Ithildin - Legolas x OC

Chapter 21: Not this day

~*~

With Beron gone to find Aragorn, I trot silently on Hasufel alone towards Helm's Deep with Legolas and Gimli on one side of me and Theoden at the other. It does not feel right...being on Hasufel without Aragorn.

I silently pray for his life, for his safety, and for him to return to us. I will not allow any other fate but for him to be alive.

We have lost too many on this perilous journey already and I know we cannot survive this oncoming war without him.

I will not allow myself to have failed my sister.

The outer gates to the mountainside fortress open to us and we storm past hundreds—thousands of people swarming the streets. It seems every village and town in Rohan has been emptied, its last remaining people gathering here for safety.

Our horses' hooves clop against the stone steps around the centre circular building of the keep, taking us close to the top. When we dismount, Eowyn instantly approaches us.

"So few." She says softly, looking between us all. "So few of you have returned."

Theoden turns to her as I swing my leg over and step down from my horse, running a hand over his side as someone takes his reigns and guides him away.

"Our people are safe." He says to her, turning to help an injured man off a horse. "We have paid for it with many lives." I glare at him over my shoulder.

"My Lady." Gimli slowly approaches her and I watch him. Legolas stands beside me, his sharp eyes watching me closely.

Eowyn looks to Gimli, and then to us. "Lord Aragorn...where is he?"

Gimli's voice wavers, "He fell."

Eowyn slowly brings her eyes up to mine, her face falling when she sees my unmoving, emotionless face. Tears pool in her eyes and I turn away from her, she has known him for three days...she has no need to mourn so deeply for a man whose heart is already with another.

I walk away, down the stairs and towards a pool of water in the middle of the keep. Men, women and children around me stare, most likely not having seen an Elf before, let alone one inside their keep such as this. Crouching down, I unsheathe each of my blades and clean them in the water, deep in thought.

By now, Arwen could be on a boat sailing West, if our father has his way...or she could be in Rivendell, awaiting any word from us that our task is done. I had not dared hope it before, as it was not her desire, but I do now wish that she is West, far from here and at peace, so she does not have to suffer the pain of Aragorn's death so soon.

Legolas could be right of course...Aragorn may have survived the fall, but how long do we wait? How long would it take Beron to find him? If he did not survive the fall, Beron would not be able to bring his lifeless body back to me—to us.

A harsh breath escapes me as I glare at the water before me. I should not have listened to him. I should not have allowed him to stop me—he had no right.

But...he has hope, and I do not think I can fault him for that.

My forehead creases then as I think back to the day my father brought Aragorn to me, my eyes wide as I stared down at the small, mortal child in his arms. Aragorn's mother wanted him to be protected and cared for...and so my father swore to her that he would be. I swore it too—to the young boy before me who did not understand me yet...I swore to protect him, to guide him to his fate of greatness.

I think of the first time he held a sword, the weight of it too heavy for his small arms, yet he had pulled a determined face, groaning as he tried to lift and swing it—causing me to jump back with a laugh.