I'm just going to give up on updating properly. This is my first chance to get online in a week--the rest of the time it's been work and sleep the whole time. Then school's coming. Joy.

Iluvenis: Maybe this will clear things up a bit... and maybe it'll make it worse.

Swasti: Where was Legolas snubbed?

LJP: Ashes and Glorfindel share something that is beyond anyone else, because no one else is left of it. I realize that's a bit cryptic, so I'll hedge. Glorfindel knew her parents, and recognized her for who she was when they first met.

Chapter 15 The path the dead take

When the low murmur of foreign conversation died away, Legolas glanced back at them curiously. Ashes and Glorfindel had been talking, quietly, almost since they had set off a week ago. To hear them fall silent was a shock, especially when the terrain was fairly easy going. Of course, it was going to get a bit difficult…

His thoughts stilled when he saw her, how perfectly still she had become. Glorfindel was watching her in uneasy confusion. He turned his horse, and waited for her to look up. Her eyes were nearly black when she did. "Orcs," she murmured softly.

He lifted a brow, and she tapped her nose. A moment later, a thicker breeze drifted up from the valley below them, and he could smell them as well. An orc's smell wasn't something one would want to know, much less endeavor to describe, but it was something no one could forget, once they first noticed it. For some, the terror of the creatures was enough to block out some senses.

He didn't know if that was good or not…

He blanched, glancing up to see if she had—

She had. She froze, then leapt from her horse to gaze at the ground below them. A few tense moments later, they could hear the unmistakable sound of blades striking each other, and the occasional horrible sound of someone gasping, groaning, a scream—

Elleri and two other elves broke from the forest, running towards the river, blood mingling with blood, red and black, dripping and splashed. An arrow zoomed from the cover of the woods, bringing one of the survivors down. Elleri turned, firing quickly if a bit awkwardly, as his sword wasn't released to do so. A harsh cry, and no more arrows came.

"Bows!" Legolas cried. "Fire into the wood!" He gazed around for an easy way down as the orcs began bursting from the deep wood into the slight space between forest and water, large crude blades held up in ready.

"Ri!" the strangled cry came for an instant, then someone jumped from the cliff, diving into the water far below.

The orcs seemed to find that amusing—the archers above couldn't stop them from getting to her, though they didn't know it was a her, and they swarmed along the river, waiting for their prey to surface. Elleri and Ferien were still fighting, but slowing down rather obviously. Legolas found a path that wouldn't kill them, and took most of the elves with him, ordering his best archers to remain. From the path, he saw Ashes appear from the water far upstream, slipping silently into the woods, coming up behind the orcs. Before the elves with him reached the ground, she had dived into the fray, blades arching in wild and furious paths, beheading and slashing, sweeping and destroying with a savage intensity that startled the orcs for a moment before enraging them.

To watch a good fighter was a thing of beauty, but she was cloaked in black—head to toe as her opponents' blood drenched her as she passed through them. By the time they could help, there was little left to do, and their horses trod over layers of dead.

"Ri," Ashes murmured, dropping to her knees beside him where he had eventually fallen just moments before she had decided the battle. She tilted his head up, looking deeply into him. "Where are the others?" she asked, grasping his shirt tightly, cradling his head so gently.

"Fallen… mostly dead," he rasped, trying to get up.

"Shh," she murmured softly, holding him down easily. "How far in?"

"A few minutes walk," he replied, before falling limp against her with a groan.

Legolas jerked his head, ordering the elves without words into the wood, knowing the orcs wouldn't have stayed to despoil them when there were more to kill. "How bad is it?" he asked, not getting a reply.

"Too much blood loss," Ashes murmured, matter-of-factly as she removed her tunic, cutting a strip from the thick material to work as a bandage. When the worst wound was thus staunched, she whistled sharply, a bird-call which brought her horse to her quickly, denying him the pleasure he had been indulging in—stamping the orcs into dust. Their black blood was merely a sheen to his coat.

She got up, lifting Elleri, and her horse knelt without pause for her to burden him. Once upon his back, she looked at Legolas.

"Go. Don't stop for anyone. Ride up the damned steps if you have to," he added, as the others—even Glorfindel, who had been all but sewn to her hip since his arrival—had gone to search out any other survivors. Ferien was injured as well, but his wound was a minor one, as Elleri had pushed him back a bit, using him to shield his back as he fought the coming waves… as long as he could.

She inclined her head slightly and shifted Elleri in her arms, before horse and rider spun around, black hair flying behind them as they all but flew back to the hall.

A three day ride, at their normal pace.

She should be there by sundown.

After saying a quick prayer for his brother he found an elven leg in the midst of orc parts, and shoved the putrid mess aside to recover his fallen patrol member. When he was done, he heard someone approaching. "How many?" he asked, looking up at Glorfindel.

"All but four… and we shall likely lose two of those on the ride back. Perhaps a third, as well. I sent them on."

Legolas inclined his head slightly. "And the others?"

Glorfindel sighed wearily. "They are on their horses," he murmured at last, and called a horse forward, helping Legolas get the fallen elf upon it. "I will guide him back. Go."

Legolas shook his head. "I cannot leave you alone."

"I will join the procession," Glorfindel countered. "Go find the living. Guide them back, if you can."

Legolas glanced sharply at him, but didn't say anything, and after a moment, nodded shortly. "Thank you."

Glorfindel nodded. "You are his brother first, no matter what is asked of you."

With a faint, bitter smile Legolas nodded and mentally raced over the land they were facing. He knew the path the dead would take to return, but there was a faster road for those who knew it and were unburdened. If he pressed, he could beat them all back… with the possible exception of Ashes, as she had not only gotten the first start, but had one of the best horses. Even overburdened he would press most hard to follow.

He passed a few of the horses as he went, but didn't pause, nor was it expected. They had to go only as fast as their wounded companions could endure. He had no such restriction, and in its stead, a duty to reach the King to inform him as quickly as possible of what had happened… and to give him the information he needed to send out more soldiers to deal with this threat, in the case that they had not wholly dealt with it.

The doors were starting to close when he came upon them, so it wasn't the normal heart-wrenching pause to get through, and he followed echoing hooves up stairs, down corridors, the way made easier by the person passing through just out of sight.

"What is the meaning of this?"

He growled at the question and pressed forward, his appearance stilling many as yet unasked questions. "Quickly, she-elf!" he snarled at the healer, thrusting the doors open himself, catching Citron's head to lead him into the room, making sure Ashes was ducked down enough first. She met his eyes, her own wide and dark, as she handed Elleri down to him before getting down herself. She snapped her fingers at a passing elf and gave responsibility of their horses over without a word, returning to Elleri's bedside, grabbing a cloth to wash him when the healers moved too slowly for her liking.

Hesitantly he laid his hand on hers, drawing her gently back. "Despite your no doubt over-sufficient knowledge of binding wounds on your own, perhaps it's best to let them work."

"Then let them work," she snarled, tossing the rag down.

He debated for a moment, looking at her wide, almost frightened eyes. "Ashes, get Ada, would you?"

She hesitated for a long moment, then ran from the room.

One of the healers sighed in obvious relief—which he cut short by stepping closer, checking on Elleri himself. He knew it annoyed them, but this was his brother. He would be right here until he woke…

He would wake.

"Legolas? What happened?"

He answered without turning to see his father, watching his brother's chest rise with breath after slowed breath. "Orc attack."

"But…"

"He wanted to take a small section of the patrol around the lowland at that point… it had been quiet, no signs of spiders… all was quiet, then the smell of orcs, then the sounds of battle… Elleri is one of five survivors when last I could know."

"Of how many?"

Legolas sighed. "Fourteen. I brought two of the groups along."

"How many orcs were there?"

"I don't know the full count. Where Elleri and the two still able to flee made their last stand, there were over sixty."

"Three elves dealt with sixty orcs unaided?"

"They were not unaided… and it was two, as one was quickly downed with an arrow, even before we could see the orcs. The archers did what they could from the point, and Ashes—" it was only then he realized she had slipped back into the room. "She killed many of them alone."

Thranduil's brows lifted. "Alone?"

"She was death embodied," he murmured softly, looking at the elf now, seeming so small curled up like that on the chair, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.

Thranduil looked at her, and sighed. "Ashes."

She jerked, her head snapping up at the command. "Sire?"

"Get cleaned up," he tilted his head at a partitioned section of the healing rooms. "You, too, Legolas."

Legolas hesitated for a moment before leaving his place, moving over to the washroom, scrubbing quickly, taking an odd-sized pair of leggings and slightly too-small undershirt from the shelf to wear before heading back into the room. Ashes hadn't yet appeared, which didn't surprise him. Skin was easier to clean of orc-blood than hair. His father was gone.

The chairs they had used, which had been covered with blood and mud, had been removed, and replaced with clean versions more suited to the elves they would hold. Other rooms had been opened up in waiting for the other survivors… and to deal with the dead when they arrived.

He sank into one of the chairs, pulling it so it shielded him from passing eyes, and curled up a bit, digging himself into the corner so he could rest his head against the back without craning his neck, legs drawn up on the seat with him.

He watched Elleri breathe.

"Did they say anything?"

He started at the voice, and looked up to see an unfamiliar elf gazing at Elleri. A moment later, he placed her, and found himself staring. She glanced up, catching him with her delayed question. "No."

She sighed and angled her chair as he had his, sitting for a moment before giving in, bringing her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She glanced at him. "What?"

"You look very different right now."

"Oh?" she asked, sounding a bit ragged.

"Yes," he murmured. In the plain white gown she looked much younger. Less knowing. More innocent. Her hair was drying, slowly, and curling into gentle waves as it went. The pose alone was enough to change her, of course, making her seem defenseless. Often in the first days of her return to Mirkwood, he had thought she reminded him of someone. As tended to happen, being around her had driven the nagging sense of remembrance away. The feeling was back, but this time it seemed to pull him in another direction. Unwilling, or perhaps unable to go into all of that, he settled for the most obvious and least likely to cause problems. "Your hair is curling."

"It does that, unless I comb it while wet. There are no combs here." Her words were quiet, soft, as if the harsh, controlled edge that made her such a mysterious and perhaps dangerous elf had been broken the instant her blades were sheathed. It had never happened before, in his presence, though no doubt she had softened around others. He had no idea how she could get so close to them without softening.

"Why not let it curl?" Several of the 'ladies' did their best to get such curls, and wouldn't dream of forcing it straight.

"Why? It's harder to deal with, and worse on a battlefield."

"Is that why you keep your hair short?"

She just glanced at him, and he let it drop, admitting it was a stupid thing to be asking now.

"Has he awakened?"

Legolas glanced back, peering around the edge of his chair to see his father standing just inside the door. "Is he expected to?"

"Yes. Just blood loss, they said. Nothing major, but by far plenty. He got here quickly enough."

"As far as I know, he hasn't stirred."

Thranduil nodded and drew up another chair. "They said to expect him to awake for a short while fairly soon, before he rests again until well."

"His way of reassuring himself he's still alive, and coming back."

Thranduil inclined his head slightly. "Elowar and Terine volunteered to check on things."

He nodded slightly. "Did you give my patrol over to Hathien?"

"No. But your patrol isn't on duty for another four weeks, or am I off?"

"Five weeks," Legolas murmured. "But there are minor things…"

"They can handle the mandatory minor things on their own."

He inclined his head slightly, willing, for the moment, to give control over. "Verine and Morsallien?"

"Will be controlling the curiosity and information in our places, for now. After the feast they shall no doubt join us."

"Have any of the others arrived?"

"Not yet. We will be informed."

With a nod he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

A long while later a ragged breath caught his ears and made him open his eyes. A glint of moisture snagged his gaze, as she drew another shaking breath. He waited to see if she would compose herself quickly, watching as she closed her eyes and shuddered. Another tear fell, followed quickly by a third. He unfolded himself from his chair and rounded the bed, hesitating again over her shoulder.

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, then acted before he could reconsider his coming actions… again. Before she knew what he was going to do—or maybe even that he was there—he had her settled on his lap in what had been her chair. She was tense for a long moment, clearly fighting with herself about whether she should fight him or allow him to give her this slight comfort. With a sudden sigh she slumped against him, curling into him as he could easily remember his sisters doing when they were quite young and ran to him in tears. She was curled up tightly, her entire body pressed to his chest until she began to uncoil slightly.

Time passed slowly, as they waited, measured only by the slow relaxation of the elf curled against him. Her tears were spent, her body no longer shook, her breath was easy… but she didn't move away, and he didn't ask her to. In fact, when the day began to wear upon him, he set his chin upon her head. She stirred slightly, but only to duck down a bit, making the move more comfortable for them both.

Verine and Morsallien had come in, silently, and they waited, leaving only briefly to learn and then to tell him how the other elves were, now that they had arrived. Glorfindel had been right—two had given up their hold on life during the return trip. One was very close to doing so, his wife and brother staying beside him. The fourth would survive, as long as he remained as tenacious as he always had been in the past. Ferien, of course, would be fine with a few days of rest… well, he would then be out of the healing rooms, at least. His injuries would keep him out of the active patrol for a time.

Glorfindel had come in, and stood at the foot of the bed for a time before approaching, peering at Elleri until, with a nod, he was satisfied. He glanced at the dozing Ashes, a faint frown pulling golden brows together before he shook his head and left, requesting someone be sent to inform him when any of the elves' situation changed.

Ashes began stretching, and glanced up at him before continuing her stretch.

"Nothing."

She nodded. "I would have awakened."

He inclined his head slightly.

She slid from his lap to the edge of the bed, reaching up to run a hand through her hair, absently combing her fingers through it, resettling it where it had been flattened against his chest. She gazed at Elleri for a time, and then reached up to brush a bit of his hair back, out of his face.

He stirred slightly, making her freeze. His breathing changed, a deep intake of breath before his eyelashes flickered against his cheeks, attempting the monumental task of opening. He slowly focused on her, a slight frown giving way to a smile as he reached up, touching her cheek lightly. "You came back."

Legolas frowned, very worried about his brother… well, no more than he had been from the first moment he heard blades meeting in the wood below his patrol, but physical ailments were easier to deal with than mental ones.

"Elleri…"

"Rin?" he grinned, then remembered something, and frowned. "Why didn't you say goodbye?"

Ashes closed her eyes, swallowing heavily. "Elleri…"

He tilted his head. "You look… harsher."

A faint, rueful smile lifted one corner of her lips. She shook her head slightly.

"Rin? What's wrong?" he started to sit up, but between his pain and the hand she pressed against his uninjured shoulder he settled back down without making it. "What is it?"

"You're stubborn, aren't you?" she asked softly, shaking her head again.

"Silrinil… when did you get back?"

She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. She bent, kissing him on the cheek, the pendant she had worn since her father's death swinging out of the gown, set beside a mithril key. "The eve before the trials," she whispered, then lightly traced his jaw. "Get well, won't you?"

"Will you still be here?" he asked, lifting a brow.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

He frowned. "My head is a bit muzzy. Speak plainly."

She sighed. "Silrinil as you knew her died over thirteen hundred years ago. Ashes is what came of her, is what is left, and she will be here tomorrow."

"Ashes?" he asked, frowning. He tilted his head and slowly nodded. "You are, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

"Ash… Why didn't you say goodbye?"

"I did," she murmured, before getting up. She noted the wide eyes focused on her, and sighed, shaking her head. "I shall inform Glorfindel on my way, Uncle," she murmured, bending to kiss Thranduil's brow.

"Thank you, dear one."

She inclined her head slightly and drifted from the room, a ghost of times nearly forgotten.