The legendary chapter two! What is the world coming to...I have actually completed a second chapter. Unusual.
Well.
Okay, fine I'll get on with this.
Author's Note: I know that I have changed things around a bit here, such as Merry going to the last battle and so forth. But I just love the hobbit, so bear with me. Any lines for the books are not mine. If you have memorized enough of Return of the King canon to recognize them, kudos to you. I have changed some of them around to suit my writing; honestly, do you think that I could type the word 'wrested' and still sound like I know what I'm doing?
Everyone give a big round of applause to Mistaya Chavmen, my amazing beta.
Elven Wrath Part II
The Black Gates of Mordor have inspired fear in all, mortal and immortal alike, since they were first created. They are a pair of dark symbols of death decorated in torture and pain and all other things that Mordor creates. To the eyes, they are massive and covered in black spikes made of an unidentifiable grey stone. They seem terrible a sight, yes, like a horrifying nightmare where the only hopes you have are crushed. But that is only the beginning. Even the least perceptive can feel the evil radiating from the location, can feel how hopeless the cause is, and feel the one who created the land contained by these gates. The orcs patrol the top of the wall like small demons sent to do their master's bidding, and the mountains looming on either side are dark guards into which even a Dwarf would not dare delve... not even if they contained all the mithril in the world.
This is where the Riders of Rohan and Gondor, the last army of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, the last hope left in the world for two very minute figures on the side of Mount Doom, now stood, staring in terror to the place of their deaths.
They were perfectly ordered in ranks, some mounted and some not. In the very front was the great king, Isildur's long-lost heir, who stood side by side with the powerful Istar, who was no longer Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim, but had become the White Wizard.
Other faces could be seen in the crowd, some terrified by what was to come, some terrified by what they already saw, and others with plain expressions, accepting everything and anything the way it was.
There were, of course, exceptions to this. Gimli would be full of his usually jollity that came only immediately before and after a battle. Legolas believed it had something to do with the insane ways of Dwarves, but he could be wrong. It might only be the insane ways of Gimli. Legolas turned around to look at his friend, and was shocked when the Dwarf's features were not those of prebattle glee, but were somber and thoughtful. Legolas frowned. This was unusual.
"What troubles you, Master Dwarf?" Legolas questioned, looking back at him. Gimli stared at the ground for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say. Legolas' frown deepened.
"I never thought that I would die fighting side by side with an Elf." Gimli seemed ashamed by his own words. Legolas froze. Now the Dwarf was having doubts? Moments before this last battle? He chose these last few, precious seconds left together to question the stability of their strange friendship? It was sad that Gimli could not see the benefits that would have come from the newly forged bond, had Legolas remained alive. The Elves and Dwarves could have ended generations of hatred and malice that was held needlessly between the two groups with the simple title of ielvellon.
It was understandable, somehow. In some ways, it had been expected. Doubt was a constant in the universe, along with the chances of friendship. Gimli just needed a form of reassurance, however vague. "How about dying side by side with a friend?" Oh, Valar. Reassurance? It sounded like an obituary! Maybe that horse had hit him on the head and he had not noticed...
Legolas looked down and smiled weakly, trying to lighten the words, before he quickly glanced back the the hulking forms of the Gates. In a very small way, he himself felt strangely reassured, despite his objections that it was not a hopeful statement. Maybe he would not fall pointlessly. His death could be the start of something as good and strange as his friendship with a Dwarf.
Gimli looked up at Legolas, slightly startled by the sentence. Legolas was not denying the fact that death was imminent with a peculiar burst of typical elvish hope. What was meant by that? This battle would not be so vicious that everyone would die. Many good, strong knights would fall, but never any of them. They were the remains of the once powerful Fellowship and the representatives of their races. No orc would lay hands on them, not if Gimli had an axe and breath in his body.
But what was it that Gimli saw in Legolas' eyes when he looked down?
It had been the haunted gaze of one who was doomed and knew that it was impossible to avoid death. He had only seen that look once before, in the eyes of a wounded man on the banks of the Anduin. That had been enough of the experience for him. That look had given him nightmares; so doomed, so sad and so...quiet. He never would have supposed to see it in the eyes of an Elf.
But, no. Lord Death would not take Legolas away. The Elf was wrong-- flat out wrong.
Immortals do not die. Not in a black land full of black creatures. The Valar would not allow it.
Aragorn rode up and down the rows of Men, shouting about hope and death and other matters. Legolas was not truly listening, and did not pay attention to what was said. He could only stare at the king, so regal, so royal, so changed. He was not the same ranger that had set out from Imladris. He was no where near the same person whom Legolas had met over eighty years ago. Aragorn was a true leader of Men now, and things could never go back to the way they were before.
How badly I wish to see him crowned. For decades, that had been one of the only things that had gotten him out of battles, fevers, wounds and wars. The sole thought of seeing that child, then that boy, then that man, come into his own. And now, with victory so close he could taste it, he now had to pass. One more of life's sour twists.
He shut his eyes for a moment, blocking out all thoughts but those of battle and victory. There was no other option; victory or everything is in vain, victory or all shall fall into darkness.
Victory, and yet for him defeat.
The morbid feeling returned, sending a shiver down his spine. No, he thought fiercely and drawing himself up to his full height on Arod's back. He would go to battle tall and proud. He would not -could not- disgrace his Elven kindred.
"Legolas! Elf! Look at at me! Are you even hearing this?" Something thumped him on the back, jarring his arm, and Legolas started. He turned around, eyes wide. Behind him was Gimli. He had forgotten about the Dwarf completely in his reverie.
After recovering from the initial shock, he spoke, choking on his words, knowing this could be the last thing Gimli would ever hear from him. "What is it you desire, Master Dwarf? Or have you taken to bruising your comrades for the entertainment of it?" He rubbed his shocked arm and looked reprovingly down on the Dwarf.
"If you care to notice, several people were riding up to the gates. Apparently, you do not think it prudent, but I would like to be up there as the representative of the Dwarven People."
Legolas turned around, and realized that Hobbit, Man, Wizard and Half-Elven had ridden up a few paces nearer to the gates. How had he stared in that direction for so long and not noticed? No matter now, of course. "I was only waiting for you to ready yourself for Arod's movement. I would not want you to fall off halfway there. What would the Dwarven race think of that?"
"Get moving!" Gimli grabbed onto the Elf's waist as Arod surged forward, trotting up to join Gandalf and Aragorn at the head of the column.
"So you have decided to join us now?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow at Legolas.
"I was not planning on it, but Gimli insisted. He seems to think that all of us are needed for a job one Istar could do."
"Ah, but you are forgetting that, as the only Dwarf and Elf here, you are required to come. It is written in Honor and Regulations of the House of Gondor, which I happened to stumble across in my stay in the castle." Aragorn smiled sweetly at him. "So, if Gimli had not insisted that you ride forward when you did, I would have been forced to go back and get you."
"Stumbled across, eh? I bet that you searched for hours in that library just so you can execute some form of an order on me. Well, you are forgetting that I am of the Woodland people, and do not live in that stone creation you call a city."
"But out of courtesy you would have followed my command anyway."
"You are awfully priggish for one who was raised by Elves." Elladan and Elrohir looked at Legolas in mock offense. Legolas grinned, "and far to certain for one so young that your every whim will be obeyed. I believe I know where you learned that trait." He looked quickly ahead, guessing the distance between them and the black doors, in order to avoid the glares he knew where coming his way. It was no more that twenty paces, a minute at the slow walk they were traveling at.
"I am afraid that I must interrupt." Gandalf interjected. All eyes turned to him, and Gandalf was struck with how serious everyone looked, despite the lightheartedness of the conversation. "When we reach the gates, it is stunningly important that I do the talking."
Pippin, riding on the other side of Prince Imrahil, nodded.
They rode in silence for a few seconds, then Gandalf continued. "Legolas," The elf looked over at him, blue eyes full of mourning and - could it possibly be terror? Gandalf smiled softly, and looked straight into Legolas's eyes. "It would be better for you were to wear your hood over your face."
"And be half blinded by the fabric?" Legolas raised an eyebrow.
"You look so much like your father when you do that. He also has a tendency to question my advice. Little Greenling, the Orcs hate the Elves far more than they do so Men and Dwarves. If you are noted as one of the Fairfolk, they will attack you with all that they have."
"I will not hide behind my cloak." Legolas said stubbornly, "and do not call me by that name. I have only just gotten 'Dan and 'Roh to stop saying that, and I am older than they!"
"Not by that much," Elrohir muttered.
"And it looks like we will have to start calling you that again." Elladan added. Imrahil just looked confused, having not grown up with this trio and not knowing the relationship between Legolas and the twins. Eomer, looking shyly away, did not believe that anyone could have enough nerve to tease an elf, even if they were the same kindred.
"Whatever your name may be, put up the hood." Gandalf fixed him with a cold glare that could freeze the sun. Legolas narrowed his eyes in response, and opened his mouth to speak.
Before any words came out, his hood was up over his ears and shielding his face. It also knocked several degrees of his vision away, which would make it difficult for him to aim a bow with his usual skill. Turning his head and shoulders around, he fixed Gimli with an amused glare.
The dwarf blushed and looked to Aragorn, who spoke. "If he had not done it, I would have. You do not care about being the center of an attack, so we care for you."
Legolas sighed and faced forward. "It seems that I am outvoted."
"That you are, Little Greenling." Gimli said sagely.
Legolas whipped his eyes to Gandalf. "See what you have started? I shall never outlive that name!" Merry chuckled softly beside Aragorn. When Legolas turned his steely gaze on him, the Hobbit looked pointedly away. "Why must I be forced to suffer this indignity while you let 'Dan and 'Roh, not to mention my Lord Imrahil, ride unhindered?"
"Because, Thranduilion, they are only Half-Elven."
"And so not worthy of the attention of Orcs," Elrohir added.
"Cease this discussion!" Aragorn said softly. Legolas looked up, and was startled that the gates were immediately in front of them.
"Come forth!" Shouted Aragorn suddenly, making Legolas jump in the saddle. His voice echoed back off the gates. "Let the lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and attacked its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then forever!"
"Nicely done," Gandalf admired. Aragorn half bowed to him from Hasufel's back.
It may have been nicely said, but no one answered the call. The gates stood tall and imposing in front of the Captains, and no sound was heard from the other side.
They stood for a full minute, gazing in silence at the Gates, wondering what Sauron was preparing behind those iron doors.
"Come. He is to cowardly to answer your summons, Aragorn." Gimli said. Legolas turned Arod's head away, and the middle door of the Black Gates crashed open, clanging loudly in the silent evening. Out rode a party of orcs, led by a dark, man-shaped figure in black.
Legolas felt a moment's pity of the beast the man was riding; it was more dead than alive, tortured and ruined in the fires of Mordor, but the feeling was washed away by a surge of terror as the rider approached. It was the same fear as of a Wraith, but this was not a simple Nazgul.
It was the Nameless; the Lieutenant of Barad-Dur.
"I am the Mouth of Sauron."
His voice grated like the metal of the gates, loud and echoing without being raised above a hoarse rasp.
"Is there anyone in this company worthy of speaking to me? Or at least possessing the wit to understand me? Not you, at least." He sneered at Aragorn. The Man had to press is hands tightly together to avoid grasping his sword hilt, but he remained silent.
"So you think you are worthy to be made a king? It takes more than a piece of elvish glass, or even a rabble such as this. Any brigand of the hills can gather such a following!"
Legolas felt the hatred in him rise, almost to the point of disobeying Gandalf's instructions and speaking. How dare the beast say such things? But Aragorn just stared deep into the Lieutenant's eyes, unblinking, and time froze for a moment. The Mouth of Sauron drew back in what could only be fright, and looked away. "I am herald and ambassador of this land, and shall not be treated as such!" His voice was no longer grating, but had become more of a squeaking croak.
"If there were such laws here, your insolence would have broken them long ago." Gandalf spoke suddenly, breaking the building tension.
The messenger's eyes turned to the wizard. "So! You are the spokesperson, old greybeard? Has your meandering about these lands taught you nothing of my master? The long years of your life have addled your wits, it seems. I do not come unprepared for you and your wizardly mischief." Now the Mouth of Sauron grinned, if it were possible to see it behind his iron mask. He beckoned to someone behind him with his hand, never tearing his eyes from Gandalf's unmoving features.
A bundle of cloth was placed into his hands by a sweating servant, and the Nameless One opened it, drawing out the last things anyone present expected or wanted to see.
Out of the bundle came Sam's short sword. Legolas shook his head silently. No. This is not possible.
Next came a grey cloak of Lothlorien. How long ago it seemed that they had be presented with these, yet the cloth was unstained or torn.
Last, and most horrible of all, came a coat of mithril mail. Pippin surged forward with an unexpected sobbing cry of sadness, but Gandalf shoved him back roughly.
"So you have more of the imps with you, greybeard? I myself find no use for them. What folly it was for you to send one as a spy into Sauron's great lands!" the messenger laughed out loud at this. "You cannot deny that at least some among you has seen these tokens before."
"I do not wish to deny it. But why, foul Mouth of Sauron, do you bring them here? They have no purpose in this council."
"I believe they are the purpose of this council. For, you see, Sauron holds not great love for spies, even those ones from that rat-and of the Shire. The fate of your Halfling depends now upon your choice. Surrender, and he lives. Fight," he paused, "and he will die the most painful death I can conjure."
Please give credit to pages 164-166, The Black Gate Opens, Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King
Oooo! I got reviews!
The Balrog of Athena: Thank you so much! I hope you continue reading. I try to update fast, but I need to keep up with my other life. Keep reviewing. I will give you cookies of your flavour preference, so long as it falls between chocolate and peanut butter, which are just about the only things I can make.
Roguish Smile: I like to believe he used his 'elveness' to find out, sort of a premonition, as it were. I know that he's no Elrond, but I want to think all Elves have foresight to some degree. If this explanation does not satisfy, tell me and I will send you a detailed letter on this subject which I know next to nothing about. Thanks for the review.
Wantanelf: Me to. That is, I want an Elf. But for some reason my parents refuse to buy me one for Christmas. Anyway, I promise to attempt to try to spell better. It is very difficult. I know the words, I know the meanings, I just can not remember how to spell them. Thank you so much for you review. (yeah, Legolas angry is fun, but hard to write.) I love your reveiw!!!!
Hobbit Killer: Blackmail, eh? I'll have to remember that. Thank you for the review. Do you think it was too long? I tried to shorten it...but it did not really work. I keep not wanting to get rid of stuff. It was hard enough to break this into two chapters and delete the parts that you didn't get read. You are my first reveiwer EVER, so you get a huge hug and a cookie the size of Montreal.
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