Sarah: Aww. blushing Thank you. That's very nice. Personally,I like Thranduil a lot. So many people portray him as mean, abusive, or whatnot.
Amiala: Thanks! I think Gandalf and Legolas should have talked more in the movies- they are the two oldest members of the group, in my reckoning!
HyperSquishy: Interesting penname you got there. Anyway, you really haven't seen stories like this? Here I was worrying this was all gonna be to cliche- I think you've made my year.
Less than a month, really only half a month after the second letter from Legolas, Gweneth was walking in the halls when she heard a great commotion begin outside. She opened her door to find men streaming by, strapping on battle gear and fastening weapons as they hurried along. She called out to them, asking what was wrong, and one stopped, though he seemed anxious to head onward. "Dol Guldur is marching on us, Lady. You should get deep into the halls with the rest of the women and the children. We go to meet the forces of Dol Guldur in battle. Get far into the caves, my Lady, go now!"
He hurried back into the crowd, leaving Gweneth slack-jawed in shock. Dol Guldur was marching on them? What did that mean? Going back into her chambers to fetch a few things before going far back into the caves where she knew the other women would be, Gweneth fingered the disk on the chain about her neck. He had to be alright, but the last thing Gweneth wanted was for him to come back to find her- or more likely his father- dead. She hurried back into the caves.
It seemed like forever that they sat back there, with no sign as to what was going on. Faint sounds of battle drifted constantly to them, but other than that, it was silent, but for the quiet sobs of frightened mothers, wives, and children, and worried whispers. One thing that Gweneth had been sure to get from her room was the cloth that she had wrapped both letters from Legolas in. She read the letters over and over again, just to have the comfort of his words.
After many hours, there was noise heard more clearly from above the cellar where they sat. A few braver women ventured out cautiously, then called back, "The warriors have returned! The battle is over and we have victory!" Cheers went up, and the noise above them took shape into song and shouts of victory. The rest of the women rushed up the halls towards the doors, the children running along behind. But when they came to the magic-bound doors of the halls, which were thrown open to admit soldiers, the women stopped short and held the children back, covering the eyes of the young ones when they could. The forest was changed. Fires still smouldered here and there, and the corpses of Orcs and elves lay everywhere. Gweneth nearly screamed, and many other women did.
A group of passing warriors held a groaning, screaming comrade between them. One man held a blood-soaked cloth over the warrior's stomach, where blood seemed to flow without a care for the cloth and the effort to staunch it. Men lying on the ground, seemingly dead, would lift a hand and moan for help. The women ushered the children back inside, and most of them followed, quite grey and sickened. Gweneth's mother, Gwenél, was one of the only women who did not rush back inside. Gwenél had no young children to shield from the horror, and she had always had a strong stomach and a compassionate heart. Gweneth was still frozen in shock when Gwenél rushed to a fallen, groaning elf-warrior and looked for injuries, then gently turned him over.
She covered her mouth for a moment at the sight of a long gash running across the man's torso, but recovered herself quickly. "Gweneth, over here quickly, and help me with this, if you can bring yourself to it." Gweneth nodded her whirling head and half-stumbled to her mother, falling to her knees beside the wounded warrior. His eyes were cracked open, his lips twitched as if he were trying to speak, but it seemed that the gash was deeper than it looked and he might have other injuries, as well. Gwenél shot her daughter a glance. "You need not help if it is overly difficult for you. I can find another, or one of the men will help me." Gweneth shook her head.
"I'll help you, Nana. What do I do?" Gwenél bent over the man, inspecting the injury closely.
"I am not sure yet, iell nín. Give me a moment, and I shall have an answer for you." After a pause, she said, "Now then, would you take off all these leather straps." Assuming her mother meant the straps that secured his weapons on him, she hurriedly unbuckled them, grimacing when the man moaned in pain.
"What now, Nana?" She asked when she was finished with that. Another small task and another followed that.
Finally, Gwenél said, "That is really all you can do here, I will take care of the rest. Go and check to see if any of the other fallen warriors are alive. Check for any sign, Gweneth! If there is still a heartbeat, even if it is hardly detectable, see what you can do. Alert someone who can do something for him. Go on!" Gweneth nodded and turned. Faced again with the strewn bodies of Elves and Orcs alike, Gweneth turned back to Gwenél.
"Nana- what if it is an Orc that is still alive?" Her mother looked up sharply.
"Do not check them. If there is one still alive... there are enough knives around here for you to find one, I suppose." Realizing what her mother meant, Gweneth covered her mouth and whirled away, falling beside the first warrior she saw. He was lying face-up, and his chest was covered with blood. His eyes were closed, his face contorted in a grimace of pain. Hesitantly, Gweneth picked up a knife from nearby- she shuddered remembering her mother's words- and held the flat of the blade close in front of the warrior's mouth. After a moment she drew it away and inspected it. Nothing, no trace of misty dampness. Desperately she clutched at his limp wrist and placed her fingers there, praying for a pulse. None came. Her tears dampened her face and the ground as she turned away from him.
She could hardly see as she knelt beside the next warrior. He was face-down, so she gently began to turn him over. When she had only started to lift him, she glanced at his stomach and pulled her hand away, letting his body drop to the ground. She covered her face with her hands and rocked slowly on her knees, willing her tears to stop and the nausea in her stomach to subside. No one could survive the wound he bore. She was no healer, but she knew enough tobe sure ofthat. As soon as her legs would obey her commands, she stumbled to the next elf.
One of his hands still grasped a sword, stretched out beside him. The other was thrown above his head as if shielding himself from something. Even as she watched, his hand moved slightly. Encouraged, Gweneth touched his back, preparing to turn him over. The man's hand that covered his downturned head shot out sideways and gripped her upper arm tightly. Gweneth whimpered in fright and a bit of pain. The warrior's head turned towards her, and Gweneth recognized him as Hinhael, a close friend of Legolas'.
"G-Gweneth?" His voice was raspy from pain, and he sucked in breaths and clenched his teeth as she nodded. "I-it is my leg. I cannot move it and- Ai, Gweneth, it hurts." Gweneth nodded hesitantly and looked for words.
"What should I do? Can I turn you over so someone can get a look at it?" He hesitated, then nodded. He released her arm and got up on his elbows, biting his lip against the pain. Gweneth sought to help him as much as she could, but he seemed to be doing well by himself. His left leg hung limp, and blood stained the leaf carpet under him, but with a sudden effort and a cry, he turned himself and collapsed, panting for breath. He smiled up at her weakly as he caught his breath again.
"Is that- good enough, Gweneth?" Gweneth nodded numbly.
"I have to tell a healer or someone, so they can tend to it." Hinhaelshook his head.
"Nay, they have other men to tend to who are far more badly hurt than I. If you will help me, I believe I could get inside, and wait until the healers have done with the others." Gweneth hesitated.
"Ah- Is that wise? It could be made worse if-"
"Nonsense, Gweneth, I know enough of this to be sure I will not injure myself further only by walking inside. Actually, I would, if I sought to walk inside without assistance. But if you will help me, then it shall be fine." His speech was clearer already, though it seemed thickened by pain. "Come now, give me your hand." He barked a laugh, remembering her slim build compared to his thicker, taller one. "And you may want to brace yourself against a tree, or something of the sort." Gweneth smiled slightly and nodded, standing. She placed one hand against a tree, not really to brace herself, just to give herself a hold if she came to need it, and stretched out the other hand to Hinhael. He grabbed it and pulled himself up, and Gweneth found herself very much using the support of the tree. Light though he was, since he was an elf, she also was an elf and lighter still than he. Yetwithin a moment he was up, leaning against the tree and standing on only his right leg, his chest heaving from the effort.
"Here, Gweneth," he panted, "come under my left side and give me some help, I believe I will need it more than I first thought." In dismay Gweneth shook her head fiercely.
"Nay, nay, it is not safe, not safe at all. You are injured more severely than at first you believed, and I will not allow you to do so more, for I am of inadequate assistance." Hinhaelcontrolled his breathing and laughed.
"Nay, you will be fine. Here, come, and help me, so that I can get inside. Then you can go back to your duty." Gweneth shivered at the thought of going about this again, but came to his left side and hooked his arm over her shoulders so he could have her support. Shorter than himshe was, thatwas true, but not by much, and she stood sturdy under his weight, once she was accustomed to it. "There we are, good. Come on!" He began hopping forward, and his light manner disappeared, replaced by an expression of intense pain. Sounds that seemed suspiciously like whimpers came from him, but Gweneth blocked the sound from her ears, for she did not think she could stand to keep on like this if she listened to his pain for long.
Hinhael had fallen not far from the doors of the halls, so it was a very short time before they were inside, and elves that were hanging about in the halls without direction were offering to help. Hinhaelpolitely declined every offer, saying he was perfectly satisfied with Gweneth's assistance. But when an elf-maiden came by bearing binding cloths, Gweneth forced Hinhaelto stop and allow the maiden to bind his leg to slow the bleeding, which had started again during the course of his movement. When she finished with his leg, the woman instructed him to be sure to keep off the leg, and to stay in bed and rest. He bowed his head submissively and agreed, but Gweneth doubted he would follow her words as well as he should.
When they came to his chambers, Hinhaelleaned against the wall while Gweneth prepared his bed for him. Once she helped him to his bed, he settled in wearily, finally showing the exhaustion caused by the pain and effort of moving about. Gweneth promised to find the healers, despite his protests that he did not need it as much as some, and left quickly. As soon as her eyes caught the sight of an elf she knew to be a healer, she told the woman of Hinhael's injury and where he was. The healer thanked her and said she would see to it. Gweneth went back into the forest and began her task again, with more than a little hesitation.
That began hours the same painful, repetetive task. She checked for signs of life, and in most cases found none. Unwillingly, she adopted a small knife she had found on the ground near the body of a slain warrior and used it to check for breath as well as to cut away clothes from wounds that needed to be inspected.
Even as she cried over the many dead bodies, a selfish thought entered her mind. I am so glad Legolas was not here, that he was not one of these. She ridiculed herself for the thought. These were all her people, many friends, some even distant kin. With that another thought cut through the numbness in her head. Ada! Where is Ada? It had not even occured to her that her father could be one of these warriors from whom no breath came.
Desperately she quickened her work, checking each Elven body for life and also for the familiar characteristics of her father. She no longer sought to help each warrior that had life herself. Instead she called out to a healer or a warrior nearby and went on to the next warrior. One of the men, as so many, had fallen by an arrow. The shaft protruded from his back, though it did not seem to go as deep as some. She knew better than to remove the arrow, and instead lifted his arm away from his face to check for breath. She shrieked and fell back against a slain warrior. The face before her was unmistakeable. "Ada!"
TBC...
Oh no! What shall she do! My first successful cliffie...
