Author's Note: Yes, this is the long-awaited Helm's Deep sequel to Forever Waiting. At least the first chapter of it. Well, long-awaited like..two days. Anyway, here's the first chapter. If there's any differentiations between this and the movieverse, or this and the book, be assured they're done on purpose for reasons of artistic license. Mostly because I didn't like some of the things they did in the movie. So I'm changing them. A little. Basic story's the same.
PS - If you didn't read Forever Waiting, I suggest you do that first. Otherwise, you might get lost in some of the later chapters. But don't worry, I've been assured at least Forever Waiting is a good fic. ^_- You'll have to decide on this one for yourself.
Oh yeah, the elvish song in here is mine. So is anything that you don't recognize as something from the movie or the book. All the rest belongs to Tolkien, but he's dead, so I doubt he cares. Anyway. Yeah.
Legions of Light: Call to Arms
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two days passed after Aragorn's return, and the Deep remained quiet, calm as the eye of a terrible storm. Aragorn warned Theoden of the coming armies, and the Deep made ready for war. So he recovered, pampered by Eowyn's healers and wholly unhappy with the situation, his eyes fixed always to the east. He spent his mornings out on the parapet, smoking a pipe thoughtfully as he stared off into the rising sun, his gaze never leaving the horizon, and the hordes he knew would soon be coming. Legolas used the days to make arrows, as many as he could, as he secretly did not trust those of the Rohan to fly straight and true as his own. Gimli explored the Deep, wandering as he would, grumbling appreciatively over the architecture of the citadel.
In the middle afternoon of the third day, a keening summon claxon, as piercing as a hawk's cry, rolled across the Deep. The people of Rohan stilled to listen, some fearing that the attack they had so dreaded was finally upon them.
"That call," Legolas whispered, looking up from his shaft. A feeling of mingled delight and triumph surged through him, swelling his heart until he felt it might burst. It was a gladness so great it was almost painful. "That is no orc call..."
The golden horn sounded again, a pure and clear cry, as fair as audible sunlight, meant to drive away darkness. Legolas thought he might weep with the beauty of it. // How often I have been close to tears, these last few days, // he thought, swallowing back his joy.
Aragorn, who was standing near him, looked over at the elf. "That is no horn of Gondor." A guard of Rohan, one of the Horsemasters, looked over at both of them. "That is not a call of Rohan, either."
Suddenly, a great rise of elvish singing came on the wind, an open funnel of a thousand voices mounting from the depth of the grasslands. It was a gorgeous, swelling hum that filled the Riddermark, a trembling call of victory already being celebrated.
::We rise, from Lady's mighty falls
From the Wood where fair winds blow
We come, with hope for Rohan Men
And arrow on the bow::
::Have peace, have peace, Men of the Mark!
We call to arms and Rohan's aid
We wield for Man and Elven glory
And come when we are bade::
"It is the Legions of Light," Aragorn whispered. He stood and climbed to the crest of the Deep. Coming towards them on the plains was a vast army, a marching multitude that seemed shaped from gold and mythril.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whispers and awed murmurs wove through the people of Rohan as the elvish army came. The elves did not look to either direction as they strode unafraid into the courtyard of the Deep. They did not wait at the gates, only came straight through, and the guards were too abashed to try and stop them.
Gimli walked up next to Legolas and Aragorn, his eyes widening in surprise. He spoke in a surprised, rumbling whisper. "It is the people of Galadriel the Fair."
These imposing creatures did not meet the eye of any man, not even Aragorn or Legolas, yet the Fellowship knew that they had nothing to fear from them. Their eyes were trained on their leader, mounted on an ivory horse of the Eldar at their helm. When they stopped, lowering their lances, they stilled in unison, an army of immovable sculptures. It was almost as if they didn't breathe.
Haldir rode his horse before them, coming to a stop before Aragorn and Legolas. He lifted his right leg over the horse's back without so much as touching its neck, slipping off the elvish steed in a single liquid movement. It was a thing that was almost eeriely graceful, this mastery of the horse that Haldir made seem so easy and effortless, and the people of Rohan gasped softly.
"They're not much, but they're the best that Our Lady of Lorien has to offer," Haldir said dryly in Elvish, bowing to Aragorn in respect, right hand raised to his chest. "They're the chosen favored from Her legions, handpicked killers, and we offer them to you, Estel of Halfelven, to do with as you will." He smiled with elvish, sardonic humor. "I am included in Our Lady's gift." He motioned towards the silent legions behind him. "They're hardly an army, my friend, but they are yours to command. For the protection of the Rohan, if nothing else. I give this message in the name of The Lady."
"Yes," Aragorn murmured in the same language, reaching up to rasp fingertips across the stubble on his face, a distracted, wondering gesture as he looked over the elvish regiment in as much awe as if he had never seen them before. A feeling he hadn't had in weeks-a dim feeling of mounting hope, like a fierce bonfire catching to flame in the wind-was creeping over him. These elves made the difference. Against all odds, they had come to the aid of Men. Legolas was not alone in his faith.
"I thank you for coming, Haldir," he said quietly, looking the elvish lord, their eyes meeting steadily.
Haldir looked back at him, still smiling with lazy amusement, reminding Aragorn of a great golden panther, well-fed and content. He had the eyes of a big cat that was old enough to be wise to the hunter's traps, and young enough to still enjoy the hunt himself. The elf shrugged-an eloquent, ambiguous gesture-and spoke with the no-nonsense tone of a seasoned warrior. "You thank me for nothing. If I had had to sit through one more tiresome, solemn council to decide on the part we would play in this battle, we may have come only early enough to see the smoke rising from the ruins of this place. But of course...that is not what you mean, is it, Hope of Imladris?"
Aragorn smiled back. "No, I suppose not."
Haldir's smile faded, his expression serious, but fond. "For my people, this has been a hard decision, Estel. I will not deny it. We have fought in harsh words to resolve to come to your aid and the aid of Theoden. Many of our people feel the call of the Sea, including myself. I think it will sound foolish, but I want to protect Lorien's forests whether we remain in this world or not, and to keep the falls of Nimrodel pure and clear, for as long as I can brandish a bow. And so, we have come to you."
Aragorn reached forward and-on impulse-embraced Haldir, but he instantly regretted it when he felt the elf go awkward and stiff in his arms. // Mistake. I should have known better, // he thought, letting the elf go. // I knew better than that. // He did know better than that, for he had known Haldir almost all his life. Haldir was kind, brave, generous beyond measure, but he had always had a streak of that strange elvish arrogance, a casual contempt that he probably didn't even realize he emanated anymore. And he did not like to be hugged. Not many of the Elves did, by anyone but their closest kin, not even Elrond. When Aragorn stepped back, he saw it in Haldir's eyes.
Foolish mortal, those eyes said. You have forgotten the ways of our people. Your people.
"Sorry, my friend," Aragorn replied to that unspoken rebuttal, lowering his eyes.
A smile crept cautiously back onto Haldir's face, and the elvish lord reached forward, grasping Aragorn's shoulder and giving it a tentative squeeze. "Forgiven, faithful young king. You only forget yourself," he replied impatiently. "So, you find my legions satisfactory, then?"
"Young?" Aragorn replied with a laugh, ignoring Haldir's last comment. "I am hardly young."
"Yet always young, to us." Haldir reached forward suddenly and grabbed Aragorn by the shoulders, peering into the man's eyes hard, as if searching for something. They stayed this way for an eternity of seconds. The intensity that they stared with at each other gave the Rohan riders a chill; it was as if each was reading the other's soul.
Haldir backed away at last, seemingly satisfied. "You're back, then, Elessar."
Aragorn smiled. "Yes."
"You are yourself again."
"I have always been myself," Aragorn replied, laughing again.
"You were always a leader at heart, Estel."
"And not yet wholly a king."
Haldir shook his head. "You are as much of a king as you can be, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And your people need you."
"They have the Steward, Haldir."
"But it should be your throne to keep. Not his."
"But it isn't."
"You would be better."
"What's wrong with Denethor? Don't the people trust him?"
"Of course they do. But he is not a good leader. He isn't you," Haldir said, gazing sternly at him. "You hide in the garbs of a Ranger, but everything you were hiding from has been with you all along, like mythril hidden deep in the rock. Being the Ranger can protect you from what you are, but a king is *who* you are."
Aragorn looked back at him. His tone was serious when he spoke again. "Then what am I, Haldir?"
"You are what you do."
"When?"
"When it counts."
"More elvish riddles. Why did you really come, Haldir?"
There was a beat of silence. Haldir broke it, smiling gently. "I could not let you go so bravely to doom alone, Estel of Halfelven. Not without a fight. I come with the blessings of the Lady, and the blessings of your father, Lord of Imladris, who has also sent as many soldiers as he had willing, which were many. You hold the hearts of all the Elven folk. And we would not lose you. You were Estel before you were Aragorn. Never forget that."
"Thank you, Haldir, again," Aragorn repeated, formally. "For coming. For believing in me," he added, swallowing hard. "And my people."
Haldir blinked, gracefully embarrassed. "I had nothing better to do..."
Aragorn laughed. So did Legolas, albeit more quietly. Gimli did not, only looked on, feeling a bit miffed and left out because he did not understand a word they were saying.
Haldir noticed the dwarf, switching to the Common Tongue. "Greetings, Gimli, son of Gloin. My Lady sends her greeting to you in particular, and with it the hopes that you will fight fiercely, and somehow return to Lorien, or journey to Valinor with us, for we would much like you to experience our hospitality under friendlier climes and in friendlier times."
"You may tell The Lady at your return that I will journey back to Lorien as soon as the threat of Sauron is vanquished, for I would be happy the rest of my days, only to look upon her face once more," Gimli replied gruffly, though he seemed to blush beneath his great bushy beard. Legolas bit back a grin.
Haldir's gaze moved to Legolas. "Legolas of Thranduil, I had riders sent to Mirkwood, to see if your father would send troops to aid the Rohan, but it seems that your Court has already traveled for Valinor and the Western Sea. The Great Green Wood of the North is dark and abandoned." Haldir scowled slightly. "Did you know of this?"
"Yes," Legolas replied softly. "I agreed to remain behind in Arda, and attend Elrond's Council in my father's stead, for I have not yet decided to journey to the Undying Lands."
Aragorn looked over at Legolas sharply. He knew that Elrond's court was making preparations to travel to Valinor, but he had had no idea that the Mirkwood Elves had already left. Legolas did not look at him.
Haldir broke into Aragorn's thoughts. His voice was solemn now, and grim. "Come, Elessar, Legolas of Thranduil, Master Dwarf. We have much to speak of. I have seen the Dark Army marching."
The Lorien warrior glanced back towards the darkening horizon, and when he looked back at Aragorn, Aragorn was surprised to see dim fear in Haldir's dark eyes.
"We flew before them only by a few leagues. And they come now, they can march boldly under the Sun who shunned them before and kept them to the darkness. They come for this hold."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, tell me what you think, eh? And if you have something you want to see in Helm's Deep, by all means drop it in the suggestion box known as a REVIEW! *grin*
PS - If you didn't read Forever Waiting, I suggest you do that first. Otherwise, you might get lost in some of the later chapters. But don't worry, I've been assured at least Forever Waiting is a good fic. ^_- You'll have to decide on this one for yourself.
Oh yeah, the elvish song in here is mine. So is anything that you don't recognize as something from the movie or the book. All the rest belongs to Tolkien, but he's dead, so I doubt he cares. Anyway. Yeah.
Legions of Light: Call to Arms
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two days passed after Aragorn's return, and the Deep remained quiet, calm as the eye of a terrible storm. Aragorn warned Theoden of the coming armies, and the Deep made ready for war. So he recovered, pampered by Eowyn's healers and wholly unhappy with the situation, his eyes fixed always to the east. He spent his mornings out on the parapet, smoking a pipe thoughtfully as he stared off into the rising sun, his gaze never leaving the horizon, and the hordes he knew would soon be coming. Legolas used the days to make arrows, as many as he could, as he secretly did not trust those of the Rohan to fly straight and true as his own. Gimli explored the Deep, wandering as he would, grumbling appreciatively over the architecture of the citadel.
In the middle afternoon of the third day, a keening summon claxon, as piercing as a hawk's cry, rolled across the Deep. The people of Rohan stilled to listen, some fearing that the attack they had so dreaded was finally upon them.
"That call," Legolas whispered, looking up from his shaft. A feeling of mingled delight and triumph surged through him, swelling his heart until he felt it might burst. It was a gladness so great it was almost painful. "That is no orc call..."
The golden horn sounded again, a pure and clear cry, as fair as audible sunlight, meant to drive away darkness. Legolas thought he might weep with the beauty of it. // How often I have been close to tears, these last few days, // he thought, swallowing back his joy.
Aragorn, who was standing near him, looked over at the elf. "That is no horn of Gondor." A guard of Rohan, one of the Horsemasters, looked over at both of them. "That is not a call of Rohan, either."
Suddenly, a great rise of elvish singing came on the wind, an open funnel of a thousand voices mounting from the depth of the grasslands. It was a gorgeous, swelling hum that filled the Riddermark, a trembling call of victory already being celebrated.
::We rise, from Lady's mighty falls
From the Wood where fair winds blow
We come, with hope for Rohan Men
And arrow on the bow::
::Have peace, have peace, Men of the Mark!
We call to arms and Rohan's aid
We wield for Man and Elven glory
And come when we are bade::
"It is the Legions of Light," Aragorn whispered. He stood and climbed to the crest of the Deep. Coming towards them on the plains was a vast army, a marching multitude that seemed shaped from gold and mythril.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whispers and awed murmurs wove through the people of Rohan as the elvish army came. The elves did not look to either direction as they strode unafraid into the courtyard of the Deep. They did not wait at the gates, only came straight through, and the guards were too abashed to try and stop them.
Gimli walked up next to Legolas and Aragorn, his eyes widening in surprise. He spoke in a surprised, rumbling whisper. "It is the people of Galadriel the Fair."
These imposing creatures did not meet the eye of any man, not even Aragorn or Legolas, yet the Fellowship knew that they had nothing to fear from them. Their eyes were trained on their leader, mounted on an ivory horse of the Eldar at their helm. When they stopped, lowering their lances, they stilled in unison, an army of immovable sculptures. It was almost as if they didn't breathe.
Haldir rode his horse before them, coming to a stop before Aragorn and Legolas. He lifted his right leg over the horse's back without so much as touching its neck, slipping off the elvish steed in a single liquid movement. It was a thing that was almost eeriely graceful, this mastery of the horse that Haldir made seem so easy and effortless, and the people of Rohan gasped softly.
"They're not much, but they're the best that Our Lady of Lorien has to offer," Haldir said dryly in Elvish, bowing to Aragorn in respect, right hand raised to his chest. "They're the chosen favored from Her legions, handpicked killers, and we offer them to you, Estel of Halfelven, to do with as you will." He smiled with elvish, sardonic humor. "I am included in Our Lady's gift." He motioned towards the silent legions behind him. "They're hardly an army, my friend, but they are yours to command. For the protection of the Rohan, if nothing else. I give this message in the name of The Lady."
"Yes," Aragorn murmured in the same language, reaching up to rasp fingertips across the stubble on his face, a distracted, wondering gesture as he looked over the elvish regiment in as much awe as if he had never seen them before. A feeling he hadn't had in weeks-a dim feeling of mounting hope, like a fierce bonfire catching to flame in the wind-was creeping over him. These elves made the difference. Against all odds, they had come to the aid of Men. Legolas was not alone in his faith.
"I thank you for coming, Haldir," he said quietly, looking the elvish lord, their eyes meeting steadily.
Haldir looked back at him, still smiling with lazy amusement, reminding Aragorn of a great golden panther, well-fed and content. He had the eyes of a big cat that was old enough to be wise to the hunter's traps, and young enough to still enjoy the hunt himself. The elf shrugged-an eloquent, ambiguous gesture-and spoke with the no-nonsense tone of a seasoned warrior. "You thank me for nothing. If I had had to sit through one more tiresome, solemn council to decide on the part we would play in this battle, we may have come only early enough to see the smoke rising from the ruins of this place. But of course...that is not what you mean, is it, Hope of Imladris?"
Aragorn smiled back. "No, I suppose not."
Haldir's smile faded, his expression serious, but fond. "For my people, this has been a hard decision, Estel. I will not deny it. We have fought in harsh words to resolve to come to your aid and the aid of Theoden. Many of our people feel the call of the Sea, including myself. I think it will sound foolish, but I want to protect Lorien's forests whether we remain in this world or not, and to keep the falls of Nimrodel pure and clear, for as long as I can brandish a bow. And so, we have come to you."
Aragorn reached forward and-on impulse-embraced Haldir, but he instantly regretted it when he felt the elf go awkward and stiff in his arms. // Mistake. I should have known better, // he thought, letting the elf go. // I knew better than that. // He did know better than that, for he had known Haldir almost all his life. Haldir was kind, brave, generous beyond measure, but he had always had a streak of that strange elvish arrogance, a casual contempt that he probably didn't even realize he emanated anymore. And he did not like to be hugged. Not many of the Elves did, by anyone but their closest kin, not even Elrond. When Aragorn stepped back, he saw it in Haldir's eyes.
Foolish mortal, those eyes said. You have forgotten the ways of our people. Your people.
"Sorry, my friend," Aragorn replied to that unspoken rebuttal, lowering his eyes.
A smile crept cautiously back onto Haldir's face, and the elvish lord reached forward, grasping Aragorn's shoulder and giving it a tentative squeeze. "Forgiven, faithful young king. You only forget yourself," he replied impatiently. "So, you find my legions satisfactory, then?"
"Young?" Aragorn replied with a laugh, ignoring Haldir's last comment. "I am hardly young."
"Yet always young, to us." Haldir reached forward suddenly and grabbed Aragorn by the shoulders, peering into the man's eyes hard, as if searching for something. They stayed this way for an eternity of seconds. The intensity that they stared with at each other gave the Rohan riders a chill; it was as if each was reading the other's soul.
Haldir backed away at last, seemingly satisfied. "You're back, then, Elessar."
Aragorn smiled. "Yes."
"You are yourself again."
"I have always been myself," Aragorn replied, laughing again.
"You were always a leader at heart, Estel."
"And not yet wholly a king."
Haldir shook his head. "You are as much of a king as you can be, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And your people need you."
"They have the Steward, Haldir."
"But it should be your throne to keep. Not his."
"But it isn't."
"You would be better."
"What's wrong with Denethor? Don't the people trust him?"
"Of course they do. But he is not a good leader. He isn't you," Haldir said, gazing sternly at him. "You hide in the garbs of a Ranger, but everything you were hiding from has been with you all along, like mythril hidden deep in the rock. Being the Ranger can protect you from what you are, but a king is *who* you are."
Aragorn looked back at him. His tone was serious when he spoke again. "Then what am I, Haldir?"
"You are what you do."
"When?"
"When it counts."
"More elvish riddles. Why did you really come, Haldir?"
There was a beat of silence. Haldir broke it, smiling gently. "I could not let you go so bravely to doom alone, Estel of Halfelven. Not without a fight. I come with the blessings of the Lady, and the blessings of your father, Lord of Imladris, who has also sent as many soldiers as he had willing, which were many. You hold the hearts of all the Elven folk. And we would not lose you. You were Estel before you were Aragorn. Never forget that."
"Thank you, Haldir, again," Aragorn repeated, formally. "For coming. For believing in me," he added, swallowing hard. "And my people."
Haldir blinked, gracefully embarrassed. "I had nothing better to do..."
Aragorn laughed. So did Legolas, albeit more quietly. Gimli did not, only looked on, feeling a bit miffed and left out because he did not understand a word they were saying.
Haldir noticed the dwarf, switching to the Common Tongue. "Greetings, Gimli, son of Gloin. My Lady sends her greeting to you in particular, and with it the hopes that you will fight fiercely, and somehow return to Lorien, or journey to Valinor with us, for we would much like you to experience our hospitality under friendlier climes and in friendlier times."
"You may tell The Lady at your return that I will journey back to Lorien as soon as the threat of Sauron is vanquished, for I would be happy the rest of my days, only to look upon her face once more," Gimli replied gruffly, though he seemed to blush beneath his great bushy beard. Legolas bit back a grin.
Haldir's gaze moved to Legolas. "Legolas of Thranduil, I had riders sent to Mirkwood, to see if your father would send troops to aid the Rohan, but it seems that your Court has already traveled for Valinor and the Western Sea. The Great Green Wood of the North is dark and abandoned." Haldir scowled slightly. "Did you know of this?"
"Yes," Legolas replied softly. "I agreed to remain behind in Arda, and attend Elrond's Council in my father's stead, for I have not yet decided to journey to the Undying Lands."
Aragorn looked over at Legolas sharply. He knew that Elrond's court was making preparations to travel to Valinor, but he had had no idea that the Mirkwood Elves had already left. Legolas did not look at him.
Haldir broke into Aragorn's thoughts. His voice was solemn now, and grim. "Come, Elessar, Legolas of Thranduil, Master Dwarf. We have much to speak of. I have seen the Dark Army marching."
The Lorien warrior glanced back towards the darkening horizon, and when he looked back at Aragorn, Aragorn was surprised to see dim fear in Haldir's dark eyes.
"We flew before them only by a few leagues. And they come now, they can march boldly under the Sun who shunned them before and kept them to the darkness. They come for this hold."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, tell me what you think, eh? And if you have something you want to see in Helm's Deep, by all means drop it in the suggestion box known as a REVIEW! *grin*