Thank you so so much to all the people who reviewed, you fair made my week! The editing of this chapter has been a little hasty as finals are drawing ever nearer, and it's making it hard for me to find time for writing.

Just a heads up there are two chapters left in this story – remember it's only a short story! I am considering doing a prequel though, but I can't say when it'll be ready to be posted. At any rate I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

-Periodic

Chapter Six: Don't Leave Me Here Alone

"And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah"

Jeff Buckley – "Hallelujah"

The missile was headed for them, arcing beautifully through the night sky like a vengeful angel. Legolas watched it ascend the heavens, marking its path towards his doom. All around him men were scattering, running for their lives, but he stood transfixed. His heart swelled till he thought it would burst, his blood was on fire and it sang through his veins. Never before had he felt more alive than in this moment before his death.

A force like no other tackled him from the side, knocking him off his feet. Legolas' peace was shattered as his back struck the top step and inertia carried him down several more stairs. The small, hairy creature that had tackled him followed him down in a similar fashion and they landed with a painful thump on the ground.

Legolas was dimly aware of dust from crushed stone and mortar filling his lungs as he coughed violently, struggling to draw a breath. He pushed the creature off his chest and rolled on to his side, heaving and dragging at the air, clutching his back with one hand and pulling out his blade with the other.

"Do ye have a death wish?" A familiar voice bellowed in his ear, choked off by ragged breathing. "Tell me, are ye mad? Is there madness in your family?"

"Gimli…Gimli…" Legolas waved his hand vaguely in his friend's direction, sitting up with a grimace and stretching until his back cracked. He paused to survey the ruddy colouring of the dwarf's face, and a broad smile stretched across his lips. "You saved my life."

"Aye! Because you're too busy starin' at the bleedin' stars! Bloody elves and their bloody obsession with bloody nature!"

Legolas' smile broadened for a moment before he lifted his eyes to survey his surroundings. The fall had left him disorientated, and he was slow to acknowledge the destruction caused by the missile. It had crashed overtop the wall, obliterating several staircases and showering the streets with debris. From his sitting position Legolas picked up the broken shaft of one of his arrows. He glanced wordlessly at Gimli who was already up on his feet and shaking his head.

"There's naught time fer greavin'. Save what ye can and help hold the gate." He helped Legolas to his feet, pausing to ensure that he was unharmed before racing to the unit of soldiers gathered around the bombarded gates, shouting encouragement along the way.

Legolas salvaged what arrows he could, hurrying to join the swelling ranks. The men quivered with fear, and at each strike against the heavy gates there was a wave of shock and terror that swept through them.

"Hold your place men of Gondor," Gimli growled from the front of the ranks. "No matter what comes through them gates, hold your place."

Legolas notched an arrow into his bow, pulling the string back until his knuckles brushed his ear. He let his mind empty of all emotions and thoughts, concentrating on slowing his breathing to a steady pull of inhalation and smooth exhalation. He felt calm and detached from the situation yet still in control. The deep groan of the gates slowly giving way to the onslaught from outside no longer stirred his heart into a frenzy, and he waited coolly for the chaos of war to ensue.

* * *

"Eighteen! Nineteen!"

"Twenty-five!" Legolas shouted back and Gimli laughed.

"I'm gaining on you! Twenty!" He sang as his battle axe crunched into the skull of a nearby orc.

The fighting had moved from the wall to the streets, making battle hard as the quarters were close. Legolas had run out of arrows long ago, and now relied on his knives to deal the damage. Gimli, who was ahead of him, swung his axe to cleave any orcs that stepped too close.

"Stand and fight!" Gimli roared at the fleeing human soldiers. "Fight! Fight for your city! Fight for your lives!"

They were being pushed back up the street and orcs continued to pour in from the alleyways. It ceased to be a battle then but a desperate grapple for life, with men shrinking in the face of brutality. They were losing hope, and the orcs could see it. Some had even given up the battle to feed on the flesh of fallen humans.

The black shadow of the Nazgul swept over the white city, its heart-stopping scream shattering the will of the men. Everywhere it flew the ranks of men broke and scattered; many of them losing all reason in the frenzy of panic and bolting into the blood thirsty hordes of orcs.

Above the cacophony of screaming creatures and ringing blades a horn call trumpeted through the air. It resonated through the city once, twice, three times and a cry went up from the men of Gondor.

"Rohan calls," Legolas said, smiling, and with renewed vigor the once running men turned to fight. Battling was hard, with many alleys branching into the main streets attack was possible from every angle, and the avenues pulsed with the desperate crush of bodies, orc and man alike, fighting for survival. The silver of the men's swords clashed against the dark blades of Mordor, and they screamed their defiance in the face of evil. Slowly, steadily, they drove back Sauron's forces, causing the foul beasts to rout and separate.

A ray of light split the night's shadows and the Nazgul's blood curdling cry sounded again as it wheeled about and departed for the field's outside of the city. The men cheered again, hope and fervor shining madly in their eyes as they fought harder than before.

"Gandalf!" Gimli shouted with a laugh. "And Aragorn'll be with him."

They pushed the brutes back into the market place that had been hit hard by the firing missiles – one store house lay in ruins, other sections still burned freely. Some of the orcs turned to flee, while others still fought on more fiercely.

Legolas stepped forward smoothly, knife flicking up and around to slit the throat of an orc, but blood gurgled from its mouth before he had even touched it. As the corpse fell to the ground, Pippin stood over it, small blade stained with orc blood.

Legolas stood stunned for a moment. "Ha! Gimli, we have a new competitor!"

Pippin grinned up at him, his small chest swelling with pride.

"We're moving the people up to the citadel where it's safer. I think this is the last lot." Pippin said, indicating the small group of huddled civilians that crowded around him. "I'll take them to make sure they get there unharmed."

Legolas nodded, smiling at the hobbit who, at that moment, was a leader among men. As Pippin took off up the streets, Legolas paused, shouting after him.

"We?" But the hobbit was out of hearing distance.

Legolas turned back at Gimli's warning shout and saw three orcs preparing to rush them. Over their shoulders he saw an orc advancing on a lone woman. Her face was frozen in terror, green eyes wide as the orc raised its dark blade high to strike.

No. No!

"Aurelia!" Legolas roared, fending off the three orcs that surrounded him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aurelia take a hasty step backward, stumbling over a corpse and twisting as she fell to the ground. The twisting motion caused her body to be thrown to the side, and the orc's blade sang harmlessly past her shoulders, slicing off a lock of hair.

Grimly Legolas focused his attention on his enemies, quickly depositing one with a flick of his blade. Another one fell clawing at Gimli's throwing axe which protruded from its back. Legolas faced off against the last one, dimly aware of Aurelia scrabbling on the ground for something.

Legolas palmed the two knives in his hands, watching his own attacker carefully. With a roar the orc moved forward and Legolas skipped to the side, sliding one knife between its ribs and spinning round the orc's body to deliver the last blow at the base of its neck. Pulling his blades out Legolas turned without a backwards glance and sprinted towards Aurelia.

She was back on her feet, dagger in hand. Legolas propelled himself forward as he saw her face off against the creature, terror written plainly across her dirty face, and time slowed to be counted by dull heartbeats as the orc raised its sword. She clumsily jumped out of the way of the orc's wild swing and with a feral scream leapt on him, stabbing her blade into its chest and stomach, her free hand clawing at its face. The orc staggered backwards and crashed to the ground, pulling Aurelia with it. She landed on top of it, screeching and stabbing at the corpse repeatedly. Its limbs were tangled round her and Aurelia struggled desperately to free herself, staggering to her feet only to double over and retch violently. Legolas saw the blade, slick with blood, slip from her fingers. Her richly embroidered dressing gown was torn to reveal her once snow white nightgown underneath, now streaked with ash, soot, and the black of orc blood.

"Aurelia," he called. "Aurelia."

As she righted herself Aurelia turned slowly and he saw her empty eyes study his face for a moment before recognition lit their green depths. Her bleeding lips formed his name, though no sound came at first, and then she was staggering towards him and he ran to her, roughly pulling her to him.

She buried her face in his chest, her muffled words choked off by her wracking sobs.

"Where were you? Where were you, you bastard? I thought-I thought-dead for sure! And-and I killed a man. I murdered-I-I-pushed Denethor back into the fire, but he was k-killing Faramir and I didn't ha-have a choice, and he burned, oh God, he burned-I killed him. And this orc-there was a woman- and it should have been me, Legolas it should have been me!" The rest was lost to him as she switched to her mother tongue, her words flowing fast and urgent.

Legolas rested his cheek near her temple, stroking her frizzy curls and holding her close while the victory horn of Gondor sounded. At length her crying slowed and he pulled away to take her battered, tear streaked face in his hands.

"You're safe with me," he said firmly and was satisfied when she nodded. He gently wiped the wetness from her cheeks, and removed his cloak to put it around her shoulders.

"Come, let's see you healed." Legolas turned to Gimli who had made his way back into the market after pursuing the orcs. "Will you find Aragorn? I need to do this."

Gimli nodded shortly. "Aye, I'll tell'em."

Legolas smiled grimly and then wrapped an arm around Aurelia's waist, and in her shell-shocked state she let him lead her up to the citadel and back to her room. She let him hunt for the fur-lined nightgown that was worn only during winter, let him wrap it around her shoulders, and let him guide her to the bed where she sat so he could tend to her wounds.

From a small flask at his waist, Legolas soaked a cloth and gently dabbed at her split lip. He murmured soothingly as he worked but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He could see that her eyes held the blank, far-seeing quality of someone in shock, and her skin, once cleaned of soot and dirt, had lost its bronze glow.

He cleaned and bandaged her hands and feet, which had suffered the worst of the burns and cuts. His medical supplies used up, Legolas helped tuck her into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. The fact that she allowed this all to happen so placidly and without a word worried him a great deal. Her eyes continued to the stare at the ceiling, and seemed empty in the flickering candlelight, her skin slack and gray. Legolas reached forward to gently brush the hair from her face, but she showed no recognition of his touch.

"Sleep now, Aurelia," he said softly, though he got no response. Sighing, he turned to go, resolved to find a proper healer for her once he had seen Aragorn and the others.

"Don't go." The softly whispered words were hoarse, and Legolas glanced back to see her watching him. He noticed suddenly how sunken her face seemed, how tiny she appeared in the expansive bed and it seemed a miracle that the pile of blankets didn't crush her. Aurelia's frailness startled him and worriedly he drew back to her bedside.

"Aurelia," Legolas murmured quietly, at a loss of how to help her. Apart from the burns on her hands and feet, she suffered no outward wounds, and Legolas' knew the agony in her green eyes was not from physical pain.

Aurelia withdrew her bandaged hand from beneath the blankets and reached for him.

"Don't leave me," she implored again. Legolas took her hand gently, hesitating a moment before he nodded his head and bent to lightly brush his lips against the fabric that covered her hand. He stood and crossed to the other side of the bed; lying down on top of the covers and easing himself close beside her. Without a word Legolas put an arm around her trembling body and she turned to rest her head on his shoulder, a low, mournful groan escaping her lips.

While the people of Gondor filled the streets, singing and dancing and weeping for joy, they held onto each other, silently sharing their grief.