Another chapter to this what was a freakishly long one shot. I hope you all enjoy!
I apologize if the elvish is off. I did my best. Please read, favorite, enjoy, and review! And again, many thanks to my amazing collaborator!
-WingedIceWolf
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN LORD OF THE RINGS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!
Legolas curled up in a dark corner away from all the men and threw his cloak over him to blend in better.
He took a little tumble off the cliff.
He fell…
The Prince could still hear the mocking laugh of the Orc in his head. He could not get over the fact that just a few minutes before the battle, his companion was alive and beside him. Now...There was nothing.
"Are you truly dead, mellon nîn?" He asked the wall across him, quietly. "How did the Wargs take you down? How did you let yourself so easily be felled?"
No. He did not let himself be felled. He was taken down by those vile creatures of Saruman!
Legolas's fists clenched tightly, his arms folded, and his knees pulled up to his face. Never had he felt such hatred toward Saruman. Before, he was angered by the Wizard, but now, all he felt was pure, cold rage toward him. A voice in Legolas's head spoke to him.
You failed to save him...
These were Legolas's own subconscious thoughts. His fists clenched tighter, warm tears began to fall down his face, landing in his lap. Rarely had the elf shed tears, but the loss of Aragorn only made Legolas reflect upon the pain he had endured when his mother had met her unfortunate end.
I failed him...I failed them all… Aragorn… Sam… Frodo… Merry… Pippin… Boromir… And… Gandalf… Why is life so cruel to those undeserving of death...?
Legolas leaned his back against the stone walls, the coolness of it somewhat comforting. No one seemed to notice his small form curled within the corner; the shadows concealed him, as did the cloak upon his face, and he embraced the darkness.
He was thankful for the cloak he was given whilst at Lorien. It aided in keeping him concealed from those within Helm's Deep, and the solitude he received thanks to its well-crafted fabrics was also something he was g to have, as it also concealed his pointed ears. That aided in helping him at least blend in with the group better.
The thoughts continued to pound in his head. Over and over...He re-lived every moment of that battle, wishing he and Aragorn were not separated during those events.
I could have saved him...But he is gone...It is far too late…I failed…
The Elf's keen senses caught Gimli passing by, calling out to Legolas. He ignored the Dwarf, burying his head into his knees, sobbing silently. Gimli began to question the men around him, asking if any of them had seen a tall "pointy-eared prissy elf". Some must have thought him either drunk or disoriented, waving him aside or shrugging.
Good. No one knows I am here…
The red-haired dwarf sighed heavily, expecting something like this would occur. Aragorn and Legolas were close friends, that he knew, but Gimli was not near as close to Aragorn as the Elf Prince had been. The pain was something he could not contemplate, and most likely, neither could Legolas.
Poor lad… Gimli thought to himself as he continued to push through the crowds of people, searching for his companion. He paused, however, and thought to himself. Without Aragorn, the journey ahead would be much more difficult and the chances of reclaiming what had been lost to Sauron would be slim, even with Gandalf's aid. Aragorn was to play a role within their victory, yet Sauron's forces had claimed yet another of the Fellowship.
Legolas could still hear the dwarf asking if anyone had the whereabouts of him, but he paid little to no attention to them. He looked down at the Evenstar he still clutched in his palm, running his fingers across the smooth surface. When Aragorn's face suddenly filled his head, Legolas's grip around the Evenstar tightened until he could feel the sharp sting of the steel digging into his skin. At least the pain was a reminder that he himself was still alive…
Gimli sighed heavily, but as he dwelled upon what Legolas would do to conceal himself, the first thing that came to his mind was how easily Aragorn was able to conceal himself in the shadows. Most likely, that tactic was learned by the elves, probably not the Dúnedain, though they too specialized in concealment.
Look in the shadows then, the Elf will most likely be within the shadows as the Ranger had done.
Undoubtedly, Gimli had searched every corner of Helm's Deep and found a figure curled up within the corner, hidden in the shadows, wrapped within his cloak. He tightly clutched a necklace in his palm. It was unmistaken to be Legolas, that Gimli knew. But never had he seen the Elf so downtrodden.
"You alright, lad?" Gimli asked. He coiled back at his own question. Of course the Elf was not alright.
In response, Legolas only shook his head, looking away and muttering tonelessly, "'m fine…"
"It's not your fault he fell," Gimli stated quietly. "There's nothing more you could've done to save him after he fell."
"That's not true," Legolas snapped back, shifting uncomfortably.
"It's not your fault, lad," Gimli said again. The Elf looked up at him, but any compassion or thanks was gone in his face, nothing but a glare and cold eyes. Gimli took that as a sign to leave the Elf be, but he continued to attempt to cheer him up. "He did not die in vain. He saved us. As did you. Be proud of him, laddie. He wouldn't want you to be upset."
"I do not care what he would want for me!" Legolas countered, a growl in his voice. Gimli sighed deeply, sitting down beside him.
"I know it's hard, lad, but you need to carry on without him. I don't expect you to heal so easily, especially since his passing is still fresh in your mind, I imagine. But...Are we certain he is dead?"
Legolas didn't even want to think about the possibility. He wished he could forget it all, start over, as if none of this ever happened. But as every second passed, he felt his soul crack and splinter more and more. His eyes once full of happiness and wisdom were now dark and empty.
"Will you at least search for his body…?" Gimli asked hopefully. Legolas growled.
"There are many guards stationed around here. Théoden will not allow us to leave so easily," he replied bitterly. Gimli could have sworn there was a hint of pain in his voice, but whether it was from physical pain, or mental pain, was undetermined.
"Are you hurt, you stubborn elf?" Gimli asked concernedly.
"I'm fine!" Legolas shouted. His shout made the entire room fall silent and all eyes came to rest upon the unlikely duo. Legolas stood, stumbling to the room Théoden had assigned him earlier and locking the door behind him.
The room was a fair size, having a bed, a mirror, a dresser, a nightstand, a desk, and a small bookshelf. Legolas carefully removed his bow and his quiver, setting them down beside the bed, then unsheathing his daggers, placing those upon the nightstand.
The Elf undid the pin upon his cloak and set his cloak with his other belongings, taking a deep breath. Immediately, pain racked his side, but he had been enduring this pain on his ride to Helm's Deep and while remaining curled within the corner. It was nothing new.
Fresh crimson had stained the Elf's side where he had received a rather jagged gash just above his hip. The wound had stung with the cool breeze that had managed to squeeze through the door when Legolas had slammed them close.
The Elf walked to the mirror, though it was more of a stagger, and turned so he could better see the wound. It was at least a little over a foot long and an inch wide, spewing blood, but the deepness of the wound made up for the wideness. Some of the blood had dried upon his garb, making it stick to his skin and the wound.
Legolas was half tempted to just allow the wound to bleed, killing him in the process. He had no more reason to live. Aragorn was gone…
He sank to the floor, staring at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. His left arm came over the wound, quickly being soaked with warm crimson. All he wanted was Aragorn back. That is all that mattered to him. Not reclaiming Middle Earth. Not returning to his father. Not being praised as a hero.
The more the Elf Prince considered death, the more he got a nagging feeling in his heart. What if Aragorn truly had not died? What if he were still living? What if he was wounded and needed aid, but Legolas had convinced himself he was dead, truly leading to what would be his companion's death.
I… have to know. Even if it… kills me… I will find out.
Legolas began to devise a plan. He would have to ride out to find Aragorn at dark. Unfortunately, he couldn't sneak out during day; spotting him would be far too easy in the blinding light of the evening. Besides, Elves could see rather well in the dark, as if it were dim light.
A searing pain re-averted his attention to the wound at his side. Legolas could feel himself growing weaker as every second passed him by. If he wanted to find Aragorn, he needed to stanch the flow of the wound before it could claim his life.
A knock at the door startled Legolas. He jumped, causing a horrible pain to rip through him, but he clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. He quickly took his cloak, refastened it, and opened the door to find Èowyn standing at the entrance.
"Sorry to bother you, my lord," she stuttered, bowing slightly. "Food will be served soon. Will you not join us?"
"I'm not hungry," Legolas replied bluntly. And that was a lie. His stomach was growling, and he desperately wished for food, but his main focus right now was to tend to the wound at his side. Èowyn glanced up at him in worry.
"You're rather pale...Are you alright?" she stepped forward to place a hand to his head, but Legolas quickly smacked her hand away, stepping back. He tightened his grip on the door to prevent his fall. The young woman stood in shock, but retracted her hand, apologizing under her breath.
"I apologize myself. I will be down later. Thank you," he said gently. However, he hesitated to say the next part. "Can you bring me some bandages?"
"Y-you're hurt?" Èowyn asked alarmingly.
"No, but it would be good to take some on the road," the Elf Prince replied quickly.
"Then...Why are you so pale?" she requested to know, scared that he may truly be hurt.
"I…" he truly didn't know how to reply to that. Elves didn't fall ill, so sickness would not be an excuse. He composed himself before answering, "I have always been pale. It's a trait for Elves."
"Are you sure?" Èowyn asked hesitantly. She had never heard of elves being pale and she did not recall the Elf being so pale in all her times of seeing him. Yet, her attention was mostly focused upon Aragorn and not the Elf… She blushed at the thought.
"Of course, I am sure. I'm an Elf, after all," Legolas replied sharply. Èowyn recoiled, frightened by the Elf's sudden ire. He softened only a little and replied, "Forgive me. I am merely tired. If you would fetch me bandages for the road, that would be much appreciated."
He must still be grieving over the loss of Aragorn...That is why he yelled. I wish there was more I could do to comfort him…Èowyn had thought to herself sadly, her lips fell to form a frown upon her elegant face. With that, the young woman bowed in respect and left the room, the sound of a door slamming following her down the hall.
Legolas pushed himself off the closed door. He had tried to shut the entrance silently but in his attempt, he only lurched into it, sliding to the floor as unbearable pain rippled through him. He carefully brushed his cloak aside, pressing his hand to the wound yet again, hissing through his teeth at the white-hot agony in his side.
Stupid orc. The Elf cursed the creature that caused him such pain. The thought of Aragorn possibly carrying such a wound flashed through his mind, causing tears to almost immediately fill his eyes, followed by a stifled whimper.
This wound is going to slow me down...I need to bandage it and get going as quickly as possible…
It wasn't long before the same knock he had heard earlier sounded at the door. He had heard her coming, so he quickly had regained himself, but the massive amount of blood pouring from his side had nearly soaked through his cloak. He quickly thanked her, took the bandages, and shut the door.
Once he was certain she had left, he carefully removed his arm guards, his shoulder plates, and lastly his tunic. The wound was easier to access now that his chest was exposed to cold air. Yet again, he found himself glancing into the mirror, grimacing at the wound's appearance.
The blood had soaked his side and continued to gush, being rather deep. The skin around the wound was already purple, fresh bruises surrounding it. Unfortunately, the wound stretched from his side to his stomach.
Thankfully the blade had not been lodged into his stomach. If that were the case, he would need to seek out immediate aid or risk losing his life. Even this wound was life threatening, but that did not matter to him. He did not have anything to stitch the wound, nor did he have the time. The bandages would have to do…
Legolas used the water left within his canteen to wash the blood from his hip and at least wash what he could of the blood that had soaked his thigh. There was not enough water to wash his thigh, but his hip was enough.
He pressed the rag he had found upon the desk to the wound, applying pressure while he took the bandages, beginning to tie them around his torso. He did several layers before he was satisfied and tied the binding off tightly, making sure to keep the bandages securely wrapped, even though his side throbbed with pain.
His clothing was a lost cause, but again, the room had provided him clothing, that would be his only option, even though he didn't prefer blue as his color. He could wash his cloak downstairs and claim the blood was from the Warg attack and not his own. That was if he were caught. Maneuvering through the crowds would be more difficult with his injury…
He gathered his clothing, cloak included, and walked down the stairs with them. A wash basin had been set up earlier for the same purpose he had needed it, so he easily had reached it and dumped his clothes into the basin with a plop. The cold water made it easier to rid of the blood in his clothing while also being rather relaxing, so he scrubbed until most of the blood had come free of his attire, ignoring the blaze flaring in his side.
And there you are, my lovelies! Thank you all!
-WingedIceWolf