"How much time do you need?"
"As long as you can give me."
With a short nod of compliance at the king of Rohan's reply, Aragorn pushed his way out of the swarming mass of soldiers trying to bar the gate, which was creaking under the massive force of uruk-hai on the other side. The door was of old wood, its hinges worn in several places, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before the gate finally broke down. And with the wall having been breached... all strength spent fighting would have been in vain.
If the gate could not hinder their passage, then Aragorn would do so himself. But he could not do it alone.
"Legolas!" He called for the elf, whose fair head was distinct over the deafening crowd. Aragorn motioned with one hand, and the two slipped away, out a hidden door that led to a ledge bordering the walls of the Burg. Just around the corner could be seen the bridge from the outer fields to the gate, barely visible under the rampaging feet of uruk-hai. The bridge was dangerously narrow; one slip meant a fatal fall onto the ground below, where even more of Saruman's minions were littered in great numbers. Overcome with a strange reluctance, Aragorn edged nearer, feverishly assessing the best time possible for them to move forward. Not only was his life at stake... right now so was Legolas'.
"Should we go now?" the elf asked in a low voice from behind him.
"Not yet."
There was an utter disquiet between them, until Aragorn said, almost inaudibly. "It's a long way..."
Legolas looked upon him unexpectedly, clear blue eyes bearing through his. "Is there something you fear?"
Fear. An enemy of all enemies; one would think of it such a strange word, with regards to Aragorn, but it was very, very real, and had existed within him the moment news of battle had reached his ears. And indeed he feared many things - some genuinely grave, some evasive like a grain of sand stirred by the hand of the sea... some unnamed, as though speaking of it would make it true.
"Many things," he answered softly. "Ever since the battle had begun, ever since tidings of hope had seemed so distant, disappearing into the fringes of darkness with whatever good that remains in this world." For the first time in the Deep since the first bow had sung, and the first sword had struck, Aragorn felt truly afraid. He could not despair, not when it had already conquered so many, but the one thing he had left to hold on to was the hope he still had, and even that continued to wane, little by little, as he struggled to fight at its wake.
And friendship, as the one he had now beside him.
"Even with the presence of Haldir's warriors, I cannot help but fear what it is to come," Aragorn continued. "I try to suppress it, as King Theoden has already much to fear, but still I do - for the safety of Rohan, for my race..."
His voice trailed off, and Legolas remained wordless, waiting for him to finish.
"I fear for you," he finally said, his hand gripping Legolas' arm tight enough to bruise. "I have brought this upon you; you don't deserve this burden for someone else's race... you should not have - "
He was interrupted, Legolas' slender hand silencing his lips. "Think not of it," he said resolutely. "If anyone chose to bear this burden, it was I. Had I not chosen to follow you hither, to aid you when the Ringbearer's mission no longer was in our hands?"
"I don't want to lose you."
"You won't."
Still behind them Saruman's forces pushed on without exhaustion, and still the gate stood to hold, but only barely. Aragorn knew he had to lend it strength, just as Legolas had lent him, which he would hold precious. For Aragorn would not let the dark overshadow them, the world of Men, or the one he held dear to his heart... and the promise he had just made.
"This war will end soon," Legolas said, fervently. "As all wars do. All we must decide now is what to make of ourselves before its end comes."
"Sometime even that the wisest cannot foretell," said Aragorn quietly.
"Who should be spared to make it to better days, to whom death will beckon..."
Legolas then took his hand, holding it firmly in his. "Then," he said, hope renewed in his ageless face. "We shall face it, and die if need be, as one of them. Should you need assurance that there still exists some good amidst this world, Estel, look within yourself."
Estel. The word meant hope in the elvish tongue, and hearing Legolas call him such was comforting.
"Hannon le, mellon nin," Aragorn said, his voice dropping to a whisper but with sincerity beyond spoken words.
Aragorn looked beyond Legolas, where the uruk-hai had continued relentlessly to break through the gate - an image that instead of dampening his spirit, now gave him the optimism of a fighting chance. He nodded at Legolas.
The elf's body tensed, ready to jump onto the bridge, when he suddenly turned to face Aragorn again.
"When the battle ends, we'll see each other again; I assure you of that," he said, and his voice held the utter certainty of a promise. It made Aragorn smile; despite the roaring noises about them and the unpredictable fortune they were about to face, he replied:
"I'll be waiting."
And off Legolas leapt, as graceful as only his kin could. Aragorn caught but a glimpse of his distinctive hair before he jumped himself, the gleaming blade of Anduril raised proudly before him.
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Of Fearing Fear by Isys
Story notes: Been finding it difficult to get my usual writing done, despite that the fic challenge deadline I'm planning to meet is only a couple of days away. I made a big mistake of watching TTT right after HP-Sorcerer's Stone - having seen the scene when Harry and Hermione talk after the chess game ("You're a great wizard, Harry.") and the scene where Aragorn and Gimli are about to jump onto that narrow bridge to fight the uruk-hai was enough to inspire this. This fic borders on slash and gen – think whatever you wish.
