Elwin – Eternal Love

Note: To XxKicking Your AxX (In response to your review, because I can't PM you): Haha, I won't let them drink too much… YET ;) Don't worry, I always do try to take concerns and views of the reader into consideration (there'd be no point in me writing if it wasn't to please people with my work!), and I'm gonna try make him a little more lovey-dovey (as well as little bit more jealous), if not in this chapter, then certainly the next one – I have something planned for a bit later (more drama, yay) but, no worries, I shall have a word with Legolas ;)

Haha, thank you! And yes you can call me that, mellon-nin!

To MoonEternalStar9 (as a guest, I also can't PM you a response): n'aww, thank you! That means a lot to me that you enjoy it and have been keeping with it for so long, and thanks for the congratulation! And yes, I would enjoy a jealous Legolas too – I think everyone would, haha! But have no fear, if he isn't jealous enough for you guys in this chapter, then I have something nice and dramatic for you guys later on, as I said ;) and as for Legolas and Elwin admitting to each other, well, they're both just a bit hopeless, aren't they? Haha, my bad…

Sorry for the delay on this one – believe it or not, I'm actually trying to turn over a new leaf for this story and post things a lot quicker than I did with the previous one! I horrible at sticking to schedules, but hopefully I'll better at being a bit faster.

~ Chapter 3 ~

"Welcome, my Lords and Lady, to Isengard!" The taller Hobbit who had leaped to his feet to welcome us bowed magnificently with a great sweeping movement of his arm. He was staggering about a bit where he stood, something which told me the great flask of drink he held in his hand was not his first.

I had to admit, I was slightly captivated by the two young beings at first sight; they were raucous and incoherently friendly (especially considering they had never seen me before in their lives, and I didn't know if Éomer had ever come in contact with either of them), laughing and joking and blatantly ignoring all of our shocked expressions – and not to mention the fact that they were so tiny! Aragorn or Éomer at least must have been nearly twice the height of them.

The Hobbit who was still sitting down saluted us with his mug, wine sloshing freely over the side, and he giggled playfully before tucking into a great hunk of bread and washing down with another swig of wine.

Gandalf halted in front of the wall and rest of slowed to a stop behind him. Firefoot ended up standing next to Arod, and while Gimli spluttered indignantly over the two Hobbits' sudden appearance I managed to sneak a quick peak up at Legolas.

The Elf was smiling at the two Hobbits (M– Merry and Pippagrin was it? No… not, it was Pippin, Merry and Pippin), a sweetly amused, contagious smirk that I could feel creeping onto my own lips the longer I watched him. It was so easy and natural, accompanied with bright, laughing eyes that I felt my breath quicken ever so slightly at the sight.

"Why you–! You young rascals! After all we've been through – a merry hunt you've led us on, through forest and field, and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!" Gimli was having trouble trying to hide his envy at the array of deliciously tempting wine and food, as well as the pipes stuffed full to the brim with smoking leaves.

At this point, the smaller Hobbit decided to join in the conversation, after having just been listening and continuing to drink and smoke while his friend greeted us. His voice was considerably more slurred than his friend's, however His eyes were glassy and every time he blinked it was a slow, purposeful one, like he was trying to regain his senses again – or at least stop his world from spinning long enough to retain his concentration.

"I'll have you know that we are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying but a few well-earned comforts! It's not often that we Hobbits go to war, and I expect we need some sort of meal after all that!" A rakish grin and a lazy wink from the small fellow, and Gimli huffed. "I must say, though, that the salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork?"

The company laughed and Gandalf shook his head, while I watched on curiously a short distance back. "Hobbits!" the wizard boomed – so I was right! They were Hobbits! What curious, delightful, little creatures! "Merry," Gandalf said, nodding towards the taller one of the two, who was still standing, "and Pippin, my friends. It has been a long time."

Merry smiled brightly. "It has! And I see that our circle of friends has grown since we parted." He jerked his head briskly over to Éomer and I, as well as King Théoden. I smiled back, and Merry gave a strange, wonky sort of bow.

"I see we have a lady in our company now?" Pippin continued for his friend, grinning slyly. "Is she purposeful or merely decorative? Either way, I am sure we will be glad of her presence."

"Pippin!" Merry said, and I laughed at the strange pair, showing poor Merry that I wasn't offended by Pippin's remark at me joining them for merely 'decorative' purposes. On the contrary, I took it as a compliment.

Deciding to ignore Pippin, Merry puffed out his chest proudly and jerked his head towards the looming shadow behind them. "We're under orders from Treebeard who's taken over the management of Isengard."

"Management of Isengard?" Gandalf repeated, a twinkle just visible under his bushy brows. Gently, he pressed his heels into Shadowfax's sides and the horse obediently trotted forward.

Pippin was pulled up onto the glistening, snowy-white back of Shadowfax, to be kept under the watchful eye of Gandalf, while Aragorn helped Merry onto Brego. Following Gandalf, we swerved in and out of the crumbling jigsaw of rocks, and entered into the shadow of the Tower of Orthanc.

Strangely, its roots planted deep within the now-murky waters that lapped around us, just outside of the dark Tower there stood a tree. Rather a strange place to plant a tree, if you ask me, though it certainly did brighten up the place a little.

There was a long creak and slowly the tree blinked.

Wait… blinked?

I felt Éomer tense behind me, and Firefoot tossed back his head, growing restless under the Lord's suddenly tightened grip.

Great Eru… was this one of the fabled Ents that had passed from life into legend an age ago? I never doubted their existence, and I knew that it was the Elves that had woken them from their slumber and taught them the ways of words all those aeons ago, but I had not yet seen one with my very own eyes.

We all stared at it in silence and awe, the only people completely unfazed by the Ent's presence being Gandalf and the two Hobbits, before suddenly great 'hoooom' broke the through the quiet, startling both the Firefoot and myself.

The strange noise sounded like a strange combination of damp wood creaking under strain and a deep, breathy sigh, and it took me a few moments for the variation of creaks to form words in my head. "Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come."

Young master Gandalf? What a strange thought! If Gandalf appeared young to the Ent (who I assumed was the Treebeard, the newly appointed manager of Isengard) I wonder how the rest of us must look! As Elflings, perhaps?

"I have taken control of Isengard," Treebeard continued in his slow, rhythmic tones, "but there is a wizard locked in this tower still. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can manage, but managing one of the Istari is a skill that is beyond my reach."

Aragorn threw back his head, throwing his voice to the very top of the tower. "Show yourself!"

I gulped, feeling a lump forming in my throat. Another wizard? Locked up? My brain felt addled, slightly confused at what was going on, but I was too afraid to say – it certainly did not feel like asking questions.

"We need him alive. We must speak to him, but be careful; even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous. We cannot just have his head and be done with it." Gandalf's hushed tones were sharp and wary, his voice strained as a figure clad in white robes appeared on top of Orthanc.

Saruman's narrowed, deceitful eyes and sneer were easily visible, even when so far away. His whole being radiate spite and anger, along with the echo of a great power that he had once held but no more; I felt myself hating and fearing him with just one glance. His first words were directed towards Théoden, and the King tried to not to stand tall and proud in front of the wizard atop the tower.

"You have fought in many wars and a slain many men, only to make peace again afterwards. Can we not do the same, taking counsel as we once did, my old friend?" Saruman's voice was smooth, like a cat's purr, and it sent shivers down my spine the longer I listened to it. It was almost as if he were mocking us, knocking us down with an army ten-thousand strong and then trying to fix everything up again with a few kind words.

Thankfully, Théoden was not so thick-skulled as to fall for it. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold! For the women and children that lie dead there, and when the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged!"

I had to admit, my respect for Théoden went up quite a lot at this point – I was no all-knowing wizard myself, but even I could tell that Saruman was not to be messed with.

With a scowl, Saruman turned his back to the fuming Théoden and instead placed his attention on Gandalf. "And what have you come here for, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess? The key to Orthanc? Or maybe the keys to Barad Dûr itself might be more suited to your refined tastes? And perhaps also the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the five wizards?" He paused, the smile on his face growing as he laughed inwardly at his own joke, but his eyes were as cold as ever.

Gandalf decided to ignore Saruman's dark, dry humour. "Your treachery has already cost many lives, and many more are still at risk. However, you have the trust of the enemy, and are deep in their counsel; you could save them."

"Ah… So you have come here for information? I have some for you." Saruman purred, his voice edged with malice. He held up a queerly glowing black orb and stared deep into it, the strange light emanating from it illuminating his sharply angled face. "You have failed to see something… something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth, that you have missed but the Great Eye has not. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon, Gandalf Grayhame, and the days of your light are shortly numbered. But, be warned, that the Great Eye has seen it! He presses his advantage, even now, and his attack will come soon. You are all going to die! Oh, but you know this, don't you, Gandalf?"

With a malicious smile contorting his, Saruman bent his head over the ledge and his dark, burning gaze flickered between us all. A chuckle tore from his throat, like knives against stone. He seemed to be enjoying tormenting us, to hide his displeasure at being trapped in the tower – if escape was not an option, then mocking us would have to do for him. "You cannot really think that a Ranger would ever sit upon the throne of Gondor." It was more of a statement than an actual question. "This exile, crept from the shadows, to be crowned King."

Gandalf rode forward, Shadowfax's pure, pale fur standing out fiercely against the dark brick of Orthanc. Saruman noticed his movement but either saw him as no threat, or simply chose to ignore him – there was no stopping him now, the insults and jeers rolling off of his tongue as fluidly as the water beneath our feet.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Tell me… what last golden words of advice did you give the Halfling before sending him to his death? You honestly think you win this war with a couple of Hobbits, a ranger, an Elf, a Dwarf, and a half-breed?" I swallowed back fury and clenched my teeth at those last few words, anger swelling deep within my gut – I had not been referred to as a half-breed since Legolas had stopped, and that was long ago.

Narrowing his eyes, it looked like Gimli was also not too keen on being insulted to his face. "Shoot him!" he hissed to Legolas. Legolas glared up at the tower, long, pale fingers twitching by his side, anxious to play out his friend's desires. "I've heard enough of his foulness, shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob, lad!"

If my eyes were correct, I saw Legolas smile thinly as he reached behind his back for an arrow, only pausing when Gandalf held out his hand to stop the Elf from shooting.

"No," Gandalf told him sternly, and the Elf obeyed (albeit slightly reluctantly). Gandalf returned his attention to Saruman. "Come down and your life will be spared!"

With his voice laced with spite, Saruman sneered down at us. "Save your pity, Greyhame, it has no use here!"

Suddenly flames erupted from the end of Saruman's staff, the fiery tendrils swirling and crackling as they engulfed Gandalf in a tornado of heat and fury. My heart skipped a beat, fearing for the wizard's safety – he had had not even attempted to dodge the attack, despite anticipating it far before the rest of us!

"Do not fear," a quiet voice made its way through the torrent of hissing and spitting coming from the fire, and it took me a moment longer to realise that it was Legolas speaking in our own language. Arod was standing close to Firefoot, only a few feet away from each other, and I saw orange light dancing on Legolas's pale face when I looked over. "You must trust Gandalf; he knows what he is doing."

I had to bite my tongue to hold back a sharp reply, feeling tense and on edge. I had never doubted Gandalf, as of yet, but I had never seen him face off another wizard before – how was I supposed to know whether he would come out alive? I trusted Saruman as skilfully as Éomer could grass whistle…

With a flash, the flames turned into nothing more but sparks, fizzling away into the air like fireflies. Gandalf and Shadowfax stood as they were, unmoved and completely unharmed.

"Your staff is broken!"

A sharp crack echoed through the air as wood splintered from the staff, disintegrating before his eyes. As the noise died down and Saruman was staring aghast at Gandalf, jaw loose and eyes piercing and furious, a greasy, dark head appeared behind the wizard's back.

I didn't notice him straight away, but I heard Éomer curse under his breath and he shifted his weight on the saddle uncomfortably, and Firefoot shook back his head in protest at the movement.

The sallow skin and straggled hair seemed familiar to me, but while I could not place a name to the pallid face, King Théoden seemed to recognise him almost immediately.

"Grima! You need not follow him!" he called up, only for the man – Grima, as I now knew his name to be – shrunk back behind the ashen-white of Saruman's cloak. With a persistent dent in his brow, Théoden tried again. "You were not always as you are now, Grima. You were once a man of Rohan, and you will be yet again. Come down!"

Ah, of course! He was the man I had seen so long ago, back when we had arrived in Edoras, after my first meeting with Gandalf. When Théoden had been but a shadow of the man he was now, poisoned by Grima's words and sick in the mind. That was where I had seen his face before.

For a split second, Grima looked tempted to take Théoden up on his offer, but Saruman had shot out an arm to hold him back and answered before Grima had had a chance to open his mouth.

"A man of Rohan?" he scoffed, keeping Grima contained with one steady arm, "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands waste away their health on drink while their brats roll around on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Horse Master!"

"Grima…" Theoden's voice was quiet, softer than I had ever heard him speak before. "Grima, come down. There will ever be a seat for you in the Great Hall, ever a place for you amongst the Rohirrim. Come down… come down and be free of him!"

"Free? He will never be free!"

"No!" The first word he had spoken against Saruman, and it was desperate and shaky, but determined nonetheless.

Saruman's eyes blazed, his expression contorting. "Get down, you cur!" With a flick of his wrist, Saruman struck Grima across the face, and the hunched man was thrown backwards across the roof. He lay there motionless for a few moments, before rising up behind the oblivious wizard like a dark shadow of threat, and slipped a small dagger out of his robes. My stomach flipped as his face contorted and he thrust the knife twice into Saruman's back.

In a blur of flesh and forest-green cloth, Legolas whipped an arrow from his quiver and had aimed and shot Grima in the blink of an eye. The man clutched at his chest, where the yellow feathered arrow stuck fast, the barbed tip stuck in his flesh. Grima toppled over backwards, his grip on the knife loosening as he fell.

I scrunched my eyes shut tightly as Saruman's body started to teeter precariously on the edge of the black structure, and – though I didn't see it – the sickening tearing sound that echoed across Isengard when the wizard's limp body made impact with the spike on the waterwheel made my cringe and shiver.

"It's all right," Éomer whispered softly, sensing my discomfort.

Éomer's kindness was greatly accepted, but it wasn't enough for me. I wanted Legolas. I wanted him to spend time with me, to comfort me, to hold me close while everything around us rushed by in a wild whirl of war and death, meanwhile we were encased in our own little bubble, surrounding and protecting our crazy, perfect world. I hadn't had a chance to speak to him yet, but I wanted to.

A whirring sound hummed through the air and slowly the wheel started to turn and white-clad corpse was submerged underwater.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away. The trees will come back here. Young trees, wild ones. The forest of Fangorn will yet live on and continue to grow to its former beauty." Treebeard breathed in again, taking precise care over each and every groaning word.

"Pippin!" Aragorn said in a warning tone as the young Hobbit dropped off of Shadowfax and – half-walking, half-swimming – attempted to make his way to the tower through the flood.

Furrowing my brow, I released my grip on Éomer and swung one of my legs back over Firefoot, readying myself for the impact of the water. Just before I was about to push myself off, Legolas blinked and he caught my gaze.

There was a short moment where I felt time had stopped. Legolas stared at me, his eyes pleading and alarmed, and his hand dropped Arod's reins in an instant, shooting to the side to grab my hand. His grip was tight and desperate, and strangely cold, but where he was gripping my wrist still felt warm from the sudden impact. I'll be fine, I wanted to tell him, I'm only going to make sure Pippin is okay.

Our gazes stayed still, silent and frozen, and were only broken when Legolas titled his head to the side in a small gesture. Then the Elf's eyes flickered up towards Éomer, who was sitting patiently behind me, and a dark look crossed his already intense eyes.

That was strange… I knew Legolas had never particularly been fond of Éomer, but was this really the time? I don't think I had ever seen him to be so…

Legolas caught my eyes for one final time, a deep stare that lingered for a second too long. My whole body flushed felt like it was on fire, only tamed when I slipped down from Firefoot's back and landed with an echoing splash into the drenched lands.

The flood only went to about half way up my calf, but Pippin was struggling, nearly thigh deep in water; every step he took sent waves of water in every direction. The poor fellow looked almost as if he were about to drown when he bent down into the water and brought up the black orb.

Before I could reach Pippin, however, Gandalf was suddenly beside him, and Pippin shrunk under the wizard's gaze. "Peregrin Took. I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now, hand it over!"

Trembling with obvious hesitance, Pippin obediently reached up on his tiptoes to place the orb into Gandalf's hands, crumbling under the old man's watch and averting his eyes to his reflection in the water.

Note: (it feels weird writing one at the end of a chapter, but since it's so long, this is just a tiny one!) Sorry, this one didn't turn out with many lovey-dovey, sweet and fluffy moments between Legolas and Elwin, since it's a lot more of a canon chapter that moves the plot along – but I have started the next one and plan to add more of that stuff in. Thank you for reading!