Breaking of the Dam
Before we get into anything, I would first like to say how deeply saddened I am by what occurred in Paris on Friday night. Less than a day before, there was an attack in Beirut, Lebanon, and another one in Baghdad. I'm not going to get into the politics, all the who and the why and the bombings and surveillance and everything, because it is neither the time nor the place.
All I am going to say is that if you have loved ones in any of these places, I really hope that they are okay. If they aren't, then I am so very sorry. But as everyone keeps saying, the people of France, all of us, will endure.
Anyway.
So I never actually intended to write something like this, but then the lovely SnidgetHex asked me about this idea, and a plot bunny dragged me down into the deep depths of fandoms.
This is a what-if oneshot. I'm sure everyone knows the part in RotK where Pippin picks up the Palantir (this is movie-based). When Aragorn runs in, from where he was outside with Legolas, and grabs the Palantir out of Pippin's hands, he sort of stumbles and then collapses. I don't know how many people actually notice this next bit happening, because there's a lot going on in the shot, but Legolas, who has run in behind Aragorn, actually catches him (sort of) when he collapses.
The what-if scenario I was given was what if Legolas had grabbed the Palantir instead of Aragorn? Because I'm always a sucker for Aragorn and Legolas bromance, I actually had to write this. This is just a small(ish) oneshot, and won't evolve into a larger story, because I don't have the time or the inspiration beyond this oneshot, but it's still going to be fun to write ;) I figure that, as an elf, Legolas would be fairly affected by the palantir, if he can sense Sauron using it from a way away. Aragorn took it so well because the palantir is rightfully his in the first place.
Important bit here, please read: As a few of you may know already, I am doing an independent project for school, for my final year. It's fully graded and everything, and ends up as a proper qualification type thing. Anyway, I am writing a book on how to survive certain post-apocalyptic scenarios using science and, more specifically, chemistry. If you've seen or read The Martian, then it's sort of similar, but not on Mars, and not really a story- more of a snarky, sarcastic guide.
Anyway, my point here is that I need people to read and review it. So this is where all of you lovely people come in. Please express any interest in this either in a review or a private message, and I can tell you more about it. I will say now that in order to get you a copy of the book I will need an email address or another way of sending a pdf file, and the review/survey thing that I would like you to fill out if you agree will ask for an age- not specifically, but a narrow(ish) range. I can assure you that all details will be kept completely private and not given to anyone else.
Anyone who could do this for me will be much loved! If I get enough interest, I will definitely owe you guys another oneshot, at least.
Important bit over. Let's get to the actual story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It took a few seconds before he could distinguish what had caused the sudden dread that suddenly swept across him. The feeling, if nowhere near as intense, was becoming more and more familiar as they came closer to Mordor. Though they were in the relative safety of Edoras, the shadow was still very much there, and on his mind tonight. They may have won over Saruman, but it was only the beginning, the first gush of water through a dam that was breaking.
He had been feeling the trickles of water, had been watching the beginnings of war for a very long time, and maybe that was why it took him a few seconds to realise just what had happened. Aragorn stood oblivious next to him, pipe in hand, and as soon as the pieces fell together he turned to the man, eyes wide.
"He is here."
Aragorn needed no more explanation than that. It seemed fateful, that only a few minutes before they had been talking of such things, of what was wakening in the east, only to realise it was closer than they had dared fear. Aragorn cursed, and his pipe fell from his fingers as he turned to run back inside. Already, Legolas could hear alarmed voices raised, and he sprinted after Aragorn, ducking through the doors the man had already flung open.
Together the two of them sprinted across the great hall, heading for the door Aragorn had quietly stepped through only a few minutes before. Aragorn skidded to a halt at the door, but it was Legolas who shoved it open and rushed through first. Aragorn was on his heels, and nearly ran into the back of him as Legolas abruptly paused.
Pippin was writhing in the middle of the floor, mouth wide open in a soundless scream. Gandalf was on his feet, but the other side of the room. Merry was crying out for help, on his knees nearby. Aragorn realised that Legolas' senses must have been sharper than ever to realise this was happening. Everyone else was only just beginning to wake up, but instantly all of their gazes went towards Pippin, and the palantir in his hands.
All of this the two of them took in in a moment, and then both of them rushed forwards. Legolas was in front, and without thinking he reached out before Aragorn could grab him and pull him back. His hands closed around the palantir.
Instantly, Legolas stumbled and fell to his knees, a muffled cry forcing itself past his lips. Aragorn rushed forwards in alarm, and he grasped Legolas' shoulders in a futile attempt to keep him upright.
It didn't work. Legolas swayed on his knees, the palantir gripped tight between his hands. Deep oranges were flashing within the dark stone, and for a moment Aragorn stared at the image, the picture of flames. In the next moment Legolas convulsed, and then his eyes slid shut. The palantir slipped from his hands and he pitched to one side, a puppet whose strings had abruptly been cut.
"Legolas!"
Aragorn hissed his name as he caught the unconscious elf. He didn't know why he didn't shout it, but it seemed like even his voice had been caught by what had just happened. Legolas was slumped on the floor, barely looking like he was breathing, and Aragorn swallowed the worry that jumped up and wrapped itself around his throat. In the corner of his eye, he saw Gandalf reach for a blanket and fling it at the palantir, which was still rolling across the floor, flickering as if a fire burnt deep within it. The blanket smothered it, and something in the air of the room suddenly was released.
Aragorn rolled Legolas over and caught him, the elf sprawled out across the floor. Aragorn felt for a pulse, relieved when one beat strongly under his fingers, though the elf was still pale, his eyes firmly shut. He shook him lightly. "Legolas? Mellon-nin?"
Legolas shifted in his arms slightly. His eyes squeezed shut, and he murmured something softly under his breath. Aragorn only understood it because he had spent years deciphering the mumbled words of an often wounded elf. "It's me," he said softly. "You're fine."
Gandalf moved across Aragorn's line of sight, and he looked up, suddenly realising that Pippin hadn't moved from where he had been lying when Legolas had grabbed that accursed palantir. The wizard crouched down next to the hobbit, frowning, and Aragorn and the others in the room fell still, watching.
Legolas shifted again, his eyelids flickering, and then pushed himself up slightly on one elbow. His arm trembled, and then gave out underneath him. Aragorn grabbed his shoulders again and caught him, half propping him up against his chest as the elf gulped in what sounded like a painful breath.
"Easy," murmured Aragorn as Legolas sucked in another breath. His gaze stayed on Gandalf, crouched over Pippin, but he squeezed Legolas' shoulder, murmuring a soft litany to the elf under his breath, as Legolas scrunched his face and then pulled his eyes open.
Gandalf was speaking in tense tones to Pippin as Legolas' gaze flickered around the room, glancing from Aragorn to the others watching, to the prone hobbit and wizard across from them. A sudden realisation flooded his face, and he struggled to sit up.
With a soft groan, and a little help from Aragorn, Legolas pushed himself up so he was kneeling. Aragorn kept one hand at the elf's back, and frowned slightly, his gaze still on Gandalf and Pippin, when he felt the fine tremors running through Legolas.
After a few minutes, all of them seeming to hold their breath, Gandalf sat back. He looked tired, but satisfied. Pippin sat up a few moments later, and there was a collective sigh of relief.
"Pippin is to rest," said Gandalf firmly. "Nobody is to touch the palantir. Do not yet wake your King." That last comment was directed at Theoden's captains, who were standing uncertain in one corner of the room. "Such matters as this are not best dealt with during the middle of the night and when nobody is quite in their right minds. Dawn is not far off. It will be spoken of then."
Having said what he needed to, Gandalf turned back to Pippin and sat down next to the hobbit where he was lying. Merry was sat on the other side, watching all proceedings with a worried face. Aragorn breathed out heavily, pushing his hair back from his face, and only then noticed that Legolas hadn't quite stopped trembling.
"Legolas," he murmured softly, one hand going to his shoulder.
Legolas turned to him, his hands braced against his knees as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. "I'm fine," he muttered, briefly dipping his head and breathing deeply, his eyes flickering shut.
"You're not," replied Aragorn in a low voice. "Outside. Come on." He got to his feet and extended his hand. Legolas looked up wearily, and then reached out. Aragorn leant back and pulled the elf to his feet, trying not to be worried about the fact that Legolas let him pull him up onto his feet, rather than protesting and getting up himself.
"Let's leave Pippin to rest," Aragorn said firmly to the room out loud. "We can find other places to sleep until dawn."
Legolas nodded and turned towards the door, his head bowed in what, to most of the others, could look merely like worry and tiredness. To Aragorn, who knew him well, it looked nothing like it. Aragorn followed him quickly, catching the door as it swung shut behind him.
Legolas said nothing as he walked. He began to move more quickly, and Aragorn could see the tremors in his legs. The elf pushed open one of the doors and then stumbled, reaching out blindly for the wall to lean against. Aragorn darted forwards and slid one arm around his waist, catching him and taking some of his weight.
Legolas let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes sliding shut. Slowly Aragorn let go, letting the elf prop himself up. "I don't ever want to touch that thing again," he murmured. He had slipped back into Sindarin, had been speaking in his own tongue since first grabbing the palantir. Aragorn suspected that he had forgotten, but it was no trouble to him.
"Do you need anything?" asked Aragorn also in Sindarin, coming to stand in front of the elf. Legolas shook his head.
"Just give me a few minutes," he said, opening his eyes and smiling weakly. "I just…" He trailed off. "Ai Elbereth," he murmured. "That was...I don't know how Pippin held onto it for that long."
Aragorn chuckled slightly. "Hobbits are the most resilient creatures," he said. "But I think it helps that he does not have such senses that you do, mellon-nin. You knew something was happening, that Sauron was here, before anyone else. And I know, I've seen, how much his presence can affect elves, more than almost anyone." He'd heard Elladan tell the story of when he had gone too close to the southern woods of Dol Guldur by accident, and had ended up throwing up because of the shadow from the accursed place. Grabbing hold of a palantir would be just as bad, if not worse.
Legolas nodded slightly. His face was still far too pale, and his breathing coming short and fast. As Aragorn watched he bent over at the waist, his hands on his knees. Aragorn put one hand on his shoulder. "Don't be sick," he warned.
Legolas shook his head. "I'm fine," he replied. "I'm fine." He breathed deeply for a few moments, and then straightened back up. "Someone's coming."
But it was only Gimli, hurrying outside. Legolas smiled slightly upon seeing him. "I am fine, Gimli," he said. "I'm more concerned about Pippin."
Gimli blinked. "In Westron, if you wouldn't mind," he said gruffly. Legolas paused, and glanced at Aragorn. He hadn't even realised he had slipped back into his own tongue.
He repeated himself, this time in Westron, and Gimli shook his head. "Pippin's got Gandalf with him," he said. "Which is more than can be said for you. He looks like he'll be fine, though."
Aragorn nodded. That wasn't what he, and Gandalf, were worried about. It was what information Pippin accidentally gave up to Sauron that concerned them more. But dawn was only a few hours off. It could wait until then, if only to not scare Pippin too badly.
"You don't look alright, laddie," said Gimli bluntly. "You held that thing too, and I'm glad you did if you spared Pippin from more pain, but it looks like it's done you some harm as well."
Legolas shook his head. "I'm more attuned, I suppose you could say, to a presence like Sauron. I could tell something was wrong, could feel him from here outside. Touching that palantir, it felt like I was standing mere metres away from him." He managed a weak grin. "For elves especially, it's really not a good feeling."
"Painful?" asked Gimli, a frown across his face.
Legolas tried to nod and shake his head at the same time. He went to explain, but a sudden wave of dizziness gripped him and he ended up leaning back against the wall once more, his eyes shut tight. Aragorn gripped his shoulder, anchoring him as best as he could.
"Think of a concussion," he said. "The actual pain lasts for only a few seconds, but you are left shaken, for lack of a better word, for a while afterwards." He glanced over at Legolas. "Is that anywhere near accurate?"
"Close enough," murmured Legolas, breathing out heavily and then shaking his head slightly. "It's surprisingly close to someone hitting you really hard around the head, if not quite." The three of them fell silent for a few moments, Legolas' gaze on the dark view out across the plains and the other two watching him.
There were the sound of soft footsteps, and then Merry, of all people, appeared in the doorway. Legolas straightened up. "How is Pippin?"
"He'll be fine," came a deep voice, and then Gandalf appeared behind Merry. "He's asleep, and I thought I would come and check on you. You grabbed the palantir off Pippin, after all." He left it unspoken that he knew how a palantir would affect an elf. After all, the elves had made them.
Legolas sighed. "I am not the child you first met, Mithrandir," he said in his own tongue before switching back to Westron. Aragorn, who understood what he had said, chuckled briefly. "I'm fine."
Gandalf raised one eyebrow. "The palantirs do not lie," he said. "If that is what you are hoping." Legolas winced slightly, and then shook his head. He fell into silence.
His next words were heavy, and not some anyone, except maybe Gandalf, were expecting.
"An army marches from Dol Guldur," he said. "They're moving north. In nine days they'll be at the borders of the Woodland Realm."
Aragorn sucked in a breath. "Elbereth," he murmured. "How large?"
Legolas shrugged. "Large enough," he replied, leaning his head back against the wall. "Certainly large enough."
A sudden thought occurred to Aragorn. "Wait," he said. "If you were shown that specifically, then did Sauron know who you were?"
Legolas shook his head. "He's occupied Dol Guldur for long enough to know what a wood elf looks, or feels, like," he said. "But beyond that he didn't know. I wasn't holding the accursed thing for long enough for him to do anything beyond see that I was a wood elf, and to show me what he did. If he had, I imagine it would have been far worse."
"Why does it matter?" asked Merry, confused.
"He's a Prince, you idiot."
Everyone jumped at the sound of Pippin's weary voice. He had appeared in the doorway, one hand still pushing it open, and was frowning slightly. "That's why it matters. You know a lot about all the defences of Mirkwood and everything, don't you?"
Legolas nodded slightly, but Gandalf interrupted. "You should be sleeping, Peregrin Took," he said, his voice low and sounding annoyed. Pippin nodded.
"I know," he said. "But I woke up and you were gone. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you, Legolas. Merry told me you grabbed the thing off of me. I'm sorry for making you do that."
Legolas inclined his head. "I would do it again, if I had to," he said. "Go and rest, Pippin. We'll all be here in the morning."
Pippin nodded, and then turned back inside. After a moment, Merry went after him. Gimli shook his head. "Someone should watch them," he muttered, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. He looked back at Legolas, checking over him one last time. Legolas nodded steadily, and, seemingly satisfied, Gimli went in.
"There is nothing you can do," Gandalf said, his voice low. Legolas chuckled briefly, but it was bitter.
"You think I don't know that?" he asked. "They'll have plenty of warning from the forest anyway. Even if I left now and rode north, I wouldn't make it back home until well after whatever battle is fought is finished."
"Do you want to?" asked Aragorn. "Go back home, that is."
Legolas seemed to consider the question for a moment, before shaking his head. "There's nothing more I can do there," he said. "Besides, I am needed here." He smiled briefly at Aragorn, who sighed in relief.
Gandalf nodded. "I will see you both at dawn, then," he said. "Do not worry too much over events that have already happened. We do not know where these waters will carry us until we reach their end."
Aragorn refrained from rolling his eyes only because he had a lot of other things on his mind. He nodded, Legolas beside him also inclining his head. Gandalf glanced over them one more time, and then headed inside.
The two of them stayed together in silence for a little while, watching out over the plains of Rohan. Eventually Aragorn slid down the wall to come to sit on the floor, legs out in front of him. He picked up his pipe, the one he had dropped when he had first run inside.
"Is it broken?" asked Legolas, coming to sit beside him. Aragorn shook his head.
"Just knocked out the pipeweed."
"A pity," murmured Legolas. Aragorn raised one eyebrow, looking over at him, and he grinned wryly. "It is a very strange habit, you must admit."
Aragorn chuckled, but he put the pipe back in his pocket. At Legolas' questioning face, he shrugged. "I don't have any more pipeweed on me," he said. Besides, he didn't think Legolas particularly wanted to be breathing in smoke at the moment.
Legolas smiled briefly, but his gaze soon slipped out towards the dark expanse before them. Aragorn could barely make out the mountains in the distance, for the moon was thin, but he was sure Legolas could see much more. For once, the skies were clear. Were it daytime, they could have seen far out across Rohan, the rolling plains and grass just turning green in spring.
"You're worried," Aragorn murmured softly. Legolas drew in a slow breath.
"Of course I am," he replied. "My people are going to war, soon enough, and it's within my home, not on a distant battlefield." He shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his face. "I wouldn't be anywhere else but here, and you know that, but at the same time…"
"It's home," Aragorn finished for him. "I know." He didn't precisely, for the closest place he had to home was Rivendell, safe and protected for now at least. But he knew what Legolas meant.
Legolas nodded. "And so we come to it at last," he murmured. "The dam has broken. A few weeks, nothing more, and there will be an end."
"We'll be there," said Aragorn. "Whatever it is, we'll be there."
Legolas chuckled. "I'll hold you to that." He fell silent, and Aragorn did too, sitting side by side against the wall of the building, the cold of the stone seeping into their backs.
After a little while Aragorn fell into sleep, tilted sideways so his shoulder was pressing into Legolas, his head back against the wall. Legolas merely smiled softly and shifted so Aragorn was more comfortable. He spread his hands against his cloak, where it had fallen over his legs. They were steady and sure.
He looked up, and his gaze travelled across the dark plains, up over the mountains that encircled them with their peaks still capped with snow, until he was looking up at the sky, clear for perhaps the first time in days. Far above him the stars, though veiled by whatever shadow was coming, gazed steadily back.
finis
I was tempted to make this even angstier, but it wouldn't work properly when I tried. Thanks again to the lovely SnidgetHex for the prompt! As always, reviews are very welcome, and if you are interested in helping me out with my project, then please say so in a review or message! I would seriously appreciate it, and may owe you drabbles in payment (I'm not making any promises!)