Heartbeat

Look upon Death as you would Life.

For that thing of Love will not go on

Forever.

How might it have ended with one fair more? Now there is one less than there was at start. Sooner might the search have begun were it not for those wretches who refuse to die. Axed, slew and shot, some lived in vain to the fallen with no remorse for their overstayed unwelcome nor for those they had killed on the grounds of Pelennor Field. Aragorn and Gimli searched with stout yet waning hearts. What should they do to hap upon a dead Elf? And what to find him alive but dying? Broken bodied and bloody would be Legolas, as it would be the only way to bring down a strong Elf as he.

Though he was small Gimli's heart was larger than most. Not dead would he accept Legolas but living and in fine health as it would fit being pummeled by an Oliphaunt's trunk. Yet visions could not be saved off from his traveling mind. The swing and hit of the trunk to Legolas' back. The near hit of the spikes to his body. The cruel landing to the ground amongst countless Orks and Uroks. How might the Elf fair now? Gimli had seen Legolas climb atop the Oliphant whom assaulted him. Not much after was seen save for the falling heads and squirting blood of the enemies he, Gimli, axed and slew. But his mind made up for that.

Gimli pictured uwanted images of the Elf. The Oliphaunt stampeded to a fallen Legolas swatting any in its path like flies. It came to Legolas who with a knife stabbed the creature in its menacing trunk and climbed with his utmost strength, climbing up the trunk to the head of the thing. Arrows flew to him with spears from the rider however none touched him. None until he reached closer. One arrow pierced his chest and another side. Still he climbed, using set arrows as weapons. He shot down one with each arrow, sending it back to the heart of its master. The rider was last to meet his hate. He, however, thought contrary. Spears at side he reached and threw. One gone to the left shoulder and so threw another to the right. Clinging to hope and what strength resided within him Legolas pulled up. No more held his body under the weight of exhaustion and assault and so fell the Elf. Under the feet of the beast and from that, death. Gimli watched with angry, mournful eyes as his companion, his friend, fell to an undeserving death.

A hand. On his shoulder. Gimli's nightmare was brought out by Aragorn.

"Think not of his peril but keep in your heart his life." Said the smart Ranger.

"How can I help it? I could not see after his collision. Only guess. And my guess betrayed me. I give the Elf little valor."

"Little? You think little of Legolas? There is no truth in these words. You as much as I know the heart of an Elf cannot be brought down by evil's furry. He is alive." Aragorn hoped he was right. Aragorn, too, held bad visions. Also he saw Legolas be attacked by a raging Oliphaunt. Also he saw him fall. Also his nightmare brought death to a noble creature. Aragorn pictured it.

Legolas climbed on the tusk where lay the rope of spikes as well as the danger of an angry trunk. Legolas jumped across to the other side, he saw, and climbed up by the rope which hung down from the top of the group of men. Climbing and counting each shot by an arrow. Even near death he would still compete. But his injury would not allow so much action. Legolas was pierced by an arrow to the chest so near his heart it skipped a beat before going back in panic. Another struck and another. Bravely fought was he, loathed yet feared. And drug up to meet them for an all too quick death. Pulling they brought him and counted were their men upon his arrow. By now he stood with the enemy, by now they slew his heart. Legolas fell.

"Aragorn?"

"Gimli. He has to be here." And if still, he thought, he would repulse his heart.

Quickly and with great fear to them the ghosts cleaned the city of those sent by Sauron. The enemy did flee at their fingers and died in their hunger even in death. The exile to their master and the field taken right by those left for ally. Aragorn was forced to cut short his eyes for Legolas to free those who helped in their own death.

Eomer in sadness and fury found his sister, Aowen, on the battle grounds. He cradled her and wept loudly before carrying her to be healed. Pippin found also Marry in fright but alive. The cousins embraced, happy for each other's life. Theodin was dead, along with many other who were friends. And now the Elf might be among them. News of this reached all ears and their eyes built held back tears. The hobbits wept at the sound of the King's death and Legolas' disappearance which may prove his own along with Theodin. Still at his sister's side Eomer did cry to hear of Theodin. His uncle, dead. The Rohirim wept.

And the Elf. Bravest among his people and sole of his kind on the battle ground. Beautiful as men could be and deadly to foe he was one of their greatest allies. Now to be dead? This friend of Kings and a Prince himself? None would keep it. They would search. Those able would search.

Legolas opened his mind. He was somewhere he did not know. No pain in his body as of yet and he could not remember the last events of the day that passed. Darkness and pain passed through him, not of the body but of the heart. His fall meant loss to his friends is what his heart told him. He felt them weeping. Was the battle lost? Or had they won? What was their fate? What was his? Was he dead? He felt it. He felt death's hand reach for his soul and yet there also was life to protect him. He moved, eyes remaining shut as he brought a hand to his face.

Where am I?