when he had touched her throat…
"Ellie, are you still afraid of me?" he asked her all of the sudden, his eyes watching her carefully.
She had not expected that question, and was obviously flustered by it. "No…I don't know…." she stammered, and then, more forcefully, "Should I be?"
And Legolas felt as if he had just been kicked in the stomach. So she is afraid. He could hardly blame her under the circumstances, but he was devastated nonetheless.
"I would never willingly hurt you, Ellie," he said quietly. And then, because he would not mislead her, "But if I had to do it all over again, my decision would still be the same."
Legolas' face was taut and unyielding, his eyes veiled and distant, as he stared down at her. To Ellie he looked to be made of stone, and the girl could not suppress a shudder. Why is he telling me this? she wondered. Does he really want me to be frightened of him?
But that was not Legolas' intention at all. "I am who I am, Ellie. I cannot be anything else," he told her then, without apology. And silently he pleaded, accept me for who I am.
Ellie heard his unspoken plea, but was not sure she could accept. And so, they sat side by side in awkward silence--lost in their own tumultuous thoughts--until Aragorn called for the Fellowship to start moving again.
Legolas stood and held a hand out to Ellie. And as she took it, she looked into his eyes and said, hesitantly, "You called me…'beloved'..."
"So I did." And at the time, he had not been sure she had understood. Now, Legolas studied the girl coolly for a moment before taunting her. "But that should not mean anything to you, should it Ellie? You are Ilissan, as you so often like to remind me."
Ellie bit her lip, then whispered, "It meant a lot to me that you said it, before…before you did what you did." And she turned so that he could not see the tears that welled in her eyes, and started to walk away.
But she didn't get very far. She took no more than three steps before Legolas' arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against his body. The Elf no longer cared who might be watching. He buried his face in Ellie's neck and pressed tender, loving kisses where his knife had slashed her so brutally before. Then he moved his lips to her ear and nibbled at the delicate lobe, before whispering,
"I meant what I said when I said it. And I mean it now--Meldanya."
