Elf Dream

Chapter 6. The Battle of Helm's Deep

Ch. 6

Hello!! Here is chapter 6, as promised! Oh, does anyone know the correct possessive form for Legolas? Like, Legolas’ or Legolas’s. It’s so irritating! Blarghh!!!

 The Battle of Helm's Deep (pt. 1)

Legolas’ POV

  After another day in the saddle, we arrived at the stronghold. It was old, and the walls were thick, but we did not have enough men to properly guard the fort. We rode through the passages, to the upper levels of Helm’s Deep. Everything here was stone. No trees or plants, not even so much as a weed. This place was a place of war, that I was certain.

We dismounted at the inner gate and entered. Inside, there was a table, chairs, maps, paper, and many of the King’s advisors. Aragorn was helped off his horse, and to a cot where he could rest. His shoulder was looking better, thankfully not infected. What he really needed was a good sleep.

“Will Gandalf be back to fight with us?” Enyala asked, walking over to me.

“That is a question for Aragorn. He and Gandalf have known each other for more years than most people realize.” I replied. “If anyone knows, it would be him. But I believe so, yes.” She nodded and was silent for a while.

“What language were you talking to him in before?” she questioned once more. I couldn’t fault her, though. If I woke up not knowing who I was, I would be asking questions too.

“Sindarin.” I answered. “It was a language he grew up with. Elvish.” “Do you think I would know it?” she wondered. “Maybe.” I thought for a moment. “Lle quena i’lambe tel’ Eldalie? (Do you speak Elvish)?” “Mae! (Yes!)” She said, naturally as can be. Her tinkling laughter filled the air, and for a moment, the dark, damp room seemed alight with happiness. The soldiers around us glanced at us with awe, the two elves that fought with humans. Smiles appeared on their faces as the sound echoed around the room. Once the sound faded, the smiles disappeared and they went back to sharpening their swords and whatnot. We resumed talking, this time in our language. As we talked, more men entered, grabbing swords, spears, and axes from shelves.

“Most have seen too many winters.” Gimli noted.

“Or too few.” I added, glancing at  Aragorn, who had risen a few minutes before looking well rested. “Look at them. They’re frightened. I can see it in their eyes.” The men around us fell silent. “Boe a hun: neled herain dan caer menig! (And they should be: three hundred against ten thousand!)” I saw Enyala listening intently out of the corner of my eye. She stood up and walked over to me, as Aragorn said,

“Si beriathar hyn. Amar na ned Edoras. (They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras.)”

“Aragorn, men i ndagor. Hyn u- (Aragorn, we are warriors. They cannot-)” Enyala laid a hand on my shoulder. The intent was clear.

“Don’t go too far. The men have little enough hope as it is.” She whispered to me. I closed my mouth. However much I hated to be corrected, I knew she was right. I sighed.

“I am sorry.” I murmured to Aragorn.

“No you were right.” He muttered back. “We have a very small chance of survival.” Enyala strode over once more.

“We have the best three of the best fighters in the land with us today. Who could stand in their way? Have faith. Gandalf will come back.” A faint grin came to my lips.

“Four.” I said. “You are forgetting yourself.” She smiled at the compliment. Suddenly, a horn blared out from beyond the lower gate. "That is no orc horn.” I said as I ran outside.