Breaking Away
By Deidamea
Chapter II
The following day found the elf up before the break of dawn, rested and clean. Maybe not as clean as he would have hoped, but as much as was possible.
He wondered, as he stared at his reflection in the still waters of the basin, if this war would leave permanent marks on him. Would these circles under his eyes remain, or wash away like every other scar he would sport, were he a mortal?
Legolas frowned at the many weary lines that should not become one of the Firstborn. Even his glow had diminished, leaving his skin somewhat ashen and dull.
He tore his gaze away from the treacherous water before encountering his hollow eyes, and pulled his clothes on, discarding the outer tunic for breakfast. He was always more at ease with only the silken shirt. It was lighter.
The elf was not, however, a foolish being. Far from it.
He strapped his belt on, not forgetting his two faithful daggers. He wasn't trying to hide them from view or anything; these men were already scared of him, so it was sufficient for them to know that he was armed.
On his way to breakfast, Legolas couldn't help the frown from marring his brow. How men had managed to turn elves into cunning, evil spell weavers, he wouldn't know. It was as far from the truth as one got. Musing on it a little, he realised that it was probably merely fear of the unknown that brought these silly beliefs to men.
He swallowed another sigh, finding that he indulged in them much more often these days, and pushed the King's Hall door open.
Aragorn was there, seated exactly where Legolas had left him the night before. He wondered if the man had moved at all.
Probably not.
The ranger lifted weary eyes to him, and half smiled before dropping his gaze back down to a blackened piece of bread.
"You should have rested, Aragorn," said the Elf in a quiet voice, sitting across from his friend.
"I couldn't," replied the Man, looking back up. "But I can tell I am not the only one who has troubles finding peace enough to sleep."
Legolas almost smiled. He had been caught.
Just because he saw the signs of his own decrepitude didn't mean most people were able to spot them. Especially since those who were used to the sight of elves were a rarity amongst the rarest. Aragorn, predictably, had immediately picked up on it. The elf could not hide from him.
"Ay," said Legolas, trying not to sigh. "My mind is restless."
Aragorn tried to read the elf, no matter how impossible it always turned out to be. He looked like a mess. For elven standards, that is, because he still was far above looking like Aragorn had during his best days in Rivendel. The ever shining length of his hair was considerably dulled, the long locks falling unusually limply around his head. His cheeks were a bit more gaunt then a few months back, though that was excusable seeing as they had been running low on food supplies for a long time. Even elves needed to eat from time to time.
The man raised a questioning eyebrow when he witnessed the conscious effort of the elf to increase his failing glow. He knew what Aragorn was doing, and didn't like it. But the little light he gathered, as much as it did hide the greyish tone of his skin, was not enough to cover up his eyes.
"What ails you, my friend?" asked the Man, even if he knew it would get him nowhere. Legolas was very private and did not open easily.
"Nothing," was the expected answer. "It would be my guess that this quest might be wearing me down, as it does us all."
Aragorn nodded, disappointed, but knowing it was useless to hope for more.
"I do hope King Théoden will seriously consider Gandalf's advices," Aragorn picked absentmindedly at the dried bread as he changed the subject, much to the elven prince's relief.
"I fear that there is no use talking with him," replied the Elf. "The King is a stubborn man. Long have his people fought by themselves and came out victorious. He is likely to follow the path already carved and lead the way to Helm's Deep."
The words fell like a ton of bricks on the table between them. Aragorn's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that. While he had guessed the King would be a hard man to convince, he had not given much thought to what might happen should these negotiations fail.
"But it would be folly!" he cried, springing from his seat and starting to pace. "They would run away from the enemy, open their backs to his attacks, and even back themselves in a corner with no way out!"
Legolas followed the agitated man for a short while in silence.
"It might sound hopeless to you, but Rohan places great expectations in their unbreechable fortress," he mused. "It has protected them in many times of need, and they will not want to acknowledge that, while the Fort is strong, it is but stone and walls."
Aragorn had stopped, and looked the elf deep in the eye.
"Nothing is unbreakable," he murmured softly, his face set in stone.
Legolas nodded back.
"It is worse than we feared then," added the Man. "Even out of Saruman's reach, Théoden would still run head first into his trap."
"It might seem as so, but it is not hopeless," came a voice from the doorway.
Both elf and man turned to see Gandalf standing in the doorway.
"And while it might seem so to us," he continued while stepping in the large room, his white robes silently sweeping the flagstones, "Helm's Deep has saved them on countless times. The men are convinced of its power, and might find themselves stronger while fighting from within its keep."
Legolas thought on these words. It is something he hadn't seen. Soldiers who believed they were strong were usually stronger. Fate and hope could make up for lacking numbers in any battle. The strongest of hearts weighed heavily in a balance of life and death.
Gandalf took Aragorn's seat, leaning his staff against the table just as a maid entered the hall through a back door. She froze for a second, not having expected any early birds amongst the guests, but quickly regained her wits and hurriedly started depositing her load on their table. A bowl of fruits, more bread that looked much fresher than Aragorn's, and cheese. The maid did a few trips of the like, coming back every time with more delicious looking food, and the hall slowly started to awakened at the sweet smell of breakfast.
King Théoden was the first to arrive, looking as though he had aged a century during the night. He probably hadn't found sleep either.
He nodded at them but did not smile, his face grudgingly set in a mask of stone.
Not a few minutes later, he was joined by his niece, coming through the main doors in a flurry of cream-coloured skirts, the two children from yesterday in her wake.
Legolas bore a secret smile at the sight of Freda, but it went unnoticed. The child looked much better then yesterday. Éowyn had her and her brother cleaned and dressed properly. The child met his eyes and stopped walking. There was recognition in them, although she had slept soundly through his whole watch. The elf sent her a gentle smile, which she answered confusedly before Éowyn pulled her along to the head table.
He tried to fight it, but her very being attracted his eyes like two glowing fireflies in the dead of the night.
Her hair was free, much to the exhilaration of a strange twist in his heart. She truly had most beautiful hair; long, wavy, soft as a cloud. It flowed behind her like a curtain of gold, catching every little spark of light and returning it tenfold. And the warmth emanating from her crown only did bring out the startling whiteness of her skin. Her cheeks so pale that they almost looked cold to the touch, she was as a snowflake bathed in sunlight. Entrancing, icy, but so very warm when the wind died down.
He watched, his breath catching in his throat when a delicate arm appeared between the folds of her split, bell-shaped sleeve, moving to tug the young boy's hair away from the food he was inhaling. The gesture was soft and motherly, strangely fitting her drawn character.
oooOooo
Éowyn sat by her King, the food before her laying untouched as she fussed a bit over the two children which had been placed in her care. She was a bit uncomfortable, something prickling in the roots of her awareness, swaying her mind from her protesting stomach.
It was as the night before.
Who or whatever was the cause of it, she had no idea, but she dared not look around, in fear of coming face to face with her own demons.
The lady shook these dark thoughts away. This feeling, though still unsettling, was nothing like the constant fear of every shadow, every crook where he could have been spying.
A shudder ran down her back. Gríma Wormtongue. Of all the dreadful, cunning creatures she hated, he was amongst the worst. All her life, he had haunted her every steps, watching, waiting. For what? She did not want to know. He had induced nightmares filled with shapeless fears in her young mind, kept her up for long, chilly nights, and forged an indelible scar of distrust in her heart.
No. Although she was absolutely certain of being watched, there was no greed, no filthy obsession in it.
Gathering enough strength, Éowyn lifted her gaze from Éothain's head, and swept it across the wide room. She caught none too many stares directed her way, but all looked sharply away, some even sporting the beginnings of a blush.
Her blank green eyes landed lastly on the guests' table, instantly drawn to the tall, dark-haired man leaning on a pillar beside it.
Her heart filled with a wondrous sense of awe as a tingling knot formed itself in the pits of her stomach. He was the perfect impersonation of strength and wisdom, power flowing from the very pores of his skin, demanding respect. Yet, his eyes were weary and sad, even insecure at times.
Éowyn knew this man would set great things in motion. She knew who he was.
But it was not the power that fascinated her. It was the man. She yearned to unwind the mysteries clouded in the depths of his soul, the ones that made his eyes so soft and gentle. She wanted to trace every battle scars, from those earned by the sword to the darker memories of hardships passed.
She was not aware that a good part of her mask had fallen away, revealing misty green pools, and when he turned to her, she, as so many just a few moments ago, ripped her eyes away, feeling heat rise up her neck.
He had smiled.
And she had missed the pained realisation that grew in an entirely different pair of shadowed eyes.
oooOooo
It was much later that they found themselves once again in the throne room, in a last attempt to bend the King's will to their own. It revealed useless as Théoden's mind was already set on a course of action.
They would head for Helm's Deep.
The people needed to pack up swiftly to depart the following morning.
oooOooo
Legolas headed down to the stables, sourly disappointed about this new insight of the race of Men he had just been granted, but determined to hide it, as he did everything else.
It was almost noon, and he had managed to only look at her twice. Quite an accomplishment considering they had worked side by side all morning. The elf was glad to have something to occupy his hands. That way, his thoughts had less chances of straying too far. Now was not the time to indulge in self-pity. Or worse. He had been gathering as much food and water as could be carried on the hurried expedition, which was not much, until a young boy had come seek him with a message from Aragorn.
And thus, he was heading for the stables, trying to ignore the stares he attracted on his way. Of course, these people had never seen an elf, but that was no excuse to stare suspiciously, or even scowl at him!
He almost sighed in relief once he reached the cooling shadows of the stables, but wasted no time and walked to the familiar voices.
Gandalf was atop Shadowfax, looking down meaningfully at Aragorn.
"...Look to my coming at first light of the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East," caught the Elf before the wizard and his proud mount rode past him and galloped swiftly across the plains below.
Legolas turned questioning eyes to the ranger.
"Gandalf has a plan of his own," muttered the Man. "And we're to follow the King to Helm's Deep."
The Elf nodded. It was a much as he had expected.
"Well, then laddies," exclaimed Gimli, who had joined them just as the wizard disappeared, "let us not waste time, and get these people moving."
oooOooo
He stood over his last victim, a foul being of hate and utter distortion.
An orc.
Slowly, as no more came to taste the sting of his arrows, the elf felt his blood cool down. He still ached, but it could no longer be seen by others.
Many of the surviving men were looking at him with fear, awe or respect in their eyes, having witnessed an elf in the midst of battle for the first, and maybe the last time.
Legolas had been overly rash and cruel. Not that the stinking beasts did not deserve his wrath, but he had uselessly taken his anger and pent up frustrations out on them when he knew his first arrow had undoubtedly killed them on the spot.
He hadn't been able to help it. He could still feel the red-hot pain branding him a fool. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it again, the way she smiled, the way her whole face shined with unhindered adoration.
All for another.
He had witnessed the first, timid buds of her quickly blooming feelings one day before departure. Éowyn had looked right past him, and the darkness around her had visibly dissipated.
Legolas knew from the beginning that he was being unreasonable. After all, no matter what her appearance told his eyes, she was still a human. Nothing would ever spring from this one-sided fascination. He knew elves and humans did not mix on a regular basis, even though he had grown to know and love two people in such a tie. But the sight of Éowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan, had splintered his belief, making him see possibilities he would not have dared before. And she had proved to him just how ridiculous he was to hope, when her eyes went right to Aragorn, never stopping to consider him.
It hurt. It really did. To heighten expectations, he knew now, would only worsen the fall.
And yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel jealousy at the man. Aragorn was more than a brother, and never would Legolas even think of holding any sort of grudge towards him, especially when the actions were unconscious. The elf could clearly see that the ranger had no idea what kind of fire he had kindled in her.
Strapping his bow back in place, he cast a look around, immediately catching sight of Gimli, pulling himself from under an impressive heap of dead wargs and orcs with much curses and swears.
Legolas smirked at the scene, feeling a bit lightened, like every time he stood in the dwarf's presence. His simple, direct behaviour had a way of soothing his greatest worries into nothingness. For that, he was ever grateful to the dwarf, no matter what his kind might think of them.
The company moved out, placing the wounded on horses and swiftly riding across the plains. The men were driven both by need of tending and fear of another attack.
Thankfully, none befell them and they safely crossed the gates to Helm's Deep, welcomed by a sea of haunted eyes.
The people of Rohan.
The elf ripped his eyes away when she marched through the gathered crowd and threw her arms around the ranger's neck, tears of relief caught like drops of morning dew in her lashes.
Instead, he dismounted and helped Gimli down, before setting to the rough task of taking the wounded to healers.
The dwarf watched his elf-friend, once more startled by this new coldness. For a while now, Legolas had shown sides of him none were used to, and it worried him.
But he said nothing, knowing it was not his place, and more than sure his caring would not be appreciated. After all, who ever heard of a dwarf enquiring about an elf's well being?
But just as Legolas was about to enter a door at the top of the stairs, Gimli caught him sparing one searching glimpse down. There was something there, a torturing sense of self-inflicted restraint, a shadow lurking.
And as he followed it, his eyes landed on Aragorn, smiling down at the White Lady of Rohan.
When Gimli looked up again, Legolas had vanished.
AN: Just a short note to say that I did not throw Aragorn off the cliff because, in the books, it did not happen. It has nothing to do with being obsessed with the book's storyline; I just like this scene better this way, even if I know it could have been a great way to spark something between Éowyn and Legolas. No no no… not yet! You'll have to wait!
Later on, I'll use some of the added parts from the movie, so this is kind of a mix between the books and the movies' interpretation.
Thank you guys for reviewing! I hope I can keep up!
