At the End of All Things [LotR / Legolas] Book 3

IV

               

IV

To @Wandering_Bard - for comparing this story to a big box of chocolate (ps. can't wait to see your fan-art, super psyched that someone even wants to do it!)

Legolas said little as they travelled, even less so than usual as he sat ramrod straight on the back of his horse, Gimli perched behind him and hanging on for dear life as they galloped towards Edoras.

Gandalf stopped once they rode over a hilltop; Edoras suddenly perched on the top of a large hill surrounded by the Harrowdale, a large valley of the White Mountains which lay under the great mountain Starkhorn. On the top of the hill was the Golden Hall of Meduseld, and as they started to ride again slowly approaching the gate – a banner from outside the great halls tore itself from its pole and slowly drifted down towards them. The banner was torn and tattered, speaking of bad times and not the glory that one usually heard about.

Not really listening to what Gandalf said, Legolas only picked up the last of his sentence; "-his mind is overthrown... Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong."

Legolas fastened his eyes on a woman in white standing outside of Meduseld, her long blonde hair whipping around her in the wind as she looked down on them before returning into the halls again. As they steered their horses in the direction of the Golden Halls they got sidelong glances from the villagers that were peeking out of their houses:

            "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli huffed from behind him, and Legolas could feel him move about as he glanced the other way – only to find more distrusting men and women looking at them. He nodded his own head gravely, his face set in a deep frown as they got off their horses and ascended the stairs to the halls.

Guards approached them the moment they reached the top of the stairs and were prompted to stop immediately; "I cannot allow you before Théoden king so armed, Gandalf Grayhame. By order of... Gríma Wormtongue."

Legolas glanced over towards Gandalf, quickly noting that he had wrapped his grey cloak tighter around himself, easily covering up his white robes and fooling them to think he was still the Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf looked to all three of them and nodded his head slowly, making them all start to disperse of their weapons.

Twirling his twin-blades as he pulled them from their place on his back he saw the fear in one of the men's eyes – a part of him reveling in their fear of him. Handing them over, he was pulled out of his own thoughts as Gimli huffed at his display of skill, and a small smirk pulled at his lips before he rid himself of the rest of the weapons he carried on his body.

They all finished quickly, and Gandalf made a move to pass the guards but one of them stepped forwards, his hand outreached; "your staff."

            "Oh. No... you would not part an old man from his walking stick?" Gandalf put on his most inconspicuous face, but Legolas could see that the guard had his suspicions. In the end he only gave him a knowing look and nodded his head, stepping aside and allowing him to pass.

Leaning over Gandalf slipped his hand around Legolas elbow, giving a great performance of using the elven prince as support as he walked into the Golden Hall of Meduseld. "Try not looking so menacing, Legolas. We need not draw too much attention to ourselves until we absolutely have to."

Using all his focus Legolas tried to calm his expression and stop himself from glaring at anyone that dared to look at him. It was all in vain it would seem as the pale man with cold, blue eyes spoke up; one of his hands resting on the arm of King Théoden.

            "My lord," he whispered to the king, who Legolas could easily see was influenced by darkness; "Gandalf the Grey is coming. He is a herald of woe."