Even Elves have panic attacks
Old men staggered in silently, glancing over their shoulders at the men already in armour who had escorted them in. Boys ambled in after them, trembling, none of them looking younger than ten. They flocked to the middle of the room, a few muttering, snatching the sharpest weapons they could get their hands on, shrugging on chainmail and helmets. Aragorn lifted one of the swords, examining it under the light. Even from where she stood Rosalie could see the rust and nicks on the sides of the blade, not even sharp enough to cut fabric. He dropped it back onto the pile, walking towards her, Legolas and Gimli.
"Farmers, carriers, stable boys." He murmured, looking around him. "They are no soldiers." A few faces turned to them, not replying, defending or correcting the ranger's statement. Gimli shook his head, leaning back against a smaller table shunted to the side of the armoury they were in.
"Most have seen too many winters," The dwarf added, glancing at the surrounding men.
"Or too few," Legolas finished, a surprising amount of venom lacing his words. Rosalie blinked at his words, before frowning at him, but the Elf seemed to take no notice. He did not see the strength all the men in the room were drawing from, only the physical weaknesses they had. His eyes trailed over all of them, Rosalie's green ones following the path, spotting a few familiar faces from her brief stay in Edoras, and the hospital, or as they were known here, the Healing House.
"Look at them, they are frightened. You can see it in their eyes," His words got louder, and more men turned towards them, enough for the girl to flush in embarrassment, digging her elbow into the Elf's ribs.
"Stop it," she hissed at him, and his face morphed from anger to incredulously, eyes widening, as if he thought she would back him up. For a fraction of a second, she felt guilty for causing him to look at her like that, but then she remembered the things he had said, and hardened her heart.
Legolas' blue eyes hardened as well, straightening up, laughing darkly. He turned away from them, having the attention of everyone in the room. Even Gimli stood, squaring his shoulders, watching the elf wander a few steps away from their group.
Suddenly, he spun on his heels, speaking in his native tongue, words directed at Aragorn. Rosalie watched his reactions from the corner of her eyes, darting back and forth between the man and the elf, like a tennis match. The ranger flinched at whatever he said, glancing around him, nervously as if they knew what he'd said.
Aragorn shrugged, speaking softly, wording his Elvish phrases carefully, even if the only other person who could tell what they meant was Legolas. Rosalie only recognised a few words, like Edoras and Aragorn, the words alien, but everyone knew the meanings behind them. Legolas said something else, and Rosalie watched anger flash across his features, hands and jaw clenching as the elf continued.
"Then I shall die as one of them!" The ranger shouted, striding towards Legolas. Rosalie felt her heart sink, watching Aragorn close the gap, the two male's just inches from each other. The room had fallen hauntingly silent, the kind where the slightest movement was like a fog horn booming.
The ranger shook his head, stalking away again, out of the room, and Legolas' face slackened. He took a step forward, halted when Gimli grabbed the crook of his arm. "Let him go lad," he muttered, not looking at the elf's face. The witnesses to the fight came to life again, shuffling around, most of them filing out of the room, the previous calm feeling replaced by a tense cloud that no one could shake. "Let him be."
A few minutes later, Gimli left as well, leaving the two alone in the silence. Legolas' fingers kept twitching, like he couldn't stay still, but Rosalie just kept quiet, watching the elf. He's never looked like this... she thought, trying to identify the emotion marring Legolas' fair face. Despair.
"I feel like I should be chewing you out." Rosalie said casually, glancing at the elf. He didn't move, apart from his twitchy fingers, staring at the walls, deliberately not looking at her. "After what you said, especially saying it now, here, in front of all of them." She added, keeping her tone light.
"Then why aren't you chewing me out?" He snapped, whirling on her. There was a pause, the girl staying calm under the glare she was being sent.
"Because I know where those words are coming from."
Their eyes met; turbulent blues against cool greens, a battle of wits, and the ability to refrain from blinking. "It's okay to be scared Legolas," She whispered, knowing he would hear her. The elf blinked, mouth dropping for a split second before going back on the defensive.
"I'm not scared." He said quickly, reminding the girl of a kid caught doing something wrong. She smiled gently at him, but the hard look didn't waver. Alright, new approach, she thought as she sighed aloud. Rosalie breezed past him, letting out a huff as she slid down the side of the wall.
"You can talk to me, y'know?" She whispered, staring intently at the elf. "You can trust me, I'm here for you." Legolas pulled a hand over his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He started to pace in little circles in the middle of the room, still not looking at the girl sat on the floor. "We're gonna get through this-"
Suddenly, the elf laughed bitterly. "Did you not hear what Aragorn said, or are you just as foolish as the rest of Rohan?" He asked, eyes flashing as he faced her for the first time. "There are ten thousand of them against what, three hundred?" He shook his head. "No, we go to our deaths," he muttered screwing up his face.
Rosalie was quiet for a little bit. "I don't believe that. Not for a second, and I don't believe you do either." Legolas scoffed at her words, but Rosalie ignored him. "Not deep down anyway." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I was once told that 'once you choose hope, anything's possible'"
"Not against ten thousand Uruk-hai." Legolas quipped and the girl sighed, putting her face in her hands.
"You aren't getting the point here. We can do anything Legolas. Anything," She repeated. "And so what if we die? Protecting others? Is that really so bad?" Her questions seemed to stump him. He tucked his arms and legs in front of him, burying his nose in his arms, big blue eyes staring blankly. Oh no, don't do that, I'm serious, stop, nope no.
"Plus, we have a secret weapon," Rosalie mentioned, and the elf raised an eyebrow. "Me, Gandalf, Aragorn, a certain dwarf named Gimli son of Glóin and then you." She looked at him meaningfully. "You are Legolas, son of Thranduil, greatest archer in all of Middle-Earth, Prince of Mirkwood. All against you shall fall." Rosalie boasted, and it had the desired effect, as Legolas snorted, smiling quietly.
"Gandalf is not here," he reminded her, though his tone had changed from brooding to something close to playful and teasing. "And I do not know if you can be classed as secretive or as a weapon."
Rosalie spluttered. "For your information, I am very dangerous, thank you!" The girl exclaimed and Legolas tittered.
"Yes, you are, but you are far too nice to be a weapon." He murmured, and the laughter died almost instantly when she saw the look in his eyes. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach, creating a home there. Rosalie gulped, and his gaze seemed to intensify, the blue becoming brighter. Time slowed down. Every nerve in her body was on fire. She held his gaze, and he seemed to be getting closer. Unconsciously, her eyelids fluttered in time with the butterflies. He kept getting nearer, and his eyes shut as well. She could feel his hot breath on her lips. Just a little bit more, her mind was screaming and doing happy dances inside her head. So close, they were just a hairs breadth away.
There was a crash outside the door and a loud curse. The pair froze, eyes snapping open, staring blankly at each other. Legolas exhaled, warm air spreading across Rosalie's face and he looked a little... dazed.
Slowly, the butterflies died, wings cracking like glass as reality tumbled around her. What just happened? Or what was about to happen? Part of her was cursing whoever created the noise in every language she knew, while another part of was glad they did it.
She could imagine what it would've felt like to kiss Legolas- gently, sweet and innocent, like how people imagined their first kiss to be like, but never was. It would've been perfect and amazing, something that would make her want to jump up and down squealing after. Indescribable, definitely. Something that only happened in her dreams, not in real life.
That scared her, that there was even the smallest possibility that he liked her just as much as she might like him. He was just so different, literally the stereotypical fairytale prince in her eyes. Strong, handsome, chivalrous, graceful, intelligent, he ticked every box. What could I offer him? Rosalie thought desperately. It was a heat of the moment thing- yes that makes sense.
During her internal battle, the elf had drawn back and out of her personal bubble, so they were sat side by side, like any two friends would do. His outward demeanour had changed as well, hardening in some respects while softening in others. His shoulders had slackened, his face melting, dissolving any traces of the earlier anger. His eyes had become harder and more guarded though, and a muscle in his jaw was taunt from something.
On the other hand, the girl looked dazed, staring at the elf blankly, something happening inside her eyes. Suddenly, her eyes focused, and she snapped back to attention, leaning away from him, eyes darting away as she blushed.
Awkward tension filled the room, cocooning the two of them. "Why are you a secret weapon?" Legolas blurted abruptly, desperate to quell the uneasy feeling they both shared. She turned her head sharply to look at him from the corner of her eye, not looking at him straight on. "Hmmm?"
Legolas flushed a little, angry at the awkwardness between them. "Earlier, you said that you were the secret weapon? Why?" He asked and Rosalie flushed, fiddling with her fingers.
"Well I said I was one of the secret weapons, and for... y'know, my gift." She said a little sheepishly, holding up her hands. The elf seemed fascinated. Could explain what almost just happened, the girl thought gloomily, but focused on what he said.
"How far do you think it extends?" He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, still looking at her hands. Rosalie shrugged, curling her fingers up and drawing them back to her body.
"I don't know," she admitted, "Gandalf said that I can think of things and bring them into... existence. So I guess anything's possible. Might be why my hair hasn't faded..." She mused and Legolas stared at her quizzically. "The blue dye," She explained and Legolas nodded like he understood, but his furrowed eyebrows said otherwise.
She lifted a hand, frowning at it. "I'm not really sure how it works..." The girl murmured, screwing up her face in concentration. A few seconds later, her fingers sparked, bubbly orange flames flaring to life at the ends of her fingers. The elf had jumped, but drew closer when Rosalie began to speak again.
"That is so strange," He breathed, staring at her hands curiously. She blushed a little, fidgeting under the scrutiny he was giving her. She couldn't forget what almost happened, but she fought to ignore, especially at times like this. "Not in a bad way," he rushed to say, backtracking when he glimpsed her expression. "Can you do anything else?" He asked, and Rosalie frowned, focusing on whatever she was thinking.
The fire surrounding her fingers turned a startling shade of violet. Slowly she reached over, touching a spot in the middle of one of the stone tiles. The purple flames jumped there, about an inch above the tile existing and feeding on nothing but air. The elf's eyes widened. Rosalie narrowed her eyes at the little purple fire. Gently, it grew, the flames growing wider and higher, pushing and pulling and bending into unnatural shapes. A tiny purple bird with sunny yellow eyes gleamed and flew from the central fire, dissipating as it got further away.
Legolas was smiling faintly, and Rosalie pushed harder, her brain starting to ache. She shrunk it again, to the size of a book, and began pushing out her mental picture again. The fire burned pink and red, unnatural shades that wove together and made people. A pair was born, the man reaching out to touch the woman's shoulder, twirling her around gracefully. They spun around together, a beautiful being that looked more like one than two, never knowing when one stopped and the other began.
Rosalie let it die, fading to obscurity as they watched in silence, her head beginning to pound. "It's like... I push an image into a void, and then, for some crazy reason, I can make it true, make it real." She rubbed circles into her temple. "Hurts my head though..." She mumbled, and Legolas glanced at her, concerned.
"Will you be okay?" He asked and she nodded wearily. Maybe I overdid it. Okay, new rule: No impressing people with the magic powers. Rosalie sighed, slouching down, head flopping back, limbs sprawling outwards. Legolas smiled at her, bobbing his head.
"Now, we have something to do," She said, and the elf turned to her, looking serious. "You need to go and find Aragorn. And apologize," She emphasised the end of her sentence, scrutinising him. He huffed crossing his arms, but smiled a little. Like the elf he was, he leapt to his feet gracefully and held out a delicate, yet masculine hand for her. Rosalie grinned at it, and then looked up to his face. Don't go getting ideas, she warned herself.
Aragorn tugged on his vest, pulling his belt tight. Rosalie and Legolas crept into the room, the ranger too focused on whatever was on his mind. The elf glanced at Rosalie, who nodded encouragingly. Legolas held out his sword, and Aragorn stared at him, and his peace offering. The ranger took it, nodding his head, still staring at the elf, though sparing a quick glance and a smile at the girl stood behind.
"We have trusted you this far and you have not led us astray." He said, hesitating for a brief moment, glancing back at Rosalie. She gave him a look and he focused on Aragorn again. "Forgive me, I was wrong to despair," he implored.
The ranger smiled, murmuring in Elvish and the Elf's face brightened, and he clasped Aragorn's shoulder, as the man did the same to him, before both of them turned to the girl. Rosalie beamed at them. Took you flipping long enough, she thought.
"If we had time, I'd have this damn vest adjusted..." They could hear the dwarf's voice before he wandered into the armoury, clutching rolls of chain mail to his chest. He wriggled under it, sighing as it dropped, freezing as it hit the floor, the sound of metal clattering on stone tiles ringing out. Aragorn raised an eyebrow as Legolas and Rosalie fought to hide their smirks. She had almost managed it when she caught the elf's eye and it threatened to come out again.
"It's a little tight across the chest," Gimli muttered, his face flushing a similar colour to his hair and Rosalie turned away, screwing her eyes up and counting in her head to try and stop the giggles.
In the distance, a horn rang out, capturing all their attentions. They all looked up and around, like they would be able to see it and Legolas' eyes widened with disbelief. "That is no Orc horn," was all he said before sprinting out the door. The ranger and the girl paused then rushed after him, an angry dwarf yelling for them to wait.
For the few minutes she followed Aragorn out onto the wall, her heart pounding. The sight before her was amazing, a feeling blooming inside of her as she stared down at it. Hope, she thought, its hope.