Beloved

Author - Nessa
Author's Notes: Gah! I shall NEVER do threesomes ever again! It’s hell trying to figure out who does what and what goes where…O_o but seriously. This is a major accomplishment. The LONGEST so far and I’m not kidding. Wooo… a huge thanks for those who have supported me all the way. You are the best man! I’m ecstatic. I’m moved. I actually have tears in my eyes now. Sniff sniff… this story is my favourite… *do you realize I keep saying that whenever I write a new one?!* But I hope that you have enjoyed reading my Warrior Elf Series as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you SO much. You know who you are.
Archive: Yeah… Go ahead!
Beta Reader: Jayme… thanks so much!



* The plains of Rohan *

The sun rose, basking the rolling plain of Rohan in its golden splendour. The hoard of horsemen rode on; past the north-west foot-hills of the White Mountains following the beaten road up and down the green, crossing many swift streams and fords. Forty leagues they travelled without any rest, the Misty Mountains grew darker and taller as miles went by and still they did not stop – the need for haste drove them relentlessly onwards.

Fearing to come too late, they rode with all the speed they could, pausing seldom for they hoped to reach the fords of Isen by the next morn, to give aid to the king’s men that held back the hosts of Saruman. The sun rose higher and then dipped towards the west. The evening came slowly but surely in their wake, darkening the horizons. It was only when night began to embrace the terrain and light was slowly extinguished by the setting of the sun did they, at last, halt to make their camp. The men had ridden all day and where far from Edoras, into the heart of the western plain, yet there was still more travelling to do the next day.

In a great circle, under the starlit sky and the waxing moon, they set up their tents. They lit no fires for fear of being seen by their enemies but instead, sent out men on horses to guard those who rest. Scouts rode out far ahead, passing like shadows in the folds of the land. And the night began to crawl by.

Legolas stood at the top of the hilly terrain, his back straight and his head thrown back towards the skies. The glow of the moon and stars bathed his face and his hair shone in the soft light. War was coming. He could sense the bleakness of the days ahead and the stars whispered to him of death and massacre and yet the message was vague. It was as if those stars sought to keep their secrets jealously. Someone would die. This much he knew. But who?

“Legolas,” said a voice. And the Elf knew, even without turning that it belonged to Aragorn. He had grown used to the Ranger’s presence hovering near him like a shadow. Blue eyes turned towards the steel grey of the Man’s. “What is it you are thinking of?” Aragorn murmured as he closed the distance between them. Legolas frowned thoughtfully as he turned his gaze back towards the night skies.

“It is the stars. They have never kept secrets from me before. And yet now they reveal merely a hint of the dark times ahead. Great joy will dwell in the hearts of the Men of Rohan… and yet there will be great sorrow as well. I cannot understand this riddle.” Legolas said, as the frown upon his brows deepened with confusion. The Man gave a fond smile as he reached out to toy with a lock of the Elf’s hair. It was soft as silk and he brushed it across his own cheek.

“Your worry will be for naught, Legolas. Have faith in the strength of the Men of Rohan! Have faith in me. I will not let sorrow touch you again. Too long have you been in despair. Perhaps after the war you will find hope and joy once more.” said the Ranger tenderly as he gently turned the Elf to face him and wrapped his arms around the slender frame, burying his face into Legolas’ smooth neck. When the Elf spoke, there was a smile in his voice.

“Aye. I know that you will take care of me. I will never doubt that.” he said as he tilted his head, allowing Aragorn to nibble on his pointed ear. Legolas sighed; his heart was at peace at least for the moment. The Ranger’s tongue flicked lightly into the Elf’s ear and his hands began their quest to explore the contours of the Elf’s body and the firm globes of his rear. It was a journey he had taken many times before but every time, he found new things that excites him to no end. Like now, when he traced the cleft of the buttocks with his fingers, the Elf shivered and pressed closer against the Ranger, rubbing his hardening groin against Aragorn’s.

Their lips were inches apart from one another and would have met if not for a cry that sounded from the dark. The Elf’s head whipped around towards the sound, his body tensing immediately. A horn blew in the depth of the night and there was a flurry of activity in the camp below. Aragorn’s hand flew to his sword, but Legolas stayed his hand, his eyes bright with anticipation.

“That is no Orc horn.” he exclaimed and dashed down the steep slope towards a group of horse riders that were approaching their camp rapidly. The figure that led the troop sat tall and majestic upon a horse. The proud lines of his face and the silver hair that blew freely in the wind brought a smile upon Legolas’ lips. Theoden got out of his tent at the slight commotion outside and when he saw the horse riders, his face took on a look of wonder and disbelief.

“How could this be?” he murmured as the leader of the troop leapt nimbly from his horse and bowed low before the King. When he straightened again, there was a small smile upon his lips. “I bring word from Lord Elrond of Rivendell.” said the tall rider. “It is his desire that we take part in this war. We came to honor his wishes and we are proud to fight alongside Men once more.” And with that he turned towards Legolas who hovered near him and he smiled.

“Haldir” came Legolas’ whisper and their eyes met. And held.

**********

* Edoras *

The lady wandered through the great hall, aimless. It was as if her heart was filled with a burden she could do nothing to dispel. Gone. Her love was gone as swiftly and as fleetingly as a hummingbird upon a flower. For long hours she sat in the dark, her face turned towards the heavens, searching for the signs that would only reveal but a rumour of her love’s well-being. And always the stars showed the same thing. They dimmed in comparison to this lone star that shone so brightly, bringing tears to her eyes. And she found what little comfort she could in the knowledge that Legolas Greenleaf was alive and well.

“My lady” murmured an attendant, her voice hesitant. It was as if she was reluctant to break the musings of her Lady Eowyn. Her eyes darted towards the untouched plate of food and a crease formed at her brows. Her Lady did nothing but pine for her love, taking no nourishment for the entire day that her lover was gone. Eowyn turned towards the doorway, her face sad and her eyes downcast.

“What is it?” she said, her voice mirroring the expression on her fair face.

“Forgive me, my lady. But there is a Man who wishes to speak with you.” came the reply. Eowyn nodded her head and the attendant motioned someone into her room.

The Man entered the room and Eowyn felt as if she had known him from another time. Her eyes flickered to his face and took note of it. He was handsome, his face proud and sad at the same time and his hair… his hair was almost as gold her hers. Her heart pains her as she regarded this proud man so bent with grief.

“My Lady, I came to ask you if you have seen a Ranger by the name of Aragorn. It is imperative that I find him for I need to speak to him.” he said, his eyes fixed upon her in silent appeal. Eowyn tilted her head and looked at him almost tenderly as if she were looking upon the face of an old friend. Silently she walked towards him and stood in front of him. Lifting her fair hand, she reached out and gently stroked his hair, on her face sorrow dwelled and yet… it also carried an expression that was akin to affection.

“You will find Lord Aragorn in the Fords of Isen, along with King Theoden’s men, fighting their war.” she whispered, her eyes never leaving the Man’s. He then bowed low and turned to leave. But the Lady’s voice called to him making him stop at the doorway. The Man turned around and stared at Eowyn. She stood tall, and the regal lines of her body spoke clearly of her breeding as a daughter of Kings. Yet she seemed to be cloaked in sorrow, her eyes dark with undefined emotions.

“If you find them, go to my love. Go to my Legolas, for I know that he will be happy to look upon your face.” she said, smiling at him. It was a sad smile. Beautiful; but sad and heart-wrenching at the same time. The Man frowned in confusion but said, “How will I know him my lady? How does he look like?”

Eowyn turned to the skies once more. Dawn was approaching. She wanted to see the stars before they fade. The Man, taking her silence as dismissal turned once more but her voice, quiet and sad made him turn around again. “You will know my Legolas when you see him for his beauty shines brighter than all the stars in the sky.” He continued to stare at her and when she did not turn back, he walked away.

And up above, the star shone brightly still.

**********

* The Plains of Rohan *

Hot were the lips upon his neck. Legolas closed his eyes and bit back a moan, his head unconsciously tilting backwards to give his lover more access to the soft skin there. A firm tongue darted out, tasting his flesh and Legolas shivered in reaction, his senses reeling with the sensations that were evoked. It was only when those determined hands reached between their bodies and settled upon the growing bulge in his leggings that he shook his head in a feeble attempt at denial.

“Nay, Haldir. We must not do this.” he gritted out as the larger Elf eagerly sucked and licked the exposed column of Legolas’ neck; his rising passion was like a storm… it cannot be controlled or stopped. Despite his protests, his body belied his words as his hips moved in time to the irresistible rhythm of Haldir’s caresses.

“Hush, Little Elf. Let me ease your pain.” Haldir whispered and Legolas closed his eyes at the memory that the name brought about. Little Elf: a term of endearment given to him in his youth by someone who meant the world to him. The pain at such memory burned in his heart like a raging fire.

“Nay, Haldir” he said, his voice stronger now, more determined; his eyes were glazed as if he were thinking on a distant past. Haldir’s face softened with pity as he saw the familiar look upon the fair elven face. It was a look he had seen so many centuries ago and it was the last thing that he wanted to see upon Legolas’ face now. Haldir cupped those soft cheeks and turned the face towards his.

“Do you not remember a time, long ago in Rivendell? You were frightened, so torn by your grief and loss. You would not eat, you would not speak and the only sounds you made were the sounds of your tears.” he murmured as Legolas trembled with emotions that he held tightly in check.

There was silence but Haldir was patient, his hand ran soothingly up and down the tense back as he sat next to Legolas. “Yes,” came the choked reply. “I remember.” Haldir ran a finger down from the smaller Elf’s chest to the junction between Legolas’ thighs. The Elf shuddered at the sensation and his hips flexed involuntarily, his arms reaching out to grab Haldir’s strong shoulders as he cried out softly with his need.

“Do you not remember that I came to you that night,” Haldir continued, now massaging the source of Legolas’ desire with his hands, stroking the tension away from the lithe body. “I came to you Legolas, and with only my hands, I did what the others could not. I chased away your troubles and turned your cries of sorrow into that of pleasure.” he murmured.

Legolas’ chest heaved with every breath he took, his hips now bucking frantically beneath Haldir’s sensuous assault. And he did remember then, centuries ago when he thought that all that was worth living for had been destroyed and he had retreated into a shell, willing himself to fade into the darkness of his thoughts. Haldir had come to him and he had taught him the wonders of the flesh and how such pleasure could chase away even the darkest of misery.

And so he nodded his head, not trusting himself enough to speak; blue eyes that were awash with tears looked into the sad grey ones of Haldir’s. “Then tell me, what I can do to sooth the pain of your loss? I can see in your eyes; it is the same expression that you had back then. If you cannot find it in your heart to love again, at least share the burdens of your sorrow with an old friend. Do not deny me this, Little Elf, for the sake of our friendship.” Haldir whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. And Legolas cried then, tears flowing freely as it had never done before and he covered his face, weeping into his hands.

“I deny you nothing Haldir, but my heart pains me greatly. Everyday I try my hardest to forget but I cannot.” he murmured and it was as if a dam had been broken as for the first time, he poured out all his troubles. “Boromir. My Beloved. I wish with all my heart and soul that he was with me again! What would I not give to look upon his face once more! When he died, a part of me died with him. No longer could I feel love and that pains me because I fear I have caused grief to those who have given their hearts to me.”

He lowered his hands then, and turned his eyes towards the bracelet upon his wrist. “Aragorn loves me and I know his love is true. But I cannot feel the same way! When he kissed me upon my lips, I pretend that ‘tis Boromir’s upon mine. When we make love, I pretend that it is Boromir’s hands upon my flesh. Who can suppose or even guess at the anguish and sorrow that dwells in my heart? I do not wish to hurt anyone! And so I gave myself to him, allowing him to believe that I might have some feelings for him, when all the while it is another name that I yearn to cry out.”

Legolas brought his knees to his chest and began to rock to and fro and Haldir despaired for it brought back the memory of Legolas so long ago, wretched and miserable. “And Eowyn. Beautiful, sweet Eowyn. How I wish she had never laid eyes upon me! I took her, Haldir, and I left her without even looking back. How she trembled when I pressed my lips upon hers in a gesture of farewell! But I said naught to ease her sorrow; so overwhelmed was I in my own grief that I took no notice of hers.”

There was a long silence and Haldir still sat next to the Elf who was on the verge of shattering in his own grief. Tenderly, he stroked Legolas’ hair and when the Elf chance to speak again, his voice was devoid of emotion. “The Little Elf you knew is no longer here, Haldir. He is lost, and perhaps gone forever. I know not. Look at what he has become!” he said with a bitter laugh. “But have no fear! Perhaps I have made another replica of myself when I planted my seed in Eowyn’s womb! Another Elfling to take after me. Another Elfling to bring disgrace to his own kind. Like I have. Like I always did.”

Haldir pressed a finger to those trembling lips, his heart crying out for his friend. “Hush! Do not speak of such things. The Little Elf I knew is not lost for he is here with me, sharing the burden of his troubles with his old friend. He bears the weight of the world upon his shoulders and yet he still stands tall and proud; a Warrior Elf. Just as how your mother said you would be.” And Legolas shuddered at the mention of his mother and the memory that came with it, his eyes closing to hide the anguish in them.

“Leave me be, Haldir. I do not deserve you. I do not deserve anyone.” he choked out and turned his face away from his friend. But Haldir grabbed hold of his chin, gently but firmly bringing Legolas’ gaze back towards his.

“Do you not trust me?” he said, his voice barely audible, his grey eyes intense. Legolas hesitated and then nodded his head. “Then let me do this for you. Trust me as you once did with your pain… and your pleasure.”

And Legolas gave in. Surrendering to Haldir’s caresses, he moaned aloud, his body quickly responding to the feel of Haldir’s hands upon him. His clothes were stripped off his body in a whisper, and he lay down upon the ground, naked and shivering under the scrutiny of his friend.

“You are so beautiful, Little Elf. Look at how perfect you are! Can you not feel your own strength?” Haldir murmured as he took hold of the Elf’s hands and wrapped it around Legolas’ hardening arousal. Haldir’s hand covered Legolas’ and slowly, he guided the Elf into stroking himself. Legolas mouth parted as he took in great breaths and watched through lowered lids as Haldir helped him pleasure himself.

Up and down went the hand, gently and teasingly, and it was not long before Legolas writhed with the pleasure he evoked upon his own body and Haldir’s eyes darken with passion at the sight of his friend submitting to his own touch. A choked groan told him that Legolas was close to the edge, and swiftly, he withdrew his hand, ignoring the cry of dismay that the smaller Elf gave at the loss.

Haldir removed his own clothes; his eyes fixed upon Legolas’ and he took pleasure at the sight of the Elf’s blue eyes darkening with desire, his pink tongue darting out to moisten his lips. With a soft sigh, Haldir slid himself along the length of the quivering body and the contact of flesh against flesh made both Elves tremble with the sensations it brought about.

Haldir bent down to kiss Legolas, his tongue stabbing into the sweet mouth as his hand reached between them to grab hold of Legolas’ straining erection. And he stroked it. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until those slim hips trashed around desperately. When Legolas thought that he could stand no more of the exquisite torture, Haldir dragged his lips down from Legolas’ lips to his throat before pausing at his navel. His tongue lashed out, delving in the hollow of the navel and then, it continued on its journey towards Legolas’ source of desire.

The moment Haldir’s hot mouth covered the head of his member; Legolas cried out, his eyes clenched shut, as his breath hitched in his lungs when Haldir proceeded to draw him deep into his mouth. The moonlight framed the larger Elf, and for a moment, Legolas’ heart constricted at Haldir’s wild and untamed beauty, his hair shining like silver in the soft light. But all thoughts left him when Haldir began to hum, the action sending awash waves and waves of pleasure over his shaft and thighs. He could have cried out then, letting the world know of the pleasure that he got from Haldir. But firm lips covered his in a searing kiss, robbing him of his voice.

It was as if he were floating upon a raging sea of passion. The mouth upon his took him in every angle, as if it wanted to devour his lips whole, and the tongue upon his erection lapped maddeningly at the length… Legolas’ eyes flew open and stared straight into the steel-blue depths of Aragorn’s. The Ranger was naked. He gave a startled cry and made to sit up but the Ranger would not allow him to.

“Calm down. Let us love you, Legolas.” he said, his voice rough with emotion and in his eyes, all the love for the Elf was laid bare for him to see. And love him they did as they took turns in pleasuring Legolas. When Aragorn bent down to lick the weeping erection, Haldir’s tongue circled Legolas’ nipples, his teeth lightly nipping the tight buds. When Haldir pushed his member into Legolas’ opening, Aragorn reached down to stroke the Elf towards the brink of his pleasure.

Finally, it was all too much for them. Their breathing was ragged and the air was heavily scented with their arousal. Aragorn got to his knees and bent forward on all fours. “Take me, Legolas,” he gasped and with that, the Elf slid into wet warmth, his mouth was parted and on his face was the expression of intense pleasure. Haldir pushed Legolas forward so that the Elf was leaning upon Aragorn and he took the Elf from behind.

And they paused for a moment, their breathing heavy and their need grew stronger with every passing moment. Haldir was the one who moved first. He flexed his hips experimentally and Aragorn groaned when Legolas’ member touched the sensitive spot in his body. Slowly, Haldir pressed in and out of Legolas, eliciting a choked cry from the Elf. Legolas threw back his head and when Haldir claimed his lips in a possessive kiss, his nails dug into Aragorn’s buttocks.

Haldir thrust his hips back and forth; the force of it rocked both Legolas and Aragorn at the same time. It was sheer ecstasy. Harder and faster the Elf pumped into Legolas, enjoying the keening moans of both the Ranger and Legolas. Aragorn was beside himself in his passion. He tossed his head back and Legolas kissed him desperately, the Elf’s hands roaming freely around the Man’s body, stroking his hot shaft and then moving to pinch his nipples.

“Haldir, please. Harder” Aragorn gritted out, his body trembling as he reached closer and closer to the apex of his desire. Legolas said naught but gasped at the onslaught to his senses, his own climax within his grasp as he gave in to the erotic sensations of taking the Ranger and being taken by Haldir.

Haldir complied, riding both males towards their fulfilment, striving to attain the pinnacle of his satisfaction. And then it happened. Not one of them knew who was first and no one really cared. But one of them cried out, his voice rang loud and clear and it triggered a chain reaction as heat burst from their loins almost simultaneously. And at last, knees trembling from the force of their climax, they slid to the ground.

Legolas lay in the middle, his right hand holding onto Haldir’s and his left hand, on the Ranger’s. They said nothing for the longest period of time for words were not enough to describe the love both Haldir and Aragorn had for Legolas. It was an emotion that transcends everything else; this incredible sense of bliss and completion that they have in the arms of this one Elf.

But dawn drew closer and the soldiers stirred in their tents. Legolas was the first to get dressed, his eyes were downcast and his brows furrowed with his thoughts. He gnawed upon his lips as his eyes darted uneasily towards the fading stars. Haldir observed him, but said nothing.

“I will go first. They must not know that we spent the night together.” Legolas said and he strode off down the steep slope on top of which they had made love. Aragorn’s eyes followed the Elf, his face sad.

“He will never belong to you, Ranger,” came Haldir’s voice. But it held neither malice nor arrogance. He just stated it as if it were a fact. Aragorn looked into those grey eyes. They held the same expression that the Ranger had. “He will never belong to either of us.” Aragorn said. Haldir turned his face away, his eyes lowered. There was nothing else to say but the haunted look in the eyes of the Elf was telling enough, because they both knew that truer words have never been spoken.

**********

* At the foot of the Misty Mountains *

The army of Rohan thundered on towards their destination and now, they stood very near on the northernmost arm of the White Mountains. The land was bathed in the blood-red tint of the setting sun and in the distance; they saw a lone rider, moving towards them. They halted, awaiting him. He was one of the King’s subjects. And when he spoke, his voice was weary and his tone bleak.

“Hail to thee, my lord. You have come at last but I fear that you came too late. Things have gone evilly in your absence and we were driven back yesterday over the Isen with great loss. We are overmastered. The shield wall was broken. Our captain has drawn off those men he could gather towards the sanctuary of Helm’s Deep. The rest are scattered. There is no hope left. Flee while you can!”

“Nay,” said Gandalf, “Ride on Theoden! Ride to Helm’s Deep and do not go to the Fords of Isen. Do not tarry in the plain. I must leave you now for Shadowfax must bear me on a swift errand.” And with a whispered word to the horse, they sprang away, the horse glinting like silver in the darkening skies.

The Riders rode on through the night until they were within sight of the Gates of Helm’s Deep. The scouts around them sounded their alarms, their cries and horn blasts ringing in the night air. Out of the darkness arrows whistled. The enemy had drawn closer.

**********

* Helm’s Deep *

It was night and the moon was overshadowed by dark clouds. The sky was dark and foreboding, and the atmosphere was tense. Legolas stood on the Deepening Wall along with the Elven archers from Lothlorien, Haldir next to him. Adrenalin rushed through his veins as they stared at the spectacle below. The ground seemed to bubble with moving black shapes; some were squat and broad and some were tall and grim. But all held the same horrible expression of murder in those ruthless eyes. It was an army of Orcs bred for the sole purpose of wiping out all those who opposed them.

The trumpets sounded. And so it began.

The enemy surged forward by the thousands, some crashing towards the Deepening Wall, and others towards the causeway and ramp that let up to the gates of the Hornburg. Legolas let lose arrow after arrow, following Haldir’s command. But when he felled one, ten more seemed to take its place. The opposition was fierce as a storm of Orc arrows met them, their black tips finding its way into mortal and Elven flesh.

Aragorn’s sword flashed together with Eomer’s as they defended the gates to the Hornburg, which had been assaulted by Orcs carrying rams, determined to break into the keep. The fierceness of their defence dismayed their enemies and one by one they were slaughtered, their bodies falling into the stony stream below the ramp.

The night wore on and yet the enemy had shown no signs of retreat. The assault upon the gates was redoubled and against the Deepening Wall the hosts of Isengard roared like a tempest. Ropes with grappling hooks were hurled over the walls faster than Men could cut them and hundreds of long ladders were lifted up. Although the Elves’ well placed arrows managed to fell many, hundreds more replaced them and the Orcs sprang up like apes in the forests of the North.

The Men of Rohan grew weary and the Elves’ arrows were nearly spent. Haldir had took to his sword, slashing and beheading the foul creatures and Legolas’ white knives made quick work of those to were foolish enough to threaten him. But the Orcs had more in store for the Men of Rohan.

The first blast was tremendous as flame and smoke rose up in the air. The waters of the stream poured out: a gaping hole had been blasted into the wall. The force of the explosion threw the Elven archers into the air and when they fell to the ground, they never got up again. Rocks rained down upon them, some of which sliced Legolas' cheek open. And the enemy poured into the heart of Helm’s Deep.

Death and massacre. The stars have hinted at them. But nothing could prepare Legolas for the sight that greeted him. Bodies lay strewn upon the floor, and the stream seemed to flow with blood, not water. Thunder crashed in the skies and rain lashed down mercilessly, stinging his eyes. And a rage that he had never known surged through his blood.

“Elbereth Gilthoniel!” he cried, his knives darting out, mimicking the flashes of lightning that grazed the brightening skies. There were so many of them but his heart knew not of the word ‘despair’. Dozens he felled to the ground, his eyes blazing with a blue fire that was so terrible that several of the enemies actually stepped back before launching themselves at him once more.

And then he chanced to turn around. His heart nearly stopped. Haldir was swamped by dozens of Orcs. The Elf fought bravely but even to the untrained eye that looked upon him, they would see that Haldir could not hold off their assault for long. Legolas started to scream a warning when he saw the first thrust of a sword to Haldir’s side. But when steel met flesh, the warning died upon his lips. Haldir fell to his knees.

His scream rang out loud, filled with rage and pain. He fought desperately towards his friend, memories of Boromir flashed in his fevered mind. He would not allow himself to be helpless when Haldir needed him. He could not bear to have history repeat itself. And so he fought, carving his way through the endless stream of Orcs; his mind numb to pain and fatigue. The slice of the blade in his upper arm went by unnoticed. He was close now. So close to Haldir…

“Khazad! Khazad!” shouted a voice as a stout figure crashed into the wall of Orcs that sought to drive Legolas away from Haldir. It was Gimli and he bravely fought off the crowd. “Look to the Elf, Legolas! Get him into the Keep!” he cried as Legolas wrapped his arms around Haldir. The Elf was still breathing, but just barely…

The great horn of Helm suddenly rang out, eliciting a cry of dismay from the enemy. Back from the Deep the echoes came, blast upon blast, as if on every cliff and hill a mighty herald stood. And on the walls, men and elves looked up, listening with wonder, for the echoes did not die. Ever the sound wound on among the hills, blowing fierce and free. Helm’s Deep had arisen.

“Helm! Helm!” the Riders shouted, “Helm for Theoden King!” And with that shout, the king came on his white horse, flanked by Aragorn and Eomer. Light had now sprung in the sky; night had departed.

“Forth Eorlingas!” came the cry and with a roar the King and his men charged out of the Gates. The enemy screamed in despair at the renewed assault, their eyes wild with fear as the King’s men streamed down from Helm’s Gate. It was in vain that they tried to crawl out of the way for the spear of the King was sharp and found its mark in the throats of his Enemy.

Then suddenly upon a ridge appeared a rider, clad in white, shining in the rising sun. Over the low hills before them, the horns were sounding. Behind him, hastening down the long slopes were a thousand men on foot from Westfold.

“Gandalf! Behold the White Rider!” cried Aragorn, “Gandalf is come again!”

The hosts of Isengard roared, their minds maddened with fear as they faced multiple assaults of Men and Elves from Helm’s Gate, the Westfold men from the hills and the White Rider on Shadowfax. The Orcs shrieked and cast aside both sword and spear. And like smoke blown by the mounting wind, they fled into the shadows and never show their faces ever again in those lands.

Victory was theirs as cheers rang out through the air. Great was the joy that dwelt in their hearts. And on top of the Deepening Wall, two elves lay upon the cold floor, side by side. They were motionless.

**********

The air was filled with tension. Aragorn and Gimli stood by the Elf, their faces grim with worry as they looked upon Haldir. He had been laid upon a bed in a room, and Eomer bent over the still figure, tending to the wound that had been inflicted. When he looked up at them, his eyes held his misgivings.

“It is a deep wound, Aragorn. I know nothing of Elves but this would have easily killed a man.” he murmured as he peered down into the pale face that was still lovely and proud despite the hurt he had received. The Elf’s breath was shallow and his eyes were glazed with pain. “There is nothing we can do for the moment. We will have to wait and see how fast he mends.”

They left Haldir in the care of the healers and strode rapidly towards the next room. They opened the door and saw the slight figure upon the bed and Aragorn’s heart wept at the sight of Legolas. The Elf lay naked from waist up, his injured arm was bound. His body was smeared with Haldir’s blood and his own. He was not moving and his breath seemed to be as shallow as Haldir’s had been. The Elf’s eyes were closed as if he were weary.

“I saw him take nothing but a scratch upon his shoulder,” muttered Gimli, “He cannot be hurt much.” Aragorn approached the bed and started to examine the Elf. The slight wound on his shoulder had healed. There seemed to be nothing wrong with him – other than the fact that the area surrounding the wound had turned black. And Aragorn felt his heart crack within his breast.

“Poisoned.” he choked out, as he ran his hand up and down Legolas’ chest in an attempt to soothe its shuddering movements. Gimli’s eyes met his in horror. “We cannot give him the same medicine. It will kill him.” said Gimli, his eyes reflecting the grief he carried in his own heart. “He will have to fight it on his own.” And Aragorn wept silently, his shoulders shaking in grief. Eomer rested his hand upon the heaving shoulder in comfort.

“Have faith in him. I have seen him fight upon the Wall and I know that he is made of sterner stuff than he seem. Perhaps he will get through the night and will recover soon enough. The Men have received similar hurt and many have resisted the poison. Perhaps Legolas will do the same this night.” Eomer said but Aragorn was not comforted.

He stayed with Legolas well into the night and Gimli stayed with Haldir. The Elf had turned cold and the familiar twitching of his limbs was like a knife being twisted into the Ranger’s own heart. “You must fight it, Legolas.” he murmured over and over again as he clasped one cold hand in his, kissing the frigid fingers. Legolas’ head trashed weakly on the pillows and Aragorn brush his other hand across the Elf’s brow as if trying to absorb some of the pain himself.

“Aragorn,” came the voice at the doorway. It was Eomer. “The King wishes to speak to you.” Aragorn looked at him in dismay for he did not want to leave Legolas’ side but he knew that he could not refuse the King. Reluctance was evident in every line of his body as he dragged himself away from Legolas’ side. He stepped out into the hallway and there he saw another Man. Those proud features were different and yet similar to a face he once knew.

“He came to see you, Aragorn. But he must wait. You must speak to the King first,” said Eomer as he gestured towards the Man. Aragorn looked at the tall silent figure before him and then clasped his shoulder. “Look after the Elf. Look after Legolas until I return.” he said, and he walked off, his heart heavy.

The Man watched Eomer and Aragorn walking away. He then entered the room and moved towards the right side of the bed. Legolas. The one whose beauty shines brighter than the stars above – or so the Lady of Rohan had said when he had last met her. Upon reaching the edge of the bed he peered down into the face and could not help but suck in his breath. The Elf was beautiful. His chiselled features were proud and his eyelashes were long and curled slightly. He reached out a hand to touch the Elf’s brow. And those eyes opened. Blue they were, as blue as the skies in the summer.

“Legolas,” the Man whispered into the Elf’s ear, testing the sound of the name upon his tongue. Legolas eyes cleared suddenly and his piercing gaze snapped towards the Man. The look he fixed upon the Man was intense and it was filled with a strange mixture of emotions, the Man thought. Disbelief, sorrow, unbearable joy and an expression that he had seen upon the Lady’s face – it was as if he were looking upon he face of one he had so dearly missed.

Legolas’ hand lifted to caress the Man’s face but he was too weak. His breathing became more rapid as he fought to squeeze words out from his lips. The Man helped the Elf; his expression was one of awe as he held the cold hand against his cheek. There was something so poignant and sad in those blue eyes that the Man felt a lump of emotion forming in his throat.

Those lips worked once more, desperate to say something. Legolas’ eyes looked deep into his and the Man bent closer towards the Elf, straining to hear the words that should slip out from his lips. And then he heard it. It was soft, the word riding lightly upon a sigh. But he heard it and was stunned.

“Beloved.”

That was what the Elf called him.

**********

Beloved. The word rang through the dark recess of Haldir’s mind and he cried out with the sheer agony of it. ‘Legolas,’ came the disjointed thought. His back arched painfully and he was barely aware of the dwarf’s attempt at restraining him. He trashed around for a short while; just a short while, before his breath left him in a low hiss. And then he was silent. He never moved again.

**********

Beloved. The word echoed in the lonely halls and Eowyn lifted her head from her pillow, her eyes wide. ‘Legolas,’ she thought. She got up from her bed and dashed to the room that her love had once occupied when he was at Edoras. She threw open the door, rushed to the balcony and looked up into the skies. And when she did, a cry of despair escaped her lips and she sank onto the cold floor, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she wept.

Gone. Her love was gone as swiftly and as fleetingly as a humming bird upon a flower. Legolas’ star had dimmed before her very eyes; and then the light of the star had gone out. He was dead.

**********

Aragorn ran towards Legolas’ bedchamber, the whispered endearment still somehow branded into his mind. He pushed the door open, his eyes wild and his breathing ragged. His eyes flew towards the figure next to Legolas and saw that those shoulders were bent with grief.

Faramir turned towards the door, his green eyes fixed upon the Ranger’s. “He is gone,” he murmured, his hand still holding onto Legolas as if he could not bear to let him go. His eyes fell upon the bracelet that the Elf had worn around his wrist. Carefully he undid the knot and held it near a candle. The hair was the exact same shade as the Man of Gondor’s.

“This is a lock of my brother’s hair,” he said, his eyes lowered in his grief. “So it is true then, that Boromir is dead.” Aragorn said nothing but knelt by Legolas’ bed and Faramir joined him. Together they bowed their heads in a final act of respect for Legolas Greenleaf, the Warrior Elf of Mirkwood.


Epilogue


The sun was warm and yet the breeze that blew through the trees was cool. He stood in the midst of the lush greenery, lost in the beauty that engulfed his senses. He stood for a long time before he felt someone’s gaze upon him. He turned around and looked at the Elf standing near him; his back straight and his head held high. There was a small smile upon his lips.

“Go to him. He is waiting for you,” said the Elf as he gestured towards a clearing in the midst of the woods. And so he did, walking as if he were in a dream; walking towards that lone figure sitting upon a rock. It brought back the memory of their first time together, long ago in the woods. He must have made some noise, perhaps a sharp intake of breath or perhaps even a sob of gladness for the figure turned to him and slid down from his perch. His handsome face glowed with love; his green eyes did not hold the haunted look he had back then.

“Ne ab-dollen,” he said, a smile playing upon the corners of his lips.

“I did not know you could speak Elvish.”

“When you are here long enough, you are bound to pick up a word or two,” came the candid reply and Legolas closed the distance between them, enfolding the Man in a tight embrace. Warm lips covered his and his heart sang with joy.

“I love you, Legolas,” Boromir whispered, his arms never letting go of the Elf. He whispered it over and over again, as if making up for the lost time. But they need not worry for they have all eternity to exchange the words and declaration of love to one another. And in the distance, Haldir looked upon the lovers, shaking his head in wonder and at the same time marvelling at the extent of their bond. It must be a union ordained by the Gods indeed; for a mere Mortal to have found his place next to his love in this Kingdom of Elves.

And so they lingered on through the Ages; never knowing sorrow or anguish again as they walked together, side by side, in the realm where dreamers and lovers frequent. May we all find a love as beautiful and everlasting as theirs. Amen.




Note: Ne ab-dollen means ‘You're late’.



Back to Orlando Fics Main Page

Back to Main Page