Mortality
Chapter 1: Prelude of the Tempest
This one I think will actually make it past only like eight chapters or something! But I'm not sure. I want it to be that long, but what I want rarely happens, so...
I would like to say that this story will go on past Helm's Deep, but I just put that as the summary because I couldn't think of anything better. I suck at summaries. So...
I must say, if you don't like slash, don't read this. Legolas/Aragorn! Don't like? Don't read, don't flame! Savvy?
Read and Enjoy!
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Legolas looked out over the Deeping Wall, the sun setting and glaring down off the mountainside into his eyes. He turned away, instead looking back to the plain. There was no movement upon it save for the steady march of a few black dots, which Legolas knew to be that of the armies of Saruman. There was no lone figure, come back to him now in the time of need, no dot staggering across the distance to the Deeping-coomb.
"Legolas, you still stand here and await his return?" a voice said behind him. Legolas turned to see Éomer walking towards him, Gimli by his side. Legolas sighed and looked back to the plain. His eyes glazed over, but he did not let the tears fall.
"Come on, lad, you know that Aragorn will return," Gimli comforted him. "The other scouts will return." Legolas shook his head though and stepped a few paces away from both of them.
"Why did they send him out when they knew they would need him later? He is a valiant fighter, not a scout to watch the approach of the enemy. They will be here ere midnight, I suppose. Should they need no other counsel? Must they send out precious warriors to watch them, track their movements?" He whirled around to face Éomer. "You, you have heard what they have to say! Tell me what Théoden King thought when he sent out the scouts?" Éomer narrowed his eyes, and he took a few steps forward.
"Do you question the decisions of the King? He knows that sending out scouts could lose valuable men. He knew quite well the dangers, even of sending out Aragorn, which, if you would like to know, he advised against, but it was Aragorn's choice to ride with them. What would you say we do then, elf?" Éomer spat the last word. Gimli looked up at him warningly, but Legolas smiled wickedly.
"You do not trust me, do you? What is an elf to a people like you? Evil, I suppose, though I do not wish it to you. Aragorn would not befriend one who he did not trust," Legolas reminded Éomer, "and you should not so easily question, not upon the eve of battle when all hands are needed to unite against our enemy."
"I admit," Éomer responded, "that I am wary of your kind, but I only say now that the King's choice was a wise one..."
"Wise to waste lives when all lives are required! Do you not see how strong our foes are? There is little chance that they will return!" He bowed his head now, and when he looked back, tears clouded his eyes. "Excuse me, for I only wonder to the means in which your king makes his choices, and as I see, I should not have spoken." He walked away, leaving Éomer fuming behind him. Gimli looked back and forth with raised eyebrows.
"Well," he said, clearing his throat. Éomer glowered at him and leaned on the wall.
"Is your elf friend always like this?" he wondered. Gimli thought for a moment.
"Nay," he responded, "but, he cares deeply for Aragorn, as you have seen, and when Aragorn's life is in great danger, he gets just a little testy, let's say." Éomer snorted.
"I've noticed. Still, I do not like him. He has an ill-favored look. For all his fair appearance, I do not trust him." Gimli crossed his arms now.
"Do not judge him so soon. There are many surprises to Legolas, as I learned. Can you see that? He is an elf who has befriended a dwarf! And I am a dwarf who trusted my friendship with him." Éomer smiled at Gimli.
"That I can understand, for I know of the great rivalry between the two."
"Just let him cool down a bit. He is a good companion to have in battle, I must say. Once Aragorn returns, I assure you he will be lighter in his mood, for only that can dampen his spirits. But come, for battle marches towards us. We have much to do." With that, Gimli walked away. Éomer cast his glance back to the plain before following after the dwarf.
***
Legolas walked along the wall. Still, everywhere he went, men gave him strange looks, glaring at him, growling low or snorting. He felt the same distrust radiating from them that he did from Éomer.
So everywhere I turn are enemies, he grumbled. He sidestepped an oncoming kick from one boy, who spit at him afterwards. Legolas ignored it and made for the inner rooms of Helm's Deep, hoping to find some protection there. There was no point in remaining at the Wall. When Aragorn returned, he would return, and there was nothing more Legolas could do about it.
Still, he could not keep his mind off that human. Every sense told him that Aragorn could come back just fine, even if none of the other scouts did. But his heart told him else wise. Aragorn had no chance to return.
Suddenly, Legolas brushed past a long strand of hair, a smaller figure than most. He looked down to see Éowyn rushing by.
"Lady Éowyn!" he called. She whirled around and rushed to Legolas, breathless.
"The scouts have not returned, have they. Lord Aragorn has not returned." Legolas shook his head slowly, and Éowyn gulped back a lump in her throat. Her eyes turned to the almost set sun; tears glistened in the fragmented light. "He must return," she whispered. "He will return before the battle." She grabbed Legolas' arm. "He will return." Legolas nodded solemnly.
"We can only trust to hope and his skill, for he wanders at death's doorstep." The words caught in his throat, but he swallowed the lump until later. Here, in public, especially in the presence of the Lady Éowyn, he would keep himself composed. There was still a chance.
"Legolas," she whispered, pulling him lower so she could whisper in his ear. "Legolas, promise me this. If Aragorn...if the worst should befall...him...let me fight in battle in his place, so I might earn my glory now." Legolas looked into her cold eyes and felt the same hunger for death that Aragorn spoke of. Her tears were gone and her jaw set. She would search for death if Aragorn fell.
"If he does not return," he vowed, "not you, but we." She started a bit, but Legolas took both of her hands, and she nodded once. He smiled grimly and stood up to his full height. "We shall go into battle for him," he murmured before striding in the other direction. Éowyn glanced once more at the twilit sky before hurrying away. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back.
"Legolas!" she cried. Legolas caught her voice above the din of the men, and he pushed through to her. She motioned that they should walk, and he fell into step beside her. Legolas sensed that it was not for clear reasons that she recalled him but merely for the companionship. For a long while, they strode up and down the battlements in silence, the oncoming line of fires drawing closer. It would only be a matter of time now before the Uruk-hai was upon them. Or were they already upon the far reaches of their army?
After a pause, Éowyn said, "You knew Aragorn since he was a child, did you not?" Legolas looked down at her and chose a free spot on the wall to lean his elbows on, looking out over the side. A sad smile crossed his lips.
"Yes, I knew him. Ever since I came to Rivendell one day and he was there, practicing his sword fighting on the grounds by moonlight." He sighed. "Aragorn, or Estel, as he was known then, explained that Elrond did not want his using that area for his practice, but he preferred it. He was around twenty then. Ever since, I cannot remember a time when I did not think of him or hunger for him or was by his side." Éowyn made a little noise in her throat, and Legolas shook his head to clear his eyes of the mist.
"You have known him so long, so what do you think? Will he return?" Legolas almost chided her for such foolish thoughts. Of course, he will return! How could he not? He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Númenor. He was lover to Legolas of Mirkwood. If he did not return...
"Yes," he said comfortingly, "he will return. That army, no matter what happened, would not overtake Aragorn. He has lived through worse perils than just that." He laughed hollowly. "I suppose he finds running from ten thousand Uruk-hai a simple task!" His voice broke at the end, and Éowyn gasped to see Legolas shaking. "Just a simple task."
"I am sorry I brought this matter up," she apologized hastily, trying to comfort the elf as best she could. Legolas took a deep breath, his eyes closed. He finally calmed down and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"There are no apologies to make. Aragorn will return. We must only await it."
He wished he could believe his own words.
***
"All men to the wall! Hurry! They are coming! Hurry!" the men shouted, forming the lines of archers as they prepared for the oncoming line of Uruk-hai. It would be no more than an hour before they came in range of the arrows, and the Men of Rohan scrambled to make the best of this fight, even if they were to lose.
Éomer and Gimli stood more towards the gate than the rest. Gimli shifted nervously and expected for Legolas to be with him, but the elf was nowhere in sight. Éomer looked down at his short companion and patted him on the shoulder.
"The elf will come," he said coldly. "And if he doesn't..."
"You have no proof that Legolas is in any way, shape, or form a traitor or against you," Gimli growled. "Don't go off on that now." Éomer shrugged and focused his attention back on the fiery dots on the horizon, even while Gimli's mind wandered to the elf.
Of course, Legolas would not come. No, Legolas stood far away, near to the center of the wall, amongst the human archers, but beside him was one who was not an archer, or did not have a bow, a smaller figure than most, slighter of build. Both held themselves very rigid, as if keeping back some flood inside that threatened to burst.
"Legolas," the figure whispered, but Legolas shushed it.
"Now is not the time, Éowyn," he retorted, "for in battle we will find him. Aragorn will find us."
The man had not returned, and it both of them every last spark faded of hope. Legolas felt like a drained elf, weary, his limbs hanging off him needlessly. His eyes were dull other than one little light, but that was the light of death. He gave up praying for Aragorn's return. There would be no return.
"Aragorn?" one man sneered beside Legolas; he had caught just the last sentence of the elf's words. "He your friend, elf? Then I'd say good riddance!" Legolas whirled on the man, nostrils flaring. He was no small man though, tall and broad, with a well muscled body. Legolas glared up at him.
"Why would you say that?" he spat. The man shrugged and looked around.
"Anyone to befriend an elf must be up to ill. What good comes from an elf? They have strange tongues and "fair phrases," but I think they are all up to ill! Don't you think so?" he addressed the group. There was a collective agreement around them. "Yes, what have the elves done other than sit around and sing their little songs in forests? Aragorn, though possibly a good fighter, could be not much better. He is of no worth than more then a disposable scout." Legolas' blood boiled.
"Disposable scout?!" he roared. "Do you dare call Aragorn a disposable scout? You have the nerve to insult the elves, for which man would not have lived in the first place, afterwards going to the lengths of insulting Aragorn! He is a noble and valiant man, with more courage and strength than all of you combined!"
"Why has he not returned then?" A boy piped in. "Why is Aragorn not here?" Legolas stopped, his heart beating a little quicker as he glanced at the line. It had stopped just out the reach of the archers, and the Uruk-hai waited in silence. Legolas calmly took a breath before answering.
"Could you face ten thousand Uruk-hai?" he asked. "Could you take all of them with only a few scouts by your side? I fear that not even the great Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Ranger from the North, could withstand that force for even a little while." His voice trailed off, and he hung his head. When Legolas looked back up, malice burned in his eyes, all the more powerful by the tears there too.
"Personally, I don't trust the word of an elf," the first man said after a pause. "Especially this one. He has an ill feeling."
Suddenly, the warrior beside Legolas stepped up, glaring into the man's face.
"Can you not even tell friend from foe when you have clear examples standing out there and here?" Éowyn scolded. "Upon the eve of battle you bicker over one elf? Can you not see? Your enemy lies out there, not here! Legolas is a fine elf who will fight alongside you. You must focus on the enemy at hand. They will crush you if you do not." She was shaking now, and she stepped back to where she was. "Do not argue. You might die and find yourself wrong, and then, for your entire afterlife, you shall contemplate what went wrong with the elf." Those words struck a nerve. It appeared that all eyes focused now on the army, at the menacing, endless, group of Uruk-hai, their mind bent only on destruction. Their minds filled with images of gruesome figures and twisted faces, swords gleaming in the moonlight, roaring at the hapless victims.
Even with Legolas, this struck a bad chord. His own unrest, he knew, was because of unsettled feelings, worry; concern that he would leave Aragorn dead with their last parting moments being tears. Slowly, his parting conversation floated back. There, he saw Aragorn's pained face as he spoke those few painful words to Legolas.
"I will ride with the scouts, Legolas. Théoden has commanded that five men ride out, and for their protection, I volunteered to join them." His eyes begged for Legolas to understand. Legolas merely stood there in a state of sudden shock.
"But you will die," he whispered. "You will die." Aragorn smiled sadly and clapped his hand on Legolas' shoulder.
"No, I will not die. You should know that. I will return from there, with the scouts." Suddenly, Legolas' shock turned to anger, and he brushed off Aragorn's hand.
"Why are you doing this?" he wondered. "The army will be here, no matter what you do, whether or not Théoden has people watching their approach. I could tell him how far they are, when they will be here! He need not waste lives."
"Legolas, Théoden...he is not fully trustworthy of you. Elves are new to them, for many have never set eyes upon your fair kind."
"Oh, so they cannot trust the word of an elf?" he laughed coldly. Aragorn stepped a few paces away, gathering some of his gear. Legolas crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw in anger.
"So he must send out scouts to report," Aragorn finished.
"Then let me go with you, if you will not turn away!" Legolas offered, but Aragorn slowly shook his head.
"No, your place is here. If something were to happen, the men of Rohan would need both you and Gimli. They trust him, but you would know what to do, are more skilled than he is." Aragorn reached out to hold Legolas, but he whirled away from the man. Aragorn could not comfort him with sweet words, could not make him see the man's way, not this time.
"I know this is folly, and no matter what you do, I will not budge from that. Théoden is wasting lives! Even he should know this!" Legolas turned sharply on Aragorn, and the man almost showed a hint of fear at the fuming elf. "Aragorn, do not go! This is madness, following these suicidal orders. You.will.come.back.dead!" The words were too much for Legolas, and without a sound, he stormed from the room and down the hall, leaving Aragorn in silence.
He did not actually see Aragorn leave, but Legolas went to the battlements afterwards and discerned a group of riders in the Coomb.
Suddenly, Legolas heard a commotion and snapped out of his memories. Around him, many things seemed to be happening at once. The archers had brought up their bows, and Legolas looked down to see the army advancing. All around the men waited with baited breath, and Legolas raised his own bow, an arrow to the string. There was no more time to reminisce on Aragorn. No, now it was time to find him. He cast one last glance at Éowyn, who held her hand at her sword's hilt. She nodded once before Legolas turned to devote his attention to the battle.
But another noise caught his ear in that same instant. He had heard it before, shouting he blocked out to focus on the Uruk-hai, but now, he listened to it just for a bit. There was some shouting, words that sounded like "gate" and "man." Legolas' senses perked up, and he turned his full attention to that.
"Open the gates and get help!" a man called. "Help him inside." Legolas slowly lowered his bow, all worry of the oncoming lines fleeing from his mind as vague thoughts passed through his head. He touched Éowyn's shoulder, set down his bow, and darted away down the lines; he knew very well what was happening. His heart pounded as he ran. What would he see there, at the gate finally? All his hopes either would come crashing down here or would live on. The anticipation beat down on him, forcing his muscles to work harder to propel him along the battlements towards the gate.
Suddenly, he felt something, and he bumped into a boy, darting along the wall just as he was. The boy looked up, wide-eyed, and stammered an apology.
"Legolas," he said, "I was sent to tell you: Lord Aragorn has returned..."
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