Tauriel turned to the dwarves, agony in her eyes. They had come so far and magic was stopping them. Only magic. For she knew that Legolas was being held within the ruins that weren't ruins, and she knew she had to find a way to break the enchantment.
Fili stared back at her, knowing the pain she was in. He had gotten to know her over their travels, and she now knew him. Fili held compassion out to her and, more importantly, he held determination. After all, he would help her to the end. He had promised her.
Kili was also determined and compassionate, but it was at a lesser level. He cared no less about Tauriel than Fili did, but he did not know her as well.
Yes, they had had a few conversations, but she and Fili truly knew each other. In a short time, they had bonded, each needing companions when crossing the lonely wilderness.
The dwarves silence had hurt Fili – loathe as he was to show it and so had Kili's state. He had watched his brother, waiting for him to awaken…
And Tauriel was lost as she travelled the wilderness with only one purpose in her mind. She had to save him. Fili had taken her mind off Legolas for short moments, helping her keep her own sanity.
Tauriel looked at the other dwarves. They still looked at her with cold fire in their gazes. She would find no patience there if she could not break the spell.
It was now or never, for time was no a virtue. They were at a place where they had to expect attack and act hostile. It was unlikely that they could pull off a rescue at the Necromancer's stronghold.
But she had to try.
And if all lives were lost, then, yes, she had failed.
But if Legolas' life was lost, then the failure was greater because she could not go on with the guilt of causing his torture and death (she hoped it would be death.)
She feared that the Grey Havens would be the only thing that Legolas longed for in the end, and if that wasn't terrifying, then she didn't know what was.
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Legolas blinked open his eyes. He was still hanging from wall – had his death forced him into shadow? Was he dead?
Shaking, trembling with defeat and pain, he tried to twist his wrist. He felt the bond sliding over it smoothly, but he felt no bite from the sharp metal.
Forcing his weak head to tilt upward, looking at his wrists.
Both held thick, dirty bandages, wrapped but crooked and blood-stained.
Someone had stopped the bleeding.
He was alive.
He had failed.
He was defeated.
Legolas cringed in the bonds that held him to the wall. Panic suddenly set in, and he clenched his eyes shut, shaking and trembling, moving his head side to side silently.
His bloody hair – when had that gotten bloody? His wrists, perhaps? – flicked up into his eyes. A clumping bit – dirty, disgusting – hit his cheek, and the mostly dried blood stuck to it.
Breathing heavy and feeling himself go lightheaded, he tried in vain to twist his wrist again.
He longed for the bite of the cuff to focus his mind – not to kill himself but only to collect his thoughts and help him stay sane.
He heard footsteps and looked up slowly, unsure if what he was going to see was real or not.
His mother stood before him. Her stare was empty, her blonde hair soaked in blood. He shivered and trembling as she stepped closer to him – awake and dead, soulless and screaming without sound. A piece of her hair – strands clumped without care and with blood – swung forward and touched his shoulder.
Like his own had, they stuck to him.
He tried to pull away further, but he could not. The hairs glittered unnaturally in the darkness. Unreal.
No, surreal – because his mother did stand before him. She touched his shoulder, his cheek, caressing his face and body. Unable to stop himself, he leaned into the embrace, needing comfort and family while he hung there, dirty, afraid, panicked, defeated.
"You failed me, Ion nin," she whispered. (my son) Her touched suddenly seemed colder and the darkness stronger. Legolas tried to pull away but was unable to. He seemed to shrink into himself, looking suddenly young and weak. His mother seemed to notice it, and her touch became softer.
Legolas trembling as she brushed her thin, bloody hands over his face, leaving long trails of blood – brownish, partly dried. His head fell as he lost the strength to hold it up, and he stared into the floor.
She touched his shoulder as a comfort – as a mother would.
Legolas was silent, shaking as a leaf does in the wind, blown by the stronger elements and at their mercy. He agreed with her – she was his mother! She knew what was truth, and what was fiction.
"You could have saved me. You could have saved me! Why did you fail!"
Legolas could not bring himself to answer, but his mother had other ideas, pulling herself forward and grabbing his shoulder with one hand. With the other, she grabbed his chin and pulled his eyes up to meet her empty gaze. Her hands were freezing cold, and he shuddered again.
"Why did you fail?" she repeated wildly, yelling as if madness had claimed her, spittle flying from her lips. Legolas shook before her.
"I do not – forgive me, naneth!" he said. "I failed you; I failed you!"
"You did, Little Greenleaf," she spat. "I could be with you now. Instead – instead, I am destined to live forever in the shadows! Do you see me, Legolas? Look into my eyes!"
He could not turn away for her hand was still forcing his chin to stare into her hypnotizing gaze. Legolas did not try to turn away.
As angry – furious – as she was, this was the first time he had seen his mother in centuries. It was a gift to hear her voice and feel her touch again. As cold as it was, it was comfort and a light in the dark – though her elven glow had long since vanished with her soul and spirit.
"You will survive always with what you have done, and what you did not do! How do you draw breath, Ion nin? How do you speak or laugh? Do you think you did you best? Do you think you tried?"
Then she was gone, and Legolas' chin fell onto his chest, hair cascading over his shoulders. He had not the will to raise it again. His time had been full of his mother and brother visiting him. The small reprieve was a blessing but also torture.
To see them again! Ai, it was a great mercy. And to hear what they thought… He had long wondered, and they confirmed his thoughts. The others were wrong…
"You tried your best…"
"Nothing more could be done…"
Legolas let out a sharp bark of wild laughter. They were wrong! They were wrong!
The others had spoken of how it was not his fault! They said it only so that he would live in deception.
He knew the truth now, though. They had bided their time, waiting for his grief and guilt to eventually consume him, to break him. Now, he had beaten them.
He knew the truth! His mother and brother had told him it was so.
Was he not lucky to see them again? They were pained and dead – that he could see, but he was worse; he was worse!
Their games had nearly killed him; he had changed. Never again! Never again.
Once more, he was strong. He was untouchable. His mother had said it was so.
Their skin was cold as they touched him, but his was colder.
His guilt had affected him, killing him inside and destroying who he was. They had almost broken him, but he was strong! He was strong!
Suddenly, his brother appeared before him, in all of his dead glory. His hair was in loose braids that proclaimed that he – not Legolas, never Legolas – was the true prince, the eldest son.
His face was bruised and dark – thus was the way of shadows – and his ears were bloodshot. He was so destroyed, but he was still so strong.
The elf Legolas knew was funny and kind, but now! Now! He was stony and powerful, changing lives with the flick of his wrist.
And better yet, he said he understood! Legolas' guilt was building; he spoke of that. He spoke of how Legolas had been corrupted and hurt.
The tall elf, bent and broken, had said that Legolas had purposefully let them die. He wanted to be prince, not second best! And his brother forgave him!
His brother had once been proud to stand alongside his father. It was hard to connect the still strong but bent and torn elf to the leader he had been. But it was him, of that there was no doubt.
With all of his dark glory, Legolas felt, once more, that he was an elfling that wished to follow exactly as his brother had. He would listen to his family, to his soul, to his self!
With a sudden cry, Legolas twisted his wrist roughly. There was no pain, no blood, but it snapped him into reality – or, at least, out of the world in which he had visited. However, he still lingered on the border, a foot in each door, pulled each way to one end.
Destruction and defeat. The imagined blood
(rolling down his arm, thick and beautiful and crimson in color)
helped him to regain his senses. Legolas could not go on for much longer.
(he was growing stronger)
He could not
(listen to his brother)
retain his sanity for much longer. He was falling
(into peace)
into madness. Sauron was playing a game
(he was an elfling following his brother again)
with him, trying to break him. And it was
(listen to me, Ion nin!)
working. He did not know how much longer he could survive
(until his guilt swallowed him)
and stay sane. Sauron was winning -
(you must defeat the others, Little Greenleaf)
Legolas had known he would. There was no chance of escape.
Suddenly, his father appeared before him.
"You sit so still, Legolas, so weak. Stand, boy! Be strong! They are dead; it is your fault. Live in their place, be strong for them! Because of you, they will never again stand! You cannot speak to them again, Legolas! So stand tall in their place! Replace them; show your strength!"
Legolas let out a loud, inhuman screech as he was brought, once again, into near-madness.
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Gandalf cringed as the loud shriek emerged from the room. He did not know what they did to the elf, but he knew the wretched being could not last much longer. If help did not come, then he would be lost. Beware of the darkness, he thought wildly, for in the shadows a monster lays hidden, and once it captures, it does not release.
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Tauriel heard the unearthly shriek. At once, she spun towards the sound, shock and a slight bit of fear in her gaze.
"What was that?" Bofur muttered behind her. "It sounded like a dying animal."
"No," Tauriel said, voice hoarse and dead and strong. "That was no animal. That was one of the Necromancer's prisoners."
And as she said that, the illusion melted. The ruins faded into a strong structure, looking powerful and in-use. She could see movement from within the walls. Orcs and wargs were within, ready to kill any advancers and preparing to march out of Dol Guldur.
A battle was starting, and Tauriel was not prepared.
A battle was starting, and their small company was not prepared.
A battle was starting, and Middle Earth was not prepared.
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Hey, guys! I hope you like the chapter – Legolas is slightly insane in this one…
He's getting to his breaking point.
I'm still not sure how Gandalf will be rescued or if Thrain will make an appearance in this…
Please review!
Thanks to all readers!
Disclaimer: I do not own! It's all Tolkien's!