Element of the Heart - A Lord of the Rings/Legolas Fanfiction

Chapter 48: Negotiations

Legolas and Estelwen rode straight for Mordor, knowing that Aragorn and his small but faithful army would be traveling in haste to the Black Gates.

Legolas broke the hours of silence. "Whatever happens, do not face Anorath alone."

Estelwen moved her hand to his shoulder. "Your faithfulness is beyond measure. I know you will be there."

After Shadowfax led them through the rocky terrain surrounding Mordor, Legolas and Estelwen could see the glow of Mount Doom, though not the mountain itself. As they came in sight of the Black Gates, Gondor's army could also be seen. But the war had not started yet. Not a single orc was in sight. Legolas pushed Shadowfax forward. Estelwen leaned to the side to see where they were heading. Up ahead, Aragorn, Gandalf, Éomer, and Gimli were on horseback, riding in front of the army towards the Black Gates.

Aragorn and Gandalf turned around as Legolas and Estelwen drew near. Gandalf raised his eyebrow at the sight of the two on Shadowfax. He himself was riding on a dark brown steed that belonged to a fallen knight of Rohan.

Aragorn looked relieved. "Have you any news to share?"

Legolas said quickly, "None."

Aragorn looked to Gandalf, who nodded at him. He tightened his grip on his horse's reins. "Then let us draw out the Dark Lord." He added softly, "For Frodo." He spurred his horse towards the gates. Lifting his head, he called out, "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"

Silence.

Aragorn frowned. Gimli rolled his eyes. "We couldn't have been more discreet then that."

The Black Gates creaked. As they screeched open, Estelwen said, "Legolas, would you hand me my swords?"

Legolas slid them out of a thin, rough cloth and handed them to her. He had snatched them from the floor of the throne room right after his encounter with his father. "May they serve you well."

"Ci athe (thank you)."

Gandalf leaned towards Estelwen. "If it is Anorath, do not engage him until he has spoken."

"And what have we to gain by hearing him? Have his actions not said enough?"

"Our goal is to empty all of Mordor, not to draw out one man," Gandalf warned.

"Earthborn," Estelwen corrected. She glared ahead. "Very well then, for Frodo's sake."

But it was not Anorath who rode out from the Black Gates. Neither was it the army. It was a figure clothed in all black riding a horse that wore as much armor as its rider. The rider's head was completely covered with metal except for its mouth. It stretched its black and red gums into a yellow-teethed grin. "My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome."

Everyone grimaced, including Aragorn, who usually kept his expressions controlled. They were not expecting a messenger with words as hideous and mocking as the mouth that spoke them.

The Mouth twitched. "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?"

Gandalf said, "We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: the armies of Mordor must disband, never to return."

"Old Greybeard, I have a token I was bidden to show thee."

With that, the Mouth pulled out from behind him a shimmering cloth. It unraveled and hung limp in the armored hand.

Pippin, who was riding with Gandalf, cried out immediately. "Frodo. No!" It was Frodo's Mithril shirt, the same one that had saved his life when the cave troll stabbed him in the mines of Moria.

"The Halfling was dear to thee I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hand of his host. Who would've thought someone so small could endure so much pain. And he did, Gandalf, he did." The Mouth ended with an animalistic gasp.

"Foul-tongued creature, you have done poorly to convince us."

The Mouth jerked towards Estelwen.

"You would not have brought us his belongings." She stared at him coldly. "You would have brought us his head."

"Naïve one," the Mouth snarled through clenched teeth.

Estelwen sucked in a breath. Only Anorath had ever called her that. Gandalf was giving her a warning look, but she ignored it. "So Anorath is expecting me."

"He says your last encounter together has showed him much. You are as exposed to him as a rotting corpse. He knows what you fear. He knows why you will fail."

"He speaks out of turn. The future is never set in stone."

"Alas! It is what he said you would say. But your words are naught but wishes. You will drown in doubt and hatred for yourself. Soon, all will be but darkness and ash!"

Gandalf noticed the change that overcame Estelwen. She was practically seething. Aragorn nudged his horse forward as he began to circle the messenger.

The Mouth's lips curled in disdain. "And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes much more to make a king than a broken, elvish blade."

With a cry, Aragorn swung his sword, slicing through the thick neck and sending its head rolling in the dirt. Aragorn yanked his horse around with a fury in his eyes. "I do not believe it. I will not!"

"I guess that concludes negotiations," Gimli said.

"Would you have been glad had we made any?" Legolas inquired.

Gimli huffed. "Of course not! I'd rather shed the very last of my blood than deal over a rock with such a foul messenger!"

Legolas smirked.

"Pull back!" Aragorn shouted. The gates were opening their widest. Mordor was sending forth its forces. The rhythm of stomping orcs grew louder. Aragorn led the others back towards his army. Upon seeing the orcs, the men trembled and shifted back. Aragorn turned around to face them. "Hold your ground! Men of Gondor, men of Rohan!"

As Aragorn rallied them up, Estelwen noticed a drastic change come over the men. As Aragorn spoke, the orcs drew near and began to make a wide circle around the small army. Yet the men stood straighter. Their eyes grew eager. They answered Aragorn's call with a fierce battle cry that deafened the stomping of the orcs. Estelwen's mouth opened with awe. It was clearer to her, more than ever before, why Aragorn's elvish name was Estel. Yet he was more than just that to these people – he was there king.

From the tower past the open gate, the Eye cast its fiery gaze over the battle ground. As its orange glow brushed over Estelwen, she fell into a daze. Through its pulsing power, she could feel the Eye taunting her. She slowly raised her eyes past the men around her, past the orc army, past the main battlefield. On the rocky area at the base of the mountain range, Anorath stood with his sword in hand. He was waiting.