Hi , everyone! Hope you are all doing well. I'm moving back in tomorrow (yay!) so I know I'm doing wonderfully. Anywho, I want to say thanks for all the reviews. You guys are just so awesome!
Warnings: Will contain slash and an OC romance. Yeah, I usually don't read those, so I don't know why I'm writing one. Go figure….
Disclaimer: It all came from the mind of Tolkien. Not mine. My mind is a very scary place. Also, the titles belong to T.S. Elliot and his wonderful poem 'The Hollow Men'. And quite a bit of this is coming strait from the books. So if it gets kinda hard to understand…don't blame me!
World's End
Chapter 7: A Fading Star
"Need we wait until morning then?" said Gandalf. "It is as I said. The hunt is up! Even if we live to see the dawn, who now will wish to journey south by night with the wild wolves on his tail?"
"How far is Moria?" asked Boromir.
"There is a door south-west of Caradhras, some fifteen miles as the crow flies, and maybe twenty as the wolf runs," answered Gandalf grimly.
"Then let us start as soon as it is light tomorrow, if we can," said Boromir. "The wolf that one hears is worse than the Orc that one fears."
"True!" said Aragorn, loosening his sword in its sheath. "But where the Warg howls, there also the Orc prowls."
"I wish I had taken Elrond's advice," muttered Pippin to Sam. "I am no good after all. There is not enough of the breed of Bandobras the Bullroar in me: these howls freeze my blood. I don't ever remember feeling so wretched. And we've fought the Wargs before!"
"My heart's right down in my toes, Mr. Pippin," said Sam. "But we didn't get eaten last time, and we aren't eaten yet. There are some stout folk here with us. Whatever may be in store for old Gandalf, I'll wager it isn't a wolf's belly."
For their defense in the night the Company climbed to the top of the small hill under which they had been sheltering. It was crowned with a knot of old and twisted trees, about which lay a circle of boulder-stones. In the midst of this they lit a fire, for there was no hope that darkness and silence would keep their trail from discovery by the hunting packs.
Round the fire they sat, and those that were not on guard---basically the hobbits---dozed uneasily. Poor Bill the Pony trembled and sweated where he stood. The howling of the wolves was now all round them, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off. In the dead of night many shinning eyes were seen peering over the brow of the hill. Some advanced almost to the ring of stones. At a gap in the circle a great dark wolf-shape could be seen halted, gazing at them. A shuddering howl broke from him, as if he were a captain summoning his pack to the assault.
Gandalf stood up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. "Listen, Hound of Sauron!" he cried. "Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring."
The wolf snarled and sprang towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp twang. Moving purely on reflex, Legolas had loosed his bow. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping shape thudded to the ground; the elvish arrow had pierced its throat. The watching eyes were suddenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn strode forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkness grew silent, and no cry cam on the sighing wind.
Ylana reached out to place a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "You saved us by your quick thinking my friend! By the time you sent that shot off, I didn't even have my bow unshouldered."
Legolas gave a small smile, but that was all he could manage. He felt so dizzy, and his head was killing him. He didn't even remember pulling out the arrow, much less firing it.
Things were getting worse, and he knew it. He could only wonder at how much time he had left.
The night was old, and westward the waning moon was setting, gleaming fitfully, through the breaking clouds. Suddenly Frodo started from sleep. Without warning a storm of howls broke out fierce and wild all about the camp. A great host of Wargs had gathered silently and was now attacking them from every side at once.
"Fling fuel on the fire!" cried Gandalf to the hobbits. "Draw your blades, and stand back to back!"
In the leaping light, as the fresh wood blazed up, Frodo saw many grey shapes spring over the ring of stones. More and more followed. Through the throat of one huge leader Aragorn passed his sword with a thrust; with a great sweep Boromir hewed the head off another. Beside them Gimli stood with his stout legs apart, wielding his dwarf ax. The bows of the Elves were singing.
In the wavering firelight Gandalf seemed suddenly to grow: he rose up, a great menacing shape like the monument of some ancient king of stone upon a hill. Stooping like a cloud, he lifted a burning branch and strode to meet the wolves. They gave back before him. High in the air he tossed the blazing brand. It flared with a sudden radiance like lightning; and his voice rolled like thunder.
"Naur an edraith amen! Naur dan I ngaurhoth!" he cried.
There was a roar and a crackle, and the tree above him burst into a bloom of blinding flame. The fire leapt from tree-top to tree-top. The whole hill was crowned with dazzling light. The swords and knives of the defenders shone and flickered. The last arrow of Legolas kindled in the air as it flew, and plunged burning into the heart of the great wolf chieftain. All the others fled.
Slowly the fire died till nothing was left but falling ash and sparks; a bitter smoke curled above the burned tree-stumps, and blew darkly from the hill, as the first light of dawn came dimly in the sky. Their enemies were routed and did not return.
"What did I tell you, Mr. Pippin?" said Sam, sheathing his sword. "Wolves won't get him. That was an eye-opener, and make no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!"
When the full light of the morning came no signs of the wolves were to be found, and they looked in vain for the bodies of the dead. No trace of the fight remained but the charred trees and the arrows of the Elves lying on the hill-top. All were undamaged save one of Legolas's. Only the point was left.
"It is as I feared," said Gandalf. "These were no ordinary wolves hunting for food in the wilderness. Let us eat quickly and go!"
That day the weather changed again, almost as if it was to the command of some power that had no longer any use for snow, since they had retreated from the pass, a power that wished now to have a clear light in which things that moved in the wild could be seen from far away. The wind had been turning north to north-west during the night, and now it failed. The clouds vanished southwards and the sky was opened, high and blue. As they stood upon the hill side, ready to depart, a pale sunlight gleamed over the mountain tops.
"We must reach the doors before sunset," said Gandalf, "or I fear we shall not reach them at all. It is not far, but our path may be winding, for here Aragorn cannot guide us; he has seldom walked in this country, and only once have I been under the west wall of Moria, and that was long ago.
"There is lies," he said, pointing away south-eastwards to where the mountains' sides fell sheer into the shadows of their feet, In the distance could be dimly seen a line of bare cliffs, and in their midst, taller than the rest, one great grey wall. "When we left the pass I led you southwards, and not back to our starting point, as some of you may have noticed. It is well that I did so, for now we have several miles less to cross, and haste is needed. Let us go!"
"I do not know which to hope," said Boromir grimly: "that Gandalf will find what he seeks, or that coming to the cliffs we shall find the gates lost forever. All choices seem ill, and to be caught between wolves and that wall the likeliest choice. Lead on!"
The group started down the mountain, all dejected save for Gimli. Legolas was dizzy, more so than usual. He tried to push it away, but couldn't. Nausea also gripped him, and it caused him to stumble.
He could no longer disguise it. Ylana had become suspicious, and had been watching her companion closely. "Legolas?" she called out in softly. "Are you all right?"
The male Elf didn't hear her. He put a hand to his forehead, took one wobbling step, then pitched forward into the snow.
Aragorn, who had turned at Ylana's concerned call, watched it all in horror. "Legolas!" he called, running towards his fallen friend. "Legolas!"
Legolas could feel gentle hands---Aragorn's hands---slide under his knees and shoulders and lift him. Looking up, he could see Aragorn's concerned face peering down at him as his mouth moved. Speak up, you silly human, he thought drowsily. There's a sound as rushing water in my ears, and I can't hear a word you are saying.
Then he closed his eyes and was swallowed up by darkness.
Thranduil couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride as he looked around his kingdom. There was no doubting that, when called to action, his people didn't waste time.
Only minutes after the king's announcement, the inhabitants of Mirkwood had begun to prepare for the journey. With Amalyn leading the way, the Healers began to construct shifts in which to carry the sick. Annolir was directing those still standing to gather herbs, towels and other things that they would need. Thranduil himself had disappeared into his study to write a letter. He didn't want to descend on Elrond with a legion of Elves without any warning. So he sat down, pulled out a quill and a piece of paper and, with a heavy heart, began to write.
Lord Elrond,
I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize that it has been so long since we last saw one another. I miss you terribly.
We will have an opportunity to see one another again very soon, though I'm afraid it's not under the circumstances we would like. I'm bringing to you thirty of my people, who have fallen to a mysterious illness that even my best Healers are baffled by. You are the best Healer in all Middle-Earth, and we desperately need your help. We will be leaving here on the above date, and should arrive in Rivendell within the week.
I look forward to seeing you again, and hope to be able to spend some time with you. May the grace of the Valar shine upon you until our next meeting.
With all my love,
Thranduil
The Elven king of Mirkwood read over his letter once more while the ink dried. Satisfied, he folded it and sealed it with his insignia ring. Then he called in his personal messenger who had, thankfully, not fallen.
"Take this to Lord Elrond of Rivendell," he said, handing the letter over. "Take your fastest steed. This is of utmost importance."
"Yes, my Lord." The younger Elf gave a bow, and then strode quickly from the room.
Thranduil let out a sigh, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Now I've got to find Annolir…
Aragorn felt as though he was in a nightmare. He held Legolas tightly in his arms, gently shaking him and calling his name. The others stood where they were, watching with growing anxiety.
The Ranger's heart was pounding and he could feel hot tears fill his eyes. This can't be happening! I will not lose him again. I can't.
After a few minutes, he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Looking up through water-filled eyes, Aragorn saw Gandalf standing over him with a kindly expression on his face. "Estel, that's enough. There's nothing you can do."
"Wha-what do you mean?" The human warrior could feel anger building up within him. We are not leaving him!
"You can't wake him, my friend. I don't know what has befallen him, but his spirit is not where it can easily be reached."
"So what are we to do?" He reached up to wipe away the first tear that had slipped down his cheek.
The wizard let out a weary sigh. "We must go back to Rivendell."
Frodo let out a loud cry at this. "But Gandalf! You said that, if we return to that city, we would be giving up the Quest. I do no wish to go back. But we can't continue on without getting Legolas any help."
"We are not giving up," Aragorn said firmly, standing up with Legolas cradled to his chest. He had wrapped his cloak around the Elf, and Legolas's head was resting in the hollow of his friend's shoulder. "I will not let the Enemy win. I will return to destroy the Ring. But not without Legolas by my side."
"Why don't we continue on to Minas Tirith?" Boromir asked. "Surely it is closer than Rivendell, and some of the best Healers in Gondor are there."
"Your human Healers can do nothing for him. Elves don't get sick. I have never heard of an Elf falling ill. Elrond might not know what to do, but he'll have a better idea than your Men."
Boromir gave the Man an unpleasant look, but said nothing. Aragorn was right.
Gandalf turned to Ylana, who had remained silent the entire time. "You are the best at geography. Do you know how long it will take for us to get there?"
"No less than nine days," she answered in a quiet voice. "That is, if we don't run into any trouble."
"Let's pray that we don't," the wizard answered grimly. "Legolas is now a fading star. If we do not get him help soon, I fear the worse may happen."
This quieted any protests that others might have had. So, with heavy hearts, they gathered their provisions and began the long trek back to Rivendell.
Thranduil found his elder son packing bags full of things needed for the journey and handing them out. Annolir looked exhausted, and the king wondered about the last time he'd gotten any sleep. He couldn't remember the last he'd gotten any sleep.
"May I have a moment?" Thranduil asked softly as he came to his son's side.
"Of course, Ada." Annolir asked another Elf to take his position, then followed his father to a relatively quiet corner of the room. "What is it?"
"I'm going to Rivendell with the others."
Annolir's eyes went wide. "You can't!" he cried. "You have to stay here. The people are going to need someone here to lead them."
The king smiled. "They will have someone to lead them. You."
This caused the Crown Prince to blink. "Me? But, Father…"
He stopped as Thranduil placed a hand on both of his shoulders and stared deep into his eyes.
"You are ready for this," the king said softly. "You have already proven to be a much better ruler than I. I have no qualms whatsoever about leaving my kingdom in your hands. There is no one else that I would trust this to."
Conflict clearly showed in Annolir's emerald eyes.
"Please, Annolir. I need you to do this. For me."
The younger Elf blinked for a moment, and then nodded. "Then I shall do my best to lead the people, Father."
A smile spread across Thranduil's face, and he pulled his son into a tight embrace. "Thank you so much," he whispered. "I knew I could count on you."
"I shall try," Annolir whispered back, returning the hug.
The Elven king pulled away, gave his son a glowing smile, then turned around to leave, an extra bounce in his step.
Which is why he never saw the wicked grin that spread across Annolir's face, nor the gleam that appeared in his eyes.
Yes, things were turning out quite well.