This is going to be HEAVY. Look out.

I'll try to write our new character likeably. If you aren't drawn to a character in the first place, it's hard for you to like her written, so needless to say, some may not like our new addition. But heck. I'm writing.

Enjoy. (I am sooo sorry about no review responses, but next chappie I will respond to everyone, and I mean everyone! K? K.) And yep, I hope this was fast enough for you, Deana! She really got my butt going.

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Chapter Eight: They Call Me Away

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o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Twilight (Don't panic, it's a poem...XD)

"Looking across
The water we are
Startled by a star
It is not dark yet
The sun has just set

"Looking across
The water we are
Alone as that star
That startled us
And as far."

- Samuel Menashe

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They were indeed here.

Aragorn ran recklessly at full speed up the steep, slippery hill, a fire kindled in his eyes that could not be extinguished save by one thing: revenge.

It was this army that would destroy the Rohirrim, it was this army that had caused his brothers and his dearest comrade- his soul brother so much pain, and it was this army that would kill entire races for nothing more than the sport of it. If it were left to Saruman, the entire populace of Hobbits, Dwarves, Men and Elves would be wiped out or enslaved; forests and fields would burn, hopes would fade, loves would die, and the world would be forever cast into shadow. All would fall...

...all will come to darkness... and my city to ruin! The anguished voice rang through his mind.

Estel's eyes smouldered.

It would not be allowed to stand.

"Ho there! Lad!" Gimli came running up after him, following through the passageways with difficulty, huffing and puffing. Strider was not called such for no reason. "Hold, I say! Wait, you young buck!"

Aragorn ignored the dwarf's gruff scolding and kept running until he had reached the top of the Hornburg. He walked swiftly, purposefully to the head of the lines, drawing chilled stares from the Rohirrim men who caught the roiling fury in his eyes. They were lined up on the walls, armoured and armed, watching with apprehension as lights were seen in the distance. The Dunadan could barely make out the humanoid shapes of soldiers. He set his jaw, drawing his sword and stalking toward the edge of the wall.

Theoden saw the ranger approach and he felt a pang of pity and sorrow as he came to the front of the line, sword in hand. He knew that if the healer had returned, then there was nothing more to be done for the son of Elrond.

Aragorn Elessar came to stand by the King of Rohan's side, facing forward in tight-lipped silence. They stood watching the horizon for five whole minutes before Theoden dared to break the tense quiet.

"Has he left us?" the king asked softly.

"No."

"No?" He sounded surprised. Theoden's features hardened in confusion, his brow furrowing.

"Legolas is dying," Aragorn said bluntly.

There was a different kind of silence as he absorbed this terrible statement.

"What...?" The man's grey-green eyes were wide with undisguised shock. "How?"

"He has taken my brothers' burden onto himself. The twins are alive and well; they bear not so much as a scratch." His voice was a mixture of relief and guilt. "Legolas had a similar bond with the two of them; he used it to sacrifice himself in exchange for their lives." And mine, the Dunadan thought mournfully.

Oh, my friend, do you know what you will do to us in your eagerness to save us?

"The wounds now lie on him. It is only a matter of time," he finished.

The King of Rohan was stunned.

"...I am sorry," Theoden managed. "I am so sorry for your loss."

Aragorn said nothing.

On this one day in his eighty-seven years, hope had been slowly pulling away from him bit by bit. Now it seemed to be abandoning him completely. As a soldier, and one of the Dunedain, he had seen things no man should ever have to see, done things... but all that time he had held onto his faith. It had almost been easy, remembering that he was helping to keep those he loved from harm.

The ranger wanted to deny Theoden's condolences, to say that there was always hope, that there was always a way for good to triumph in the end as he had been taught and truly believed all those years. But now, with this hard truth in front of him, and the face of his dying friend still floating before him, he could not bring himself to refute the man's words.

"They will pay for this," the man murmured, eyes blazing a fiery blue. "I will not let them shed any more blood. This night it will be theirs that darkens the earth."

Theoden stepped back slightly and looked at Aragorn. I pray you are correct in your predictions, Elessar. It will be far too dangerous for you if you are not.

"They come," one of the men pointed. "Archers, ready!"

A lone figure was riding up from the group on horseback, pushing ahead. The ranger frowned. Is it Gandalf? This isn't an orc rider. "Hold!" Aragorn shouted behind him, waiting for the sound of relaxing bowstrings. He glanced at Theoden. "This is no Uruk-hai."

The king nodded in agreement. "No enemy would seek so boldly to enter our gates before battle. Let them in! Open the gates!"

"Open the gates!" bawled another soldier, taking up the cry for the soldiers below.

With a loud screeching, the doors again opened as the braces were removed, and a white stallion shot by, hooves thundering and cracking like whips over the cobblestones. The person on the horse was dressed in flowing robes similar to the cape Elrohir had worn, but it was greatly dirtied, as though it had seen much road. The figure swung off the back of the stallion and hurried off into one of the damp stone passages, heading for the keep.

Theoden judged the distance of the army to be far enough for him to properly see to this stranger, and he motioned for Gamling to follow and headed for the stairs, his golden armour glittering in the torchlight.

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"Where is Aragorn? I must speak with him," said a light, urgent voice from under the hood. "I must speak with your lord!"

The tall man holding a spear looked down at the cloaked being with a pleading gaze, hand raised in a placating gesture. "Please, Miss, calm down. King Theoden and Lord Aragorn are rallying the men; there is an army approaching us. They cannot hold audience with you now-"

"You don't understand! I must tell him not to fire upon them! They are here to-"

"Miss, you must get down to the caves, you cannot stay here-"

"You are not listening! This army means no harm, you have to tell the Rohirrim hold their fire-"

"I am going to have to insist that you get inside, Miss, you will be killed if you stay-"

"Let me go!"

"What is going on here?"

Theoden strode through the archway and into the hall where one of his men was detaining the rider, Gamling escorting him from behind. The soldier had just laid hands on the woman to forcibly escort her below, and in her struggle to be released the velvet hood slid from her face and piled upon her shoulders.

The three men did a double-take at the sight before them.

Sharp, jewel-blue eyes stared accusingly into theirs from a pale, porcelain face tinged pink with blood. It was framed by thick, ink-dark threads of silk that rippled down her front and around her cheeks in waves, her white neck long and delicate as she lifted her head in defiance. Her crimson lips were parted with a slight lack of breath, arms drawn up to pull away where she had frozen when the king had entered. Daintily tapered ears parted the ebony mane as she inclined her head toward the monarch, acknowledging him.

"King Theoden."

Said king realized that he was gaping, and closed his mouth. "My Lady. What is it that brings you here thus?"

"I am here to inform you of the army approaching your gates," she said formally. "You must not fire upon them, my lord. They are no enemies of yours."

"No enemy? Lady, say you these are not Uruks approaching?"

"Yes. They are an army sent you by my father, Lord Elrond, to aid you in the fight for Rohan and for Middle-earth. I am Arwen of the realms of Imladris and Lothlorien."

"Elrond?" He stared at the she-elf, feeling quite poleaxed. "An Elven army comes?"

"Yes, my lord." She waited patiently for him to compose himself, watching calmly as he finally turned to Gamling.

"Tell the men to hold their fire, that they are an army of allies. I will be with you shortly."

"Yes, sire."

Theoden turned again to the young-looking maiden, who was watching the sentry out of the corner of her eye. He was standing at rigid attention with a dark blush on his cheeks, looking very embarrassed. "Dismissed," he told him, giving the man a reprieve. He accepted, chagrined.

As the soldier left the king inquired of her, "You are the daughter of Elrond?"

"Yes, my lord."

Theoden was silent. He turned his gaze downward, but not before Arwen read the doubt in his eyes. "What is it that troubles you, my lord?"

He looked up at her, tight-lipped; unsure of how much he should say. "There... has been an incident..."

Her gaze was questioning. "Aragorn?"

Theoden shook his head, "No, but... My Lady, perhaps you should go to the caves, there is someone waiting-"

At that moment, Aragorn ascended the steps and entered the hallway, dark hair concealing his face, his chainmaille armour clinking as his sheath bounced against it. He had one hand resting on the stone doorway, and it was good that he did, for when he looked up, the expression borne on his features told them he might well have fallen over otherwise. The maiden's face lit with a pure and vibrant happiness.

"Estel."

Theoden decided he had better take his leave, knowing that the ranger would be better at breaking the news than he. Plus, from what he gathered from the look on both of their faces, the two would probably be wanting some time alone. Aragorn was frozen in the doorway, face gone pale, fingers welded to the wall. She smiled, and reached out to touch his cheek, cupping the side of his face in her hand.

"A- Arwen-" he choked out.

She silenced him by putting her other hand to his lips. Arwen's eyes became crystalline blue with tears. "I told you I did not believe you." The smile widened. Her fingers strayed to the pendant around his neck. "I still do not."

The Dunadan didn't move.

"Lord Aragorn, I must go to the gates," Theoden told him. "The army will be there soon. Meet me when you have finished here." With that, the king turned on his heel and swept out into the open night air, leaving the pair alone.

Immediately the elf woman rushed to Aragorn and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. "I missed you," she whispered in Elvish. The daughter of Elrond released her breath in a relieved shimmer, feeling the warmth and solidity of his body against hers. All the while the ranger never stirred, never returned the embrace nor moved to release the wall.

After mere seconds she realized something was very wrong. She could feel it in the rigidity of his posture, in the way he remained completely motionless. Arwen released him at arm's length, searching his eyes for answers. "Aragorn?"

His eyes flashed suddenly, angrily.

"You should leave."

"Aragorn..." Her arms dropped to her sides. Her face was deceptively passive. "What has happened? There is something here I am unaware of."

"Arwen, you will come to the same fate; you cannot be here. You must go. Leave. If you hurry you can still catch one of the last ships for Valinor-" His face was between anguished and furious. "You- you must go."

"I cannot, Aragorn. You know it is true. There are no more ships." Her soft eyes begged his for understanding. None came.

"If I could... would you have me go?" she inquired gently.

"...I would."

With that he whirled 'round and strode purposefully out the door, startling her with his swiftness. "Aragorn!" She followed him, anger beginning to colour her tone. "Aragorn, wait-"

He did not heed her. The man walked away swiftly, trying to leave her behind as he re-ascended the keep. "Aragorn- Estel, wait!" The elf-maiden paid the other soldiers no heed, as he weaved his way through passages and rushed past confused men. Her beauty drew many stares as she passed, the hem of her cloak whispering at their feet.

"Estel, please! You must answer me!" Arwen grabbed his sleeve, halting him in the open air just beyond the entrance. The lines of Rohirrim were visible, Theoden barking orders and preparing the opening of the gates for the elves.

The ranger kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Estel," she said more quietly, but no less urgent, "what has happened? Please, I must know." The detached expression he wore was beginning to frighten her; it was not like him to withdraw like this. "Estel? My love, please."

"...dead..."

"What?" Startlement flashed across her face.

He whirled and confronted her, eyes brimming. "He will soon be dead! Our brothers were dying and he could not let them go! I, I could not let them go!" He struck at his own chest with damnation of the word.

The shouting laid all eyes upon the two people in the archway.

"I could not bear to see them pass! They were going to die, Arwen! And before, he almost fled this world because he thought me dead! Now I am going to kill him regardless! His blood will be on my hands, because of my weakness! If it were not for me, my selfish need for them- he would not have- he-" His throat clenched tighter. "Legolas would not be-"

Aragorn broke away, unable to face her as his voice cracked under the pressure.

"What... what am I going to tell them?" he whispered brokenly. "King Thranduil... Ada...What will I...?"

The silence stretched uncomfortably.

Elrond's daughter seized him by the hand and pulled him back into the shelter of the hallways, trying to assimilate all she had just heard. They left the humans completely bewildered and more than a little ashamed that they had been privy to such an emotional moment of weakness.

Arwen's fear was rising to a point, ready to pierce her heart. The emptiness clouding his eyes was pitiful to behold and made her heart ache. "Aragorn. Love, say you that Elladan and Elrohir are-?" the blue-eyed elf woman left off, her gaze pleading him to deny it.

She was not disappointed. "Elrohir... Elladan had been felled... They were both on the brink of death, and I- I lost..." A dark curtain of hair blocked his face. "...I lost all hope that they would remain..."

Arwen's eyes widened. This was serious. Aragorn was named Estel for a reason: the hope of men. If he thought all to be lost, then perhaps it would soon be."Our brothers..."

"Legolas knew... He knew we couldn't lose them, and he cared for them so..." A soft sob broke from his lips. "He used it to take death from them. Even now he lies in the caves."

"Elbereth..." Her head shook unconsciously in denial. "Aragorn... he invoked a fea bond?"

A silent nod.

The she-elf's voice was thick with compassion. "Oh, Valar...Estel, I am so sorry."

Finally she saw the raw agony in his gaze, and an ache of sympathy for the man nearly made her weep. The strain of the past twenty-four hours had grown beyond what he could bear. When she pushed aside the long, wavy locks of dark hair from his face, the tears that came from under closed lids gushed forth with his grief. His face crumpled, his chest tight with pain and grief, the sob building there refusing to be released, and she took him in her arms.

Aragorn let himself be held by this one he loved so much, the one he swore he'd never let come to harm, and a cry broke loose from him like that of a wounded animal. The ranger clung to her like a small child. Why did she have to return? He only wished that she would have gone to the Havens, across the sea where she could be happy, and safe.

"Oh, meleth-nin..." murmured Arwen.

"I could not bear it if you were killed," he told her finally, choking on the words. "I will lose him; I cannot lose you as well..."

"I will not die easily." There was a hint of humor in her words. "Aragorn, my choice was to stay, and I do not fear what may come of it. I returned here to live with you, not die with you. You hold the key to many fates, and I trust in my Hope."

He straightened enough to meet her gaze, eyes red and bloodshot, cheeks flushed and damp with tears. "No. I can only do what is needed of me. Frodo now holds our fates."

"Between the two of you, I believe we are in good hands."

Arwen smiled at him, a sad, knowing smile. She hugged him to her. "Do not despair, love, not yet. For me...?"

"I do not know if I can. But for you, Undomiel-nin, my Evenstar, I will try." He returned the embrace tentatively, then caught her in a crushing hold. She was real, and would not be lost; that was a comfort he desperately needed.

Warmth spread between them, dispelling the darkness for a moment, and he was lost in her glow. Aragorn's heart swelled within him. No, he could not have borne it to see her go. This was how things would be, were Mordor's forces defeated and Sauron cast back into the shadows. He leaned toward Arwen, his fingers caressing her cheek as she gazed at him with such knowing love in her eyes.

"Ai- AAAAAAHH! No! NOOO!"

The two broke away, and their eyes met. "Legolas," she murmured in horror.

A new, more grinding scream met their ears, and they ached physically from the pain in it. "To the caves," he said brusquely. "Follow me."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I've seen the moon
And the first sun rise
I'll leave it to the memories
And kiss the wind goodbye

For the Eldar
I'm trapped inside this dream
Of the Eldar's
Song of doom."

- Blind Guardian, The Eldar

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The Rohirrim women found themselves again huddled around their children. Fear was spreading in the air as the sound of marching came closer and closer, hitting home, and the anguished cries of the failing Mirkwood elf were merely adding to the tension.

Erhia and Nella were leaning on each other, a five month old infant in the younger woman's arms while her other child lay in Erhia's lap. Tears stained both faces.

Neither of them spoke.

"Gimli, his arms!"

"Ara-A-Aragorn- Elrohir! AI- ESTEL!"

"Lad, you must hold on- don't die on me, you stupid elf!"

The cries were tearing at his heart. The dwarf, of all people, knew how proud a creature the prince was, and it was hurting in more ways than one to hear him scream like this. Don't leave us now, lad, he pleaded mentally. There's still so much more to come. We can't lose you now!

The next yell was not merely pained, but afraid. Figures danced around him: dark creatures, shadows, friends, and allies, but the moment he focused on them they changed into something else. Sweat and the watering of his eyes blurred Legolas' vision, and he was becoming extremely disoriented. Pain, pain and fear, nothing but pain! Voices swirled in his head, confusing him and making him feel ill.

"Stay away!" he cried, staring with terrified, cloudy blue eyes. "D-Daro!"

More came. Yellow eyes watched him from the bitter darkness, that horribly obvious lack of light. He was lost, the fear, the sadness that seemed to belong both to him and the presence of two unnamed others closing in like a grip around his neck. His chest began arresting with the agony, and breath was stolen from him.

"Can't- Estel- I c-can't breathe," he gasped out. Spasms shook his body and he pushed himself off the floor with his arms, trying to find air somewhere above him, as though he were drowning. His mind was gone, caught somewhere in the throes of his visions, and his body reacted without any conscious thought.

Elrohir pounced on him and held his shoulders down. "Shh, shh, mellon-nin. You have to calm yourself-"

"He is not getting air!" Eowyn stared in alarm at the sickening blue-grey colour overtaking his cheeks.

"Legolas, mellon-nin, if you don't relax your muscles, you will suffocate," the twin told him in an urgent plea, his face a mask of centered calm. "You have to let the air in; breathe, Legolas! In... out... in... out... That's it, go on..."

The dark-haired Noldor leaned him back against his own chest, placing him between his legs on the stone floor and gripping his hands like vices, letting him feel the basically steady rhythm of his own breath. For a moment the rapid gulps of air met his pace, but then it spiralled out of any semblance of control and the taut chest froze with panic, his body shivering like an aspen leaf. His mouth opened wide in a silent cry for oxygen, legs kicking underneath him, struggling to rise.

"It's no good, we're losing him!"

"Do we have any root to relax the muscles?!"

Eowyn shook her mane of gold violently, making it ripple. "If we give it to him he could slip, and it takes at least minutes to work; he'll be gone before then!"

"No... He will survive this, he must..." Gimli's denial was almost a whisper as he took the elf's left hand from Elrohir. He was losing his conviction with each moment.

"We must do something, he won't last at this rate!" Elrohir cried angrily, frustration and fear getting the better of him. "There must be something we can use! An herbal remedy, a bleeding, something-"

A hurting acceptance grew in her eyes. "My Lord... I..."

"No!" he screamed, sanity slowly ebbing from his features. "Damn it all, he did this for US! I WON'T LET HIM GO FOR ME!"

"Gwador!"

Elrohir whipped his head up at the shout and saw Aragorn pelting down the hill towards them, Arwen behind him leaving a trail of silken robes. Part of him registered her presence, but he pushed it aside, cradling his friend closer to his chest. Legolas still hadn't drawn another breath, but his fingers were still squeezing the Noldor's blue and bloodless.

His voice rose with hysteria. "Estel, help! He is slipping!"

The ranger slid the last yard on his knees, taking the elf from his brother and pulling him up onto his breast. "Legolas- Legolas?!"

The prince was completely unresponsive, but the rock-hard posture and slight shaking told him he was yet alive. His eyes were slowly waxing white. Blood that had seeped from his wounds stood dark and heavy on his white skin, making even his light golden hair seem shadowed, but no more came from even the knife wound. Every bit of his healer's training was screaming at him to do something or this patient was going to die.

But also, he recognized the signs of death and knew that no being, immortal or otherwise, would survive from this point. He tucked the prince's head beneath his chin, wrapping him in a passionate yet tender embrace, one that tried in vain to keep him from being taken.

"Legolas- Legolas, please don't go," he begged him, crying bitterly and shamelessly. "I need you here, we need you! You cannot leave us alone! Please, don't leave us!"

"Alone..."

Estel looked down swiftly at the elf's face to see he had turned it towards him. His once jewel-bright eyes were dull and almost white, and no flicker of comprehension came. A porcelain hand lifted from the ground to touch his cheek.

"You... will never... be... alone..." The words were a constricted sigh, barely heard. "They have come, Estel... can you not hear them?" he whispered slowly, his head laying supported against the Dunadan's shoulder. "They call... They call me away..."

"Do not listen, do not heed them, Legolas!" Aragorn pleaded. "Just a little more, just a little while by Elven time. Linger here for just a bit longer, I beg you-"

"I cannot... Estel... The gulls... can you not hear them...?"

A shiver went almost invisibly through Elrohir.

Elbereth...

"I will meet... you... on the shore..." Legolas hand lowered to his lap. "Like I... promised..."

"Legolas." The word was a breath, afraid to shatter him.

A soft sigh, a blink, and then another. Then his chest went still, and all the tension ebbed away from the elf like a flowing tide, leaving Legolas' pitiable body lying limp in Aragorn's arms.

He was dead.

The soft features were now free of all strain, all agony, all fear; as unspoiled as a sleeping child despite his many centuries. Darkened lids lay closed, lined with lashes that marked his features like ink. His golden hair came free of its tie to spill over curled shoulders, arms resting in his lap, his legs sprawled over the man's crossed thigh like those of an unmanned marionette.

Aragorn stood stock still. He dared not move, for if he moved, this moment would be gone.

Numbness. His mind was blank, and he noticed distractedly that he couldn't feel his hands. His heart felt weighed down, as though by a boulder, and he felt he might throw up. Tears were yet coursing down his pale cheeks, but he paid them no mind. His best friend still didn't stir in his arms. It was an unnatural stillness and the wrongness of it grew in him like a disease with each passing second. The ranger could still feel where Legolas had touched his face only seconds ago.

"Le...golas..."

Gimli, Eowyn and Aragorn looked up at the breaker of the silence. Elrohir had risen to his feet and was backing away like a cornered criminal. In his eyes, he was.

"No," the elf croaked. "No... he can't... be... he..."

He backed straight into Ehria, who had risen to meet him before any harm befell him. "Lord Elrohir," she murmured tearfully. " Lord Elrohir, please-"

"I killed him- I have murdered him-" The dark-haired elf could not take his eyes away from the corpse strewn over Aragorn's body. "It is my fault..." His legs collapsed beneath him and both he and Erhia fell to the ground, sitting down hard on the stone floor as she held him from behind.

"L-Legolas... LEGOLAS!" he screamed out, emptying his lungs in a fury of self-hate and piercing grief. He lay there in Erhia's arms weeping out his anger and sorrow while the others sat frozen in shock. Above them, the footsteps of elves echoed through the cave walls as the army marched in, too late to save their prince. They sat there silently, staring at the empty shell that had once been their dear friend.

In appearance, he was tantalizingly close. But it merely emphasized the fact that he would never return again.

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"Noldor, blood is on your hands
Your bane's a tearful destiny.
...Can't escape from my damnation
Run away from isolation.
...This deed can't be undone."

Blind Guardian, Noldor (Dead Winter Reigns)

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I tell you, I am dangerous when it comes to evilness.
Review... and you never know what might happen

I haven't decided if things will stay this way...