Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the characters Xartha, Mariel, Tirien, Telmar, Vork, Pelnook and any other character that you don't recognize.
A/N: I know, I know this is late and I apologize for that. However, real life has been rearing its ugly head as of late. Why oh why can't I live peacefully in fantasy land. ponders
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, I appreciate the kind words. I would have used the new reply thingy, but I'm hesitent to do so.I'm not too certain how good it works, so if someone canlet me know, I'lluse it for the reviews for this chapter. Well, itwas brought to my attention how OOC Legolas and Aragorn are and well I kind of agree, so that's why I'm slapping on this OOC tag.That way I have all bases covered. As usual this is an AU,and if youhavetrouble accepting that I have utterly and completely taken the world of Tolkein and made it my own and have twisted it to fit my over-active imagination than I advise you to please turn back and find a story moresuitable to your tastes.
Reviews are nice, yet not necessary for me to continue with the fic. I write because it presents me with an outlet for my emotions. While I accept constructive criticism, I do not accept mindless flames.
(One last thing...I am not Tolkien, nor do I claim to be him and so my writing will not even begin to sound like his, so please keep this in mind when reading. If my work seems too modern in its wording, I apologize, however, please do not flame this story on that merit alone. If modern wording bothers you than please turn back now. I did my best on this chapter and I hope it shows...)
Of Friendship and Jealousy
Chapter 2: Battles & Regrets
A foul stench defiled the warm, spring air while the screeches and clanking of crude, heavily made armour caused the birds to scatter towards safety and the trees to flutter and cry in dismay.
This relatively small sized band of orcs lead by Xartha, a particularly angry and vicious orc were like all orcs before them; ugly, disfigured creatures looking for their next victim to torture and torment, for such behavior brought great joy and pleasure to these vilest of creatures. Xartha gathering the most joy at the screams and cries of pain being inflicted upon the poor soul whether they be elf, man or dwarf.
Marching along, happily destroying all the beauty of nature they encountered, Xartha suddenly called for a halt, his deformed hand raised far above his equally disfigured head. Lifting his head high, he sniffed the air like a wild dog the two slits that passed for a nose expanding with every intake of breath.
A slow, malicious smile crept upon Xartha's face as realization came to his mind at what he smelled. An elf. He smelled an elf. While orcs loved the screams and cries of their victims it was the cries of pain from the lips of the fair first born that orcs cherished most. And just when Xartha thought they'd have no fun today.
Laughing with evil glee, Xartha began barking out orders beginning with a stout, over-eager to please his leader, orc called Vork.
"Vork!" The stout, rather short orc hobbled forward, his features more disfigured than even those of Xartha. Vork didn't say anything, just stood before his leader, eager to please Xartha and avoid being that nights supper. Pleased with Vork's silent obedience Xartha barked out his orders.
"Vork-gather wood. We've company coming." With a cry of delighted pleasure Vork staggered off as Xarhta signaled for the others to take cover for their surprise ambush.
"We're gonna have fun tonight boys!" The burly orc called out as he took his position behind a large ancient oak that was trying desperately to warn the unsuspecting, approaching elf of the dangers that lie ahead. It's sorrowful cries of despair went unheard though as the elf continued their approach.
It's going to be a heartbreaking night.
Legolas' eyes burned with the tears he refused to shed. His chest heaved with every breath he took, pain, hurt and a feeling of loneliness filled his heart. His mind raged with feelings of betrayal and uncertainty, was he being irrational? Did he overreact to a matter so trivial that it should be laughed at and looked fondly on in the years to come as one of the many trials and tribulations he and Estel faced in their friendship. So uncertain was his thoughts.
With both mind and body heavy with sorrow the youngest prince of Mirkwood rode on, Tirien his ever faithful mare sensing her masters distress kept her own sensitive senses alert, determined that her young master would not suffer any further heartache. Nearing a cluster of trees including a large and ancient oak, Tirien began nickering and bucking, her more alert senses picking up on the danger that lays ahead.
Startled by the sudden movements of his mare, Legolas tried in vain to soothe the agitated animal.
"Shush, be calm my lovely one." He whispered in elvish, the soothing melodic voice however, did little if nothing to calm the bucking, upset horse. "Tirien, what-" his words were stopped short when he too felt the presence of evil.
"Orcs," he breathed and carefully he lowered himself to the ground. "Hide my beauty. Go, now!" Hesitating, Tirien made to disobey her master, however, the sorrowful, pleading look given caused the faithful beast to gallop away, yet not far enough where she couldn't reach her elven lord if the need arises.
Legolas grasped his bow, his hand poised to grab for an arrow when the enemy showed their hideous faces. Now alerted to the evil presence Legolas scanned his surroundings. He knew they were close, there was no mistaking that foul odor that permeated through the air, choking and causing distress to all of Arda's nature that flourished in this area of the forest.
Sharp elven eyes pierced through thick, heavy foliage, searching for the evil that had marked them as prey, all the while equally sharp elven ears listened for any movement, for this was truly rare, orcs were not known for silence let alone a stealthy nature. Xartha and his followers, hidden carefully behind ancient oaks and various sundry foliage, waited none too patiently for the elf to approach, to satisfy their blood lust that churned deep in their veins.
Xartha in particular was most anxious for Legolas to approach, his face scrunched tightly as he barred his yellow, misaligned teeth. Thick, heavy drops of grayish-black saliva dripped from his twisted smile as thoughts of sweet torture flitted across his minds eye. His disfigured hand, with its four fingers clutched gleefully at the weapon in their grasp.
The plan was going accordingly, that is until a shout of glee came from the trees and a stout, severely disfigured creature came stumbling out. Vork! In his haste to reach his master Vork had forgotten the general rule: Quietness. Now as he stumbled towards his companions, excitement lacing his tones Vork had garnered the attention of the elven prince. Turning towards the exciting drivel, Legolas grasped his bow, reaching inside his quiver for an arrow, quickly he withdrew the elegantly crafted shaft, with it's deep green and brown fletching he notched the arrow, all in one, single heartbeat.
His silver-blue eyes met the inky black of Vork's and there they stood, elf and orc staring both surprised and then in one blink of an eye Legolas let loose his arrow, a shocked cry filled the surrounding area as Vork's heavy body, embellished in his crudely made armor fell to the earth, an elvish arrow protruding from his neck.
Xartha stood behind the ancient oak stunned into silence, his eyes wide in puzzlement stared at the elven archer as he hesitantly lowered his bow, eyes fervently darting from tree to tree, knowing the orcs were there, just still surprised that they were still well hidden. Legolas felt his blood pumping, his disgust for the mere presence of orcs and his argument with Aragorn still fresh in his minds eye giving him a sense of abandonment he has never felt before. The hurt, pain and anger he still felt towards his friend came rushing to the fore, clouding his judgment and the orcs were the perfect exercise to rid the feelings his heart was burdened with.
With a fierceness that surprised even himself, Legolas called for the creatures to show themselves, if it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they would get and they would loose. Xartha, returned to his senses as the elf continued to insult his band of orcs. Xartha knew that elves were fierce and deadly enemies, however, this elf had grated on his last nerve, if any for that matter. Vork's death had caused stunned silence, but no longer and with a wave of his four fingered hand the others came rushing out from their hiding spots, determined to catch the elf for the sole pleasure of torture.
Loud screeches to his left alerted Legolas that his enemy was on the move and with the swiftness that only the first born were blessed with, Legolas had his bow ready for use and in a rapid succession he felled four orcs, arrows piercing their flesh with a sickening thud. As the orcs came nearer Legolas replaced his bow with his twin knives, twirling them as though he were demonstrating tricks and not using them to fell the creatures before him.
Left, right, duck and parry were the movements Legolas followed, it appeared as though he were performing an elegant dance so graceful were his movements. His momentum fueled by the anguish and pain his heart and mind were being subjected to, parrying with the orcs in a deadly dance that neither wanted to loose. However, no matter how many orcs he killed one more was always there to replace the one that had fallen and despite his elevn longevity he was tiring. His emotions draining him as he fought, his knives and tunic stained with the black blood of orcs.
The orcs sensing the elf's tiredness, rushed at Legolas attacking him two at a time and this strategy of sorts was working, for it was wearing the prince down and in a moment of weakness, an orc lunged for Legolas who barely moved in time, the blade of the orc's weapon slicing the princes upper right arm. Grimacing in pain, Legolas didn't hesitate, nor did he slow his movements, thrust, parry, and duck. And yet they still came and Legolas had to wonder at his sanity for continuing this fight, for it was apparent that he was loosing despite the bodies of dead orcs that loitered the ground, staining it black.
Xartha stayed hidden in the shadows, watching and waiting for the moment when the elf would fall, too weak to continue this fight and defend himself. Grinning to himself, Xartha couldn't help but think that moment was soon, for the elf was loosing what little energy he had. He began to step forward, intent on being the one to capture Legolas, when he suddenly stopped. The sound of hoof beats was unmistakable nor was the voice that was calling out for someone. Turning to the source of the disruption Xartha was surprised to see a lone human galloping towards the elf, calling out a name that sounded strangely familiar.
Rage burned in Xartha as he realized that this human was about to ruin everything, all his wonderful fun and pleasures. Snarling to himself Xartha grasped his cross-bow, licking the tip and shaft coating them in a generous amount of orc saliva, stopping briefly to plunge the arrow into the body of a dead orc, only to rip it out again. The arrow now coated with the saliva and blood of an orc was more a deadly weapon then ever before, the combination of spit and blood creating a deadly poison. Taking position, Xartha took aim, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Aragorn urged his mount into a frenzied gallop, desperately searching for his missing friend, all the while berating himself for the circumstances of the elf's departure. 'If only I had been more attentive to Legolas. Yet, never in my all years of living amongst elves have they ever showed jealous emotions. Anger yes, sadness yes, happiness always, but never jealousy. I never thought an elf could become jealous. I just...' Aragorn was cut mid-thought by the sudden appearance of Tirien, Legolas beautiful black mare. That she was rider less caused him a moments panic, for he remembered Telmar's parting words of orc activity that the scouts had reported on earlier. Could Legolas have stumbled upon them? Knowing his friend and his penchant for getting into trouble the answer was a resounding yes. Whistling softly, Aragorn called the mare over trying to soothe the upset animal that clearly wanted him to follow her.
"Shh, be calm sweet one. Where is Legolas, can you take me to him?" Nickering and flinging her head from side to side Tirien twisted away from Aragorn, causing him to release her reins. Understanding her meaning, Aragorn urged the young mare to continue, to show him where Legolas was and with one final fling of her mane Tirien galloped towards the area of forest where her elven lord waited, sensing that he was in danger was what had caused her to search out help and now that she had found such, Tirien wasted no time in getting the much needed help to where her master fought for his very life.
Aragorn's dread that Legolas had found trouble increased at the pace Tirien was setting, for such haste could only mean that Legolas was in a most dire circumstance. Tirien broke through foliage and Aragorn followed, the sound of clanking metal unmistakable and he urged Mariel into a faster gallop. As he neared the battle, for that was what it appeared to be, Aragorn couldn't help the gasp that passed from his lips. The carnage was unbelievable, Legolas stood surrounded by more than six orcs, the ground littered with the bodies of more than nine dead orcs. And yet, Legolas stood nary a scratch except for on his right forearm, his twin knives held tightly in a death grip and a look of complete satisfaction that it frightened Estel, frightened him for his friend never had such a look of absolute delight in his silver-blue eyes, nor a look of complete blood lust encompassing his fair features.
Somewhere during the fight, Legolas had 'snapped' letting out every emotion he felt until he felt no more, and in doing so he felt re-energized and a sense of blood lust had completely taken over. He just simply didn't care anymore. Not wanting his best friend to kill himself, since he had an apparent death wish, Estel galloped into the fray, leaping from his own mount onto the orcs that surrounded his friend. Though such a move was not exactly what one would call a brilliant strategy, it did, however, bear the desired results. The orcs focused their attention instead on Aragorn who was slightly dazed from his death-defying stunt. Shaking his head, Aragorn rose into a fighting stance, noticing that Legolas hadn't even acknowledged his presence; yet considering the elf's mental state it was understandable.
As the orcs converged onto Aragorn, Legolas' attention was diverted to a lone orc that stood, hovering over the bodies of his dead companions. Pelnook, Xartha's second in command raised his eyes towards the elven prince and with a roar he charged towards the one that killed so many of his men. Legolas, despite his weariness parried thrust for thrust his elven grace still present despite his fatigue. However, Legolas had the skill and the experience and despite Pelnook's determination, Legolas was the better fighter and with a swift thrust, one of Legolas' knives embedded itself in the heart of the orc, a wet, slurping noise accompanying the removal of the blade as the body fell heavily to the ground.
Legolas bent to retrieve one of his twin knives that had fallen during the fight, leaving himself unguarded and it was that one unguarded moment that would haunt this elven prince for all his years on Arda.
It was the unguarded moment Xartha had waited for, his lips once again twisted into a cruel smirk as he prepared his weapon and aimed for the unsuspecting elf. Aragorn had dispatched of nearly all the orcs, fighting a rather persistent one, when he noticed Xartha aim his crossbow at Legolas. Realizing that his dearest friend hadn't seen the danger he was in, Aragorn gave one final thrust of his sword, felling the rather obnoxious orc and raced for his friend, calling his name.
"Legolas!" the ranger shouted trying in vain to catch the elf's attention.
Legolas, still oblivious to Estel's presence and the danger he was in, was startled when he heard his name being called. Knowing instantly who it was that called his name he turned towards his friend, confusion replacing any and all emotions that may have surfaced with the sound of Aragorn's voice. "Estel, wha-" Before he had the chance to further ask his friend his elven ears heard the twang of a bow and just as he was about to turn towards the source he felt himself being pushed out of the way, falling un-gracefully to the forest floor.
It seemed as if time had slowed, for as soon as Legolas had gathered his wits about him and glanced towards his friend he saw to his horror the arrow strike his friend on the left side of his chest, dangerously close to his heart. Time had stood still in that one instant, all movement slowed as if time itself was trying to halt what has happened. And then as soon as it happened, it was over. Time resumed its normal pace and Aragorn fell to the ground, his hands holding the arrow in shock. Legolas snapped from his shocked stupor and raced to his friend's side.
"Estel! Oh my friend, what have I done?" He gently removed Estel's fingers from the shaft of the arrow, blood was pumping from the wound at an alarming rate and he needed to somehow cauterize the injury. So engrossed was he that he didn't notice Xartha run from his position by the shadows of the trees, further into the forest and from the worried elf and his wounded friend. Xartha wasn't as intellectually challenged, as many believed orcs to be. He knew that a furious elf and one after blood was not an elf you wanted to be around and like a cowardly dog with his tail between his legs he ran off, having no remorse for those who were killed under his command.
"Legolas, I'-" Whatever Estel was about to say was stopped by his elven friend who gently placed two fingers upon the rangers lips. "Shh, Estel. Speak later. Now I must tend to your wounds. Where is your pack, Estel?" Aragorn motioned towards Mariel who tentatively returned to her wounded masters side. "I will be back Estel, I promise." With a smile that Legolas hoped was reassuring he turned to leave when Estel suddenly grabbed his arm. Startled Legolas returned to his friend's side, alarmed when Estel's breathing became labored. 'Oh, what have I done. I sulked like a spoiled child and ran off like one too. And now my best friend lies here, possibly dying and all because I threw a temper tantrum.' Legolas began to sink into his regrets as he retrieved the supplies he needed, as Aragorn finally let go of Legolas arm when he passed out, either from pain or from his wounds Legolas wasn't too sure.
Legolas was hesitant to treat his friend's wounds, not knowing much about healing except what the warriors of his father's realm were taught. Knowing and understanding the logistics of preparing an arrow wound for treatment, Legolas set to work to try and cauterize the wound. Remembering that the tip of the arrow could be wired and cause more damage if ripped out, Legolas grasped the base of the shaft leaving a few inches remaining and snapped it. Though unconscious, the sudden movement caused Estel's body to jerk, startling Legolas who wasn't prepared for such a motion.
In all the years of his friendship with the human, and their misadventures together, never before has Legolas felt such regret for Estel's hurts. He has seen Aragorn in various stages of pain, agony and remorse; has seen his friend endure more wounds and death defying situations than any one being, elf, dwarf or human alike should. And despite all those moments it is this one moment that will haunt him for all his years on Arda.
As gently as he dared Legolas began to cut away the Ranger's black tunic that was rapidly being drenched crimson, peeling the fabric away from the bloody wound. Sweat began to bead the young mans brow, his skin taking on a deathly pale hue, the only color that gave any indication that Estel was alive was the rosy pink that tinted his otherwise grey pallor.
Alarmed at the rising fever that was ravaging Aragorn's body, Legolas unceremoniously emptied the contents of the healing pack Lord Elrond forced his youngest son to carry. There were plenty of bandages, more than enough for a small contingent of elves and rangers. Sorting through the supplies Legolas was dismayed to discover that there were three bags of different herbs; herbs that all appeared similar. How was he to tell the difference? Which were the athleas and which were the ones that reduced fevers?
With no time to dally Legolas opened the three bags and smelled each, knowing that the herbs used to lower fevers smelled bitter and pungent while athleas had a sweeter smell, especially when mixed with boiling water. Estel began to groan in pain and Legolas knowing that his time was limited made a drastic choice. Grasping the second bag he pulled open the strings and inhaled deeply, a faint sweet smell assaulted his senses and Legolas sighed in temporary relief.
In his haste he had forgotten to boil the water and time was too precious to waste on collecting wood. Risking another gamble Legolas chose to follow an example he had seen Estel do once. Pulling out a liberal amount of the healing herb, he placed it in his mouth and began to chew. A faint bitterness could be tasted and Legolas almost feared he had in deed chosen the wrong healing herb, however, an even fainter sweet taste could also be detected and that was all Legolas needed for reassurance.
Satisfied that he had softened the herb, the elven prince spat it out and into the palm of his hand where he began to gently apply the mush that passed for healing herbs to Estel's festering wound. As gentle as Legolas was, Estel's body felt it was still under attack and he stiffened and jerked with the gentle ministrations his elven companion made, making his friends task harder for he would have to stop and soothe the unconscious man with the reassurances that all was well and that he was no longer in danger; however, that is nothing more than a wishful thought from the distraught Prince, for though he could help prevent infection he knew that the wound was poisoned.
The blood that crusted the outer edges of the arrow wound was an inky black, a sure sign of orc poison and Legolas feared more deeply for the young human's life. The fever that plagued Estel was high and dangerously so, and yet there was nothing he could do for that. He had to make haste for Imladris, for it was a two days ride and the sun was setting. It would be nightfall in a few hour's time and Legolas wanted to achieve much progress before he was forced to stop for the night.
Wrapping the final bandage around his friend's chest, Legolas whistled for his mare that came softly to her master's side. With a gesture of his hand, Tirien lowered herself to the ground waiting patiently for her elven lord to gently mount with his precious bundle. Legolas gently gathered his friend in his arms and placed first Estel upon the mares back before he himself slid behind his cataleptic friend.
A soft tug on her reins signaled to Tirien that Legolas was ready to depart and as gently and gracefully as could be managed the mare stood, Legolas whispering in her elegant ear words that have been whispered before and in a soft gallop Tirien made for Imladris, her elven master clinging onto hope as hope began to fade.
Ugh, I know it wasn't that great so please be kind with reviews. The next update will probably take the same length of time as this one so please bear with me. Until then...GrammarPRNcess