Into the West (A Lord of the Rings Fan Fic)

Chapter Twenty

Legolas paced through the halls of the Hornburg, his footsteps creating no sound; not so much as a rustle betrayed his presence as he hurried through the fortress. He ducked through an archway at the end of one of the corridors and collided with the back of a burly Rider. “Forgive me,” he muttered as he continued on while the man backed slowly through the door and another supported the head of the limp body that they carried. As Legolas walked past them he glanced at the body and froze, feeling horror spread through his blood. The long black lashes which framed her eyes, while equally dark brows arched above them, her pale skin, unblemished and unmarked apart from a couple of small scratches and a large purple bruise on her temple, the long brown hair which snaked over her shoulders and towards the ground, the delicate tilt of her nose and the pale lips, only tinged with the slightest and lightest pink possible, all pointed to one inescapable fact. These two men were carrying in their arms the unconscious body of Amaruil.

All of this Legolas took in in a second which seemed to stretch on forever, allowing him all the time left in the world to gaze upon her motionless corpse. Panicked, he chased after them and followed them to the hall where they laid her, surrounded by both the wounded, having run out of space and beds, and other bodies.

“We found another,” one of the Rohirrim who had been carrying her murmured to one of the women who was tending to the people in the hall, his voice low but still audible to Legolas’ keen ears as he knelt over Amaruil.

“Get away son,” the matronly woman said tiredly as she tried to shoo him away, “there’s naught you can do for her now.” As she motioned vaguely with her hand, clearly already oblivious to the presence of the blond elf who was rendered frantic with fear at her words - his worries that Amaruil might be dead increased tenfold - she began to examine Amaruil, placing her ear close to Amaruil’s nose and lips as well as wrapping her coarse hands around Amaruil’s slender wrist before paying special attention to the bruise which had bloomed on her head; brushing Amaruil’s thick hair back she felt around in her pockets before finding the few remaining dregs of some paste which she rubbed gently onto it. This done she returned to her other patients and left Legolas to sit by the body, fraught with worry and confusion. As he kept vigil by her bedside Amaruil surfaced slowly from unconsciousness and her eyes opened slowly before shutting quickly again as she groaned.

“Ow,” she groaned, raising one hand to her temple and resting it there.

“Amaruil!” Legolas exclaimed joyfully as she opened her eyes slowly. “You’re alive!”

“What happened?” she mumbled.

“I don’t know. I have only just now found you.”

“Oh. Did we win?” she asked as she moved to sit up and lean her back against the wall.

“I don’t think that you ought to do that,” Legolas protested, receiving a stony glare in reply as she inched her way up the wall. “Yes we did; Gandalf appeared as the sun rose this morning and between him, Théoden, and the Ents our enemies were defeated.”

“The Onodrim have awoken?” Amaruil exclaimed excitedly. “After all these many years?”

“Yes, and Mithrandir tells us that it was the work of the two Halflings Merry and Pippin. He also brought us tidings of the destruction of Isengard,” Legolas said with a proud smile as he reflected on the two tiny Hobbits he had been travelling with and chasing desperately.

“That is good news indeed,” Amaruil whispered to herself.

“But tell me Amaruil,” Legolas continued, “what are you doing here for I saw none of our kind fighting. I had heard tell of a small number of elves who had come to fight but saw none and most certainly did not expect you here.”