Darkest Before Dawn

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Due to the alarming unreliability of adult-fanfiction.org, this is the last chapter of this fic I will be posting here. Never fret--you can still read it at the new website I've been busy making for myself. http://angelfire.com/rings/blossomwitch. Let me know if you encounter a link that doesn't work; I've set up two sets of links for everything because the earlier ones only work on some browsers. You can read all my other ficcies there, too. :)

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Darkest Before Dawn, Chapter Six
Author: Blossomwitch
A/N: This chapter was running away with itself, so I separated it where I did and made most of the rest ch. 7. Since last chapter ended rather abruptly, I began this chapter with the last few lines of ch. five.

"Legolas, it's me." He gingerly laid one handthe the elf's shoulder, trembling at the longed-for contact. Legolas did not react. "Legolas. It's Gimli. I've come to get you out."

At last, a response. Slowly and stiffly, Legolas turned his head back, eyes dully searching until they came across Gimli's and their gazes locked.

The look in Legolas's eyes struck him cold with its similarity to the girl's downstairs. So many things radiated in that gaze: hostility and anger, fear and caution, and a cold sort of judging--a tenseness, the readiness to flee. All of it blanketed by the dim disinterest of someone who had seen too much. The only difference was that Legolas's eyes held a touch less fear and more hostility.

There was absolutely no sign that he recognized Gimli.

"Legolas, it's me," Gimli murmured in quiet despair, reaching out to touch Legolas's cheek.

Legolas's mobility was limited but he still reacted with Elven swiftness, moving as far away from Gimli's touch as was possible. Gimli realized his error instantly, and withdrew his hand. It was enough to break Gimli out of his slightly stunned state, and he remembered with sudden force that he had very little time. He fit the key into the manacle on Legolas's left wrist, talking as he worked it open. His words came spilling out faster and faster, filling the empty space where Legolas did not speak and did not recognize him. "Legolas, I'm going to get you out of here. It's okay. I'm going to take you back to Edoras and then they will come and destroy this place. You have friends there that will hunt these people down and murder them. You're not going to stay here another night, not now that I've found you."

Legolas's breathing grew quick and slightly ragged, but he remained comatose--he did not look at Gimli as the dwarf released his left arm and laid it gently on the Elf's lap, afraid Legolas would just let the limb drop. Gimli had freed the right arm and was reaching for the manacles on his friend's ankles when Legolas struck.

Gimli had trained as a warrior for years, and instinct completely took whe when Legolas attacked him. His mind didn't catch up with his body until they were both on the ground, himself on top, pinning Legolas effectively to the ground. Threat neutralized, he looked blankly at the thin wrists his hands were encircling easily, wrists he could have held in one hand, and realized he never would have won that skirmish if Legolas had been in his full health. Legolas was breathing heavily and Gimli could feel a small, hard protrusion in Legolas' stomach, causing him frantic worry that his Elf was ill. "Legolas, it's me!" he hissed furiously, desperately. "We don't have time for this! I have to get you out of here."

Legolas stared up at him with that same veiled look, not struggling for the moment but hatred very clear in his eyes. Gimli wracked his brains for some way to make Legolas recognize him, at least to the point where he would stop attacking.

"Do you remember Lorien?" he asked in a harsh whisper. Maybe reminding Legolas of a time before this horror had taken place would help break through the confusion and fear between them. "Do you remember the Fellowship? Aragorn and Gandalf and Boromir, and all the little hobbits?" Saying names didn't seem to be helping, so Gimli tried a slightly different angle. "Do you remember us floating down the Anduin, you and me in the boat with all our gear and the others far ahead? Do you remember how we talked to each other then? Do you remember any of it?"

Legolas's breathing was slowing down. A glazed look was slowly replacing the hatred in his eyes; Gimli couldn't guess whether this was an improvement or not. "Remember, Legolas," he commanded softly, hoping that the repetition of the Elf's true name would jar Legolas out of this trance or daze or whatever it was that kept him from knowing Gimli.

Legolas blinked, his gaze suddenly focused clearly on Gimli. There was someone there. Not Legolas--not his friend, his love, the way he had been--but someone. Not an animal, a creature with no soul acting only in defense of a perceived threat.

"Legolas?" he asked softly.

Slowly, Legolas raised one hand. Gimli did not dare to breathe as Legolas gently touched the back of his hand to Gimli's cheek. "Gimli," he said softly.

The moment was broken by a crash and an uproar of male voices from the common room. Not daring to break eye contact, Gimli slowly released his pin on Legolas and held his hands out. With a vague look of wonder in his eyes, Legolas grasped the proffered hands and allowed Gimli to help him to his feet. Gimli glanced swiftly at the swelling low in the Elf's abdomen and frowned--but there was no time to worry about it now.

Gimli snatched the robe that was crumpled into one corner of the low couch and handed it to Legolas. It was made of a silky, flimsy material and wouldn't provide much shelter, but it was certainly better than nothing. While Legolas put it on with a easy, practiced movement Gimli undid the brooch on his Lothlorien cloak and handed it, too, to the Elf. Legolas took it with a look of wonder, fingering the fine Elven weave as he drew it on.

"Quickly," Gimli hissed, listening to the raised voices of the men downstairs. "We haven't much time." Fearful that Legolas would not follow of his own accord, he took the Elf's hand in his and drew him towards the door.

Legolas's hand was firm in Gimli's grasp and he did not resist the contact, but Gimli got the impression he would not have moved without aide. Once through the door Gimli took a precious moment to close and lock it behind them, hoping it would buy them time before their flight was discovered. Then he pulled the unresisting yet inactive Elf down the ominously dim hallway to a door at the end that could only lead to the outside stairwell Cindy had described to him.

He threw the door open and found himself looking down at a deserted street, almost completely shrouded in darkness now. Gimli instantly started down the none-too-stable staircase, but to his surprise he felt a resisting tug from his left arm. Legolas had stopped cold.

Legolas was staring back into the hallway they had just come from with a pained expression on his face. "Legolas, please, we must hurry!" Gimli pled in a whisper.

Legolas took three quick steps back into the hallway. Cursing whatever fey mood had grabbed the Elf, Gimli tightened his grip on Legolas's hand and prepared to dig his heels in.

Legolas came to a halt in front of one of the unassuming doorways, stroking the front with one hand. "Mellyn-nin," he said softly, his tone heartbreakingly sad.

Gimli recognized, from the password into Moria, that the elvish had something to do with friends. "Don't worry about them, Legolas," he whispered, trying to sound comforting and urgent at the same time. "We'll come back for them."

Legolas's reaction was violent. He turned swiftly to his companion, eyes widening in terror as he grabbed both of Gimli's hands in a grip like iron and shook his head frantically. He was trying to speak, but all that was coming out was a thick choking sound as the veins in his neck bulged.

"No, no, you don't have to come back," Gimli reassured him hastily, realizing his error. "You don't have to come back here. Never again. I only meant that when we get out of here we'll send people back to free the others. Aragorn and Eomer--only please hurry, Legolas. We don't have time." He pulled hard on Legolas's hand, but the Elf still resisted. "Legolas. I swear to you, they will be rescued. But if you don't come with me now you and I stand a good chance of being killed, and the others will remain here. Please."

That finally seemed to get through to him. Legolas turned and refocused his attention on Gimli, not even needing to be pulled to follow Gimli out the door and down the outside staircase.

From outside you could not tell if anything was amiss inside the brothel, and Gimli prayed Cindy's distraction was still going on. He started to run down the street, away from the center of town, but Legolas lagged behind. Gimli glanced back and saw that his friend was trying to keep up but struggling, wincing as his bare feet came into contact with rocks in the road.

Gimli swore under his breath. After hunting the hobbits across the plains of Rohan it had gotten into Gimli's head that Legolas could run like the wind, anytime, anywhere. But even an Elf couldn't be expected to make this kind of escape on bare feet; not a weak, exhausted, and degraded Elf, at any rate.

Another option immediately presented itself to the Dwarf's mind, and though he didn't care for it he also didn't have time to spare. "Legolas." He guided his friend towards an apparently abandoned building and made Legolas conceal himself in the shadows, grateful for the Lady Galadriel's cloak. Gimli paused; in this state of mind, could he trust Legolas not to run off? The Elf was clearly not completely present in the moment; his expression was so vague that Gimli wasn't sure if Legolas even understood anything that was said to him. "Legolas," he said firmly. "Legolas, look at me. I need you to stay here." He realized he was speaking to Legolas as he would to a child, and it frustrated him, but he didn't know what else to do. Legolas was looking at him steadily, but he did not nodd or make any other affirmative action. "Legolas? You must not move from this spot. Do you understand me?"

Legolas nodded, but Gimli was still unsure. "You'll be here when I get back? You won't make a sound?"

"I understand, Gimli," Legolas said in his own light, clear tone. "I will not move."

Warmth spread through Gimli when he heard Legolas speak so coherently. "Good." He found himself unable to leave, even for these few minutes, without some kind of physical contact; so he reacout out and cupped Legolas's face in his palm. Some part of his brain dimly noted the stark contrast between his tan, weathered fingers and Legolas's moonlight skin. "I'll be back soon," he whispered. He took off down the street a run, not daring to look back, not daring to think wistfully that there had once been a time when Legolas had not recoiled from his touch like he had just done.