A/N: Well, I'm back. And no, this isn't Sam in disguise (wink)! Anyways, I know I haven't updated for a while, but I just didn't have the heart. The past month has been pretty hectic and emotionally draining and I think it finally caught up with me. But I feel up to the next chapter now, so here it goes!
Chapter 7
Bridled Resolution
Swirling images drifted pointlessly in Legolas' mind's eye. Glittering blades kept slashing at his vision as he watched himself fight grimly with the orcs. 'Is my life flashing before my eyes for a reason? Is this it?' Legolas found himself thinking, even his thoughts somewhat slurred. Then came the pull back, with him standing alone in the ring of his enemies. Inevitably, the arrow came next. Although he had watched all of this without any of his senses responding, when the arrow struck him, he felt it at that exact moment. The world jerked violently back to his struggling eyes in a blur of shadowy shapes and blazing fires that contrasted horribly. It felt as if a cave troll had been honing his nails for just such an occasion and had expertly pierced one through his chest, like a vein of fire working its way into his core. Unable to breathe, he turned onto his side and gulped for the air that wasn't circulating into his lungs. Finally getting his wind back, he felt the unfamiliar feeling of something foreign in his chest. It was something that shouldn't be there, it was invading him, plaguing his being. With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, Legolas' fingers fumbled across his suede outer shirt, his fingers becoming stickier as they went. One finger finally struck the wooden shaft, sending vibrations of warning through his chest, as if it were a part of him. It was embedded on the right side of his chest; any further left and he would have not have been able to come to that conclusion. Legolas grit his teeth and continued to investigate the foreign object; but shock suddenly gripped him as he realized the object wasn't so foreign. Forcing his strained eyes to seek the arrow, his suspicions were confirmed as his eyes found the familiar green and yellow fletching. They had used his own weapon against him. 'How ironic it is, that one day I would feel how so many before me have'. Then a clawed hand dug into his own hand, and hauled him to a semi upright position.
The lonely wind whistled in Aragorn's ears, taking advantage of every fault in his clothing. Upon reaching to pull his cloak over himself, he found he could not. In fact he was not resting on the ground while Gimli was taking his watch, but tied to a tree with a branch sticking in his back. When pitching forward did nothing he calmed his mind and reviewed what had just happened. They had been attacked. They were outnumbered. Legolas had fallen. And then the orcs had taken advantage of their momentary shock and tied them to a tree. His hand scraped against Gimli's elven cloak and his theory was complete. The endless plains seemed even more barren then they had before. The sky held the dusk of morning on the verge, but it did not hold the promise of the unveiling of the sun. The light had gone out that night. A brisk wind sharply shook Aragorn out of his reverie and stung his eyes.
Straining at his bonds were useless; these orcs seemed to have wanted to get the job done right the second time. 'Is this really how it will end? Will I die in torment, knowing my lifelong friend will suffer and die as will countless others who were depending on me? Or will this mortal shell succumb to the elements first?' The enormity of his responsibility chose an inopportune moment to strike him and he felt it like a physical blow. 'This is not a good time to break down' he thought giving himself a mental shake, but still felt the moisture at the corner of his eyes and the growing weight on his shoulders mock him. He should have seen this weakness coming. He had relied to heavily on his ability to bend everything to his will and his ability had started to crack when the King of the Dead first rejected his summons. Legolas' strong hand on his shoulder. Legolas had understood everything, knowing him since he was a child. It was uncanny how silent he could be, yet decipher all the complexities before anyone else would even start thinking about what the first step would be. And now who knows where he was. Or where his body was.
Gorlak was astonished when the captive being struck out at him with his other arm as he dragged him up with the other; he had used the motion as leverage. But instead of being enraged at the elf for striking him, he winced inwardly, knowing his efforts were in vain seeing as he was wearing armor and probably only succeeded in hurting himself. And he judged himself to be right when a ragged grunt was emitted from the shaking form. Gorlak shoved him back on the ground, seeing as he was conscious and would have to be restrained. Calling over two of his men, he ordered them to each take a hold of the struggling elf's shoulders. He noted their sneers of contempt and the fire in their eyes as they approached and quickly quenched their anger with a glare of his own.
Legolas met Gorlak's eyes. Gorlak stared right back into his eyes with grim yet troubled incentive. 'He wants me to live. That cannot be good, it is better off to be killed by orcs rather than kept for some foul purpose' Legolas thought gritting his teeth, preparing to resist their attempts fully. Legolas pushed against the spiky fists pinning down his shoulders as best as he could with his failing consciousness, grunting with seething anger and with flailing legs trying to find Gorlak. Gorlak leaned over him, trying to scrape up his vague memories of medical knowledge. It had been a long time since he had to save someone, rather than end their life. Gorlak finally shoved one of his hands on the right side of Legolas' chest and grasped the bottom on the arrow shaft. One… two…
A raw howl dominated the already loud noises of the orc camp and all fell silent. Gasping sobs wracked Legolas' body after his own arrow was torn from his body. The pounding of rushing blood in his head blocked out all else except for the excruciating feeling of layers of flesh being torn almost through. His head lolled forward, his raw throat unable to utter a word, and his vision was filled with a flood of crimson.
Gorlak worked as fast as his stubby fingers would allow, tying the crude bandages around the elf's chest, trying to stem the flow. When that was not enough, he frantically tore at his own meager layers of clothing and tied them on to the now unconscious elf tighter. After all, what was a shirt compared to his life?
Gorlak bellowed orders at the troops, after receiving a confirmation from Sharkey as to the last elf's capture and where they were going next. Their path was now straight to Isengard, the fortress of Sharkey. The plan was to go ahead without Turga and the other half and meet them there later. Gorlak was fine with that wanting to get their elf, apparently Legolas Thranduillion, to more advanced medical aid as soon as possible. 'But why does Sharkey want 'em in one piece?' Gorlak questioned the dim morning.
A/N: Yes I decided to continue with Legolas in this chapter! I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but the plot didn't progress all that much, but ends were tied up and description was laid on heavy! As was the angst… but hey, I needed something that would be true to its listed genre, n'es pas?
By the way, fletching is the feathers on the end of an arrow, if you weren't sure. I thought the fact that the arrow was actually Leggy's was a nice, but cruel twist of fate!
Thank you to the reviewers from the last chapter, but thanks especially to Viresse for the detailed description of what you thought! Oh and one more thing, I stopped at my usual 550 words, but then I pushed myself and I wrote almost triple that amount in total! Be proud, this is a big accomplishment!
