Breaking Away
By Deidamea
Chapter III
A shadow lurked in the East. They could all feel it.
After two days of idle arguments, pacing and stomping, Théoden King had finally agreed to send some scouts in the vicinity. He feared what news they might bring back, but could not stand to ignore his enemy's whereabouts. Especially now that Grima had undoubtedly run back to his master and spat what precious knowledge of Rohan's defences and weaknesses he had gathered.
Éowyn frowned. The man that now sat on the throne was different from the one she'd grown to know and called uncle. Saruman's hold had left much more damage in its wake than she'd first allowed herself to see. Théoden was a proud man, a King in every aspect of the word. She should not be so surprised that his own failures in the face of evil would come back to haunt him.
For that is what she saw. A haunted man; eyes ever veiled and frightened of something far worse than what lurked in the darkness of Mordor.
Himself.
Shouldering yet another sack of oats, the maiden pushed these despairing thoughts out of her mind, and cautiously made her way down the slippery stone staircase that led into the Caves.
Most of what had been saved by either them or people from the outer villages was already sorted and stocked along the glittering walls. Everyone had worked together, from her uncle's warriors to the youngest able children.
And yet, as she took in their reserves, she couldn't believe how little there was. No more than a few weeks worth of supplies, and that was if it was carefully rationed.
With a heavy sigh, she dropped her last load of the day, and dusted her hands onto the brown linen of her dress. She carefully stretched the abused muscles of her back and arms, looking around the Caves as she did.
People. Hundreds of them, gathered in small groups or families. In all this sea of eclectic colours and faces, fear was still prominently evident everywhere her eyes landed.
How could these children ever rise and bloom in such shadowed times? They did not deserve the horrors that befell them.
Her mind suddenly came to an abrupt halt as a most unsettling couple appeared at the foot of the stairs.
After a few moments of stunned gaping, Éowyn allowed a tender smile to grace her lips. There was an unbelievably heart warming sense of opposition to the careful way he held her.
With silent steps, she trudged her way up to them, never noticing that her smile was still in place, nor the awed look she received from her own people due to the exquisite light she generously poured around herself.
oooOooo
The elf walked out of the throne room, leaving behind this King he was more and more starting to doubt.
The scouts were back. And not with the expected good news.
Isengard had been emptied, and an army of ten thousand was now marching over the lands of Rohan, headed straight for the confines of Helm's Deep. And yet, the fool of a man was still stubbornly refusing to admit his great fortress might fail.
Orcs were brainless mountains of greed and gore, but these weren't orcs, to begin with, and the cunning Saruman held their minds in the crook of his arms. He was no witless worm to underestimate.
And here, the King of Rohan was doing just that.
Rashness, overconfidence and foolish bravado were the only things Legolas saw in this leader. They were often considered qualities among Men, though the concept evaded him. How could a people trust or follow one so inexperienced?
But that was the curse of mankind; being born to die. He guessed it explained much of their characters. When one saw the inevitable end coming, what use was there in thinking every action through. Why not simply act since, in a way or the other, the end would still ring with the same fatality.
The elven prince shook these dark images away. Not all humans were thoughtless, he reminded himself. But Aragorn, though not immortal, did have the gift of longevity. His actions and decisions were, somewhat, more calculated, more definite.
In some aspects of life…
Arwen.
Not so long ago, Legolas had been standing on the other side of the line with those who did not understand what they shared. He had prided himself in reminding both of them that there could only be pain and regret out of this love.
And this day, it was he that felt remorseful and ashamed. All throughout his life, if there was something he could erase, it would be the harsh words he spoke against the happiness of two beings dear to his heart.
Stopping his leisure walk, never minding the group of children that kept pointing his way and talking in hush tones, he leaned his elbows on the balustrade, looking out over the misty lands surrounding the Fort. His head dropped involuntarily and, for the first time, he wondered at his own sanity. Never before had any of his feelings felt inadequate or out of place. He considered himself expressive for an elf, and did not fear emotions. Rather, he used them.
But now, they had strayed from the road and seemed intent on threading an unknown path.
It frightened him.
Legolas couldn't help but shudder as he tried to take it all in. She fascinated him, yes, but not only in the ways of mere curiosity. A mystery, that was what she was to eyes he thought had seen all there was to see. But he wanted more than to expose her secrets.
He wanted her.
He wanted her to look at him the way she looked at Aragorn. He wanted to be the cause of that glowing smile on her lips, or that twinkle of joy in her eyes. He yearned to simply have her close enough so that her lovely sent of jasmine would engulf him all.
And this irrationality brought a new light to humanity.
Was this how they felt?
She was mortal. She would die.
No matter how loud he made these thoughts resound through his head, his heart never listened.
Well then, it replied, go to her before it is too late. Enjoy that spark while it lasts.
Stop musing and act…
His heart had definitely grown a new personality. This was not him. Despite being much quicker of actions and words than most of his people, that just wasn't the elf he knew.
He let out a soft groan. This was getting out of hand. He needed to refocus his mind.
Times were too dark for feelings like these.
With a tremendous effort, he managed to push all thoughts of her out of his head, and slipped on the blank mask he usually wore.
The children were still there, staring wide eyed at him when he turned around. Children were innocent, he thought. And in fact, there was nothing suspicious or wary in their eyes, only curiosity and wonder.
They were still very young, he decided. Soon, as they would bloom into adulthood, they would also start to fear him. Fear him because he was not human, because he possessed strengths and weaknesses that were estranged to their kind. And they would tell stories of the dangerous race of elves to their own children, and so on, until the Firstborn would become but a myth of magic and tales.
What a pity.
Addressing the group a gentle smile, he went on his way, unable to help the smile from spreading slightly as he heard them start to speak all at once as soon as they believed him to be out of earshot.
As proof that they knew very little about elves.
He was but around the corner, their words as clear as if he'd been standing among them.
But he did not linger, deciding that finding the others was a bit higher on his list than listening to gossip. They should be back into the quarters King Théoden had gracefully given his three guests.
However, he never made it half way to the room.
He was just passing one of those dark, seemingly endless staircases that went up into the highest grounds of the fortress, when his ears caught a tiny sound on the breeze.
A light breath of air, restrained, but still slightly louder than it should have been. Was that a sniffle?
Frowning, he turned his eyes to the stairs, but there was nothing that he could see.
He could have gone on and forget he had even heard anything. It was probably nothing, really, his mind was saying. But some other part of him was pricked. Something was wrong, he could feel it.
Legolas threaded his way silently up the winding stairs, his feet never even making a brushing sound against the polished stone. As he went higher, the light grew dimmer, but the sound became clearer until he was able to pinpoint it precisely.
Crying.
Very soft, muffled sobs and hiccups. And, if his ears were as keen as he prided himself in thinking, the elf knew exactly who he would find as the source.
Indeed, there she was, huddled beside the door at the top, her little form shaking violently with the sobs she desperately tried to quiet down. Her hands were fisted in the material of her skirt, her knees drawn to her chest and her head buried into them.
Legolas felt his heart wrench at the scene. Slowly, he stepped closer, when he suddenly realised that she would most likely be scared. Careful not to be too close, he made his footfalls louder, sighing when she did not acknowledge.
Obviously, his mind berated him. This is not some stealthy warrior with an eye and ear always open, but a crying little girl indulged in her own world.
Finally, when he purposefully kicked some pebbles, her head snapped up. If it was possible, his heart went out to her even more. Her eyes were wide and swollen, red rimming them, and tear tracks were painfully obvious on her dirt stained cheeks.
For a second, Freda looked ready to spring, but then, her eyes adjusted enough to the remote darkness, and she saw him.
She should have felt fear. She did not know this man… elf.
Yet she felt only peace.
The little girl stayed still as Legolas walked closer and crouched in front of her, levelling their eyes. She marvelled at how silent he was. And beautiful. It was as though the whole alcove was lit only by his mere presence. A fire wouldn't have been more efficient.
"You should not hide in the shadow, little firefly," whispered the Elf. "Your beauty belongs to the Sun."
Legolas fought back a grin when he saw the bright blush quicklybllomingin her cheeks. She seemed to have even forgotten to be sad since she'd taken notice of him.
"But if you like it so much here," he added, moving to sit beside her, "than I hope you do not mind the company, for I much enjoy the idea of keeping you all to myself."
Freda shifted, blushing again very prettily. She liked him. No matter what the others said, he did not look bad or evil to her.
Legolas did not want to remind her why she'd been crying, but he had caught a whiff of a coppery scent when sitting closer to her. It was very faint, but it was still there.
Gently, he placed a finger under her chin and made her look at him.
"Why, these are tears I see on your cheeks, lovely maiden," he said softly, wanting to wince when her shy smile dropped a little, remembrance shining in her eyes. "What could possibly have one so fair feel sad?"
He waited patiently as she looked down, sincerely hoping that his lightness would prevent her from shedding anymore tears.
It was not to be so, sadly. When she looked back up, her eyes were swimming and her chin, trembling as she fought for control. Legolas tried to soothingly caress her cheek, but she crumpled at the tender touch, tears springing forth and slipping through his fingers as a strangled sob forced its way out of her lips.
Freda dropped her gaze, ashamed of her lack of restraint but unable to help it. She fisted her hands in the folds of her skirts, fighting hard for control.
The battle seemed long lost.
With a hoarse yelp of surprise, she found herself enfolded by the warrior, her nose buried in his armour clad shoulder as he soothingly caressed her hair.
The weight of shame instantly vanished and she let everything out in a wave of anger, betrayal and loneliness. He was unnaturally warm despite the heavy metal covering him, and Freda found herself more at ease in his embrace than anywhere else.
Aside from with her mother…
Feeling the quickly depleting glow of her aura, Legolas dropped his head next to hers and closed his eyes, indulging in his own childhood memories. Slowly but surely, a light scent of lilies came forth, wrapped in gentleness and care, and words began to fall from his lips.
It was a song he hadn't even guessed he knew, one he was now certain came from his mother. And, somehow, it seemed ever so fitting right now that Freda heard the calming melody, even if she might not understand the words.
The two of them were lost in this strange evading trance. None could say how long they sat in the shadow of the door, or how long Freda resisted to the inviting volutes of sleep.
But finally, her tears dried and her trembling ceased as she snuggled into the arms of this stranger she liked so much, welcoming the blanket of sleep with a wide yawn.
The elf smiled despite himself.
She looked like a wounded angel whose wings had failed to bring home.
He might not have uncovered what tormented her young mind, but at least, he had been able to provide comfort. And the scent of blood that had so worried him earlier has completely vanished, hinting that it might have been just a scratch.
Nimbly rising to his feet with her still nestled against his chest, he mused that, maybe, they were even. After all, he had bathed in her glow not so long ago. Now was her turn.
Legolas made his way back to the Caves where he knew he would find the child's undoubtedly worried relatives, doing his best to avoid crowded areas. There was no use in purposefully exposing his 'dangerously cunning' and 'evil' self with what would most likely look like an unconscious little girl in his arms. Who knows what outrageous horrors the people would come up with…
I'm so so so sorry for all of you who took the time to read and review but my life has been nothin short of hectic in the last few months. I really tried to update sooner, I swear. But my mind wasn't on the writing and I couldn't come up with anything remotely interesting. I hope you like this chapter though because I worked extra hard on it.
Once again, thanks lots to all those who reviewed. It'd awesome to know that some people really like what I do. Your opinions are very important for me. I can't believe I got such a great reaction on this piece... it really began as a shapeless try, but you guys encouraged me to keep writing. Thank you!
