XXIV

Below the Cliff

When Legolas woke, moonlight shone onto his face and cut like knifes through the darkness in his head. Dazed, he tried to turn to the other side, and found he could not move: his body was so heavy, and it hurt too much. Worms with razor-sharp teeth crawled through his leg. His head felt like it was made of lead. Legolas shut his eyes tight and tried to go back to sleep. He was so very tired.

Someone hit him with a sledgehammer, right in the head. It hurt so much he would have screamed if he had had the strength.

The sledgehammer shoved him in the head and blew a puff of warm air in the back of his neck. Legolas whimpered and tried to move to the side. Something warm and wet touched the side of his face. It was not a sledgehammer. It was a nose.

Marigold. The word formed in Legolas's head though at first he could not connect it to anything particular. Marigold had come... had found him... He could not remember where he was or how he had ended up here. But Marigold was with him. That made him feel better.

Except that she insisted on banging her heavy head against his face, and Legolas didn't know what to do to make her stop. He managed to lift one immensely heavy arm to her nose, but he had not the strength to push her away. She breathed warm air on his face. It seemed that it scattered some of the mists inside his head, so that his thoughts cleared slightly. Marigold wasn't going to let him go back to sleep. She wanted him to move. Legolas forced his eyes open again.

"Will try", he said, and though it came out all slurry and distorted, it felt good to hear his own voice. He moved his arms and his good leg. The pain was unbearable. He lay still a moment to gather himself.

Then he supported himself on his elbows, and with a strength he had not known he possessed he pushed himself around and out of the stand of bushes. The moon threw spears of white-hot light into his head, but the wind - Elbereth, the wind was so soothing. Legolas inhaled as deeply as he could, then laid his head on the snow to rest again.

Snow. Dead leaves under his hands. It was quiet - there was no one around. He remembered leaving Rivendell, sneaking out... no, Radagast had come to save him. He must have left again, after that.

He had been chased.

He had fallen.

Marigold shoved him in the head again, and this time Legolas gave a weak protest and covered his head with his arms. He still hurt. He wanted to sleep. He could not think clearly anyway. Why did he have to move, anyway?

Because if he didn't, he would die.

Whimpering he tried to deny it. He was just dazed, that was all. And tired, and that wasn't strange, because it was very late.

But he knew it was not so. Even elves can only take so much cold, and he knew that it was dangerous hitting one's head as hard as he had. If he slept again, he might never wake.

The thought came as another physical blow. It meant he had to choose - and choose now. Either he moved, which would be incredibly difficult, and figured out a way to get help, which would take all the willpower he had left, and dragged his battered body to a place where he would be better hidden, which would hurt - or he simply lay here until either the men - he remembered them vaguely - found him and killed him, or he died on his own.

He decided to stay where he was.

And yet, Legolas could not. There was something that kept him awake. His muddled thoughts began to wander - they touched the moaning of ice over running water, the memory of men on horses that laughed as he fell - then the whisper of trees, but not the trees that stood around him now but those that grew around his home in Greenwood - and then, as clear as the light of day, he knew that mother and father was waiting for him there, and Merilin, and Tinuhen was coming, and then he knew. He knew that if it was possible to see them again, he had to try.

Water, he thought. Water would help clear his mind. It would help keep him awake, too. He pushed himself up again until he was on his knees and looked down the slope. Yes, there was the stream - some ten steps away, an impossible distance. But now that he had started thinking about it, Legolas was very thirsty - thirsty enough that, despite the effort it would take, he was ready to crawl those ten steps to the stream.

It seemed to take him ages. His body was so heavy he could hardly move it, and there was no way he could do it without jostling his broken leg - in the end he could only clench his jaw and endure it, because there was nothing he could do to lessen the pain. Marigold walked beside him, now and then whinnying or bowing her head to give him a light shove. Legolas was not sure she knew what was happening, but when he reached the stream and had not the strength to break the ice, she stomped on it until it cracked and made a hole large enough for him to dip his hands in the water. The water was so cold it burnt his throat, but it was the best thing he had ever felt. He managed two handfuls before he doubled over and heaved into the water. He had drunk too fast. Legolas leaned back, waited for his stomach to settle and his dinner to dissolve in the stream, then cupped his hands again and drank slowly, one small sip at a time. He had to scoop up water several times because he could not make a tight enough cup with his unsteady hands, and it was tiring, but the water cleared his head and this time he could to keep it.

With another immense effort, Legolas forced himself to disentangle his thoughts. He needed to remember where he was, and why, and if there was a way he could get back to Rivendell. For a long while it seemed impossible. His thoughts were so slow; again and again they shattered, the memories he had managed to piece together spilled from his mind like the water had spilled through his fingers and he had to start all over again. Pain lay like a haze over it all, a heavy blanket darkening everything.

But at long last, the pieces of memory and thoughts were, maybe not in order, but in a way that made some sort of sense. He knew most of what had happened. He knew he had been chased, and that there was a risk that the men came back for him. He thought that first of all he must get a message to Rivendell; second, he must find a good place to hide, and this time he must do it properly. Once he was safe, he could tend any wounds that were immediately threatening. Any others could wait.

Would Marigold go back to Rivendell if he told her? Legolas was not so sure, and besides, the men might find her.

A kestrel landed on the other side of the stream, startling Marigold. Legolas blinked drowsily at it. It looked back with eyes like dark opals.

"Do I know you?" Legolas asked, because could not remember.

The kestrel nodded. "Elf been kind. Gave food. Now help elf."

"How?"

The kestrel tilted its head to the side and blinked. It opened its beak, closed it, and blinked again.

Legolas looked down at his tunic. One of the sleeves were torn at the hem and his scraped hands had left stains of blood over it. Would anyone recognise it? Maybe not; but they'd know something was wrong. With the help of his teeth and then the kestrel's beak, he tore a blood-stained piece of green cloth that the kestrel could carry in its talons.

"Take it to Rivendell", he said. "If you find Gandalf or Radagast or Elrond or the twins, give it to them. Then make sure they get back here to me. And be careful."

The kestrel took the cloth and flew. Legolas looked after it until weariness almost made him fall over. Shaking his head he opened his eyes again. He must find a place to hide.

Why was that again?

Because of the men, he remembered, and then - which men? Everything slipped out of his head like fishes through a broken net. His plan began to slip, too, and Legolas panicked, grasped after it - hide, he must remember to hide. There, he had it.

"I'm going to hide, Marigold", he said, as if saying it out loud would keep the thought in place. And perhaps it did, because it stayed clear.

He looked around again, and saw a boulder leaning against the cliff side a bit to the left. It felt vaguely familiar, as if he had seen it before. It was far enough from the place where he had fallen to not be immediately obvious, and the crevice was rather hard to see - especially to one who did not see very well in the dark, and hadn't someone told him men didn't?

He must be quick, because even if Marigold had found a way down that the men had not found, that did not mean they could show up any moment. When he thought that, Legolas could see them clearly in his mind - Scead and Tilwine. The relief of remembering gave him some strength.

Perhaps he could lean on Marigold, and hop up to the rocks on his good leg. It seemed a good idea, because he could get there faster, except there was something - there was something wrong with it. Legolas looked at Marigold, then at the patch of uneven snow between the stream and the rocks, criss-crossed with the tracks of hares and birds... He blinked and looked back the way they had come. Her hoofprints were clearly visible. The tracks his own body had made could hardly be seen at all in the dark.

He reached up to touch Marigold's head, but still wasn't strong enough to force her to turn.

"You have to go away now, Marigold", he said. "I'll make it from here."

She looked at him but didn't, of course, understand.

"You have to go away." Legolas sought desperately for a way to make her understand. "Go", he said. "Now!"

A branch snapped. The birch across the stream shivered in shock, but it had dropped the branch deliberately; it fell onto the ground just beside Legolas. He bent down and picked it up. "Go!" he said and struck Marigold over the back with it. Confused she pranced away from him. Legolas held the branch high and glared at her.

At last she turned. He threw the branch after her and it made her break into a gallop down the path. Legolas looked after her. Now he was alone. He cupped his hands and drank once more, then started to move again from the stream, using his hands and his good leg to crawl up the slope. He forgot what it feels like to be rested and not in pain. When he reached the crevice, he sank down trembling outside of it, blinded by tears. Exhausted he crawled inside and collapsed on the dry earth, and though he vaguely he remembered that he should take care of his wounds, his body was too heavy to move any longer. He shut his eyes and fell asleep.

After a swift meal on the last bread and dried meat, they broke up. Tinuhen counted their torches before they left, both those they had already used and the spare ones, and concluded only every fourth elf could have one if they were to last through the night. Those that were left without gritted their teeth but said nothing. They had all known what they were in for when they chose to dare the cave.

It had taken hours until all agreed, but they had made the decision together. Tinuhen had made sure of that. The choice had not been his to make - it never had been, for he may be a prince at home but out here that meant nothing. Their lives mattered as much as his did, and he could not, like Beren, argue that his experience made him better suited to decide. And still Beren had known what Tinuhen had not understood until now: that his task was to lead, not to rule, and that there was a world of difference between those two words.

But Tinuhen knew that now. As the battle raged, no one had been more important than anyone else. So tiring as it had been, he had made sure everyone got their say as the discussions lasted the whole morning after the battle. When no agreement had been made by noon, he did not force it; instead, he let the council end while they took care of Beren's body and the slain horses, and as the sun begun to set after the short winter day they sat in silence, each deep in thought. The decision was made without anyone arguing for either option. When the swift nightfall had drowned the mountains in shadow they gathered again, and this time they all knew. They had a mission that could not be abandoned. Legolas needed them, and they needed Rivendell. They would dare the cave.

This time they stood together, and it helped. There were no arguments, no petty quarrels as so often before. Beren's death had not left them without hope; rather it had strengthened their bonds and made them all the more determined to go through with it, so that his death would not be for naught. That was what kept Tinuhen going, as the walls of the cave drew closer and the air became so stuffy he thought he would choke. Tinuhen had taken the lead, and though that meant he got to carry a torch it did not make him feel much better. The darkness before him was near impenetrable; all he saw were a few feet of rough stone walls and a floor covered in dust in dirt; veils of spider webs caressed coldly his face, though the only glimpses he got of the spiders were the shadows of their long legs as they escaped the light. When the cave bent, and it often did, even the torch closest behind him disappeared.

The first hours of their march, the cave had looked exactly like this - a stone tunnel, sometimes so low they had to bow their heads, sometimes so narrow the horses barely got through. The horses had to be soothed and coerced to go on, but the elves took comfort in their presence. Tinuhen was not sure he could have go on without his Niphredil's warm breath in his neck. She was reasonably calm now, though the flicker of torch-light on the walls spooked her sometimes. Tinuhen did not like it much either, but it was better than utter darkness.

When the walls on either side vanished, he stopped.

"My prince?" Hethulin said behind him, with a quaver to her voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No", Tinuhen said, which was a mistake.

No no NO, the echo roared back across a vast distance, and a terrified silence fell in the tunnel; Niphredil, thankfully far enough behind him to not give off an equally bad echo, whinnied anxiously. Tinuhen stepped back into the tunnel, pressing close to her, because he did not dare to speak out there again.

"We have reached the bridge", he said, "just like Radagast said. It is a good sign. We're almost through."

Radagast had warned them for the old stone bridge, spanning a ravine so deep and vast it could have housed a dragon at the bottom and no one who walked atop would know it. The echo of that chamber was not to take lightly. The elves had prepared by wrapping the horse's hooves with cloth so their hooves would not make too much noise.

"Hush now", he said to his horse, and led her out on the bridge, stepping very carefully. The darkness closed in on every side; the torch found nothing to light, no walls, no floor, no roof. All he could see was a few steps of the bridge ahead. It was narrow and worn-down. A rope hang from the side, vanishing into the dark. His left foot found something metallic beneath a cover of dust as deep as a hand's breadth. Tinuhen picked it up; it was a sword, old and rusty.

On a whim he threw it over the edge of the bridge. It was a foolish thing to do, but the sword simply vanished; Tinuhen never heard it hit the bottom.

He turned and gestured for Hethulin to follow, and she did, if reluctantly, her eyes wide. At least the bridge was reasonably broad. Even the horses could walk there without problem. There were rotten wooden boards scattered along the edges that Tinuhen supposed were the remains of a parapet. In daytime, Radagast had said, the cave would have been crawling with bats, but they had left to hunt along with the moths.

Miraculously, they all made it across the bridge without any more mishaps than Maidh dropping his water skin over the edge. Water was nothing they had in plenty, and they had had to leave the barrels behind with Laeros's cart, but they would soon be on the other side anyway. Even Laeros managed the bridge without much trouble. Sometimes Tinuhen wondered if he was getting better or worse; if perhaps the perils of the last days had made it shut down completely. But when they had stopped to eat, he had walked over to Laeros and tried to talk to him, and though Laeros had said little, he had seemed alert and awake.

"Right", Tinuhen said, when he had come a way down the next tunnel, "we have passed the bridge. Here is where Radagast said we might stop for the night. Do we or do we not?"

"It's past midnight anyway", said Hethulin, but she passed the question down along the line. There was a total favour of going on, and so they did.

The tunnel split, and they took the left way as Radagast had told them to. It became narrow first, frighteningly so, but then it broadened and opened into another chamber where they followed a broad ledge that wound down and down along the chamber wall. Then they came to the second bridge, and then to something that had once been a stair. Radagast had not known who had built the bridges or the stairs; it had happened long ago, when the mountains were young and easily formed.

Tinuhen had very little sense of how much time passed because the only way to measure it was to count the landmarks that Radagast had told them about. They stopped once more by a subterranean river to drink. The water was freezing cold and tasted like metal, but it gave them the strength to go on, and the horses seemed relieved. When finally they reached the end of the cave, it was so dark outside Tinuhen would not have known it was there if he had not felt the change of air.

They walked a bit down a slope until they came out of the mountain's shadow and into the moonlight. There, without a word to each other, they all sank down in the snow and sat there for a long while. By the position of the moon Tinuhen guessed it must be past midnight. The Council could just as well be over, but Radagast should have been there in time.

"What now?" he asked finally. "It is not far to Rivendell from here, but we are all exhausted. Should we - "

"My prince!" Maidh said, pointing to the sky. "Look!"

Tinuhen looked up. A bird was circling slowly above them - a small bird of prey, a kestrel. He squinted at it.

It seemed to carry something in it's talons.

A squirrel chattered madly, scuttling to and fro in desperation. Legolas blinked.

He could hear the squirrel move over the leaves, but it was too dark for him to see more than a shadow. Dimly he could made out the rough structure of unpolished stone, as if he lay in a cave. He was shivering, and the shivers made every part of him hurt.

He could not remember anything.

Legolas tried to ask the squirrel about it, but his throat was like parchment. His one arm was tucked under him - he had curled up on the side - and he set the other down so he could push himself up a bit, but his shoulder protested violently and Legolas fell back on the ground. But he had enough time to glimpse an opening, just behind him, so he was not in any deep cave. It was very dark outside, but he thought he had seen more stones, and snow, and perhaps trees further away.

Legolas lay down and tried to reach out to pat the squirrel, but it leapt out of the way. Never mind. Legolas was too tired to care. Dead leaves that had blown into the crevice fell into dust when he touched them.

He wondered what he was doing here, and why everything hurt. He wondered if someone would come and take him away.

But when he heard voices and footsteps he felt scared, not relieved. It was as though he had been scared before he fell asleep and that feeling had lingered; or maybe he had dreamt. He lay still and listened. Somewhere outside a horse tried to scrape some grass out from under the snow, and someone - a man - walked over clattering stones. A cloak whispered over the ground. The squirrel pulled frantically at Legolas' tunic, but he did not move; he was too tired and too hurt, even though his head screamed at him to run.

"You go", he tried to say, though it became a hoarse squeak. "You go, quick."

The squirrel stood in front of him, staring at the entrance.

Something dark blocked it.

It was a cloak; the wearer bent down, and his face became visible, pale in the moon-light that was dimly reflected in the snow. His face was broad and ruddy, framed with flaxen hair that had been pulled into a loose braid; his eyes had the colour of a pale spring sky. The dagger in his hand glinted dully as he held it up.

Tilwine.

Somehow the name made Legolas' heart tighten in fear. Somehow, though he had forgotten, he knew.

He wanted to crawl further in, but his body would not move. So he lay still and waited, and for a long time Tilwine did not stir either; his eyes were wide and dark like deep wells, and Legolas met them evenly. He was not very afraid. He was sad, and angry. He had fought so hard and the men had laughed at him - let him lie here in pain and when he thought he was safe, when he thought it was over - that was when they chose to show up. It was not fair.

After all Tilwine had done, it was the least he could do to look Legolas in the eye when he killed him.

But Tilwine did not move.

"Well?" Scead called from a distance. "Is he there?"

Yes he is, Legolas thought. And you can come and kill him, if you want his blood on your hands.

Tilwine stood up. He sheathed his sword. He turned his back on Legolas.

"He's not here."

"Curse it!" Scead said. "Curse our luck, of course he's not! These hoofprints - that horse of his must have found him. We have no time to lose. If he gets back to Rivendell..."

Their voices faded. Legolas listened until the sound of their horses were long gone. He thought: if I want to live I cannot stay here. I need to get warm. I mustn't fell asleep again.

He was only going to close his eyes for a moment.

His mother sat at the entrance to the cave.

"How cold you are", she said. "Why didn't you make yourself a fire?"

"I was too tired." Legolas tried to get closer to her, but his body was too heavy. "Can't you make me a fire?"

"You should never have left your brother", father said.

"And why did you fall down that cliff?" Merilin asked. "That was really stupid."

"Foolish, spoilt child", said Tinuhen. "I always knew that you would end like this."

Legolas shut his eyes tight and tried to pretend like they weren't there.

The horses came back. They were many this time.

"Nooo", Legolas whispered, "you went away!"

But the horses stopped nearby and he heard the soft steps of many feet walking lightly on top of the snow. Voices were calling, elven voices this time - and he knew them, every single one, and instead of stars and jewels they made him think of moss and earth and trees, and they were shouting his name; and there was a kestrel calling...

Someone blocked the opening again.

"Valar, Legolas, I have found you, I have found you..."

Someone sank down beside him, dust shimmering in silver hair. Legolas tried to speak, but he could not. Strong arms pulled him from the ground and lifted him into the moonlight, pressed close to a warm chest where a strong heart beat with life.

"I'm here, little leaf, you'll be fine, I'll save you. I'll save you. All will be fine."

And Legolas knew, now that Tinuhen was here, it would.

But the darkness came again and he slipped and fell into it. He could not find the way out. He hear Tinuhen call his name, but it sounded more and more distant - and now there was someone weeping, and that sound grew closer instead. Legolas had no other way to turn. Following the weeping, he walked into dark dreams.

There are only two chapters left O.o
I finally have some time to write (though two exams after the christmas break means I won't have that much of a break) and I hope that all of you who celebrated it had a merry christmas, and that all of you who didn't celebrate it had a lovely day anyway u w u
Thank you for reading!