Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Oh...and this has a lot less 'did' in it, I promise! I need a beta reader though, so if anyone is interested, please let me know!

Chapter 2: Beneath a New Sun

Aragorn paused in his fight, his eyes sharpened by battle lust and his body tense amidst the chaos of shadowy death and destruction that surrounded him, pounding his senses from every direction. He too heard the call of the Eagles, and watched as they flew overhead, soaring freely and proudly in the smoky, acrid air that hung with heavy heart above the battle field of evil.

And as those splendid birds swooped through the searing air with wings of knives, a tumultuous roar rose from the mountain beneath which all other lands did lie, Mount Doom. Lava, vivid red and brilliant bitter orange rose and cut between the blackened day, and lit the desolate and loathsome plain with a vibrant glow as if a sunset. Or the sunrise of a new day marred by death and the spilling of such blood. All around him as he stood, the orcs began to flee as a scream, more terrible than any heard before or since, rose from the tumbling tower of Sauron.

Aragorn's heart lept with joy and relief as he realised what this meant, these fleeing creatures and this bright new light within the sky. It was over, their task, so hard and tortuous it had been, was complete, and the world was rid of such an evil as Sauron. But as his veins flowed swiftly with the emotions he had not felt for long minutes and days, he watched the lava, red hot and fast, flood from the place the Ring had now been cast, and he feared then for those who had granted these lands freedom and lasting peace from the threat of Mordor and the ever powerful leader.

What of two hobbits, small amidst such an outpouring of heat and fire? He wondered and knowing with head that none could survive such fury of a mountain, he fell to his knees, his heart clenched in rage and sorrow of their loss. Lifting his tear filled, stinging eyes, he saw Gandalf raise his staff and light up the whole of the still lurking darkness with such purity that there was pain to be found in gazing into it.

Then suddenly, he was gone, alight upon an eagle and with swift wings flying toward Mount Doom, and the rescue of two creatures who had saved the world. The tight clenching of his heart eased a little at the thought of the possibility of seeing the hobbits again, and kneeling before them in heartfelt thanks. His friends, so small and yet with such courage and bravery that it was unrivaled within the realms of Man or Elf, or even Dwarf, and he hoped with all his might, with all emotion that was left within his body, that they would be found and could be brought to happiness and unburdened life again.

So with hope and happiness within his heart, he stood again and cast his gaze around the battlefield, fast emptying of all those Orcs who could still run and flee from sight and sound. He saw the dwarf, the noble, courageous Gimli, sitting upon a body of said creature, counting out with fingers short and stubby, the numbers of his slain. He saw Eomer pull his helmet off and free his golden hair to touch the sun that now streamed across the dead and injured, and he smiled with fierce pride at the warrior. He was proud of all his friends this day, this day of renewal and rejoicing.

Seeing the gentle waving of his hair, his thoughts turned toward the fair Elf who had sought him out amid the carnage and destruction of so short a time ago, for he could not see Legolas standing among those who wandered aimlessly in shock and dreams, searching for those who had not lived to see this day, and those so injured they knew not what had come.

Picking his way through bodies stinking still of death and evil, he made his way to Gimli, who was finished in his counting and now stood in wonder and disgust of the sights before him.

'My dear dwarf' he began, resting a stained and weary hand upon his shoulder and looking out with him to the many thousands who lay and stood their.

'Ah, Aragorn. Tis good to see you made it though this petty squabble' the gruff voice said, with an ironic snort of laughter emanating from within the beard. 'And so did both the troublesome hobbits, for I see them there in anxious wait for news about their friends. But where is that pesky elf, for I wish to see his face look in wonder at this dwarf when I tell him my total for this skirmish?' Gimli looked expectantly at Aragorn as if he assumed he knew all answers to all questions, but Aragorn shook his head slightly and looked around him in hope that the Elf could now be seen.

'I do not know Gimli, for he fought with me, side by side, for many minutes but it is also many minutes since I caught sight of our dear friend and I do not see him standing now upon this battlefield.' Concern radiated from them both as they turned four eyes to search the survivors still upright now.

'You mean...' Unspoken words hung in the air between the two, as deep brown eyes met Gimli's face with tender confirmation of his meaning. The hand upon his shoulder tightened so it was better felt beneath the armour, and came as slight comfort to the fearful Dwarf.

'Let us not assume the worst for now, Legolas may simply have evaded our gaze and will come to us with shining smile and exuberance at having been a part of such momentous times. But I feel...' and here he paused for a few heavy seconds as his eyes cast sorrowfully toward the scattered chaos of dead and injured men, 'I feel that maybe we should start our search amongst those lying upon the ground, for mayhap he is hiding within them.'

Gimli grunted with ill hidden worry, and begin the foul walk through black bodies and dark stained blood of the stinking evil dead, turning them over with a push of his axe where they lie upon one another, and could be disguising the delicate power of an elf. He muttered as he walked, concern stricken across the battle worn lines of his skin.

'Come Legolas, where do you hide? Trust an elf to disappear without a trace. You can never trust an elf, especially not one with his ill sense of humour.' Aragorn, hearing these whispers even within the murmurs and movement as the army searched amongst the dead for survivors and their friends, knew that there were no longer ill feelings between Legolas and Gimli, that these complaints and discontent was simply the speech of a friend worried and unable to speak the dread within his heart.

And so they searched long after the Eagles had soared over their heads, carrying with them the weakened, exhausted figures of the heroic hobbits, not stopping to watch the graceful, powerful forms of the birds fly toward the city of Minas Tirith. The wings brought with them more light from the sun, shooting through the darkened air that still hung as a veil over the beings moving below. Aragorn and Gimli grew weary with the stench of death, and every time they found a body of one of their own, they called to the carriers who had swarmed across the field and they were lifted with careful reverence and respect for their ultimate sacrifice. When a man was alive, the calls were louder and more desperate, and men ran to gather them and return them to the House of Healing to treat their wounds and recover their strength.

Suddenly, as the sun began to set behind the long standing mountains, Gimli turned over the body of an Orc, heavy sword still clutch within the death grip of his wicked claw, and caught a glimpse of fair hair stained with drying blood and rancid dirt from the Orc above.

'Aragorn' he shouted to the still searching ranger and he came at a scrambled run across the field toward the dwarf, wonder and worry etched upon his face. They bent down together, frantically but carefully pushing the disgusting bodies of the dead away, and there, on his face, lay the elf. His hair was in disarray across his back, stained with blood still seeping from the back of his head. Aragorn, with a cry of dismay and anguish pulled at the Elf's shoulder, turning him upon his back as Gimli bent and supported his head with his rough and loving hands.

And there did appear the beauty of the elf, still shining through the mud and blood stained across his fair face. Aragorn bent and brushed with urgency, the muck that covered his mouth and nose, and bent down low to hear whether there still existed breath within the Immortal Prince. His hand hung above Legolas' lips and his ear pressed down onto his chest to check for life amid his body. For seconds seeming to drag like hours, and silence hanging above the two friends anxious for the answers they so desired, the dwarf burst out with grief and anguish.

'He is dead, and so our friendship meets its end with sadness such as I had never expected to feel for such a being as an elf.' His despair was so apparent that a sob left his lips and at the sound of his own sorrow the emotion overwhelmed him at the passing of such a dear and wonderful companion, and he wailed with loss and undiminished heartache.

'Nay, wait a second to begin your grieving, dwarf.' Aragorn spoke with quiet authority and Gimli held his tongue with strength of will and character. 'I feel the whisper of a breath against my skin, and hear the almost silent murmur of his heart that beats within his chest. But time is urgent and he needs more healing than I can so grant, and I cannot give the guarantee that he will survive the travel to the city.' Gimli raised his head and shouted to a stretcher bearer standing nearby, and he came at a run because of the dwarf's harsh and urgent tone. Aragorn and Gimli gently helped the bearer move the Elf's damaged body onto the stretcher, and Aragorn lifted one end with careful delicacy, designed to cause no further harm or pain to him.

Gimli walked beside them as he and the stretcher-bearer started the long walk to the carts that had now arrived to carry all the dead and injured to the city and safe sanctuary. He held the hand of Legolas and any person watching this strange procession of a elf near the door of death, and the dwarf so caring and loving toward him, would have believed that madness after battle came to them. But there was no madness here, merely the concern built from many hours spent in each others company, and many times when their lives did depend upon each other, they knew the other would not fail them. This was love born of strength and fortitude, and trust. And now the one did walk close to the Halls of Mandos, teetering toward the doorway to eternal death, and Gimli spoke to him as they made their way across the barren land.

'Ai lad, I wonder how many you managed to send to death before this dreadful act did threaten your life in such a way. Well, you had better stick around for I have boasts of my tally to tell to you, and you have lies to make up in return of your count!' He sighed and looked out on such destruction, that brought to mind such pointless sacrifice, though he knew that any sacrifice to rid the world of evil was not pointless at all. He knew that all the lives that ended here were given freely and courageously, and to a worthwhile cause, for without the eagerness of their sacrifice, there would still hang the ultimate evil above their heads.

Much as he knew that Legolas would give his life as willingly as those who died, he hoped that this would not be the case, and the Elf would have his chance to sail the seas toward the Undying Lands where so many of his kin now lived without the knowledge of their recent successes.

'I wish I knew some of your songs, that might bring you back to the world of the living. But I know nothing but the songs of drink and feast and rousting in the halls of Dwarves and Men.' Gimli said with regret tinged through his voice, and Aragorn turned to him and smiled a gentle smile.

'I think that I would not sing such songs to Legolas, for they may cause him to retreat forever to the Halls of safety at the sound of such a voice of yours.' Gimli snorted with a smile, and turned to the unconscious elf as if he were sitting beside him, and listening with a smile upon his lips as well.

'You hear how he does criticise me young elf? You have a worthy successor to the task of Dwarf provoking if you do not wish to return and take your role once again.' Aragorn smiled back and looked as well at his silent sleep.

'Do not fear Legolas, for none shall ever be so good at tormenting this here dwarf as you, and I would not dare attempt to reach the heights that you have set in this task. But I will sing to you, in the hope that this will then dissuade the dwarf of doing the same.'

And as the army began to move back toward the city and their homes, they did so with the sound of their leader ringing gently through their ears with songs in Elf that they did not understand the words of, but still spoke to their weary and confused hearts. Confused for most did feel the joy and relief that this war against evil was over, and had been one by their side, but grief for those who fell in this task.

Soon Aragorn and Gimli caught sight of the battered but still standing city that lay stark white and ghostly across the fields of Pelennor, still scarred with the unhealed marks of recent war but shrouded now in the clear darkness of a star filled, brilliant night. And both did wonder as they looked upon the fair and sleeping face of Legolas, and heard the weak and irregular breaths that did push from his body, what morning would bring for Man and Dwarf and Elf.

Would death or life be found within the rising of the sun?

TBC

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