Fallen Angel

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*

Darkness caressed the face of the earthen floor, moving on towards a single place and a single purpose—to blanket the sanctuary that was Helm’s Deep and obscure the view of the terrified Rohirric Men that waited for the coming battle. He wandered the battlements and gave his own, secret inspection of those that were pitted to fight against the hordes of Saruman. The Wood-Elf of Mirkwood did not hold to hope. They were so few against a coming storm of monsters that cared nothing for fighting honorably. Legolas stopped on the top of the wall and looked out across the blank landscape before them. Soon it would be teeming with foul things bent on destruction and he would be fighting for Men in a foreign land in a cause that was doomed to fail. He did not resent that, but neither did it offer him much comfort.

“It’s so cold,” he heard one of the boys complain in a voice touched by the shivers his body was feeling. Legolas turned and gave him a sidelong glance, watching with sorrow as the boy of no more than twelve summers stood a few feet away, watching the horizon much as he was.

The Prince of Mirkwood sighed, resting his hands on the stone before him and indeed it was chilled. The air smelled of a coming rain and he privately bemoaned that. The last thing they needed now was a rain. Still, it was far in the distance and perhaps could turn aside at any moment, forsaking Helm’s Deep and sweeping across the mountains instead. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, then nodded as the boy looked up at him curiously. “It is cold, but we have courage,” he said in a reassuring tone.

The boy was holding his arms around himself. He did not look particularly convinced of the Elf’s words. “I bet the Uruk-Kai have more courage.”

Legolas shook his head, considering it. “There is a difference between courage and mindless purpose. We have wisdom where they have only the promise of abuse if they fail to obey their orders. Take comfort in your wits and in the wits of your comrades, for a strategy is worth the defeat of many fell beasts rushing with no purpose.”

Finally nodding, the boy agreed and looked again out in the distance. “You could leave,” he suggested. “You do not have to die here.”

That had occurred to Legolas and had been dismissed. Aragorn was intent on fighting for his people; had made that very clear when Legolas had spoken to him in the hall. As Gimli had told him to, he had let Aragorn go off to be alone with his doubts. His friend was a man bound by what was right, no doubt about it. He would not leave these people if he thought his sword would be of any help. In the end his answer to this boy would be what he had told himself. “I could, but what would that buy me except shame? These are not my people, but they are people. Sauron is the enof uof us all.”

For the first time since they had learned of the threat Saruman’s of Uruk-Kai he saw a pale glimmer of hope in the face of doubt and fear. The boy gave him a wan smile of admiration, then moved at the beckon of another boy his age.

Legolas sighed softly and turned away from the open land before him. He would be seeing it in an all too intimate way soon enough. Now it was time that he apologized to Aragorn for his despair and perhaps rebuild some of the faith his words had more than likely stripped away from his friend. They would surely fail if they counted on it. Now all they had was the hope that believing blindly would yield the miraculous. “Valar aid us,” he whispered as he jogged towards the door that lead to where he had seen Aragorn disappear not long ago.

When he entered he saw his friend dressing for battle. Aragorn’s back was turned, bare to the view for a short time until it was covered once more by his tunic. He must have been checking the wounds his fall had left him. Moving as silent as the breath of a babe, Legolas wandered to where his friend’s sword lay, gathering it up in his hands. He ran his fingers along the blade as he watched Aragorn don his chain mail. Then the Ranger turned and looked surprised he was not alone. The Wood-Elf held up the sword in an offering of friendship, a mirror to the aid he would give out on the battlefield. He made his apology and by the look in Aragorn’s eyes all was forgiven.

“You despaired and you overcame,” he said, strapping his sword to his side. “We will need for it to be out of our hearts before the battle begins.”

Legolas nodded his agreement. “Yes, well, I have come to a place where I may fight with hope. What of you, mellon nín?”

Aragorn looked away at his question. “I have hope.”

Knitting his brow at the admission he saw in that, not of hope but of doubt, the Prince of Mirkwood put his hand to his friend’s shoulder, looking into those crystal blue eyes gravely. “Speak your mind and be rid of fear.”

The Ranger laid his hand on his friend’s with a fond smile that caused Legolas to blush. “I only wish you to understand how deeply I appreciate what you have done. What you promise to do.”

“These are things I give without thought, Aragorn,” he responded in a low tone.

His reply won him a soft touch. The Ranger raised his hand and brushed along the Elf’s cheek, trailing up even as those eyes made fresh the recollection of his features. Aragorn dropped his hands to Legolas’ shoulders after a visual exploration, then urged him closer. As he pressed his mouth against the Wood-Elf’s, Legolas gasped and turned his head away. Aragorn sighed and rested his forehead against his friend’s intimately. “Will you not tell me the name of he who has your heart?” he whispered huskily, trying to divine those secrets in midnight blue eyes.

“It matters not,” Legolas breathed, drawing away with regret. He could feel his midsection tense in sudden need, but for whom that need was for prevented him from taking advantage of Aragorn’s affections. “It may be when my heart will relent and I can…pursue other…other…” he began in am uncertain tone.

Aragorn shook his head and pressed his fingers against the prince’s lips. “Hush, for I know what you would say. I know what you feel. I make no demands on you save to give what your heart would allow. If that is no more than friendship I still count myself a rich man indeed.”

Legolas embraced him impulsively for his understanding, then smirked over his shoulder as Gimli entered the room wearing a very long Rohirric chain shirt. The Dwarf did not seem pleased and remarked so. The Ranger let his friend go and laughed low, but even as they took relief in a light moment a sound filled the air, calling out like a beacon in the night. Legolas recognized the type of horn and his heart swelled with joy. Quickly he beckoned his friends out into the night air to greet those he suspected would be at the gates of Helm’s Deep.

It was true. As they came in view of the main entrance Legolas saw Elves there, dressed in battle regalia with Haldir of Lórien as their leader. The Marchwarden turned his attention from King Théoden to greet his friends with a smile. “We come to honor that allegiance.”

*

The plans for battle had been discussed, the exchange of worries given, so now the small army gathered at Helm’s Deep had but to wait upon those bent on their destruction. The Marchwarden of Lothlórien stood on the parapet with his back leaned against the stone rail. His pale eyes glittered in a calm only an Elf could know before battle. Still he was not untroubled, Legolas could see. He wondered just what it was that was on Haldir’s mind.

“How does Lady Galadriel fair?” Gimli asked suddenly, drawing the Wood-Elf out of his thoughts.

Haldir usually had a few searing words for anyone that crossed his bad side. He and the Dwarf had certainly had their share of banter when the Fellowship had rested in Lothlórien. Legolas expected now would be no different, but strangely Haldir’s expression was without ire. “The Lady bid me give you her thoughts, Master Dwarf. She is well and wishes you the same.”

Gimli, however, remained true to protectiveness over his gentle relationship to Galadriel. Beneath those dark, thick brows his eyes widened in aggravation. “And why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he demanded with an indignant shake of his axe.

The Marchwarden appeared nonplussed. “I had other things to attend to first.”

The Dwarf frowned and disappeared in the crowd of Elves and Men, muttering darkly beneath his breath. Legolas and Haldir exchanged grins. “Whatever his feelings for you, dear friend, I know Lady Galadriel has no truer an admirer than the Son of Gloin.”

“Indeed,” replied the other Elf as he looked after the Dwarf’s trail in amusement. “It is better that he worry over my failure than what is to come. The days grow dark.”

“And there is something in your eyes that speaks of that darkness with knowledge,” replied Aragorn, coming up to the Prince of Mirkwood’s right. He exhaled as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. In a way it was, Legolas reflected with a touch of sorrow.

One of the other Elves spared a glance in their direction at Aragorn’s question. Something was definitely going on. The Marchwarden peered at the Ranger carefully, his eyes assessing. “I had thought perhaps not to burden you when there is much else to worry about. It could wait until after our fight.”

Legolas shook his head, more to himself than in reply. Of course it could also never come after the fight if things went as terrible as they imagined. Aragorn knew this as well. “I may dwell on the wondering of it at the wrong moment if you do not tell,” he countered thoughtfully. “I cannot worry for Arwen and battle well at the same time.”

Shaking his head, Haldir moved closer as if he did not want his words to travel far. “It is not Arwen you should worry for and you may well dwon ton the truth at the wrong moment as well.” He frowned, but there was relent in his eyes. “But since you would have it, I will tell you what has happened. It happened not long after you left Rivendell. Lord Elrond was bringing Lady Arwen to Lothlórien himself. They were waylaid by Orcs.”

The Ranger wore a now fearful expression. He clenched his hand, then unclenched it again. “Tell me no one has died.”

“All were saved but one,” the Elf responded gravely. “Lord Elrond was taken captive.”

This alarmed both Legolas and Aragorn visibly, but inside the Prince of Mirkwood’s stomach swirled. “Captive?” he repeated, looking between his two friends. “What happened, Haldir?”

The Marchwarden shrugged, mirroring his sadness. His words gave the Wood-Elf little comfort. “As I said, they were coming to Lothlórien. Suddenly they were attacked by a fairly large group of Uruk-Kai. It was only by Lord Elrond’s sacrifice that Arwen and Glorfindel escaped. They saw the fell beasts knock him from his saddle and swarm around him, but their numbers were too great. There is no way Glorfindel could have fought for his lord without sacrificing the lady. When we searched the area we found no trace of Elrond, which bodes well that he may still live. Yet I fear his fate will not be a pleasant one.”

A swell of anxiety washed through the Prince of Mirkwood as he considered the implications. The Lord of Rivendell could be in torment now, being beaten or worse. His fists tightened in need to do something about this, but what could he do against many foes in a place unseen? There was no way of knowing where they had dragged Lord Elrond, but Legolas could think of two possibilities. Neither were very attractive. But that they were Uruk-Kai suggested Saruman’s involvement. Would they have taken an Elven Lord to their master or simply settled for their sport until Elrond accepted Mandos? The idea left a chill within the Wood-Elf.

“What can we do?” Aragorn breathed in a sigh, looking at the stones beneath his feet, sliding his boot along the mortar. Despite the chatter around them it seemed as if the silence between the three was deafening. “So much despair in these evil days.”

“Yes,” Haldir agreed gravely, looking out along the quiet field ahead. “Perhaps I should not have spoken of it. But you did ask.”

Aragorn grunted at that. His blue eyes trailed skyward as the first few drops of a coming deluge began to fall. “Nay, it is good to know for whom we fight. Not only those here, but for the entire world of those we love.”

For different reasons Legolas agreed that it was well Haldir had spoken. He glared ahead as the sound of thunderous footsteps filtered through the air. His had a new drive for defeating these beasts.