Part Three
Never Leave Me
All this time I can't believe I couldn't see
Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me
I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems
Got to open my eyes to everything
Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul
Don't let me die here, there must be something more
Bring me to life
Evanescence – Bring me to Life
I was not doing so well. The tremendous ranks of the orcs around me caused my heart to clench in fear and I could feel their dark stain closing in all around. In was with a shock of horror that I realised I had been cut off from the rest of the allied fighters and orcs pressed close on every side. I struggled desperately to fight back the waves of despair that threatened to rise above my head and drown me in desolation. Bringing up my sword in a defensive position I decided that if I were to die, I would die fighting and not give in to these foul beasts until they ceased my heart to beat. Letting loose my battle cry I whirled, parried, drove, stabbed and hacked. The ranks of orcs about me began to draw back, but for every orc I slew another took it's place and I was tiring quickly. The constant motion was taking its toll on my almost-healed leg and I felt as the wound reopened and a hot trickle of blood ran down my leg. I tried hard to stifle the moan, but I lost my battle with my emotions and it burst out, a lot louder that I would've liked. My breath began to come in shallow, ragged gasps as an orc caught me across the chest and I doubled over, not even trying to stifle my scream. My vision began to haze, and when I looked down my entire body seemed covered in a wash of red and I wondered if I was truly bleeding that badly. A strange feeling had come over me, as if I was just a spectator to my own demise and none of it really affected me. This oddly detached feeling only increased as I dimly noticed the orcs around me begin to fall. My legs could no longer support my weight and I fell in what felt to be slow motion to my knees, the dull thud resounding slowly through my body. I allowed my head to fall forward, dimly trying to battle the waves of pain that attempted to force me into unconsciousness and watched as the ground beneath me began to swirl and form itself into grotesque patterns that reminded me of fire and blood. The flames crackled and over their noise I heard Oselle's voice call my name, but I could muster no strength to reply and it occurred to what remained of my logical mind that she must've been responsible for the reduction in orcs. The flames grew and my entire world honed down to silence and fire. In that realm with no sound I somehow forgot why or what I was fighting and consciousness flew. In the last few seconds I felt arms around me and forced myself to focus on the face that swam beyond my vision. In the instant that I recognised it, my reason to fight returned, but too late. The darkness came and I slipped away.
"NO!" the cry ripped itself from Legolas' throat as he felt Vénea go limp in his arms. Praying it was the stillness of unconsciousness only his fingers desperately sought her pulse and the relief that coursed through him was almost a physical reaction. His own breath coming shallow and ragged he gathered her into his arms and rose quickly to his feet every muscle in his body straining to move the fastest that it could. Holding her close he sped away from the battlefield to the outskirts where he may tend to her wounds in relative safety. He never saw Osellë arrive swiftly where he had just left and stare in desolation as the elf that she loved, carried away her best friend. She stood silently on mounds of orcs killed by the bow held loosely in her hand. Legolas never looked back.
Depositing Vénea gently on the hard earth Legolas tore frantically through the limited healing supplies he had brought with him. His deft hands found the bandages and working with terrified haste he tore strips off and began to bind the cruel slash cut across her chest. His heart burned within him and he ripped his soul to shreds as heart-rending guilt tore through him and ate away at his very essence. Why hadn't he been there? He had abandoned her, a child on the battlefield, and now she would die for his inattention. His hands trembled as he bound the wounds on her leg and chest and tears he couldn't hold back rolled down his fair cheeks. He rocked back and forth, staring in horror as his hands came back red with her blood. He picked her up and held her to his chest, never ceasing his rocking motion. He felt her warm blood begin to sink into his tunic and he felt the strain of her laboured breathing against his fingers. A feeling of guilt that was almost physical pain washed over him and sighing deeply at his emotional weakness, he felt hot tears run through the contours of his face. How could she die now, before he even had a chance to explain what had happened? Emotions and relationships were still half-formed, but there had been so much potential. Something special could have been born and now she was dying he couldn't help but feel that some fundamental part of him was dying with her. Feelings assaulted him from every angle and he deposited Vénea gently on the ground, changing position to lean over her and cover his face with his hands. Sobs now wracked his body in earnest and every muscle trembled with the power of them. Tears leaked between his fingers and splashed down onto the unmoving body he crouched over. He remained like this for several minutes until a soft voice reached his hearing.
"Hannon le, Legolas," I whispered as I gingerly pulled myself into a sitting position. "Thank you." My ribcage felt like fire and I was never more pleased to see a friendly face. Though at that point I hadn't yet looked up. When I did I was in for a shock. His face was damp and his eyes were locked onto me, his fair features frozen in a mixed expression of confusion and disbelief. I raised a solitary eyebrow, "What-"I began, but faster that my eyes could follow he grasped my shoulders and pulled me forward until I was crushed against his chest. "Never do that again," he whispered fiercely and my perplexity deepened. "I didn't do anything," I protested, beginning to fear that he thought me weak for fainting. "That was beyond my control, I did not mean to pass out." He pulled back slightly to look me in the face, "That was not what I meant," he said gently. I immediately felt guilty. Was I forever doomed to misunderstand good intentions and embarrass myself? "I am sorry," I said, my tone somewhat subdued as I battled to fully understand why I was apologising. "Iston." Even if my mother had not taught me a basic understanding of Elvish that would have needed no translation, the inflection in his voice was enough. "I know." His serious expression changed and he leaned away from me, merriment fuelling his actions. "Maethach," he laughed, "You tried," Unfortunately he was out of my range as I did not yet want to risk unnecessary movement, but I aimed a mock smack at him anyway. He laughed again and danced a little further out of my reach. A chill wind blew in at my side, where he had just left it and I shivered slightly at the suddenly withdrawal of his body heat. Unconsciously I shifted my position a little closer and attempted to huddle against him for warmth. He raised an eyebrow slightly at the gesture, though Aragorn had prepared him for many quirks of the human race, this was not one of them. He seemed unsure how to respond and I held my position feeling vaguely uncomfortable and waited for him to make the next move. To me the course of action was blatantly obvious, he should move his arm and so try to warm me up that way, but he hesitated. I frowned in annoyance and sat up, freeing his arm so he could move it and encircle me more easily. Still he sat there dumbly, looking perplexed. "Well?" I prompted sharply, feeling uncertainty creep into my tone. Was I being too forward with him? Were elves perhaps more reserved with their embraces? Another shiver rocked me and I firmly decided that this was no time to ponder on how elves conducted their relationships. This was something I intended to do the mortal way! I moved his arm upwards, dragging it towards my shoulders and his face suddenly relaxed with understanding. I released his arm and he moved it to curl around my torso and draw me in closer. I sighed slightly in relief, maybe now I could finally get warm. He smiled down at me, now fully understanding my previous intentions and seeming comfortable with our current position. He laughed and spoke quietly, "Complex is the race of Men," I could only nod, this close proximity to him causing my breathing to come quicker that usual and my normally pale skin to blush a faint rose-red. His words had trailed off and he stared silently into my eyes. Forget about talking, I realised that our relationship needed no more words. I let out a shaky breath and without my conscious direction my body began to lean forward at almost that same time that his did. Pulled forward as if by some invisible sting drawing us closer and closer together, I felt his hot breath on my cheek and closed my eyes. His cool lips brushed mine and my heart sang. I had waited for this moment so long without even realising it…
"LEGOLAS!" the loud cry jolted me painfully back to awareness and I opened my eyes to see Legolas pulling back also, a mixture of longing and surprise on his face. His slender hand found mine and I locked onto it seeking comfort from his touch. With his other hand Legolas drew one of his Elven knives and settled himself into a battle-ready crouch. It was to both of our surprise when Aragorn burst into the clearing, "Legolas, the Nazgul are coming," he whispered carefully, his eyes scouring the skies above us. I squinted upwards but could see nothing, and it was at the last moment as I was about to look away that I heard it. A bone-chilling cry, almost a scream that turned my blood to ice. Instantly I felt Legolas' hand tense in mine, and he whipped his head up to survey the skies as I had done. Wisps of his blond hair flew across my face and from behind their curtain I saw the look of pain on Oselle's face as she entered the clearing, her eyes lingering longingly on the intertwined hand of Legolas and I. When the curtain cleared Oselle's face was a mask and no emotion showed through. So intent was I in my study of Osellë I almost did not hear the second screech of the Nazgul above my head. Legolas' hand gripped mine almost painfully tight and I looked at him in shock. He was bent over double, his right arm clutching his shoulder; his eyes squeezed shut in pain. At first I thought it was the memory of some old wound, but then I noticed the protruding arrow shaft. A wail escaped my throat unbidden and I threw myself at him, to protect him from further attack, even as the Nazgul cried again in triumph above us. "Urin dant-mina dae!" I whispered desperately "Lasto beth nin, Legolas. Do not fall into shadow! Hear my voice, Legolas." I called out to him, but if he heard me he gave no sign. I held him tightly, the roles reversed, I was the protector now and I felt him lean into me almost as if he believed that if he hid now, I could shelter him from the pain. I wished with all my heart that I could. I felt a hand on my arm, filled with an irrational fear that it was the dark rider of the Nazgul I tensed with shock and whirled with a vicious cry to slam my forearm against the person who had touched me. Aragorn staggered back under my onslaught. I moved my body in front of Legolas to use myself as a shield, still unsure how to respond to Aragorn's presence as adrenaline pounded in my veins, and glared at him warily. He backed away slightly and whispered gently to me, "Eam layaa mellon. I am your friend." I discontinued my glare but did not move away from Legolas. I felt a sudden weight on m back and confusion turned to horror as I realised Legolas had passed out. Forgetting my former hostilities I turned to Aragorn, "Help!" I mouthed silently. He came forward immediately and I saw tears glistening in his eyes. Not for the first time I realised I had misjudged him. He too loved Legolas. I made a mental note to apologise later, now was not the time. He lowered Legolas gently to the floor and I kept a firm hold of the now limp Elvish hand in my grasp. Arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me away. I fought, but the arms were persistent. With reluctance I let Legolas' hand fall and turned to face my captor. Osellë faced me the longing I had earlier seen now well masked in her eyes. "We go to save Frodo." She told me firmly and my mouth dropped open. Surely she could not expect me to leave Legolas now? "I will not-" I began to protest, my ire rising strongly. "You must." She responded before I could finish, "Legolas will live, he is strong and he has Aragorn now." I nodded dimly aware of the truth in her words. Confusion knitted my brow however and I turned a questioning gaze on Aragorn and the unconscious Legolas. "Since when does Frodo need saving?" I queried. Aragorn laughed at my confusion, "Since he destroyed the ring and Mount Doom now has lava pouring down it on every side. He and Sam are trapped." He added, his voice quiet with lingering worry. "Alas, I am too heavy for the eagles, and Legolas…" his voice trailed off as he gazed at the rapidly breathing elf in his arms, "Legolas is also in danger." He finished. "You must go." I nodded and left the glade, though something inside me wept as I departed. We headed for another clearing not far distant and I shuddered as I saw the size of the great bird I was due to ride. Climbing unto his back with un-Elven grace I readied myself for the flight. To my relief we rose smoothly and proceeded with haste to the mountain that was but a distant hill in my vision. As we drew nearer I saw that it was no hill. Lava spewed from every angle and I could barely pick out two small shapes huddled in one of the few spots that remained clear. I leapt from the back of the eagle, landing neatly next to one of the halflings. Drawing him into my arms I clutched the small body close, blood from his hand staining my already ruined tunic. Although it was a stupid response in such a dire situation, I sighed as I took in the full extent of damage to my clothing. No amount of careful stitchery could fix it and I tugged at my torn hem sadly. Dragging my mind back to more pressing matters I vaulted with difficulty onto the back of a passing Eagle as it swooped low so that I may do just that. It seemed to take forever to return to the camp and the small being in my arms remained unresponsive, despite my best efforts. I passed him off to a concerned looking man with white hair and beard and forced my weary limbs into a run as I headed for the only place they could have taken the wounded elf. Estel's tent. Not even looking behind to see if Osellë followed I pushed back the tent opening. Legolas lay on the floor, sweat beading on his forehead and he moaned and writhed within Aragorn's grasp. I moaned myself, and flung myself to my knees beside him. Pressing my hand to the side of his face I whispered gently to him in Elvish, "Uuyech er, Legolas. Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na galad! You are not alone Legolas. Hear my voice, come back to the light!" I do not know whether it was the sound of my voice or the Elvish words that calmed him, but he gave one final soft moan and ceased to struggle against Aragorn. Ignoring the questioning look sent my way by Estel I pressed my hand against Legolas' forehead and drew it away sharply in shock and fear. "He has a fever!" I cried in shock, my heart pounding uncomfortably against my ribcage in anxiety. "I am aware," replied Aragorn darkly, his previous expression turning to one of concern and mild annoyance. " Please," he implored me, "go and get some rest. I will tend to Legolas." I did not speak a word, not dignifying his response with an answer. Instead I settled myself more comfortably to the ground and dipping a soft cloth in some cool water, proceeded to mop the brow of the fevered Prince. Aragorn must have recognised the defiance in my gaze, for he pressed me no further, quietly resuming his vigil over the fallen elf. I got the distinct feeling that it was going to be a long night and I hoped against hope that Legolas would still be with us at the end of it