Black Eyes
Chapter Eleven: Perfection and Dust
by Capella
A/N: First off, v. sorry this chapter took so long. I got busy with newspaper deadlines/schoolwork/life. That, and I have a tendency to get really lazy. This same thing happened about the exact same time through Shadow of a Doubt -- but I'll make it through. Just forced myself to write and that was that. So sorry bout this. :)
Let me see here -- what else? Nothing, really. I don't know where this quote came from, but it was given to me by a friend. If you find out where it's from, tell me so I can give them credit.
Oh, and thank you thank you THANK YOU to stardust fawkes. You rule, and are officially the master of advice. I bow to your superior wisdom and just all around coolness.
Here's your first look into Harry's psyche. Will it answer any of your burning questions? ...Probably not, and it's not supposed to. But feel free to make all the assumptions you want -- there are some (hopefully) subtle and tricky hints in there. :) Plus, there is nothing I love to write more than a weird, cruel Harry. It's a vice.
WARNING: quite a bit of violence, of the non-sexual kind. And I mean it, too. You'll know it when you get there. Sorry in advance, but it was necessary.
Well, that's it! Thanks so much for all the reviews, I loved them. I loved them! Give me more and I love you even more! (...no, that's not a bribe...)
__________________________
"My heart lies somewhere between perfection and dust. And while my soul is a sight to behold, I shatter at the blink of an eye."
-- Anonymous?
__________________________
"Legolas."
Legolas blinked, awakened from his healing sleep, and stared blankly down at the ground passing by underneath Arod's swift feet, feeling strangely -- empty.
"Wake up!" Harry sounded more irritated now. Legolas tried to raise his head from where it laid on Harry's back, his forehead pressed into Harry's neck, but he couldn't seem to find the energy or the will; he blinked again, and the world spun sickeningly. He tried to say Harry's name, tried to say anything at all, but all that escaped his lips was an incoherent, breathy whimper. A scab on his cheek cracked when he moved his lips, and he felt the blood trickle past the corner of his mouth and slowly down his neck.
"Still weak from last night's lesson, love?" Harry asked, stroking Legolas's cheek fondly, laughing when Legolas flinched. "I told you not to try and escape. I told you. You just didn't listen." Harry traced Legolas's lips with an almost startling gentleness. "Now, I need you to look. What is that?"
Legolas bit his lip and tried to raise his head again, but he could only manage to lift it weakly before it lolled back forward onto his chest. Harry sighed and lifted Legolas's chin with two fingers until he could see what lay on the horizon. His eyes widened.
"Valar," he whispered in a choked, raspy voice, his breath coming in panicky gasps, and he had to part his lips slightly to get enough air. Harry laughed.
"We're there, aren't we? The Gray Havens." Harry regarded the town with an amused glance, his eyes gone large-pupiled and wide. "And they haven't the slightest idea of what's coming."
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"You know, I always knew Harry was kind of crazy. Do you want to know why?"
Haldir's head lolled back onto Draco's shoulder, his expression slack and peaceful in sleep. A tiny prick of fear made Draco take his hands off the reins and shake Haldir's shoulders urgently. Haldir's head sagged forward as if his neck was too weak to support it, his hair falling and hiding his face. Draco shook his shoulders again, harder, his breathing loud in his own ears.
"Come on, Haldir, I need you to stay with me, love." His voice shook slightly, betraying his growing unease at Haldir's unnatural deep sleep, and he would have been ashamed had anyone been around -- or awake -- to hear it.
Haldir's head rose slightly and Draco saw his eyelashes flutter.
"What is it?" Haldir asked, voice hoarse and slow, as if he had difficulty getting the words out. Draco was beginning to suspect a mild concussion. Instead of answering right away, Draco turned Haldir's head with his hand and placed a small kiss on Haldir's bruised lips that Haldir received with sleepy acceptance; Draco realized with a wry smirk that there were a few good things about Haldir and concussions, and getting away with a few stolen kisses seemed to be one of them. He took his hand off Haldir's cheek and smiled gently; the gesture almost hurt, it was so unfamiliar to him.
"We're almost to Minas Tirith," he said, talking slowly, "and I need you to stay awake for me. Please." He saw Haldir nod his head, murmur a faint acceptance. Draco smiled sincerely again -- it was a bit easier, the second time -- and twisted back around in his saddle.
"Why -- are we going there?" Haldir asked fuzzily, playing with the edges of Draco's tunic with two of his fingers. Draco drew a sharp breath when Haldir's finger grazed the skin of his waist.
"You're a bit banged up," he managed, and it made it a bit easier to concentrate when Haldir withdrew his hand. "We're almost there, I promise. Look, can't you see it? Just there." Not even sure if Haldir could see clearly or not, he pointed to the shining city not a mile ahead of them, trying to keep his mind off of Haldir's hot breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
"Have I ever told you about my future wife?" Haldir asked in a strange, dreamy sort of voice. Draco's throat closed up and his heart did a strange sort of jump in his chest.
"No, you haven't," he managed. Whatever it took to keep Haldir awake. "What -- what is her name?"
Haldir let out a short sigh against Draco's shoulderblade. "She is beautiful," he sighed. "Her name is Thaliephel, one of Galadriel's handmaidens. More beautiful than Galadriel herself. Long, black hair and the strangest color eyes -- a funny sort of gray --" He sounded as if he were drifting again into sleep, so Draco gave him a subtle elbow under his ribs to urge him on.
"And?"
"And what?" Haldir asked, sounding annoyed. Draco sighed, staring at the gleaming white peaks of Minas Tirith and wishing that he was there already, wishing that Haldir would come out of the concussed, delirious state of mind he'd gradually slipped into.
"Where is she now?"
Haldir shifted in his seat, almost draping himself on Draco's back, exhaling tiredly. "At the Gray Havens," he murmured. "How I wish I were there."
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It was almost contemptible, the way elves had gotten so complacent and laid back after the defeat of Sauron. It almost seemed an affront, somehow, but he couldn't figure out why. All he knew was that, when he saw the lone elvish guard standing watch outside the town, looking alert but slightly bored, it was almost enough to make his blood boil.
He felt Legolas's tears on his shoulder, soaking through the cloth of his light shirt, and smiled.
"Please, Harry." He could barely make out the breathless, broken words from behind him. "You do not have to do this --"
Harry smiled pleasantly while waving to the guard on duty in front of the town. The guard nodded smartly back and walked forward towards them. "But I do, Legolas," he said quietly out of the corner of his mouth. "I haven't got a ship. How can I get to Valinor without a ship?" He shook his head, annoyed, when a few more tears dripped onto his shirt. It was almost a shame -- he remembered when he'd come to Middle-earth at first, how silent and emotionless Legolas had been; he had admired it. And now that same elf was broken, bleeding, crying on his shoulder. Contemptible.
The guardian elf was almost near the horse now, his delicate brow furrowed in worry as he took in Legolas's injuries and listing gaze with velvet brown eyes. Harry almost had to repress a smirk. "He is injured grievously," the guard said when he finally stood next to the horse, reaching up to lay a gentle hand on Legolas's thigh, frowning when the muscle jumped under his hand and Legolas made a soft noise of protest. The guard took his hand away quickly, and his eyebrows raised as he took in the blood staining his palm.
"Oh, yes," Harry said softly, "very grievously." He swung down from the horse and without his support Legolas fell forward a bit until his head rested on the horse's mane. From on the ground, Harry could see the blood soaking through the soft white of Legolas's shirt. He turned to face the guard.
"We should get him to Cirdan immediately." The guard wasn't even paying attention to Harry, not really, all his attention focused on Legolas, and it was almost too easy for Harry to ease his hand down to his side and grip the hilt of the knife hanging there.
"We should," Harry agreed and plunged a knife through the elf's chest. The elf's gentle eyes became almost laughably wide and he reached for his own knife; Harry didn't give him the chance, pulling out the knife and punching it back through in one smooth motion. The elf hung there, impaled, blood bubbling up and oozing down his chest and out of his mouth. He was fairly pretty, in an ethereal sort of way, and he looked achingly young. It made a part of Harry's stomach twist in something that he didn't like to identify, something that felt a little bit like pity. He heard Legolas give a startled, horrified cry from behind him and smiled. Legolas wouldn't be intervening with his play -- Harry had made certain of that the night before.
"What was your name, again?" Harry asked amicably. The elf was beginning to shake now, his skin turning a sickly shade of gray.
"P-palahuan," he stuttered in a breathy, whimpering tone that made Harry smile.
"God, but those Orcs came out of nowhere, didn't they, Palahuan?" he asked, watching as the young elf's eyes widened even more in horror and understanding, lips white save for the blood. He was moments away from dying. Harry gave the knife a minute twist and the elf gasped in pain, eyes drifting to Legolas's trembling form.
"You -- did t-that," he got out.
"I did," Harry agreed pleasantly enough. "Goodbye, Palahuan." He yanked the knife out savagely, barely backing up in time to miss the spurt of blood that followed the knife out of the elf's body even as Palahuan crumpled. The lovely brown eyes were blank in death; Harry's stomach did a funny sort of lurch, and for reasons he didn't know, he bent down to smooth the elf's silky blonde hair out of the unseeing brown eyes.
"You -- monster --" Legolas whispered in a voice that held misery and betrayal and horror, and Harry straightened, on a swift track to irritation.
"I don't have the time to punish you, Legolas," Harry said, turning around and regarding Legolas with a steely gaze; the stark, unthinking fear in Legolas's eyes sent a jolt of dark, lustful fire through his veins. He stalked closer to the horse, watching as Legolas struggled to sit up and not lean, vulnerable, on Arod's neck; he placed a deliberate hand on Legolas's thigh, feeling the trembling flesh under his fingertips and somehow both saddened and delighted.
For a moment, utter revulsion for what he was about to do -- what he had already done -- blanketed his mind in one all-encompassing emotion and he abruptly bent over, his stomach turning at the smell of blood on his hands, on Legolas's body. He had to fight not to vomit.
"Harry?" Legolas asked timidly.
"How can you be worried for me?" Harry exploded suddenly without a thought why, stabbing an accusing finger in Legolas's dirty, surprised face. "You idiot, I almost kill you and you're still worried for me?"
Legolas's brows furrowed for a moment before -- for some reason that Harry envied -- a look of almost complete peace came over his face, and he relaxed, staring at Harry with acceptance.
"Because I love you."
Harry's stomach clenched violently, and for a moment he was assaulted by a wave of revulsion and fear; the world went alarmingly blurry and then dark, and for just a second he was overtaken with the notion that what he was about to do was so wrong that he'd never be forgiven, that the loss of life for this purpose was not what he intended to do.
A seed of evil.
Harry's hands went up to his temples at the blinding pain that suddenly invaded his mind, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He shook his head. "A seed of evil," he moaned, falling to his knees. "A plague on this earth -- elves -- oh god, please." It felt as if knives were being driven through his eyesockets and into his skull, drilling into his brain, demanding compliance.
Then suddenly the pain was gone and he was staring straight up into Legolas's beautiful concerned eyes.
"You got off the horse," he whispered.
"I did," Legolas said, his voice steady and calm, though he was trembling with pain, and sweat made hair stick to his neck and face. Harry smirked.
"What a waste."
He swung the knife handle into Legolas's temple and Legolas crashed to the ground, unconscious. Harry shook himself a little and got back to his feet. He stared down at Legolas's form, chewing on his lip in indecision.
"That won't keep you out for long, knowing elves," he muttered to himself. "A half hour, tops. Long enough for me to get what I need, get rid of what I don't." He smiled and hoisted Legolas back onto the horse, grunting with the effort. Picking up the reins, lying on the ground, he tugged it and starting running in the direction of the town.
"Help me!" he shouted. "There's been an attack! Help me, please!" He drew out his wand from his right side, opposite from where the knife had hung, and smirked.
Four elves ran out of the town's gate almost immediately, searching the plains with keen eyes. Their eyes landed simultaneously on Legolas and Harry, and they drew arrows and fitted them to bows. Harry waved his hand frantically, putting a limp into his run, wiping the smile off his face.
"T-they got the guard," he shouted, making his voice tight with pain. "They almost killed my friend. I barely escaped with my life -- it was a surprise attack --" They lowered their bows, still suspicious, but one of them noticed Legolas's limp form upon Arod and gasped.
"Legolas Thranduilion!" he said, and the other elves's eyes widened imperceptibly.
"We must get you inside!" another one of the elves said and tried to take the reins from Harry. Harry felt his eyes narrow and he jerked the reins to his chest, a not-quite-false feeling of protection making him hiss at the elf.
"Don't."
The elf paused, and nodded, his eyes darting from Legolas's face to Harry's and making assumptions that were probably not entirely untrue.
"Take them to Cirdan, Earendur," a black-haired elf said shortly, his eyes scanning the plain again. "I will gather a group of elves to search for these rogue Orcs. They will not escape."
The elf who had tried to take Arod nodded, his composure regained, and turned. "Follow me," he said, already beginning to walk back into the town. The three other elves ran gracefully in before him.
The walk was made in complete silence, with the other elf casting cool green-eyed glances back to Harry once every few minutes; the town was picturesque, green grass growing in between the small houses, trees sprouting almost everywhere. It smelled faintly of the Sea.
They were passing in between two quaint houses when Harry saw an elf emerge out of one of the doors. He was tall, taller than most of the elves Harry had ever encountered, with long hair and wise, blue eyes, beautiful enough to make Harry's lips go dry. He exuded an air of wisdom. Harry knew immediately who he was.
"Cirdan!" Earendur called out, and the elf turned to face them, his expression impassive yet warm.
"Earendur," Cirdan greeted pleasantly, his sharp, knowing gaze taking in both Harry and Legolas in one sweep, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Cirdan knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was going to do. "What seems to be amiss, mellon-nin? I have seen a good number of elves leaving the town and heading east. Where do they go?"
"There was an Orc attack, my lord," the elf said, sketching a short bow, glancing at Legolas. "This is Legolas Thrandulion of Mirkwood. He was injured in the attack, and Palahuan was killed. We have scouts looking for them now."
"Legolas," Cirdan murmured, stepping foward, reaching a hand up to brush Legolas's hair off of his sweaty forehead. His gaze lowered and found Harry's eyes. "And who might you be?"
Harry opened his mouth to speak.
"Cirdan, where is everyone going?"
The musical voice stopped Harry immediately. A maiden -- an elf maiden. Somehow, he'd forgotten that there would have to be women and children at the Gray Havens. He didn't know how he could have forgotten such a crucial fact . He watched, a bit stunned, as the tall, slender maiden marched up to Cirdan, her long black hair waving slightly in the wind, her generous lips pursed in worry or annoyance. Her eyes caught the light, and Harry almost started; they were the strangest shade of gray --
"My apologies," the maiden said suddenly, those strange eyes taking in Harry and Legolas both. "I have forgotten my manners in my haste. I am Thaliephel. Who are you?" Her question was more curt than Cirdan's, more impatient.
Harry bowed, his stomach doing funny sorts of turns. Women and children. "I am Harry."
"Just Harry?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes," Harry said softly. "Just Harry."
"Oh," she said, and then: "You have the most unusual eyes. They are very beautiful." Then she blinked at him, as if surprised at her own response. He clenched his wand tighter in his fist, and for some reason his eyes were burning; he refused to acknowledge the burning as tears.
"A seed of evil," he mumbled under his breath, and Thaliephel frowned and leaned closer.
"What did you say?"
Cirdan had a strange, accepting expression on his face.. Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Cirdan's throat. Thaliephel and Earendur made no move to stop him, staring as if transfixed. Cirdan looked at him steadily.
"Avada Kedavra."
Cirdan crumpled to the ground gracefully, beautiful even in death, looking as if he had fallen asleep. Earendur whirled to face him while Thaliephel went to her knees with a cry. "What have you done?" the elf cried, drawing his knife and lunging blindly for Harry. Harry calmly drew his own knife in his left hand and drove it into the elf's stomach, staring coolly as the elf fell to the ground, writhing silently in pain. Thaliephel stared up at him with wide, beautiful gray eyes.
He turned and strolled away.
He walked into the the first house he came to and threw open the door, bloody knife in one hand and his wand in the other. Inside the front room was a small elf child, looking to be about four, and who Harry assumed to be her older brother. The brother looked up as he entered and the elf's eyes widened; Harry could only imagine what he looked like, sweat and blood smeared across his face.
"Nelothwen!" the elf called in desperation, reaching over and grabbing the small girl-child's hand, yanking her back to what he assumed was safety. Harry smiled grimly when the elf grabbed a sword that had been sitting on the table and held it out in front of him, obviously a bit too young to have any experience. Harry batted it away with his smaller knife like it was nothing. The elf barely had time to utter a plea before Harry slashed the knife across his stomach viscously and the elf fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach, trying desperately to hold the spilling organs in his body.
The small elf girl looked up at Harry with huge, innocent blue eyes, twisting the hem of her skirt between two small, grubby fingers. Harry stared back down at her, at the tips of her pointed ears, and raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra." She fell like a stone, her dress soaking up her brother's blood.
Harry stood over her body for a long time before he left the house.
He visited every other house systematically, silently. He would have expected Thaliephel to raise the alarm, but she knelt silently over Cirdan's body; every time he came out of a house she was still kneeling there, her hands covering her face, shoulders shaking slightly.
The children were the hardest. He used a curse for those; they didn't know what was coming, then. Somehow, it didn't make it any easier afterwards, when he was looking into their staring, accusing eyes, blank with the sleep of death.
The older elves, male and female, he slaughtered like animals.
He emerged from the last house covered in blood, face an expressionless mask, and started back for the center of the town where he had left his horse. He hoped beyond hope that Thaliephel was gone. He rounded a corner and his eyes narrowed.
Legolas was awake and off his horse. He and Thaliephel were hugging tightly over Cirdan's motionless body, tears streaming down both their faces. They were beautiful in their grief. It made Harry's fists clench and his heart ache.
Thaliephel saw him first and jumped to her feet, pulling a dazed Legolas up with her and guarding him with her own body.
"Stay back," she hissed, baring her teeth when Harry didn't do as she commanded. He walked forward slowly, his eyes trained on Legolas's own. Legolas held his chin up high, but he had a definate exhausted slump to his stance, and Harry could see a faint trembling traveling up his body.
"Leave now, and I will spare your life," he said softly. She shook her head and glared.
"You will not hurt Legolas Thranduilion!"
Harry sighed, flexing his hand around the knife hilt, and Legolas must have seen something murderous in his eyes, because he flung Thaliephel to the ground and stood over her protectively.
"Do not, Harry," he said hoarsely, his blue eyes pleading more expressively with Harry then any wordy supplication. "Haldir will -- Harry, you must not, please! Please." Thaliephel got to her feet slowly.
"Get out of my way, Legolas," Harry said quietly, starting foward again, and a dark part of Harry's mind savored the way Legolas's eyes became a bit more liquid blue with fear.
When Legolas tried to move in front of Thaliephel again, Harry placed his wand hand on Legolas's shoulder and easily knocked him to the ground, as weakened as he was. Thaliephel stood alone, shaking but standing her ground.
She gasped when the cold metal slid into her stomach smoothly, and when Harry pulled the knife out her hands flew to to the wound. Blood spilled over her fingers and dripped to the ground, and she slowly fell to her knees, bowing her head as if in prayer. He heard Legolas's anguished sob from behind him but largely ignored it, focused instead on the suffering, dying beauty of Thaliephel. After what seemed like hours she fell foward with a soft thump onto the red-stained grass.
A moment later Legolas flew into his side, knocking him to the ground. He smirked. He had wondered when Legolas would get his spirit back. It seemed like he hadn't had long to wait after all.
"You -- you -- murdering --" Legolas hissed, unable to get words out in his fury, catching the side of Harry's cheek with a blow from a fist. Harry's head snapped to the side, his face burning.
"We seem to get into this situation a lot, Legolas," Harry sighed. "It really is quite hopeless. After all, it's not like anyone is left alive to help you."
That made Legolas pause in his blind rage. "No one?" he ventured, his voice trembling. Harry nodded, smiling.
"No one," he agreed. Legolas sat back, letting Harry up, staring at the grass in disbelief.
"The children?"
Harry's lips thinned in anger for just a moment before he relaxed, hauling Legolas up by his shoulder. Legolas cried out in surprised hurt when Harry's fingers pressed into an angry open wound. "Get on the horse and come with me."
"Why?" Legolas asked softly, staring into Harry's eyes from beneath his lowered lashes. On anyone else Harry would have thought it was contrived, seductive, but on Legolas it was a look of pure innocence and hurt. He placed a forceful, almost brutal kiss on Legolas's lips, and Legolas opened them without a word of protest. When he pulled back finally, there was blood smeared across the milky paleness of Legolas's skin and the pink of his lips. Harry smirked to see the hint of tears remaining in Legolas's eyes.
"I think I have found us a ship."
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A/N: Okay, so there wasn't much Haldir and Draco. Next chapter, I promise. Violence took up the good portion of this chapter. Hmm -- I've had this planned for a while now, but it didn't turn out like I thought it would. I rather like it regardless, and I hope you do, too. Leave me a review, okay? And sorry about the horribly long time in between chapters. I know I'm bad. Shame, shame on me.
Chapter Eleven: Perfection and Dust
by Capella
A/N: First off, v. sorry this chapter took so long. I got busy with newspaper deadlines/schoolwork/life. That, and I have a tendency to get really lazy. This same thing happened about the exact same time through Shadow of a Doubt -- but I'll make it through. Just forced myself to write and that was that. So sorry bout this. :)
Let me see here -- what else? Nothing, really. I don't know where this quote came from, but it was given to me by a friend. If you find out where it's from, tell me so I can give them credit.
Oh, and thank you thank you THANK YOU to stardust fawkes. You rule, and are officially the master of advice. I bow to your superior wisdom and just all around coolness.
Here's your first look into Harry's psyche. Will it answer any of your burning questions? ...Probably not, and it's not supposed to. But feel free to make all the assumptions you want -- there are some (hopefully) subtle and tricky hints in there. :) Plus, there is nothing I love to write more than a weird, cruel Harry. It's a vice.
WARNING: quite a bit of violence, of the non-sexual kind. And I mean it, too. You'll know it when you get there. Sorry in advance, but it was necessary.
Well, that's it! Thanks so much for all the reviews, I loved them. I loved them! Give me more and I love you even more! (...no, that's not a bribe...)
__________________________
"My heart lies somewhere between perfection and dust. And while my soul is a sight to behold, I shatter at the blink of an eye."
-- Anonymous?
__________________________
"Legolas."
Legolas blinked, awakened from his healing sleep, and stared blankly down at the ground passing by underneath Arod's swift feet, feeling strangely -- empty.
"Wake up!" Harry sounded more irritated now. Legolas tried to raise his head from where it laid on Harry's back, his forehead pressed into Harry's neck, but he couldn't seem to find the energy or the will; he blinked again, and the world spun sickeningly. He tried to say Harry's name, tried to say anything at all, but all that escaped his lips was an incoherent, breathy whimper. A scab on his cheek cracked when he moved his lips, and he felt the blood trickle past the corner of his mouth and slowly down his neck.
"Still weak from last night's lesson, love?" Harry asked, stroking Legolas's cheek fondly, laughing when Legolas flinched. "I told you not to try and escape. I told you. You just didn't listen." Harry traced Legolas's lips with an almost startling gentleness. "Now, I need you to look. What is that?"
Legolas bit his lip and tried to raise his head again, but he could only manage to lift it weakly before it lolled back forward onto his chest. Harry sighed and lifted Legolas's chin with two fingers until he could see what lay on the horizon. His eyes widened.
"Valar," he whispered in a choked, raspy voice, his breath coming in panicky gasps, and he had to part his lips slightly to get enough air. Harry laughed.
"We're there, aren't we? The Gray Havens." Harry regarded the town with an amused glance, his eyes gone large-pupiled and wide. "And they haven't the slightest idea of what's coming."
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"You know, I always knew Harry was kind of crazy. Do you want to know why?"
Haldir's head lolled back onto Draco's shoulder, his expression slack and peaceful in sleep. A tiny prick of fear made Draco take his hands off the reins and shake Haldir's shoulders urgently. Haldir's head sagged forward as if his neck was too weak to support it, his hair falling and hiding his face. Draco shook his shoulders again, harder, his breathing loud in his own ears.
"Come on, Haldir, I need you to stay with me, love." His voice shook slightly, betraying his growing unease at Haldir's unnatural deep sleep, and he would have been ashamed had anyone been around -- or awake -- to hear it.
Haldir's head rose slightly and Draco saw his eyelashes flutter.
"What is it?" Haldir asked, voice hoarse and slow, as if he had difficulty getting the words out. Draco was beginning to suspect a mild concussion. Instead of answering right away, Draco turned Haldir's head with his hand and placed a small kiss on Haldir's bruised lips that Haldir received with sleepy acceptance; Draco realized with a wry smirk that there were a few good things about Haldir and concussions, and getting away with a few stolen kisses seemed to be one of them. He took his hand off Haldir's cheek and smiled gently; the gesture almost hurt, it was so unfamiliar to him.
"We're almost to Minas Tirith," he said, talking slowly, "and I need you to stay awake for me. Please." He saw Haldir nod his head, murmur a faint acceptance. Draco smiled sincerely again -- it was a bit easier, the second time -- and twisted back around in his saddle.
"Why -- are we going there?" Haldir asked fuzzily, playing with the edges of Draco's tunic with two of his fingers. Draco drew a sharp breath when Haldir's finger grazed the skin of his waist.
"You're a bit banged up," he managed, and it made it a bit easier to concentrate when Haldir withdrew his hand. "We're almost there, I promise. Look, can't you see it? Just there." Not even sure if Haldir could see clearly or not, he pointed to the shining city not a mile ahead of them, trying to keep his mind off of Haldir's hot breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
"Have I ever told you about my future wife?" Haldir asked in a strange, dreamy sort of voice. Draco's throat closed up and his heart did a strange sort of jump in his chest.
"No, you haven't," he managed. Whatever it took to keep Haldir awake. "What -- what is her name?"
Haldir let out a short sigh against Draco's shoulderblade. "She is beautiful," he sighed. "Her name is Thaliephel, one of Galadriel's handmaidens. More beautiful than Galadriel herself. Long, black hair and the strangest color eyes -- a funny sort of gray --" He sounded as if he were drifting again into sleep, so Draco gave him a subtle elbow under his ribs to urge him on.
"And?"
"And what?" Haldir asked, sounding annoyed. Draco sighed, staring at the gleaming white peaks of Minas Tirith and wishing that he was there already, wishing that Haldir would come out of the concussed, delirious state of mind he'd gradually slipped into.
"Where is she now?"
Haldir shifted in his seat, almost draping himself on Draco's back, exhaling tiredly. "At the Gray Havens," he murmured. "How I wish I were there."
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It was almost contemptible, the way elves had gotten so complacent and laid back after the defeat of Sauron. It almost seemed an affront, somehow, but he couldn't figure out why. All he knew was that, when he saw the lone elvish guard standing watch outside the town, looking alert but slightly bored, it was almost enough to make his blood boil.
He felt Legolas's tears on his shoulder, soaking through the cloth of his light shirt, and smiled.
"Please, Harry." He could barely make out the breathless, broken words from behind him. "You do not have to do this --"
Harry smiled pleasantly while waving to the guard on duty in front of the town. The guard nodded smartly back and walked forward towards them. "But I do, Legolas," he said quietly out of the corner of his mouth. "I haven't got a ship. How can I get to Valinor without a ship?" He shook his head, annoyed, when a few more tears dripped onto his shirt. It was almost a shame -- he remembered when he'd come to Middle-earth at first, how silent and emotionless Legolas had been; he had admired it. And now that same elf was broken, bleeding, crying on his shoulder. Contemptible.
The guardian elf was almost near the horse now, his delicate brow furrowed in worry as he took in Legolas's injuries and listing gaze with velvet brown eyes. Harry almost had to repress a smirk. "He is injured grievously," the guard said when he finally stood next to the horse, reaching up to lay a gentle hand on Legolas's thigh, frowning when the muscle jumped under his hand and Legolas made a soft noise of protest. The guard took his hand away quickly, and his eyebrows raised as he took in the blood staining his palm.
"Oh, yes," Harry said softly, "very grievously." He swung down from the horse and without his support Legolas fell forward a bit until his head rested on the horse's mane. From on the ground, Harry could see the blood soaking through the soft white of Legolas's shirt. He turned to face the guard.
"We should get him to Cirdan immediately." The guard wasn't even paying attention to Harry, not really, all his attention focused on Legolas, and it was almost too easy for Harry to ease his hand down to his side and grip the hilt of the knife hanging there.
"We should," Harry agreed and plunged a knife through the elf's chest. The elf's gentle eyes became almost laughably wide and he reached for his own knife; Harry didn't give him the chance, pulling out the knife and punching it back through in one smooth motion. The elf hung there, impaled, blood bubbling up and oozing down his chest and out of his mouth. He was fairly pretty, in an ethereal sort of way, and he looked achingly young. It made a part of Harry's stomach twist in something that he didn't like to identify, something that felt a little bit like pity. He heard Legolas give a startled, horrified cry from behind him and smiled. Legolas wouldn't be intervening with his play -- Harry had made certain of that the night before.
"What was your name, again?" Harry asked amicably. The elf was beginning to shake now, his skin turning a sickly shade of gray.
"P-palahuan," he stuttered in a breathy, whimpering tone that made Harry smile.
"God, but those Orcs came out of nowhere, didn't they, Palahuan?" he asked, watching as the young elf's eyes widened even more in horror and understanding, lips white save for the blood. He was moments away from dying. Harry gave the knife a minute twist and the elf gasped in pain, eyes drifting to Legolas's trembling form.
"You -- did t-that," he got out.
"I did," Harry agreed pleasantly enough. "Goodbye, Palahuan." He yanked the knife out savagely, barely backing up in time to miss the spurt of blood that followed the knife out of the elf's body even as Palahuan crumpled. The lovely brown eyes were blank in death; Harry's stomach did a funny sort of lurch, and for reasons he didn't know, he bent down to smooth the elf's silky blonde hair out of the unseeing brown eyes.
"You -- monster --" Legolas whispered in a voice that held misery and betrayal and horror, and Harry straightened, on a swift track to irritation.
"I don't have the time to punish you, Legolas," Harry said, turning around and regarding Legolas with a steely gaze; the stark, unthinking fear in Legolas's eyes sent a jolt of dark, lustful fire through his veins. He stalked closer to the horse, watching as Legolas struggled to sit up and not lean, vulnerable, on Arod's neck; he placed a deliberate hand on Legolas's thigh, feeling the trembling flesh under his fingertips and somehow both saddened and delighted.
For a moment, utter revulsion for what he was about to do -- what he had already done -- blanketed his mind in one all-encompassing emotion and he abruptly bent over, his stomach turning at the smell of blood on his hands, on Legolas's body. He had to fight not to vomit.
"Harry?" Legolas asked timidly.
"How can you be worried for me?" Harry exploded suddenly without a thought why, stabbing an accusing finger in Legolas's dirty, surprised face. "You idiot, I almost kill you and you're still worried for me?"
Legolas's brows furrowed for a moment before -- for some reason that Harry envied -- a look of almost complete peace came over his face, and he relaxed, staring at Harry with acceptance.
"Because I love you."
Harry's stomach clenched violently, and for a moment he was assaulted by a wave of revulsion and fear; the world went alarmingly blurry and then dark, and for just a second he was overtaken with the notion that what he was about to do was so wrong that he'd never be forgiven, that the loss of life for this purpose was not what he intended to do.
A seed of evil.
Harry's hands went up to his temples at the blinding pain that suddenly invaded his mind, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He shook his head. "A seed of evil," he moaned, falling to his knees. "A plague on this earth -- elves -- oh god, please." It felt as if knives were being driven through his eyesockets and into his skull, drilling into his brain, demanding compliance.
Then suddenly the pain was gone and he was staring straight up into Legolas's beautiful concerned eyes.
"You got off the horse," he whispered.
"I did," Legolas said, his voice steady and calm, though he was trembling with pain, and sweat made hair stick to his neck and face. Harry smirked.
"What a waste."
He swung the knife handle into Legolas's temple and Legolas crashed to the ground, unconscious. Harry shook himself a little and got back to his feet. He stared down at Legolas's form, chewing on his lip in indecision.
"That won't keep you out for long, knowing elves," he muttered to himself. "A half hour, tops. Long enough for me to get what I need, get rid of what I don't." He smiled and hoisted Legolas back onto the horse, grunting with the effort. Picking up the reins, lying on the ground, he tugged it and starting running in the direction of the town.
"Help me!" he shouted. "There's been an attack! Help me, please!" He drew out his wand from his right side, opposite from where the knife had hung, and smirked.
Four elves ran out of the town's gate almost immediately, searching the plains with keen eyes. Their eyes landed simultaneously on Legolas and Harry, and they drew arrows and fitted them to bows. Harry waved his hand frantically, putting a limp into his run, wiping the smile off his face.
"T-they got the guard," he shouted, making his voice tight with pain. "They almost killed my friend. I barely escaped with my life -- it was a surprise attack --" They lowered their bows, still suspicious, but one of them noticed Legolas's limp form upon Arod and gasped.
"Legolas Thranduilion!" he said, and the other elves's eyes widened imperceptibly.
"We must get you inside!" another one of the elves said and tried to take the reins from Harry. Harry felt his eyes narrow and he jerked the reins to his chest, a not-quite-false feeling of protection making him hiss at the elf.
"Don't."
The elf paused, and nodded, his eyes darting from Legolas's face to Harry's and making assumptions that were probably not entirely untrue.
"Take them to Cirdan, Earendur," a black-haired elf said shortly, his eyes scanning the plain again. "I will gather a group of elves to search for these rogue Orcs. They will not escape."
The elf who had tried to take Arod nodded, his composure regained, and turned. "Follow me," he said, already beginning to walk back into the town. The three other elves ran gracefully in before him.
The walk was made in complete silence, with the other elf casting cool green-eyed glances back to Harry once every few minutes; the town was picturesque, green grass growing in between the small houses, trees sprouting almost everywhere. It smelled faintly of the Sea.
They were passing in between two quaint houses when Harry saw an elf emerge out of one of the doors. He was tall, taller than most of the elves Harry had ever encountered, with long hair and wise, blue eyes, beautiful enough to make Harry's lips go dry. He exuded an air of wisdom. Harry knew immediately who he was.
"Cirdan!" Earendur called out, and the elf turned to face them, his expression impassive yet warm.
"Earendur," Cirdan greeted pleasantly, his sharp, knowing gaze taking in both Harry and Legolas in one sweep, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Cirdan knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was going to do. "What seems to be amiss, mellon-nin? I have seen a good number of elves leaving the town and heading east. Where do they go?"
"There was an Orc attack, my lord," the elf said, sketching a short bow, glancing at Legolas. "This is Legolas Thrandulion of Mirkwood. He was injured in the attack, and Palahuan was killed. We have scouts looking for them now."
"Legolas," Cirdan murmured, stepping foward, reaching a hand up to brush Legolas's hair off of his sweaty forehead. His gaze lowered and found Harry's eyes. "And who might you be?"
Harry opened his mouth to speak.
"Cirdan, where is everyone going?"
The musical voice stopped Harry immediately. A maiden -- an elf maiden. Somehow, he'd forgotten that there would have to be women and children at the Gray Havens. He didn't know how he could have forgotten such a crucial fact . He watched, a bit stunned, as the tall, slender maiden marched up to Cirdan, her long black hair waving slightly in the wind, her generous lips pursed in worry or annoyance. Her eyes caught the light, and Harry almost started; they were the strangest shade of gray --
"My apologies," the maiden said suddenly, those strange eyes taking in Harry and Legolas both. "I have forgotten my manners in my haste. I am Thaliephel. Who are you?" Her question was more curt than Cirdan's, more impatient.
Harry bowed, his stomach doing funny sorts of turns. Women and children. "I am Harry."
"Just Harry?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes," Harry said softly. "Just Harry."
"Oh," she said, and then: "You have the most unusual eyes. They are very beautiful." Then she blinked at him, as if surprised at her own response. He clenched his wand tighter in his fist, and for some reason his eyes were burning; he refused to acknowledge the burning as tears.
"A seed of evil," he mumbled under his breath, and Thaliephel frowned and leaned closer.
"What did you say?"
Cirdan had a strange, accepting expression on his face.. Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Cirdan's throat. Thaliephel and Earendur made no move to stop him, staring as if transfixed. Cirdan looked at him steadily.
"Avada Kedavra."
Cirdan crumpled to the ground gracefully, beautiful even in death, looking as if he had fallen asleep. Earendur whirled to face him while Thaliephel went to her knees with a cry. "What have you done?" the elf cried, drawing his knife and lunging blindly for Harry. Harry calmly drew his own knife in his left hand and drove it into the elf's stomach, staring coolly as the elf fell to the ground, writhing silently in pain. Thaliephel stared up at him with wide, beautiful gray eyes.
He turned and strolled away.
He walked into the the first house he came to and threw open the door, bloody knife in one hand and his wand in the other. Inside the front room was a small elf child, looking to be about four, and who Harry assumed to be her older brother. The brother looked up as he entered and the elf's eyes widened; Harry could only imagine what he looked like, sweat and blood smeared across his face.
"Nelothwen!" the elf called in desperation, reaching over and grabbing the small girl-child's hand, yanking her back to what he assumed was safety. Harry smiled grimly when the elf grabbed a sword that had been sitting on the table and held it out in front of him, obviously a bit too young to have any experience. Harry batted it away with his smaller knife like it was nothing. The elf barely had time to utter a plea before Harry slashed the knife across his stomach viscously and the elf fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach, trying desperately to hold the spilling organs in his body.
The small elf girl looked up at Harry with huge, innocent blue eyes, twisting the hem of her skirt between two small, grubby fingers. Harry stared back down at her, at the tips of her pointed ears, and raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra." She fell like a stone, her dress soaking up her brother's blood.
Harry stood over her body for a long time before he left the house.
He visited every other house systematically, silently. He would have expected Thaliephel to raise the alarm, but she knelt silently over Cirdan's body; every time he came out of a house she was still kneeling there, her hands covering her face, shoulders shaking slightly.
The children were the hardest. He used a curse for those; they didn't know what was coming, then. Somehow, it didn't make it any easier afterwards, when he was looking into their staring, accusing eyes, blank with the sleep of death.
The older elves, male and female, he slaughtered like animals.
He emerged from the last house covered in blood, face an expressionless mask, and started back for the center of the town where he had left his horse. He hoped beyond hope that Thaliephel was gone. He rounded a corner and his eyes narrowed.
Legolas was awake and off his horse. He and Thaliephel were hugging tightly over Cirdan's motionless body, tears streaming down both their faces. They were beautiful in their grief. It made Harry's fists clench and his heart ache.
Thaliephel saw him first and jumped to her feet, pulling a dazed Legolas up with her and guarding him with her own body.
"Stay back," she hissed, baring her teeth when Harry didn't do as she commanded. He walked forward slowly, his eyes trained on Legolas's own. Legolas held his chin up high, but he had a definate exhausted slump to his stance, and Harry could see a faint trembling traveling up his body.
"Leave now, and I will spare your life," he said softly. She shook her head and glared.
"You will not hurt Legolas Thranduilion!"
Harry sighed, flexing his hand around the knife hilt, and Legolas must have seen something murderous in his eyes, because he flung Thaliephel to the ground and stood over her protectively.
"Do not, Harry," he said hoarsely, his blue eyes pleading more expressively with Harry then any wordy supplication. "Haldir will -- Harry, you must not, please! Please." Thaliephel got to her feet slowly.
"Get out of my way, Legolas," Harry said quietly, starting foward again, and a dark part of Harry's mind savored the way Legolas's eyes became a bit more liquid blue with fear.
When Legolas tried to move in front of Thaliephel again, Harry placed his wand hand on Legolas's shoulder and easily knocked him to the ground, as weakened as he was. Thaliephel stood alone, shaking but standing her ground.
She gasped when the cold metal slid into her stomach smoothly, and when Harry pulled the knife out her hands flew to to the wound. Blood spilled over her fingers and dripped to the ground, and she slowly fell to her knees, bowing her head as if in prayer. He heard Legolas's anguished sob from behind him but largely ignored it, focused instead on the suffering, dying beauty of Thaliephel. After what seemed like hours she fell foward with a soft thump onto the red-stained grass.
A moment later Legolas flew into his side, knocking him to the ground. He smirked. He had wondered when Legolas would get his spirit back. It seemed like he hadn't had long to wait after all.
"You -- you -- murdering --" Legolas hissed, unable to get words out in his fury, catching the side of Harry's cheek with a blow from a fist. Harry's head snapped to the side, his face burning.
"We seem to get into this situation a lot, Legolas," Harry sighed. "It really is quite hopeless. After all, it's not like anyone is left alive to help you."
That made Legolas pause in his blind rage. "No one?" he ventured, his voice trembling. Harry nodded, smiling.
"No one," he agreed. Legolas sat back, letting Harry up, staring at the grass in disbelief.
"The children?"
Harry's lips thinned in anger for just a moment before he relaxed, hauling Legolas up by his shoulder. Legolas cried out in surprised hurt when Harry's fingers pressed into an angry open wound. "Get on the horse and come with me."
"Why?" Legolas asked softly, staring into Harry's eyes from beneath his lowered lashes. On anyone else Harry would have thought it was contrived, seductive, but on Legolas it was a look of pure innocence and hurt. He placed a forceful, almost brutal kiss on Legolas's lips, and Legolas opened them without a word of protest. When he pulled back finally, there was blood smeared across the milky paleness of Legolas's skin and the pink of his lips. Harry smirked to see the hint of tears remaining in Legolas's eyes.
"I think I have found us a ship."
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A/N: Okay, so there wasn't much Haldir and Draco. Next chapter, I promise. Violence took up the good portion of this chapter. Hmm -- I've had this planned for a while now, but it didn't turn out like I thought it would. I rather like it regardless, and I hope you do, too. Leave me a review, okay? And sorry about the horribly long time in between chapters. I know I'm bad. Shame, shame on me.