The day began much as any other – full of uncertainty and doubt. The order had been given to evacuate to Helm's Deep immediately. The elf was glad to be out of the confines of the town and back in the open country.
They had expected the unexpected, but still the attack came as a surprise. Legolas ran as soon as he heard the wargs attack the two outriders. His first arrow hit its mark, but didn't kill the orc outright. That thought almost stopped him in his tracks. What manner of orc was this that was not afraid to show itself by daylight? Saruman's strength must indeed be great if he could change orcs so much. Legolas' distaste of orcs was written all over his face as he approached his downed foe with his knife at the ready.
He did not check his pace as he sliced swiftly through the creature's throat, holding his body well clear from the blood which spurted from the orc's neck. His knife was covered with obscene, black blood and Legolas kicked the body well away from him before he was tainted with its touch. "Scout!" Yelled Legolas to warn Aragorn and the King of the attack, even as he turned and sped to the top of the rise before him.
Wargs, and the terrible orcs that could withstand daylight, swarmed over the next ridge. Legolas loosed arrow after arrow with a speed that astounded those fighting alongside him, many of whom still could not quite believe that an elf was aiding them. Gimli's axe shone in the sunlight as it swung and hewed at the enemy. His boundless energy and stubborn strength fired up the men around him, spurring them on to fight all the harder. The elf's bow sang until his arrows were spent, then his twin blades took their turn. The Rohirrim fought off Sauron's servants with the ferocity only displayed by those defending their homes and families. They fought for more than their lives: they fought for the continued existence of their people.
It was a pitched battle, noisy and ugly, with no quarter asked and none given. The screams of the dying filled the air, overlaid with the raucous cries of the wargs. The noise ripped into his sensitive ears until Legolas thought he could take no more.
Then, almost as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Theoden called the remainder of his soldiers together and gave swift orders to evacuate the injured by horseback. The dead, distasteful as it was to the King and his men, would lie where they fell. There would be no time to bury them.
It immediately became clear that Aragorn numbered among the fallen and Legolas frantically scoured the battleground for a sign of him. Gimli helped him search, noting the rising panic in the normally collected elf. Now and again he patted Legolas reassuringly on the arm or the back but their search proved futile. The lack of a body gnawed at them and they redoubled their efforts, the strain on Legolas' face showing more plainly with every minute that passed.
Until they found the orc.
Legolas' venom as he questioned the revolting creature shocked those who witnessed it. Eventually he prised not only information but Arwen's pendant from the orc. The pathetic being saved Legolas from killing him in cold blood by conveniently expiring under the elf's furious glare. To the end of his days Gimli teased his friend about this, saying that it was the elf's dark scowl that had finished the orc, not his wounds. But that levity only came much later.
It was a quiet party that arrived at Helm's Deep, the euphoria of winning their first battle dampened by the loss not only of Aragorn but also of the men of Rohan. Reunion of husband and wife, son and mother, brother and sister was tempered to spare the feelings of those for whom there was no return. There was no time to mourn, however, and a feeling of deep foreboding began to build up in the elf.
The next hours were difficult. Legolas withdrew into his grief although to most of those at the Deep he was his usual detatched, icy self. Gimli did his best. It grieved him sorely that Aragorn was dead, but he had seen so much death and destruction he was faintly surprised that he and Legolas had been spared. He explained this to Legolas, who was sceptical. But he, too, hoped against hope that his gut feeling was correct. That Aragorn still lived. This feeling that Aragorn had survived was inexplicable to both Gimli and Legolas but the elf had no other way to explain why he did not merely accept Aragorn's death as a fact. They did not share their optimism with any one else. Partly because they did not want to build up the King's hopes, but mostly because they could not yet talk of their companion with anyone else. It was too painful.
On the morning after the warg attack, Gimli ascended the winding stairway to the top of the keep. Legolas stood at the highest point of the fortress and scanned the horizon for a sign of Aragorn. The wind whipped the elf's hair, veiling his face and hiding his expression from Gimli. The dwarf spoke. "Is there any sign?"
"I fear there will never be a sign, Master Dwarf."
"Never give up hope, laddie, Aragorn is as strong as an ox and as tough as my old boots. He will be back." Gimli exuded quiet confidence and this cheered Legolas, but only a little.
"You are a long way up, Gimli."
"I wanted to see for myself what keeps you up here." He looked around. "Not much to look at."
"No, there are no trees here. It is a barren, ugly landscape. But all the better to see..." His voice faltered.
"Come with me, Legolas. Today I will look at the caves. Come with me."
"I have no desire to delve into caverns, Gimli. I am not a Dwarf."
"Nor I an elf," Gimli crossed his arms over his chest. "Yet I have wandered among the trees of Fangorn without complaint," he held up his hand, "with little complaint." He corrected himself. "I have a better understanding of your people because of this."
Legolas blushed. "It is well, Gimli, that you remind me of this. I am sorry, I was thinking only of myself." He stopped at the top step. "Perhaps you would lead the way?"
The caves glittered and shone in the torchlight. Gimli's eyes added their own sparkle to the beauty around them. It was clear to Legolas that to the Dwarf these caves were at least as beautiful as the trees of Lórien had been to him. There was, in his opinion, nothing comparable with Mallorn trees in this rocky hole in the ground. But the Dwarf had fallen under the spell of the Lady Galadriel – perhaps it was not beyond the bounds of possiblity that Legolas could come to love these caves too. It would not be for lack of trying if he did not.
After half an hour or so, Legolas began to feel the weight of the mountain above him pressing down on his head. He looked nervously around him, and blinked rapidly. The air inside the cavern was perfectly sweet, but his throat began to constrict and his lungs protested. When his breathing became loud enough for Gimli to hear, he put his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder and gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "I am sorry, my friend, but I must leave here."
Gimli wordlessly led him back to the main hall where he patted Legolas on the arm before the elf finally gave in to a desire that had been building since they entered the cave and ran outside. He stayed outside until two hours after dark, when he returned to the room he shared with his Aragorn and Gimli.
Patiently Gimli coaxed Legolas until the elf agreed to go with him into the caves again. Although he was not smitten with the cavern in the way that Gimli had been with Lórien, Legolas had begun to appreciate their beauty in a way that he had not expected. The surface of the rock glittered and shimmered with the natural deposits of crystal within. But Gimli had not been satisfied with this. He knew that when the attack came the women and children would be evacuated from the fortress into the caves. Gimli approached …owyn, who was glad of the help, and together he and Legolas helped move what little supplies there were into the cavern.
The next evening they sat in the main hall after the evening meal. It was their custom to sit apart from the men, in truth they both felt uncomfortable among the Rohirrm. Gimli seemed agitated, puffing at his pipe absently, complaining when it periodically went out. Legolas was gradually getting used to the idea that Aragorn was not coming back, and while it still grieved him sorely, he did not think about the man every waking minute. Just most of them. He looked over at Gimli, lighting his pipe for the fourth time that evening.
"Master Dwarf, you are restless this evening. Something ails you?"
"Come, Legolas. There is something I wish to show you."
"Can it not wait until the morning," Legolas feigned a yawn.
Gimli hid his disappointment well. "Of course, I understand that you delicate elves do not have the stamina of a Dwarf. I can show you tomorrow."
Legolas stood up. "Show me, Gimli." He gave the his first genuine smile for days, which was returned with full force.
Gimli entered the cave first, having admonished the elf to wait for his signal to enter. After a few minutes Legolas heard a low whistle, took a deep breath and followed the dwarf into the cavern.
Arranged at strategic intervals, Gimli had lit some of the lamps they had carried in with the other supplies. The light danced around the pillars and walls, reflecting off the quarz and crystal in myriad rainbow colours. It took Legolas' breath away and finally he understood what Gimli saw in the place. He sat next to the dwarf on a boulder in the middle of the cavern and looked all around him in wonderment. "Master Dwarf, I thought you would show me something worth seeing." He smiled at Gimli's obvious disappointment. "But on this occasion you have surpassed my expectations. Thank you."
Gimli beamed. "It is indeed more beautiful than Lórien, although you will not admit it."
Legolas had heard – how could he not? – that Aragorn had arrived at Helm's Deep. The whisper had gone around like wildfire and at first the rumours had said he was mortally wounded. Legolas ached to see him with his own eyes but fought down his desire to tear through the Deep and check Aragorn for himself. Although he was the only elf in the fortress, Legolas was able, when he wanted, to move around without anyone noticing him. He made his way to a spot which had a good view of Aragorn's path and watched as his horse plodded carefully through the crowds to deposit his burden at the main entrance to the keep.
Aragorn was filthy. His hair was matted and his clothing still bore the rents and tears of the battle that seemed to have taken place so long ago. Despite the ravages he had undergone Aragorn still exuded the qualities that the elf folk had seen in him since he was a child, and that Men were now beginning to appreciate. The horse stood motionless while Aragorn slid off. Hands reached out at first to help him, but withdrew when it became clear that he could manage alone.
His vantage point gave him a good view of Aragorn's progress, but Legolas lost sight of him when he dismounted. With the now familiar lurch that his stomach gave when he saw Aragorn, Legolas reached inside his tunic and withdrew the pendent that he had recovered. It glittered in his hand and his heart sank briefly at this reminder of Aragorn's love for Arwen. Legolas hurried to the entrance to the main hall caring only for speed not stealth. He did not notice the stares he attracted from those he passed. Nobody had seen him as animated since his arrival at Helm's Deep and they gaped openly at his hurried progress.
The passageway outside the hall was full of refugees and their belongings. Not only Edoras that had been evacuated but also as many of the outlying villages as possible. Women sat with wide-eyed babies on their laps surrounded by their, pitifully few, worldly goods. Small children, in the manner of small children everywhere, made a game out of everything playing hide-and-seek between the pillars and bundles. Older children stood around in small groups, eyeing everything warily and, no doubt, wondering what was going to become of them.
Legolas saw it all and noticed nothing of the detail, his sole purpose was to see for himself, close up, that Aragorn was as well as he appeared to be. Knowing that King Theoden would be Aragorn's first port of call, Legolas placed himself squarely in front of the great entrance to the main hall. Disguising his impatience well, he watched Aragorn's approach with a keen eye, noting everything about his appearance.
Aragorn finally stood in front of Legolas, who was almost overcome with relief, although he kept his greeting banal. Aragorn had been about to answer when Legolas pressed Arwen's jewel into his hand. Naturally they both looked down at the pendant, and when Aragorn raised his eyes again the elf assumed an inscrutable expression. There was no time for Aragorn to talk to his friend and he left to consult with Theoden, noting well the hard look in Legolas' eyes.
The next hours were filled with handing out the armour and weapons held at the fortress; not only to the soldiers but also to the old men and even young boys. Although the three of them shared a chamber, Gimli had elected to sleep in the caves, Aragorn and Legolas hardly saw each other. Even when they did speak Legolas steered the conversation towards what preparations the King was making, avoiding all of Aragorn's attempts to question him.
Helm's Deep was a large fortress, crowded with men, women children and horses but despite this Legolas felt very much alone. He grew more despondent about their chances of survival and the success of Frodo's quest. Prowling the corridors and hallways of the keep he watched as children took possession of swords nearly as tall as themselves. Old men who should have been sitting by the fire telling each other tall tales heaved themselves up staircases to take up the positions along the crenelations. Legolas looked on in despair as they leaned against the battlements, weary after the climb, trying to prepare themselves mentally for the onslaught that was to come. At least, he thought ruefully, they are at the end of their lives anyway.
No such grain of comfort could be spared for the youths who stood next to the warriors. The smaller boys had gathered rocks and stones to throw at the enemy. Young faces blanched as the more experienced soldiers explained their task. They fought back tears of panic, their eyes huge, dark pools of sheer terror. More than one had been pulled, not without a soldier's gruff compassion, from his mother's embrace; they were terrified. As he walked aimlessly around and saw these pitiful preparations Legolas sang under his breath. He took no comfort from the fact that none of the men understood his lament for those about to die.
His feet took him to the main hall, where Aragorn, Theoden and the king's advisors had gathered. The vast space was packed with warriors, armed and armoured – the professional soldiers, a pitifully small number – who would have to lead the fight against the vast armies that would come. Legolas fought hard to control himself, but despite his usual discipline the elf could no longer stop the words. He exploded into an argument with Aragorn. The meaning was clear although none could understand the Elvish language. Aragorn's final statement in the Common Tongue echoed around the chamber.
"Then I will die as one of them!" The words reverberated from the vaulted ceiling, shocking even the seasoned warriors. They all knew that this would be a desperate last stand, but as yet nobody had spoken the words aloud. Legolas, mortified at his indiscretion left the chamber at a run as the eyes of every man present bored into his back.
Aragorn made no move to follow.
Legolas made himself scarce. He lurked, unseen, close to the armoury and fought down his despair before it reduced him to a shivering heap. He watched the coming and going of the soldiers, men and boys and slowly pulled himself together. Legolas' eyes trailed Aragorn. Watching as Aragorn spoke to man and boy alike, giving a word of advice here, sharing a joke with the more experienced soldiers there. He saw how Aragorn spoke with a young blond lad, giving much needed confidence and a sudden revelation occurred. The reason for his current state was simple: Aragorn expected to die.
Legolas was already resigned to the fact that he would die with Aragorn. But the man's own confirmation that he was doomed, that his last battle would be fought not in Gondor but Rohan, weighed heavily on the elf. He had pledged his aid, and in deserting Aragorn he had deserted his commitment to the Fellowship. Ashamed, Legolas quickly donned his armour.
Legolas found Aragorn in the armoury strapping on his own armour devoting all his concentration to his preparations. Deliberately Legolas made a sound, to announce his presence. Aragorn looked up, no doubt expecting one of Theoden's men. His eyes widened when he saw Legolas framed in the doorway, arrayed in his leather armour.
"You are losing your skill, Legolas, that would have woken an army."
"I did not want to surprise you, Aragorn," Legolas entered the room. He noted how Aragorn's expression changed from one of surprise to relief, and wondered if it had more to do with the fact that he, Legolas, was dressed for battle. Could it be that he offered, in the manner of a squire, the hilt of a sword to Aragorn? Not just any sword: Anduril. Aragorn's face creased into a smile as his hand closed over the familiar hilt. Legolas smiled in return.
"I spoke too harshly, a child of the woods has no place here. I should have made you stay in Fangorn."
"You think that you could make me do anything? Against my will?"
"I am certain of that."
Legolas turned to leave, but Aragorn was quicker and stood in the doorway preventing his escape.
"Legolas, we must speak. Now."
"Before it is too late?"
"There is always hope. Yes, now before it is too late."
"It is nothing, Aragorn. I will stand beside you in battle and fall with you."
"Sit!" Aragorn pushed Legolas roughly down on the armour chest and closed the door behind him. He stood near the elf but not close enough to make Legolas uncomfortable. "We will not fall in this battle or the next. We must not. Our duty is to the ringbearer above all else. It falls to us to distract Sauron so that Frodo can complete his task."
"This does not come as news to me," Legolas' face hardened, his emotions once more in turmoil. "You call me a child of the woods, but I am no child. Just as, despite your tender age, you are not a child of men."
"Will we fight each other again before this battle, Legolas? That was not my intention," Aragon moved half a step closer to the chest.
"What was your intention? Am I your prisoner," his eyes darted to the closed door. "Will you release me from this chamber only when I promise to fight valiantly until the last of the Urak-hai is slain? That is a promise I gladly give. Although it has no meaning. The Dark Lord will prevail, Aragorn."
"Where does your despair come from, Legolas?" Aragorn closed the remaining gap between himself and the elf. "Here?" he touched Legolas' head. "Or here?" Aragorn knelt, took hold of Legolas hand and placed it flat over the elf's own heart. "Are you angry with me, or with yourself?"
Legolas looked down at his chest. His slender fingers were completely covered by the man's broad hand. He noted the marks of Aragorn's hard life, the calloused and scarred fingers. Legolas could feel the rough skin of Aragorn's palm on the back of his hand.
Aragorn reached out with his other hand and laid it gently against Legolas' cheek. "Will you look at me?"
His answer was a shake of the blond head. "Aragorn, you must not do this."
"Must not? Why? Because you do not wish it," Aragorn dropped to his knees so that their foreheads touched. "Or because you do wish it?" Aragorn slid his arms around Legolas. "What of my wishes?" he whispered.
"Your wishes?" Legolas was ashamed of the tears that suddenly welled in his eyes.
"I, too, may wish."
"What do you wish for?" He pulled away to look at Aragorn, curiosity overcoming his shame.
"What do I wish for, Legolas? Many things. At this moment what I wish for is time – although my wish will go unfulfilled."
"Time can also be a burden." The inscrutable expression returned. "But you have other wishes. What of those?"
"While I was making my way here I wished to see you smile, but that wish is also unfulfilled. Will it remain that way?"
"I have little enough reason to smile."
"Then I will give you one." Moving slowly Aragorn put his hands on either side of Legolas' face. Aragorn brushed his thumb lightly across Legolas' mouth. "Is that reason enough?"
Legolas raised a finger, retraced the path Aragorn's finger had taken and gave Aragorn a sad smile. "A reason, Aragorn, but not enough." he jerked away and his smile vanished abruptly. "I do not want your pity, Aragorn. You are Arwen's."
"Legolas, I..." He stood quickly at the sound of footsteps outside. "Someone approaches."
Legolas got to his feet, stepped across the room and threw open the door. He was prevented from leaving by the sight that greeted him.
Gimli stepped through the doorway holding a mail shirt. In the time it took Gimli to struggle, grumbling about the chest size, into the garment, Legolas had composed himself and even managed a warm smile for his friend.
Aragorn sighed, but he too summoned a look of optimistic hope. "We will talk later."
"Perhaps we will, Aragorn." Legolas' face was grim. "But first we shall fight."
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