An Orc's Tale Chapter 9: Feet, a lord of the rings fanfic

AN: sorry about the long wait, there were several different ways of setting up this chunk of timeline, and each had a different thing about it that I liked and didn't want to lose. Hope I picked the right one for you.

They sat together on the bed, three pairs of feet on the floor. Legolas sat between the twins, but he did not look at them; his head on his hands, balanced on his knees. The position was painful - his weight resting on weakened limbs - but he savoured the pain, for it took his mind from a larger failure.

"You knew that this would not come straight away, that it would take time." Elrohir offered softly, giving his brother a despairing glance over the top of Legolas' head.

"It has been a week." Came the blunt reply.

"Yes, only a week since the supports were removed." Elladan agreed, hoping that perhaps they were getting somewhere with the stubborn elf.

"And still I cannot even stand unaided!" Sitting up, he twisted around so that he could lay his head against Elladan's chest and lifted his feet to lay across Elrohir's legs. Leaning against the headboard, Elladan resigned himself to the fact that Legolas wasn't in the mood for exercises today, and pulled him closer to lay a kiss on the crown of his head. Elrohir shifted so that he was lying alongside the other two, his head on Legolas' stomach and his legs dangling off the end of the bed. "Perhaps it is better for them to think me dead. I could take on a new identity, cast off who I was. I would spare them the pain of this knowledge." Legolas' words were soft, and he closed his eyes and turned his face away so that he wouldn't have to see the twin's loathing.

"You would fool none who has known you, for you are barely changed in appearance now that your scars are fading." Elrohir's reply was slightly strained, but he could see the anger building in his brother's face, and he didn't think it would help matters at all for them to get angry at such an idea. It was of course, the same reason they had hidden his survival in the first place.

"I do not have to see those that know my face, or have them see me. I have gone centuries without seeing one who knows me, I could do so again."

"And what of us?" Elladan retorted sharply. "Would you have us grieve for Legolas as well? I am not sure I could fall in love with another. I fear fading at your loss."

"That is not..."

"Oh, but it is... To separate yourself from all that know you, you would leave us. Did you think of this when you made your plans."

"They are not plans. Only... how can I go before my father like this. He would not take me back; I am only a burden to him as I am now. Worth nothing to my country." Elrohir could not comprehend the King of Mirkwood, and too often he found himself giving up long before he got anywhere, for the man was simply too stubborn and hardheaded. Only his harsh influence could get Legolas thinking of himself in such a way, and it had taken them many years to convince him that he was no such burden to them. This had been long before his kidnapping; to have such painful thoughts brought back at this time was not going to help him progress.

"Your father does not need you back immediately. You have a world of time before you must return to him, but think how much he must suffer at the thought of your death."

"I feel as though I am suffering a defeat. I do not know how to win this battle, and I cannot simply wait for it to come upon me. I am torn asunder."

"What can we do?" Elrohir, ever practical.

"I do not know... nothing, I fear."

"Then let us find something to distract us from the coming battle, even if it only be for today. We can return to the fight tomorrow, yes?"

"I cannot give up." Determination returned.

"It has never been in your nature." Elrohir teased, smiling again as his heart fluttered at the near miss. Hope was all that their love had left, he could not be allowed to lose it.

"This is Arod - he bore you and I back from Mordor. Elrohir could not control his mount well enough to carry two." Elladan looked unreasonably proud that he had bested his brother in a matter involving horses. He made no mention, of course, of the exact reason why Elrohir's horse had been reluctant to take the second load, nor the manner of his transport back. "I have not seen a better mount not trained by elven hands, saving Aragorn's of course. He always did have unreasonable talent." In Elladan's mouth, the word 'unreasonable' seemed to stand for 'better than mine'. "I lost Caranel to an orc sword in the battle, it seemed Arod's master was lost too, so he took me as his new master." Elrohir appeared behind his brother with two more horses.

"Come then, if we are to go. Else it will be long dark before we return." He urged. He paused, looking between Legolas - who sat upon a bench on the edge of the stable courtyard - and Arod. "How are we to do this?" He asked with the hint of a smile. "And keep the dear prince's pride intact."

On a long rein from Elladan, Arod turned to snuffle at Legolas' hair. Taking the horse's chin in his hands, Legolas brought him down to face him and blew gently in his nose to introduce himself. Satisfied that introductions were complete, Arod ducked his head low and Legolas took hold of a handful of mane. From there, it seemed there was no transition between him seated on the bench and seated on the horse. Elladan blinked.

"How..."

"I don't think I could do it again in so short a time, melethron." Legolas breathed, for the strenuous movement had obviously pained him. "Maybe I will show you later." Elrohir moved up alongside him, already mounted, and rested a hand on his shoulder to make sure he was okay. He smiled over his shoulder at him, leaning forward a little to pat Arod in thanks, for it had been a quick movement of the horse's head that had aided his lift into position. Elladan was quickly mounted up and on his other side, a bright smile on his face. Cúdîn - Elrohir's horse - danced impatiently as they prepared to depart.

"Cúdîn feels he has been neglected these past few weeks. He is impatient, and wants to run." Elrohir excused his behaviour.

"Then let us run." Legolas responded, driving Arod onwards before either twin could object or question. The two left the courtyard at a canter, dodging the stablehand as he entered the stables and heading for open ground. Sharing a smile, the twins chased after him, dodging the stableboys following after their master.

"I think perhaps Cúdîn is not the only one impatient to run, Brother." Elladan laughed as he urged Rochûl - the horse he had chosen from the young newly broken colts to replace his own mount lost in battle - onwards across the trail Legolas was following.

They raced along the trails, slowing only when there were other people to pass. They slowed a little as they turned back towards the houses, the horses tiring a little. As Elladan had said, Arod was supremely responsive for a man's horse - for the aids given by an elf riding without tack were quite different to those of a man riding with it, and the way men broke horses often led to them being unresponsive to the softer aids. Easing him into a gentle walk, Legolas waited for the twins to come alongside him.

"Tell me a little more of what happened in the month I was missing, for I have only heard the most meagre of details." He urged. "Did the dwarf survive? I remember he was knocked down..."

"He was well, though he missed you most grievously. It was the most unusual friendship I have seen you make, 'las, for he was near convinced you were going to walk out of the mists to rejoin the cause."

"It is his way, I think. He packages grief until the work is done and there is a better time for it." He offered sadly.

"He would be overjoyed to know that you are well." Elrohir offered, before continuing. "Aragorn and Arwen you know are well, as with Mithrandir..."

"Who, it seems, still sleeps in one of our guestrooms - or if he has left, has done so supremely quietly."

"Merry and Pippin left little changed, it seemed to me, by their adventures - though they both stood a little taller."

"And a little prouder."

"Frodo seemed weighted by his ordeal, though I would expect no less. Sam... I have never known what to make of Master Gamgee..."

"I would say he seems quieter, though he was never particularly loud, and stronger, though I would not have called him weak... does that make sense?"

"It has brought out the best of him." Elrohir offered.

"Precisely." Legolas couldn't help but smile at the dual commentary. As they returned at a leisurely pace to Rivendell, they continued to tell Legolas all they knew of the War of the Ring from the point at which he had left its story.

Reaching the courtyard just as dusk was settling over the sky, all three slipped from their mounts - still talking of the events recently passed, and with the twins still dropping surreptitious hints regarding the revealing of Legolas' recovery to his friends.

His calves ached agonisingly, and it was this that brought his attention - a little belatedly - to the fact that, although he had a grip on Arod's mane, Legolas was in fact still stood beside the horse - not hung by his arms. Unfortunately at this point, Arod realised that the stable hands were feeding the stabled horses and decided to wander off in search of his own dinner. Flapping a little as he felt his weight transfer and his knees begin to buckle, two hands caught his own and held his balance a little longer, taking his weight when he found he could no longer hold it. The size of the grin on his face was much larger than the size of his achievement, but given the non-progress he had been experiencing he allowed himself a little pride.

Suspended between two pairs of strong arms, taking pointed steps though his feet barely touched the ground, the strange conglomeration of elven kind made its unsteady way along the corridor, bumping, jostling and laughing. Coming across another elf, all three paused, unsure if they were the reason for this one's emergence - the hour suddenly making its self known.

"Good eve, Father, sorry if we disturbed you."

"No indeed, I wanted to see you." Elrond smiled. "I have received a message from Aragorn; he wishes to return with his wife to her home for a week's rest from the stresses of his new position. A much-delayed honeymoon, if he might." He caught Legolas' gaze, seeing how he had paled. "I thought you should have warning. It will not be for a fortnight or so yet, they only set off a small number of days ago and are in no rush." The softness of the Lord's voice soothed his panic a little, though Legolas' heart still raced at the thought of facing his old friends.

"Thank you father. We look forward to their arrival." Elladan said with a sincere smile, grasping the hand that lay over his shoulder in reassurance.

"I will leave you to your evening." Elrond dismissed them with a smile.

Elladan's room was quiet and the three settled on the bed for a moment before Elrohir - comfortable in his brother's room - got back up to light the torches with the tinderbox that sat on the side and, drawing the heavy drapes against the chill spring draughts, moved to light the fire. As the light permeated the room, Legolas' gaze was caught by an object covered with a velvet cloth in the corner of the room. With a series of graceful half-falls - using all of the furniture in the room as he traversed it - he made his way into the corner and sat beside the object. Elrohir had returned to the bed and together they sat, eyes serious as they held each other close, watching in silence as Legolas retrieved what was hidden.

"Where did you get this." His voice was a reverential whisper as he looked over the article uncovered. It was a Lothlórien bow, the twin of the one he had been gifted as he passed through the Golden Wood, in a time that seemed millennia before.

"It was passed on to us in the hopes that we might meet up with you and be able to give it to you." Elladan said softly.

"The message that travelled with it was cryptic and... we thought you dead... we did not know what to do with it. We kept it close in hope... for who knows what the Lady of the Wood knows."

"She said... 'I would have you give this to the young archer of Mirkwood when you see him next,'"

"'For I fear he will have lost the first gifted to him;'" Elrohir provided the next part.

"'And he will have need of it before the end.'" And Elladan finished.

"Sometimes I wonder if this was her way of giving us a sign. To keep us looking for you." The twins shared a smile.

"We almost didn't heed her warning." Elrohir frowned.

He sat in the corner of the room, the bow balanced across his lap and one hand caressing it continually. "There is something I would tell you..." There was a waver in his voice, and he glanced up to see if they had noticed, and rolled his eyes as he found two concerned stares fixing his own. "That I will find difficult to tell of, but I must... To expel the memory, I must tell you of it."

"May we come sit with you?" Elrohir asked, seeing the indecision in Legolas' face and knowing it must be something serious for him to fear even talking about talking about it.

"I will..." He looked at the bed, seemingly weighing up the distance. Elladan snorted and moved across the room and lifted Legolas effortlessly. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lay a soft kiss behind Elladan's jaw as he wrapped his arms around his neck - tiredness resisting any objection he might have made to the assistance. He was shocked to find tears building in the twin's eyes as he deposited gently him on the bed.

"Sorry." He whispered, unsure what he was apologising for, but knowing it was his fault.

"Don't be." Came the strong reply. "It is only..." The older twin was biting on his lip, fighting back stronger tears. "It is good to have you home." He sat on the bed beside him - all three with their backs up against the headboard, Legolas between them. Joyfully synchronised; two kisses were placed on his cheekbones, one on each side.

"Tell us your tale, take heart in our presence." Elrohir urged, reaching around behind the blond elf to caress a line down Elladan's cheek - a silent reassurance, and a promise of future care of wounds still raw.

"I remember the exact moment that my will was broken." He began slowly, as though he had practised the words he would use. "I remember it too clearly, and think before now I might have broken a second time with the telling. But now I feel strong enough and I would have you know what it took to break my soul and make me give in to the darkness." He took a breath, ignoring the hesitation fear brought to his lungs. "I had long given in to the fact that the voices that reached me were not your own. No longer did I react to their arrival and my supposed rescue I had even stopped being hurt by their attacks on my body and I was far too numb to notice whether or not they were beating me - I had reached a point where nothing hurt, nothing got through, I didn't feel or see or hear... Or so I thought." He was forced to take a breath and hesitated again, having said the easiest part and now unwilling to go on. "I had been left alone for a long time, I think, for the wounds on my body were beginning to retreat and heal a little. I was brought out of reverie by your voices, but I was not blind-fold and that was unusual." Confidence rose as the words flowed a little easier than expected. "It was that, I think, that made hope rise in me again, for if I were to see you I would know that it was truly you. That hope pushed me onto a knife-edge. If it were you I would have been healed in an instant, strong enough to push out of my stupor, maybe even help you fight your way out. If it was not, and they were to carry out their usual tricks... I think my soul would have failed and I would have died from grief right there. But instead the pattern was changed. Guards' voices I heard, and then the clash of metal as they fought. I heard orcs dying, and my hope rose higher. And then..." He glanced at the younger, then the older in turn, hesitating. He did not want to go on. Did not want to relive those moments. Elladan held his gaze, taking his hand in his. "Then I heard you call Elrohir's name," His voice broke a little, but he forced himself on. "Scream it as though your heart were breaking." Tears in his eyes, blurring his vision. The memory of silence. Absolute silence, ringing in his ears as he strained for a sign. Any sign. Watching a door that would never open. Watching hope fade as the darkness took his heart and his mind. Feeling the shadow become his only hope in a body that fought for survival with every fibre. A soul that just wanted peace. "And then silence... You were dead, both of you, and I could not fight any longer. I could not save you, not alter your fate. I had been forced to stand on by. That was how I broke, for what I remember beyond that does not feel like my own thoughts. They are thoughts of darkness and hatred and his voice close and sickly, whispering dark promise and dark threats into my heart." He hiccoughed a little as he fought his emotions back under control, the story now told. Swallowing back more tears, he found himself enveloped in a strong double embrace, and not all the tears falling were his own. Safe, more safe than he had ever felt, he allowed the tears to fall and soaked up the warmth of the two that loved him more than any other in Arda.

Dunno if the trick with the seated vault is possible. I can't vault bareback from standing up, and I don't have a horse to practice on (damn it). But I was thinking about the way Brad Pitt vaults when he's playing flashy (watch Legends of the Fall and to a lesser extent Troy) - he seems to go up horizontal, leading foot first. I would think it would look something like that.

Just thought I'd explain my reasoning there...

Caranel - Red Star

Cúdîn - Silent Bow (or thereabouts)

Rochûl - Horse of the Wind (approximately)