And here we go again! This is chapter nineteen! We've almost hit the twenty chapters mark, which was way more than I ever thought we'd hit. I didn't expect this story to be nearly this popular, so it's all thanks to you guys that this is still going on! I'm sorry for such irregular updates, but I'm glad you're still sticking with it. I can't wait for the last Hobbit movie to come out, which is after Christmas this year! I want to see it badly, because I love the Lord of the Rings. Anyway, let's move on.
Shout outs!
There are now 30 favorites, 45 followers, and 43 reviews! Thanks so much to every single one of you! Also, thanks for making this story seem so popular since it has over 7000 and counting views!
Omg thanks so much! You have no idea what this means to me, even though I say this like every single chapter. Keep being awesome, and keep on reading. It gives me a reason to write and every single view of this story, every single favorite and follow, means the world to me because I know that you guys are supporting me!
Anyway, I'll get off my soap box and we'll move right on to the chapter.
Legolas wanted to sigh but remained silent, letting his vacant eyes wander the room restlessly though he knew he could see nothing and no one within. This had long ago stopped bothering the people of Edoras, and they moved under his gaze without complaint. About a day had passed. Legolas had seen and heard nothing from the king of Rohan, and he feared he may have angered him. He had been waiting quietly in the main hall of the keep. Gimli was no where to be seen, and Merry was resting. Angrod laid restlessly at the elf's feet, and Aragorn was off somewhere in his thoughts as he often was. Now Theoden had finally appeared again, but he was busy and paid the elf no attention other than to note that he was there.
Edoras seemed quiet and tensed. It was the same sense of choked desperation that had surrounded the people before the battle of Helm's Deep. He wished deeply that it would go away, but there was little that he could do. As much as the people thought of him as wise, he thought himself just as inexperienced. To these people he seemed ancient, to his he seemed too young to be taking such a quest. And yet here he was, and here he would wait.
Suddenly the elf's train of thought was interrupted, and the doors that were open were bustling with activity. The conversations in the great hall end abruptly as Aragorn came running in, panting and desperate for his message to be heard. Legolas leaned forward a little, and Angrod's ears perked up. What was this? He rarely saw Aragorn run, and then only if necessity drove him to do so. What was so important now that he run.
"The beacons are lit," the man cried loudly, his voice echoing in the hall. "The beacons of Minas Terith are lit! Gondor calls for aid."
Again there was silence. No one spoke, and all eyes turned to Theoden, even those of the blind elf. There was no reply for a few moments as the king considered. It took a rather long time, Legolas thought, for someone who had already made up his mind. The king's eyes turned from Aragorn to the Prince of Mirkwood, and then back to the would be king of Gondor. He spoke, and his voice suddenly seemed full of power and courage.
"And Rohan will answer," he cried.
The elf felt a pride in the man suddenly in his heart, and a pride in the strength of man. Men were stronger than he had thought, and their will could overcome their pride. He leaped up with everyone else as chaos erupted in the halls of Edoras. People ran back and forth, carrying messages and obeying orders. The elf turned and ran to where Merry and Gimli were sitting together, both awake now and speaking to each other quietly. They were surprised and had no idea what was going on, and the elf hardly had time to tell them what had happened before a crowd separated them and the elf returned to the main halls of Edoras, led by Angrod.
Here yet more chaos erupted as the elf stepped into the sunlight. Women and children were tearfully saying a goodbye to their beloved men, and horses and supplies were being brought forward and prepared. Horses were being led out, and messengers broke free from the gates to send out the call for the army of Rohan to form. Theoden was issuing orders, and some of the women were preparing to see the men off to battle, getting on their own horses. Gimli and Merry soon joined the confused mess, but there was hope and pride in the eyes of the Fellowship.
Legolas soon found Arod waiting for him, and the horse blew a quick and affectionate puff of air into the elf's face. It spoke of his trust in the elf and his will to protect him. The Prince patted the charger's face, smiling grimly. He knew that this could very well be his last journey. He wasn't sure he would ever reach make it beyond seeing the black gates of Mordor. But he knew he could never back down. His friends were counting on him so much!
Angrod left ahead of them, knowing that he could not keep up with the pace of the horses for long, and that he would be of more use near Gondor where he could help with the battle. Then the procession began. Legolas swung up onto the back of Arod, and Gimli soon joined him. A pony was fetched for Merry, and it was a practical beast and loyal at that. Aragorn mounted Hasfuel and they began their trek, leaving only a few guards behind to guard Edoras.
The journey was long, and the supply carts were slow. They were moving at a pace that could hardly be called a crawl. Often to save the strength of the horses, they would dismount and lead them forward on foot. When they did this Arod would follow the elf closely and keeping him from falling if he lost his balance, always vigilant for the elf. It amazed the men a little, because though Arod was a war charger of Rohan, he was patient with the elf and perfectly fine with the pace and calm. While other chargers were restive and hard to control, Arod followed Legolas like a lamb, dutifully and calmly.
Gimli left the elf a while to speak to Eowyn and Aragorn. He could not always keep up with the group and often had to ride a horse, so he rode the mare that Eowyn had brought. She was a sturdy beast and full of fire, but calm and gentle. Once she started and ran forward a little, throwing the dwarf off, and he assured everyone quickly that it was deliberate and he was fine. The elf overheard and couldn't help but smile a little bit, amused at the dwarf's ramblings about his people. The mare soon returned and all was forgiven between the dwarf and the horse.
It was a long a weary march, but Theoden at last called a stop when they had reached the half way point, at the edge of Rohan, to Minas Terith. It was dark out, and the men set about making a weary camp, picketing the horses and setting up tents, preparing for their army to assemble. They would be here for two days until more of their people showed up, and then on the third day they would ride. Legolas wandered a while, and soon realized that the horses were growing nervous. Many started and tried to run. He turned his eyes to a narrow path into the mountains, and noticed the darkness there, just a slight tint that made it visible to his eyes. He looked up in slight trepidation and shivered a little.
"The horses grow restless," he said quietly.
"It is the mountain," Eomer replied. "They grow nervous under its shadow. That place is evil. None who venture there return."
No more was said of it, and Legolas felt that he believed the man. It certainly did not seem like a pleasant place. It was full of dark malice and rage. He didn't want to go there if he had to, but thankfully the people seemed to want to avoid it more than he did. At last, the elf left that forsaken crag, wandering to more pleasant areas of camp.
Arod was left to wander and graze, and though Legolas was asked to sleep in one of the more luxurious tents brought by the people, he refused and rolled out his bed roll underneath a sturdy tree. Arod stood nearby, grazing gently at the grass around the roots, and Gimli decided that he would join the elf after he had spoken to Eowyn a little more.
Legolas reached out and put his hand against the bark of the tree, feeling the life within it stir. The ancient mind opened to him, realizing it felt the touch of an elf, and turned its all seeing eye towards him. It looked around for a while, and then finally spoke.
"An elf with the men of Rohan," the ancient being remarked. "A strange day indeed. I had never again thought to see the men so drawn forth to war as they are now. It has been many long years since I last saw this. It is to fight Sauron, is it not? I can tell that it is. There is much courage again in the hearts of
men."
"The courage was always there," the elf replied. "They simply needed the drive to find it."
"This is true young Prince," The tree replied. "I have met many elves who had passed by this place and summoned me from my sleep. Over my life I have met many men and elves, all whose outlooks on life are different. Some are tired and wish it to end. Some are energized and wait for each day with bated breath. Some are angry and some happy. Some are sad and some look at the world as a tool for their use. But none have borne the scars you have and remained so pure. Your soul it still sings, and your heart tells of great wisdom."
"I do not feel I am wise enough for this situation," the elf said. "For any of this."
"You are wise young one," the tree replied. "Wiser than most. You may be young, but you have more experience than many, simply because of the trials you have faced. An age is not called dark because of the evil within it, but because people refuse to see the light. You have seen the light within yourself, and it shines brightly. Because you know there is darkness and seen the light within your heart, you have shown the world that light reigns, and because of this you shine brighter and more beautifully than any stars I have seen in the sky, even though there is little light within you."
"And this makes me wise, old one?" the elf asked. The tree seemed highly amused.
"You ask me what makes one wise?" the tree asked in reply. "You might as well ask why the sun rises and sets, or why the mountain stands so tall. It is what it is. What makes wisdom? Age? Or perhaps hindsight? I think that wisdom can come from even an infant that cannot speak, or a fool who everyone sees as too dumb to even beg. Wisdom comes only from speaking the truth and speaking it plainly so that everyone can understand, even if you say no words. Wisdom comes from the heart so that it appeals to other hearts. And wisdom comes from knowing one's faults and seeking instead the right. Because of this young one you are wise, and because of this young one, you are a light unto this bleak and broken land. Let your light shine my Prince, for there is little now."
"Your words bring me comfort," the elf replied. "I will think more on what you have said."
"Think then young one," the tree said. "But do not think too hard on it, or your judgment may cloud. You may rest under my boughs tonight, and then when you leave you may take my words with you. They may prove of more use than a sword if it comes to it."
The elf's hand was removed as the ancient spirit curled back up into its silent slumber. The elf leaned his head and back against the tree. He listened to the creaking and moaning of the wood above his head, hearing the rustle of leaves as the wind blew and the expanse of the branches overhead seemed groan under the weight of the sky. It was almost a lullaby to the elf, hearing the tree's gentle reassurances. Soon though the dwarf joined him, and he turned his head in the direction of the dwarf's breathing as he settled down beside him.
"What a night," the dwarf sighed. "It seems almost impossible to think that we'll soon be riding off to war again. Might as well enjoy some rest while we can, because we won't be getting much more lad."
"Perhaps," the elf said thoughtfully. "But would you rather we never began this quest?"
"No," the dwarf instantly replied. "I would not. Perhaps it is dangerous, and perhaps we will all die. But if I had not insisted blatantly on helping the Fellowship on this foolish quest of ours then I would have never become friends with you. And that is a friendship that I will cherish the rest of my days. Besides, I was a rather shallow dwarf before I left. This quest has made me grow. Whether I see the end of it or not, that still remains to be seen. However I am glad that I left."
"I am glad as well," the elf said with a small smile. "With all of the bad, there is the good. And I have forged bonds I would not have given up. There is nothing that would make this any less true."
For a moment the two of them were silent, simply sitting there in their own thoughts and wondering about the paths that had brought this strange Fellowship together. Odd though it was, they had forged bonds together that would echo throughout time, even if they all died by the end of this. However their thoughts were interrupted as a cloaked figure stopped in front of them and watched them a moment. Then a familiar voice spoke with some amusement.
"The son of Thranduil and the son of Gloin being friends," the half elf said. "Who would have thought it possible?"
"My Lord Elrond," Legolas cried, sitting up quickly in surprise.
"Peace, Thranduilion," Elrond said, waving his hand so that Gimli would relax. "I was here to speak with Aragorn. Listen to me, he is going to take the paths of the dead, and you must follow him. If you do not defeat Sauron then Aowyn will die, for his has chosen a mortal life and she will not last long in the coming darkness." (son of Thranduil)
"She is dying?" Gimli asked. Legolas too was upset, but there was something else that was bothering him.
"This is impossible," the elf said. "What will Aragorn do? He would need proof of his line to call forth the specters of that mountain."
"He has it," the half elf replied. "From the shards of Narsil, the blade that was broken, I forged Anduril, the flame of the west. The sword has been remade, and so too has his line. But he will need help in this I fear. You must go to him, and you will not let him turn you away."
"Of course," the Prince replied.
With no more words, the lord of the last homely house turned and left, leaving the elf and the dwarf behind. They both leaped up and packed away their things, knowing that they could never allow their friend to go into peril without them. They had faced too much together, just the tree of them, to not follow him. Arod quickly followed the elf and the dwarf as they made their way through the curious crowds and to the entrance to the craggy pass. Instantly they walked up to the man and the elf smiled at him.
"You will need our help," the elf said.
"Ready to go then?" the dwarf asked.
"Not this time," the man said. "I go alone."
"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" the elf asked with a smile.
"We're going with you laddie," the dwarf added.
At last the man relented and nodded, and soon they were on their way again, into the paths of the dead. The horses were dutiful beasts of Rohan, and for a while they held their nerve. But soon even Arod, brave beast though he was, began to grow nervous and start at every little sound. The elf whispered reassurances to the white steed, but that seemed to have little affect against the great terror that he was feeling. Soon though they reached a point where the path ended, and they swung down off of the horses, looking into the dark tunnel. Legolas could clearly see the tunnel mapped out to even his eyes. He looked up and found he could see the writing along the top of the mouth of the cave. It was written in the black speech, and clearly visible to his eyes. A little unnerved that he could understand it, he told the others its meaning.
"The way is shut," he said. "It was made by those who were dead. The way is shut. And the dead keep it."
There suddenly came a breath from within. It was little more than an exhale, but it sounded threatening and ghostly. A dreadful air poured out from within, and the two horses, foaming at the mouth, ran screaming down a side path, seeking to escape the dreadful paths of the dead. They looked after the horses, but their path lay ahead, so they looked instead at the doorway. Legolas couldn't help but shudder. It was such a dark place!
"I do not fear death," Aragorn growled, and then marched straight in. Legolas hesitated a moment, but his strong sense of loyalty won out and he followed the man inside.
"An elf go underground," he heard from behind him. "when a dwarf dare not? Oh I'd never hear the end of it!"
With that, all three of them had entered into the deepest and darkest part of the paths of the dead. Legolas was quite sure that he noticed pairs of eyes through the darkness, watching them, and dead eye sockets following them as they traveled on. But Aragorn marched on straight ahead, never wavering in path and always moving. Soon though they reached a large room with the only visible door being sealed behind them. At Aragorn's call, a single specter appeared. He was terrible, a great skeletal figure with a decaying face, blank and cruel eyes and covered like a king. He regarded them a moment.
"Who is so foolish to visit us?" he demanded, looking them all over, though giving the elf a somewhat perplexed look.
"I call you to fulfill your oath," Aragorn said. The king of the dead just laughed.
"You cannot," he said. "The way is shut. It was made by those who were dead. The way is shut. And the dead keep it."
At that terrible proclamation, the whole army of dead came pouring out of their ghastly city to present themselves in such a great horde before them, surrounding them. Feeling slightly panicked suddenly the elf pulled out his bow and shot an arrow at the king, but it passed right through his head. He began to laugh, but Aragorn pulled out Anduril with no fear and held it up. A wave of uncertainty seemed to pass through the ghosts. Then the would be king reached forward and grabbed the neck of the king and pressed the sword to his throat, making the king gasp in terror.
"That line was broken," he cried.
"It has been remade," Aragorn snarled.
He released the king, and then turned to look at the other ghosts, who looked down as if in fear of angering him. He looked them all over, then pointed his sword at them.
"I am Isuldir's heir," he said. "And I have called you to fight for me. Fight for me, and I will hold your oath fulfilled. What say you?" There was a silence, so he again demanded. "What say you?"
From across the room, across every corner and from every mouth came a hissing sound, a dark attempt at words that not even Legolas could quite make out. Then from behind them came the reply.
"We accept," the king said. "We will follow you until your fight is done. Then you will release us. You have given us your word!"
"I have given you my word," Aragorn assured them. "Now we must make for the coast, and then to Gondor. It is there that our battle lies. Legolas, Gimli, we go now."
With the help of the dead, the man, the elf, and the dwarf soon left the endless catacombs that was the path of the dead. They left the cursed mountain behind with the dead following closely. Out in the plains behind the mountain they found Arod and Hasfuel who were still nervous of the dead, but glad to be reunited with their masters. They allowed them to mount again and ran on faster than they might have normally because they were nearly in terror from the hordes of dead behind them.
They made good time, and it took only a two days to reach the shore. They didn't stop for food or rest, preferring to run on until they made the shoreline. The army of Rohan would have already left, but they pulled up in a little surprise to find pirates camping at the shore. They were obviously not from middle earth, and though they were men they were dark skinned. Here they paused to try and think of what they could do.
"They have been summoned by Sauron," Legolas said.
"And they're probably going to do some damage at the battle of Gondor," the dwarf said.
"Having a force attack from the sea as well as the ground will ensure the fall of Gondor," the elf said.
For a long while Aragorn seemed to be thinking, and the ghosts watched him carefully, as if assessing him. They said nothing, and instead watched silently. At last Aragorn seemed to come up with some sort of conclusion and looked up.
"We cannot allow them to make it to Gondor," he said at last. "We will destroy them now. Then to avoid suspicion we will bring their ships to Gondor and attack with surprise on our side. Then we will ensure the victory of Gondor."
The armies of the dead seemed to take that as a command, and they went rushing past the two horses and their three riders and on towards the pirates. The seamen leaped up to defend themselves, but found their weapons less than useless against the dead. It was morbid to watch the dead destroy living beings like that, to watch the men scream and run for cover, only to be torn down as they tried. But soon no pirates remained alive, and the dead floated silently into the ships to man them and wait for the signal to begin the next part of their journey, silent as always. Silent as death.
"Well," the dwarf remarked dryly. "There's one good thing about these lads. Death certainly doesn't bother them at all."
"Come," Aragorn said. "We make our way now to Gondor. Gimli, Legolas, you will man the rigging so that we will stay on course. I will steer."
With that, the three members of the Fellowship moved to the only unoccupied boat. It took a while for Gimli and Legolas to figure out at least enough of how the ship moved to keep them from smashing into tiny little bits, and then they began to undo the knots and redo them, holding ropes and releasing them to get the ship to move faster, lowering and raising the sails. Legolas was sure there were more technical terms for all of this, but he had no idea about them. They managed to coax the two horses into the boat, and they then asked them to lie down. Soon the horses were waiting quietly, and they began their trek onwards.
Quietly the now abandoned ships turned and made their way into the blue ocean, turning towards Gondor and being lost in the waves. Now Gondor had at least a sliver of hope, and the army of the dead certainly made the odds tip very high into their favor. But that didn't stop Legolas from praying that they even made it to Gondor. The sea held a high fascination for him, as it did for all elves. But that didn't mean he knew how to control a man made vessel meant to be piloted by a crew of at least ten. They had three.
So what did you think? It was kind of a lame scene with the pirates, but one that I felt was necessary to at least attempt an explanation for. I hope it wasn't too bad. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this update and feel free to leave a review below.
Now I am going to bed because the time I've finished writing this at is 3:00 am. Darn college homework gave me no time today xP