A Deep Breath Before the Plunge

A sunny morning dawned upon Emyn Arnen. In the Great Hall a large table had been set for breakfast.

Legolas was present, which struck Éowyn as unusual, given the proximity of his own camp. Aragorn smiled to himself, well aware of the reason behind his friend's attendance.

"It was a fine mereth," declared the Elf to his host.

"Yes, indeed," agreed Thranduil, whose bemused head still ached from wine and the evening's turn of events.

"Aye, Ithilien has never assembled such a company," Faramir concurred. He turned to his wife. "I see your brother has not risen with the sun?"

She laughed. "He and Gimli were in such a state they had to be escorted to their chambers. We will not see them for some time."

"Éomer does not have your fortitude, Legolas," said Aragorn with a grin.

Legolas shrugged. "Nor does Gimli, as I proved several times." He helped himself to a scone. "I see that Aiwë has not joined us."

Éowyn poured out tea." She often rises early to greet the birds in the garden."

"Perhaps you could retrieve her?" suggested Aragorn. "I would like to speak to her about the Entwives."

"Of course," replied Legolas promptly, leaving his half-buttered scone and excusing himself.

Faramir turned to Aragorn. "What do you suppose inspired such haste?"

"What, indeed?" mused the King.

Thranduil merely sighed and sipped at his strong tea.

Legolas swiftly left the palace and entered its gardens. His keen eyes spotted Rebecca sitting in a patch of morning sunshine near a fountain. Many small birds were gathered about her upon the ground as she fed them breadcrumbs.

Her face was lit with joy. "Radagast and the Ents are marching south to tend Fimbrethil and her court. Oromírië is well enough to make the trip! He says I too may join them, now that the mereth is over and I have spoken to…" she left off, not certain if she ought to speak to Legolas of her brother.

The Elf watched her closely. "Spoken with whom, Aiwë?"

"With the King, about the Ents. He will be pleased to hear this news."

"Stay a moment," he asked as she rose. "Sit with me awhile in the sunshine."

She sat down again, averting her eyes. The birds had also told her of an argument between the Prince and his betrothed. They said it had not ended well.

"Did the others not join Acuparia on the journey?"

"No," she sighed. "They are so fatigued. The Ent-draughts have revived them, but they are yet recovering. There is great grief among them over Sylvatica."

Legolas put his hand on hers. "There is often sadness amidst joy if war has played a part. Dwell not upon Sylvatica's fate, but think of Oromírië restored to health."

She nodded, studying his hand upon hers. At last she looked into his eyes. They were riveted upon her and he was smiling, the dimple in his cheek pronounced. "You have freckled in the sunlight, Aiwë."

She laughed, raising her hands to her cheeks. "I know it is not the way of fashionable ladies, but I am outdoors too much to bother."

"I would not change one – they are charming, Aiwë. They suit you."

She blushed furiously under her freckles. He began to speak, but was unable to continue as Gimli trudged across the lawn to join them.

The Dwarf sat upon a stone bench, a full stein in his hand.

"Already?" asked Legolas with an arched eyebrow.

"Hair of the dog, my friend, hair of the dog."

"Must have been quite a bite," observed the Elf, sizing up the tankard.

"Quisling Rohirrim cheats," Gimli muttered as he wiped the foam from his beard. "Pours 'em out when I'm not looking!"

Rebecca grinned. She had heard the King of Rohan from her chambers, singing an off-color tune as he tripped up the hallway in the early morning hours.

Gimli continued. "Drinks like a fish, this one," he said, nodding at Legolas. "Bested me three times, but always on my empty stomach."

Legolas protested. "We'd just come from feasting on each occasion! And you devoured more venison that I ever could."

Rebecca laughed. "Well, I shall challenge neither of you – I would surely lose!"

"I would rather share a bottle of wine with you than gulp down ale with this one," replied Legolas.

Rebecca was surprised by her boldness when she asked, "Is that an invitation?"

Legolas quickly took the bait. "Indeed it is! Let me call upon you this evening."

Gimli hid his smile in the beer. Legolas had confided in him about his wish to sever his connection with Dolressa. He admired his friend's alacrity; he certainly let no grass grow beneath his intentions.

"Until this evening, then," she said, rising. "I must find the King and tell him about the Ents."

Gimli looked at his friend as he watched her go. "You've done the honorable thing, then?"

"Hmm?"

The Dwarf snapped his fingers before his Legolas' face. "Have you?"

Legolas turned, bemused. "Have I what?"

"Ended your first affair before beginning a second?"

"Oh." Legolas' countenance fell. "I tried, Gimli. I did."

Gimli scowled. "What do you mean, tried?"

He sat beside the Dwarf, placing his hands on his knees, head hanging. "Dolressa would have none of it. She still has my ring of mithril."

"A ring is one thing, a groom another," snorted Gimli. "Have you made your intentions clear?"

"As clear as the waters of the Silverlode. But she refused to listen."

"Ah." Gimli took a long swig and wiped his beard. "What is your plan?"

Legolas sighed deeply. "I know what my heart desires."

"Yonder lady?" asked the Dwarf, nodding his head towards the palace.

"Aye. But I fear I am not her only suitor."

Gimli raised his eyebrows. "Competition, eh? Let me guess – that Rohirrim rogue?"

"Who? Oh. No, not Éomer. My kinsman, Haldir."

"That's even worse," said Gimli, shooing a rather large bumblebee away from his brew. "Arrogant, that one. Surely the lady has better taste!"

"Haldir is a fine Elf," continued Legolas. "Should she choose his suit over mine, I should not be dishonored."

"Hmpf. You pointy ears are so noble. But you can't fool this Dwarf. I have seen you in battle; you will not relinquish a fight so easily."

"Nay. This is not a fight I intend to lose."

"Then I ask you again – what do you intend? Carry the lady away over your shoulder? Write her some paltry verses of poetry?"

"I plan to install myself in her life like a mûmakil," replied the Elf firmly.

"Unmovable, eh? What lady could resist?"

As they finished breakfast, Faramir and his table were interrupted by the arrival of two scouts. They had just arrived at Emyn Arnen from the borders of Ithilien, bringing news of stirrings in the East and the South.

Faramir was grim. "You say that a wizard leads them?"

"Aye, sire, that is the report. A wizard has been uniting the Variags and Haradrim with the Easterlings."

"There are no wizards left in Middle Earth, save Radagast. He is incapable of such treachery," said Éowyn.

Aragorn frowned. "One wizard did not dare face the Valar – Pallando."

"I have never met this Pallando, but I am well-acquainted with his infamy," Legolas noted. "It was he that rallied the Haradrim on Sauron's behalf."

Shaking his head, Aragorn replied, "Gandalf told me much about him. He is weak and in need of guidance; he was quick to fall under the Dark Lord's sway. But he has not the stature for this undertaking – someone else must be driving him."

"Lokirim has gone from our court. He must have removed hastily in the night; no one seems to have an account of him," noted Faramir.

"So, we prepare for battle," sighed Aragorn.

"I shall send for Gamling to muster the Rohirrim on my brother's behalf. We fought and repelled the Haradrim before – the Fords shall withstand this threat."

"The Elves will guard them from the forests on the bluff." Aragorn paused, considering. "We shall send your Rangers to the North, Faramir."

He nodded. "My men are well-suited for combat on the rocky terrain there."

"Ithilien's Rangers are the bravest of men but they cannot repel the Easterlings alone. I shall send word to Imrahil to gather reinforcements."

That evening Legolas called upon Rebecca, basket in hand. "Shall we find a spot in the garden, Aiwë?"

"I would like that."

He led the way. She studied the back of his head, the way his braid swelled slightly in the center. The woods were redolent with sweetbriar.

They found a quiet spot where he unpacked the basket; Faramir's larder yielded ample amounts of food and wine.

After dining he set aside his glass. "Aiwë, I would speak to you about a matter of great import," he began.

"My lord?"

He frowned. "Saes, Aiwë, stop calling me that. You must call me Legolas!"

"Of course, Legolas."

He smiled. "Better. Aiwë, I do not know how to begin…" He reached for his glass and took a steadying swallow.

She watched him, finding his discomfiture intriguing. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning," she suggested.

He coughed. "Very well. Do you remember our first meeting? It was in a glade in Mirkwood. You were so young, hanging onto your horse. I saw you next at the Wizard's Hill in Fangorn. The birds were singing and wildflowers graced the carpet of the forest. You appeared over the hill, in tunic and trews stained at the knees. I caught you as you leapt – you blushed then, as you do now."

"I memorized your features – I knew not when, if, we would meet again. But I am no longer a child."

"No. Hardly so. You were grown into loveliness when I saw you by the river in Ithilien."

She laughed. "If I recall, you saw me in the river."

He grinned. "Yes, you were trying to catch a speckled trout."

"Radagast taught me how to do that, but I've never had any success," she sighed.

"That evening we sat upon Amon Thoron, naming the stars."

"Yes, that was before we found the Entwives."

"You fell into Haldir's arms after you sang," he paused before continuing in a rush. "I wish you had fallen to me."

"What?" she was surprised, wondered where he was taking this.

"Aye. Had I caught you I never would have released you."

She cocked her head, studying him closely. "I don't understand…"

He laid his hand upon hers. "I am trying to tell you that I love you."

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

He closed his fingers around hers. "Yes, I do."

"But your lady, Dolressa – we celebrated your betrothal yesterday…"

He leaned closer, shaking his head firmly. "No, Aiwë. I have called off my engagement."

She stood hurriedly. "Nobody told me!" she replied as she turned away, flustered.

"I am telling you now," he said softly.

She felt him standing behind her. His fingers gently grazed her arms. She trembled at his touch. He turned her to face him, kissing her brow lightly. "It is you I love, Aiwë. You and no other."

Lifting her chin, he brought his mouth to hers, barely touching her lips.

"It's not possible," she murmured as he raised his head.

"It is only you I desire. Can you return my love?"

"Yes," she breathed before his lips descended again, more possessive now.

"Amin, Aiwë," he whispered against her mouth.

"Le anon meleth nín," she consented as he closed her in his embrace. She was insensible to anything but the rush of her emotions, his arms around her, his mouth upon hers as he tilted her head back with the ardor of his kiss.

Some time passed before he led her back to sit with him. He handed a wine glass to her, then took it and drank from the spot where her mouth had touched the rim. "Amin," he repeated.

"Meleth nín," she agreed happily, still in a daze.

"I have no token but this to give you," he said, removing the ring from his finger and placing it on hers. It was too large. She handed it back to him and held his hand. "I need no mithril to confirm my love. Wear this and think of me."

He closed his hand over hers. "I could not fail to do so," he assured her. "Soon I will give you a new ring, one that fits."

Lurking again in the shadow of the terrace, Lokirim noted their discussion and smiled. His plan was more certain to succeed with every clandestine kiss.

The following morning found Aragorn in council with Faramir, Legolas and Éomer. "Our scouts report the enemies are marching. They mean to repeat the strategy of the Wainriders, attacking simultaneously at Dagorlad and the Fords."

"Imrahil should be here within the week, as will your riders, Éomer. We will then disperse to the north and south."

"We must leave forces here to protect the palace," noted Faramir.

"I will speak with my king," Legolas volunteered. "He can stay here with a battalion of my archers."

Legolas found his father sitting in the gardens. A bottle of wine lay beside him, half-empty.

Thranduil raised his glass. "Join me, Ion. You have news, I suspect."

"We are to march south, Ada. The Haradrim advance."

"Ill tidings indeed."

"Will you extend your time with us and direct the guarding of the palace and our camp here?"

"I pray there be no need – surely the Southrons will not enter Gondor. You will stop them at the Fords."

"We also face an attack from the North – the Emperor's Easterlings at Dagorlad."

"I shall do as you wish, Ion. I suspect you want me to guard one lady in particular?" The king took his son's hand. "But you still wear your ring."

"I wear it in her honor now."

"And your former betrothed?"

Legolas shook his head. "I am no longer bound to her. I have made myself clear."

Thranduil sighed. "You have much to learn about women, Ion. This is far from over."

"It is as far as I am concerned, Ada."

"And your Aiwë?"

His sullen expression altered into one of wonderment and pride. "She has accepted me."

Thranduil shrugged. "What did you expect?"

"She might have chosen another."

"Reject the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, heir to my throne? Nonsense!"

Legolas scowled. "She does not care about all that, Ada."

"Chose you for love, eh? I thought that had gone the way of fashion."

"Don't be cynical, Ada. Aiwë is not Dolressa. She is not motivated by the desire for power or prestige."

"All the better. Well, I wish you well, Ion. Both of you. Even if you did not wait for my blessing."

"That has gone the way of fashion, Ada."

"Hmpf. I smell that Dwarf coming. If you will excuse me…" The king picked up his bottle and disappeared into the gardens.

Thranduil's snobbery annoyed Legolas. His father had never gotten over his dislike of Dwarves, despite their valor in the Battle of Five Armies and the Battle Under the Eaves, not to mention Gimli's personal devotion to his son.

A week passed before the collective forces of Gondor and Rohan arrived in Ithilien.

Imrahil's soldiers were clad in armor that glinted silver in the noonday sun. Their shields bore the standard of their king – a white blossoming tree beneath seven stars and a silver crown.

In contrast, Éomer's riders wore green and were armed with spears and long swords set with emeralds. On their shields rode a white horse under a golden sun and green banners. Their horses looked weary from the long journey.

Rebecca found the Dwarves oddest of all. They seemed a motley crew, armed in heavy chain mail that reached to their knees. Each one carried a two-handed axe with a short broad sword in his scabbard and a round shield slung across his back. Their plaited beards were tucked into their belts and their faces were grim; she saw no trace of the jocular Gimli in their visages. Their language was harsh and strange to hear.

She had never seen armed forces. She was disturbed to think of their purpose and their futures. How many of these Men, these Dwarves and horses, would return with their lives?

She entered the Great Hall and found the captains bent over a map of Ithilien. She did not wait to be introduced to Imrahil or Gamling. "You are discussing the defense of the Fords. I will send a raven to Radagast – perhaps Treebeard and his Ents may be of assistance."

"A good idea," agreed Aragorn. "Their service will be a welcome addition to the Rohirrim and archers."

"You must not forget the mûmakil. They do not wish to go to war any more than Rohan's horses."

"Rebecca, our horses of Rohan ride proudly into battle – they are sturdy and true."

"But my lord, they do not wish to be there! There is no war-lust in a horse any more than a mûmakil! They only go forward because their masters propel them thus."

Aragorn folded his arms upon the table. "What do you propose?"

"Let me go before your armies – let me speak to them!"

Aragorn shook his head. "To the Haradrim? They would pierce you with many arrows before you could open your mouth."

"Nay, not to them but to their steeds – let me sing an aerlinn to the mûmakil! Train your archers on their riders, but let me sing!"

Aragorn shook his head vehemently and placed his hand on her cheek. "Rebecca, you are not fluent in the language of war. Such as you propose – it is impossible."

"Not for me!" she protested, searching his face. "Not for me! I speak in the tongue of every living thing – you must believe me! Many lives will be spared if…"

He took her hands in his. "You cannot believe you can quell an army."

"But I can! If the mûmakil abandon their riders, what then? The Haradrim will be forced to go on foot, dismayed, and you will subdue them."

Legolas stood. "You will do no such foolish thing! You will not risk your life in vain!"

She turned to him angrily. "It is your plans that are in vain! Where will the Southrons be without their mighty steeds?"

"Shooting at you, for one!" he retorted.

She turned back to her brother. "Heed me, my King. If the mûmakil are stopped, their warriors will be confounded."

"Aragorn, you cannot agree to this! She will be lost to us!"

"Do you think that I would pursue a foolish cause? Have you no faith in the Nestad?"

He took hold of her shoulders. "I have seen battle, Aiwë, have you? I have seen the worst of war. Reason has no place on a battlefield."

She shook her head. "No creature of light would destroy itself willingly. You must trust me – the mûmakil ride forth under the bidding of foolish masters. When they understand…"

Legolas colored. "And how will they know this? In full charge? They will trample you ere you could speak!"

"They will not! Have you heard naught of the Song of Yavanna? Do you not know that the same aerlinn that wakened the Entwives will still her creatures?"

Legolas turned to Aragorn, desperate. "Surely you see, Aragorn? This is madness!"

Aragorn stood. "I will not risk you in open war, Rebecca."

"Fine!" she cried. "Let it be before this war begins! You must let me sing!"

Legolas was furious. "Forbid her, Aragorn! Make her stay at the palace with the lady Éowyn!"

"I must go to meet Radagast," she maintained stubbornly.

"You would be safer here, Aiwë," noted Haldir.

"I will not fail in my duty to my Uncle or to my Ents," she warned, folding her arms across her chest.

Aragorn interceded. "You may ride to the Elves' camp but no further. You are not to go to the Fords."

She seemed appeased by this although Legolas did not. She bowed and took her leave.

"Aragorn," Legolas pressed. "She ought to remain at the palace. Our camp is too near the Fords and there will be archers stationed in the trees on the bluff – I will not have her exposed to warfare!"

"You know the lady, Legolas. If you leave her behind she will simply follow at her own pace. Far better she travel with you in safety. Once there, she can be sent to Radagast – he will keep her out of trouble."

Legolas shook his head. "I do not feel easy about this. I fear she will do as she pleases, wizard or no."

"It may be that Treebeard and his fellows will join us in battle – they are impervious to the weapons of the enemy. But we will send Rebecca to the Entwives in their recovery. She will be well-protected there."

That afternoon the companies took their leave. Aragorn helped Rebecca onto Alfirin. "I shall hold a feast at Minas Tirith upon our return – to celebrate our victory and our kinship."

She faltered. "You mean to announce me, then?"

Aragorn smiled. "Of course, muinthêlmin – I intend that all of Middle Earth know my pride." He paused, looking over at Legolas who was in discussion with Gimli. "You have not spoken of this with your beloved?"

"My…what?"

Aragorn laughed. "Sister, one deeply in love can easily spot another."

Rebecca blushed but denied nothing. "We have not spoken of the matter."

Aragorn frowned. "Do not tarry on my account, Rebecca."

"No, my lord, but… this is not the time – we have so much yet to do…"

He kissed her hand. "Be well, muinthêlmin. We shall soon meet again."

At that moment, Legolas was warning Gimli to be cautious.

'Think my folk would remain idle with hammer and chisel in Minas Tirith when there was a battle to be fought?" exclaimed the Dwarf. "We will defend Ithilien's northern borders more heartily than its native sons!"

"Be careful and be well," replied Legolas, giving the reluctant Dwarf a fond embrace.

"I need you to stand beside me at my wedding feast."

Gimli nodded towards Rebecca. "Be sure to propose ere long, Elf. A lady never wishes to be kept waiting."

"Aye," agreed Legolas, watching Faramir take leave of an anxious Éowyn. "A lady should not be kept waiting."

The companies parted, Aragorn with his host to the north. Gamling led the Rohirrim traveling south, while the archers of Emyn Arnen marched behind their prince and the king of Rohan. Rebecca felt safe between the two armies, yet she was unsettled. "There are so many in this company," she remarked. "Do you fear such opposition?"

"In war it is always better to be over-prepared," remarked Haldir. "In the last double-onslaught, there was dire need for many."

"Will they be ready to the north?" she asked.

"I hope so," replied Éomer. "They go to battle with a legion of Dwarves. There are none hardier."

"Or foolhardier," noted Legolas. "I hope Gimli does not lead them rashly, or take too many chances himself."

"Aragorn is a sensible captain, as are Imrahil and Faramir. The Dwarves will be most needed against the double-handled mattocks of the East – their wielders are stout and strong of limb. They have been formidable foes in many battles."

"In Eärnil's battle it was the north that fell first. But you will be able to march to their aid if need be. The mûmakil will not advance."

"Aiwë, you are not going to the Fords. You will go immediately to the Entwives."

"Of course," she murmured, but the look in her eyes troubled him.

On the third day they neared the bluffs. "My knights will make camp near the river, before the Haudh en Gwanur," announced Éomer.

"I will stay with you, if I may, so that I will hear the approach of the mûmakil," Rebecca said.

"You will do no such thing," interrupted Legolas, his face reddening. "We have discussed this on more than one occasion – you go straight to Radagast and the Entwives!"

Éomer nodded. "He is right, Rebecca. War is no place for a …"

She turned to him, indignant. "Don't you dare say it! After all your sister did on the fields of Pelannor! War is no place for anyone, and if I can prevent it…"

"By being flattened by mûmakil? Aiwë, I forbid you to go near the Fords!"

Rebecca took a steadying breath before replying. "My love, I have a destiny to fulfill."

"Yes, and it is with me. I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself when our armies can fight this battle."

"Lives will be lost – many, on both sides. I am not naïve," she said, halting his next words. "I realize there will be fighting. But there will be so much less, if I can but sing."

"Your songs are for the Entwives, Aiwë, and to them you will go."

Éomer agreed. "I do not doubt you mean well, Rebecca. But you must listen to reason."

"The cessation of war is part of the Nestad, and I am its champion. Can you not see this?"

"I only see the horror of battle and you in its midst," replied the king. "It cannot be, Rebecca."

She fell silent, which concerned Legolas more than her speech. She remained so until they reached the camp of the Elves.

Éomer and his knights went on to set up near the Fords. Tessel greeted the archers and directed his kinfolk to their quarters. A meal had been laid out for them, but Rebecca disappeared into the woods. Legolas sought and found her standing above the river, on Amon Thoron.

"Do you remember this place?" he asked softly, laying a hand upon her shoulder.

"Aye. We watched the stars together."

"I named you Aiwë." He turned her to face him. "My love for you was born that night." He kissed her. She did not resist, but she did not participate. He sighed. "You are angry with me."

"No," she replied, entering his embrace. "But I cannot make you heed me."

He clutched her tightly. "Not if your ideas will rob me of you."

She placed her hands upon his chest and pushed him away so she could see his face. "And what of you? What if I should lose you in this battle?"

He gently caressed her cheek. "That is not possible, Aiwë. I will not leave you."

He kissed her deeply and this time she responded. He nuzzled her neck, whispering, "Aiwë amin." He felt an impatient desire to lower her upon the grass, feel her flush against him, beneath him.

His ardor was arrested when he heard a voice upon the path. "Damn," he muttered as he released her.

Tessel entered the clearing. He apologized, aware that his interruption was not welcome.

"Éomer king seeks you, my lord. I thought I had better find you ere he did," he added sheepishly.

Legolas nodded. "My thanks for that," he replied rather huskily.

As they followed the silver beam of Tessel's lantern, Legolas held her hand along the path. He squeezed it tightly as they entered the camp and whispered, "You are to go to the Entwives – Tessel shall be your guide."

Seated beneath the boughs were Éomer and Gamling. Haldir stood apart, staring at the camp's fire.

"I shall stay, with your permission, my lords."

Legolas frowned. "Aiwë, I do not think that is…"

"I only wish to hear your plans, ere I travel to Radagast. He will want news, after all," she replied smoothly.

"Well…"

"Let her stay, Legolas," said Éomer. "When she hears our strategies she will have no wish to face any behemoths."

Rebecca listened intently as they debated their maneuvers, knowing then her own plan of action. Of this she said nothing, merely excused herself for much-needed slumber.

As she rose to leave, Legolas reminded her firmly, "At dawn you travel north with Tessel."

"Of course," she murmured.

He watched her as she went, amazed that he could love her so much yet trust her so little in this matter.

Things Elvish:
Saes – please
Amin - mine
Le anon meleth nín – I give my love to you
Meleth nín – my love


Next: BATTLE