Ithildin - Legolas x OC

Chapter 35: Mountain pass

~*~

Gimli runs off to stall Aragorn from leaving without us whilst Legolas and I gather our horses. Once we pull free their reigns and tug them along with us, he gives me a soft smile.

I try to smile back, but Arwen's fate lies heavy on my mind.

"Just where do you think you're off to?" Gimli asks as Aragorn tries to quietly pass through the camp.

"Not this time." Aragorn shakes his head at him. "This time you must stay, Gimli."

Legolas smiles as we approach beside him. "Have you learnt nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?"

"You might as well accept it. We're going with you, laddie."

Aragorn sighs, but smiles at them nonetheless, and then he turns his eyes to me and his smile slowly drops.

He watches me carefully, "Amariel—"

"I know." I say quietly to him, nodding once as we stare at each other. "But don't think you can be rid of me. Not now."

He nods and looks away from me, and then looks up at the path ahead. "No. I don't think I could." He starts walking on. "Come then, we have no time to waste."

We all follow him, and once we reach the outskirts of camp, mount our horses and slowly guide them to the path in the mountain.

The soldiers we pass watch us and murmur to each other with concern and disheartenment.

"Lord Aragorn!" Someone calls. "Why does he leave on the eve of battle?"

We do not turn to them, and I try to keep my head high as we ride through the mountain pass, leaving behind the Men of Rohan.

Darkness surrounds us very quickly, and I keep my eyes trained on Aragorn's back ahead of me, instead of the rock of the mountain now surrounding us on either side, towering high above our heads.

*

As dawn approaches, the light from the sky above allows us to see better. The thin trail has opened and tall, light cliffs tower around us. The rock crumbles and caves in, looking to have once been home to a civilisation long lost.

Light fog flows around us, and a certain chill in the air has me on full alert.

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?" Gimli asks warily.

"One that is cursed." Legolas tells him quietly. "Long ago, the Men of the Mountains swore an oath to the last king of Gondor...to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled...vanishing into the darkness of the mountain."

I turn my head as we pass another trail on our right, feeling as if something lurks within.

"And so Isildur cursed them..." Legolas continues, "never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge. Who shall call them from the grey twilight? The forgotten people—the heir of him to whom the oath they swore, from the north shall he come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the paths of the dead."

I glance back to him, my face fallen. "Don't put down your arrows, Legolas. Telling ghost stories is not your calling."

"Can you not feel it?" He asks, looking around.

"Oh, I can." I reply quietly. "I can feel it."

We dismount to enter a smaller path ahead, trees with no life left in them surrounding us as we approach the mountain. Approach the door.

"The very warmth of my blood seems stolen." Gimli whispers.

I lead my horse on with me, looking up at the marked rock of the entry way. Symbols of an old language carved into the stone.