Walking in Darkness: Part One by Kink
(MinkandJink)
authors' note:
-Mink- purists beware! we go into the storyline, we go out, we
dive back in.
If you have a candle burning on your Tolkein shrine (and are still
on a yaoi
list) do not go any further.
-Jink- Legolas was asking for it. Tolkein
made him way too pristine, lofty,
fearless, perfect, English. Please excuse any slips in prose. It is
very hard
to keep up Tolkein's ridiculously archaic style. And of course, being
the
non Tolkein fanboys we are, expect a complete irreverence to elvish
and all
other cannon elements. Dedicated to Evan whom I know could not care
less. ^^
~*~
The darkness of Moria was a consuming strain. No hue
above ground could match its depth. Blacker than the bottom of the endless Deep. Blacker
than the center eye of the great Lord Eagle. It could swallow a man whole and leave him
only half of himself. It could conceal one thousand years in its cloak and entomb a
civilization.
The Fellowship had spent three sunless days wandering the halls of the
Dwarves' enigmatic realm. Gandalf at the helm cleaved their path with the elvish light of
his staff, the hobbits flanked by Aragorn and Boromir. Gimli, the dwarf, shaken by all the
death and gloom around him, was silent. He watched the shadows with mistrust, remembering
with sorrow the golden halls of its glory days. The men, Aragorn son of Arathorn and
Boromir of Gondor were alert and watchful, swords at the ready. Not even Gandalf the wise
knew all that was to be encountered in this forgotten realm. In such unearthly darkness
senses became sharp as a dragon's talons, and fear made bright as a line of fresh drawn
blood.
Legolas, whose elvish senses were already that of a hawk in daylight,
began to go silently mad.
Aragorn had seen it on the first day when the elf stood watch alone,
staring into the abyss with wide eyes.
"What do you hear?" Aragorn did not meet his gaze.
"Nothing." The elf replied but his soft voice was as hollow
and bleak as the mine below.
On the second day, dread hung over the fellowship. It was as if eyes
peered from every direction, the walls themselves like living, breathing beings observing
their movements. The light step of Legolas was slow and cautious, his bright eyes ever
watchful searched the dark.
So it was on the third day, a cry pierced the darkness of Moria.
Legolas had covered his pointed ears with his hands and was crying out,
his golden voice striking every heart that heard it.
"Silence him!" Gandalf hissed.
"Peace Legolas! Peace!" Aragorn whispered harshly. Swiftly,
he was upon him, his hand muffling the elf's desperate cries. Legolas did not fight him
but sank to his knees and would not move.
"All the foul murk of this accursed place, and he'll be the one to
finish us," grumbled Boromir.
"Hold your tongue, son of Gondor!" Aragorn spoke sharply.
"Know to tremble when an elf cries out!"
"Mad elf," spat Gimli caustically. "Just like
them."
Angered, Aragorn met his gaze and would have spoken had not the wizard
intervened.
"Silence, both of you!" Gandalf waved his hand and was
obeyed.
"We must stop," said Aragorn. Legolas had
quieted against him and was moaning softly.
"We can ill afford this." Gandalf's eyes were dark and
solemn, long fingers stroking his beard in agitation.
"A moment is all we require." Aragorn said again and his gray
eyes sought Frodo's. Frodo, drawn and pale, nodded. He was too weary for words, the weight
of the ring heavy against his heart. Gandalf acquiesced to his will and there the party
halted, leaving Aragorn alone to minister Legolas.
"What ails you, son of Thranduil?" asked Aragorn gently,
kneeling beside the stricken elf. Legolas hid his face in his hands, trembling fearfully.
"Elves cannot walk in shadow." He whispered over and over in
his soft, musical speech. "Aragorn..." his hands clutched at the breast of his
jerkin. "...this dark, I feel like a knife in my heart!"
Legolas wept bitterly and his very tears were made of soft light,
shimmering down his pale cheeks in phosphorescent streaks.
Aragorn pressed his hand to the elf's damp face. "Go on." He
whispered, meeting the fair gaze of Legolas. "Go on and do not fear. The golden eaves
of Lothlorien wait beyond this realm. Let that comfort you."
"Dunedan." Legolas breathed his name slowly in the elvish
tongue Aragorn knew well. Aragorn's lips were warm, a soft kiss to take the gauzy tears,
pressing the tender flesh below his eyes and his mouth. Legolas closed his eyes, his sigh
like the breath of spring. Aragorn ran roughened fingers through the pale floss of his
hair and held him close until his tremors ceased.
"I will... go on." The elf murmured. He leaned over, adding
an ancient word meant for his ear alone. It was old elvish, and it meant simply
"beloved".
"It is not much further." Aragorn said in earnest but Legolas
hid his face and would say no more.
A voice behind them startled them both.
"We must hasten." It was Gandalf. His steady gaze settled on
Legolas.
The elf drew a breath and stood, seeming to regain
himself once more. He trotted to catch up with the others the wizard had sent on.
Aragorn made to follow them when the old wizard's gaze stopped him. The
look on his wizened face unsettled his blood.
"I feared this", his eyes went to the elf who was now far
away.
"It is the darkness." Aragorn said, knowing
Gandalf would understand this susceptibility of the elves.
"Pray that is all," he said quietly.
Aragorn nodded not understanding, but before he could ask the questions
lingering on his tongue the old wizard had turned and walked away.
Eyes opened in the deep dark. The cry sang through its blaze of dreams.
Above sounds moved fast and fearful through the great
stone halls. Lost travelers? Easy prey, then. Treasure hunters, perhaps? But the
brightmetal had been lost all, melted within the mountain's fiery heart when the dwarves
fell. There was nothing to steal within these walls but death.
Fools had blundered into this nether realm, unwary of the stories or
too dullard to heed them. New meat was precious and warm blood had not been tasted in
centuries.
Foooooood... Came the long unspoken word as it felt its body
rise from the black, sharp claws clicking on the rock as it staggered to a stand after so
long.
Not newborn this evil.
Old--ancient as the earth from which it was formed, fortified by
countless years and nature's toil. An elf it was once, now twisted by evil magic, a
newborn mind ablaze with the joy of slaughter. The High Kindred had their own name for
such blunders--Yrch. The common called them orc. But this was a new breed made from the
old, holding memories of what it once was. Where a simple orc lived and breathed, the
Uruk-hai had been formed to think and lead.
The body of the Uruk-hai was as hard and mighty as the petrified
stronghold in which it slept. Its master so much further below, smoldering but not awake.
The beast rose with the heat, up through chasm and crevice, red eyes
open and ready, the ancient blade in its heavy grip raised and glistening. Below, the
legion dreamt on, the master remained undisturbed. The Uruk-hai crept up each dark ledge,
the powerful haunches shivering as it crouched. Long braids of matted black hair hung down
in its face, the bones of prey woven into them clicking together as it stared down in its
patient search.
The Uruk-hai narrowed its eyes, senses straining in the darkness of its
prison.
"Courage elf!" The dwarf laid a stocky hand on the slight
shoulder. "You shall see the sun once more, by Thorin's beard."
Legolas walked on in silence, but Aragorn shuddered in fear, for he had
felt part of the shadow shrouding the elvish heart. His gaze met briefly with Boromir's.
The man of Gondor was full of mistrust and accusation. Aragorn let him look away first and
then sighed. They had greater troubles awaiting them than Boromir's strife. He suspected
the wizard knew but would not speak of it. Gandalf's urgent haste, however, was clear.
Aragorn's elvish senses were weak, stunted by the natural colors of his
mortal blood. He could not feel as acutely the shadows in each ancient crevice nor hear
the hissing breath of the watchers cloaking the dome of the mountain. But human instincts
were adequate to quicken his footsteps in Moria.
The scent was so strong it seemed to pulse in the air. It followed the
meandering path the intruders took through the labyrinth the ruined mine had become. It
sank down to its hands and knees to sniff at the ground.
Humans. The stink of their fear addled sweat was unmistakable and
almost overpowered the others that walked with them.
A dwarf. It had not been long enough since it had scented those
meddlesome dirt diggers.
The Uruk-hai snorted and sneezed. Hobbits.
And one other....
The Uruk-hai froze, a deep growl from within its chest rising in the
silence.
It stood, its powerful body flexing and unflexing, the deep red skin,
thick as a hide twitched over the massive muscle of its chest, its arms, its legs.
Elf. Its maw heaved open to spit the word, its clawed
hands twisting on the hilt of its weapon.
A brilliant spark flowed through the creature's being akin to pleasure.
It had been many years since it had ventured to the lands outside of this holding, trapped
here with the mindless hordes of orc and goblin. How many thousands of years since it had
beheld the fair faces of its cousins. Kin of orcs, the race that had been blessed, while
it had been banished to hide away
in darkness.
Hated.
Reviled.
It drew a long rumbling breath, and now that it knew what it sought,
breathed in with its snout. Its hungered mind could almost see the vaporous image of the
elvish footsteps.
Its gaze went up to the vaulted arches that rose above and disappeared
into the gloom. Somewhere far above was the mountain. So deep that in its fitful slumber
it could hear the heartbeat of Middle Earth itself.
Why would an elf dare venture here? Where the only darkness that could
instill fear in its eternal heart existed? And now, there was one within these devastated
mountain halls. Not hidden safe away in Rivendell, behind elven magic or even a gilded
army.
It was alone.
They shared a twisted kinship, a bond of the high blood. Grinning, it
extended its mind in foul greeting, seeking out the other with its call.
Mark me
Tormented thoughts roiled forth, undulating, swift as a beast hungry
for prey. Soon, they would meet. The Uruk-hai snorted in pleasure and took up the trail.
Legolas walked behind the others, fighting within him more fierce a
battle than he had ever faced with arrow or blade. The darkness here was as a living
thing. He was no stranger to dark. Many starless nights had he spent comfortably in the
shadow of his beloved wood. But this was an evil affliction. It picked at his mind, stayed
upon him like a sickness until he could no longer distinguish what he saw from what he
felt. He looked swiftly to Aragorn who walked at his side but he was silent as the unseen
moon. Yet the thready whisper grew stronger still, strangled sounds forming words in a
tongue long forgotten.
will. reach. you.
The elf drew a short gasp, feeling something like a breath in his ear.
But when he turned, he saw nothing but the gaping mouth of the tunnel trailing behind
them.
"What is it Legolas?" Aragorn had stopped and was studying
his face with concern.
"Nay, tis nothing." Legolas tried to stem the senses he so
relied upon, breathing faster. None but him could hear it, he was certain. Was this the
madness that had made the walls close in and made him cry out like a child? Was this what
it meant to lose one's senses? His hands had begun to tremble.
smell. you.
His eyes burned on the shadows and he sought desperately for some
respite. Only the light of Gandalf pierced the gloom, guiding them forward as a star to a
wandering bark. His heart ached suddenly with a terrible longing for an open sky. The
words, vile and black, thrummed in his ears and he shuddered against them, ignoring
Boromir's cold glare. The mortal's contempt brought him momentarily back to reason. Above
all, he must not lose himself. He was the eyes and ears of the Fellowship and he would not
fail his comrades.
Legolas paused, his hand outstretched on the hewn rock wall to steady
himself, sensing the power that had found him begin to shift.
The whisper was suddenly pitched to a deafening roar
and he staggered to one knee covering his eyes when his sight wavered. Then he saw through
eyes not his own, rushing through the dark behind them in a steady relentless lope.
Searching and breathing.
Hunting and eager.
taste. you.
When he next opened his eyes he blinked up uncertain of what he might
see. He had returned to himself. The party had halted once more and were gazing on him in
confusion and trepidation. Legolas felt a wet warmth on his lip and reached up to touch it
with a quaking hand. He had bit his lip to keep from betraying them all again with his
screams.
"What have you done elf?" Gimli asked warily, noting the
blood. "Cannot you even command yourself?"
Legolas felt the anger rise hot within him at the dwarf's words but the
foul voice in his mind had left him ill and confused. Still, he spoke haughtily in his
defense.
"I fear your dwarf skull too thick to comprehend my answer."
"Enough!" Aragorn came swiftly between them before a quarrel
would ensue.
Burning with humiliation, Legolas stood and tried to
stay his shaking hands. The eyes of Gandalf were terrible upon him, as though seeing clear
through to the core of his madness. Ashamed, he looked away and was silent. He could not
explain what he had seen or heard. The Hobbits stared at him with undisguised horror.
Then the firm hands of Aragorn were on his shoulders.
"Walk." The voice of the ranger was low, warm
breath beside his ear blotting out the madness. "We will soon be done with this
place.
Ah Dunedan, his strength when all was lost. Shining brighter than any
light, the sweet whisper of his elvish blood comforted him. Legolas could feel it in his
very touch, hear it sing in his veins. No even the boldest mortal champion of Gondor could
match his fleet mind and agile strength. Such were the gifts of the elves. He could find
his way through a forest by the light of the stars, command his thoughts as naturally and
calmly as the flowing river.
And Legolas leaned on him, unable to voice his thanks. But he turned as
they made their way, looking back into the darkness that seemed so empty. He knew now, it
was not and for the first time in 3,000 years, the heart of Legolas beat in fear.
The Fellowship continued until at last they reached the ancient city of
the dwarf king. All gazed in wonder at the splendor of the great stone hall, high arches
curving into a graceful dome, rigid stone shaped as if by magic by the dwarf artisans of
old. Even Legolas was taken by this wonder of the dwarves kingdom. But for all its beauty,
the space was wide and perilous, almost certain to conceal enemies. Gandalf pressed on
swiftly through the silence, holding aloft his staff.
The drums that had been Balin's downfall were heard rising once more
from the blackness of the great Hall.
Legolas's arrow was drawn and at the mark before even one sword had the
chance to be raised. They were approaching in the distance. Legolas trained his eyes to
the far end of the passage. They were advancing by the thousands, the sound of their
gruesome feet slapping hard against the rock.
The bow of Legolas sang.
The battle was begun.
With foes as powerful and tireless as Boromir and quick and deadly as
Aragorn, the battle was evenly matched. Elvish arrows were sharp and deadly, felling their
enemies one by one. But not for long.
"This way!" Gandalf roared, his staff held high with its
steady light. "Quickly!"
The scene it illuminated was enough to make the stout-hearted dwarf
turn pale.
Beyond the broken bodies of their foes, through the towering pillars of
rock they came. Across the expanse of shattered road and plaza of the once great dark
city, came a snarling wave of goblins and orcs. Up through the cracked ground and pouring
down through the vaulted keep above, the legions swarmed about the Nine. They banged their
jagged blades on their shields and armor, their eyes glowing and reflecting like countless
smoldering flames closing in on them in the dark.
Boromir, still breathless from battle, swore and turned to follow the
wizard.
Aragorn held his sword aloft briefly, still dripping dark and foul with
the blood of orcs, and then sheathed it. His anxious eyes met with Legolas's as the
Hobbits answered Gandalf's command and turned to flee down the corridor.
Then both turned and ran towards the white gleaming light of the staff.
It watched them linger behind. The human and elf. The scent of the
human's fear was metallic and sharp as it watched its death approaching.
It would die with all its companions, of that the orc was certain and
unconcerned.
But the elf. Its pale skin glowed even in this mountain sepulchre.
It's weapon was drawn, the metal tip of an arrow glinting, finding too
many targets. The Uruk-hai stood very still, knowing that amongst the throng of its army,
its might and towering size was undetected by the human. The elf could not see the orc
chieftain either. However, it knew its cousin had means other than eyes to sense its
presence.
The Uruk-hai watched them both turn and flee, far behind the others in
their doomed party. It focused on the black turmoil within that was its tainted soul and
sent its malice outward, touching and then enshrouding the bright light that believed it
could escape.
They could only run so far for so long. This was its world. Its domain.
And they were far away from the sunlight.
The light elvish blades were invisible in Legolas's hands, slashing
through the bone and sinew of an unwary foe. He moved with the quickness of a tiger, his
enemies seeming to fall at his slightest touch. Yet even as the number of elvish arrows
diminished, so advanced the endless ranks in a neverending assault. Aragorn ran swiftly,
sword hacking through the fleet
of orcs that had rushed in before him. Aragorn reached the passage where the others had
fled, hope hot and bright in his chest as he heard goblins squeal and fall beneath arrows
behind them as Legolas covered their retreat.
He had passed the passage to find a crumbling stone bridge leading to
the other side. The others lingered fearfully at the further edge, relief pure on their
faces when they saw him.
The legions poured through the narrow passage and from above. Aragorn
was forced to battle on the narrow bridge of stone. There was no end to them. Blinded by
sweat or blood, his sword cut into the beasts again and again.
He could hear Gandalf's voice and the ancient language thrummed through
the air over the orcish cries. Knowing what would follow, Aragorn looked desperately to
the elf who still battled on the other side.
A tremor like the voice of the earth itself shook the stone bridge
under his feet. A jagged stream of light erupted through the air above his head, striking
the far cavern wall with a mighty thunder clap sending stone and jagged rock crashing down
upon them. Their foes tried to flee but were crushed beneath their fury. The elf was in
motion, running for the bridge.
"Legolas! Hurry-"
Deep cracks snapped and cut through the rock, exploding into the base
which suspended the frail passage above the gaping chasm. Aragorn was thrown to his back
hard. The voices of his companions urged him to his feet as he saw the closest side sway,
as the bridge began to shift, the age old decay giving way at last. He scrambled to his
feet and leapt expecting to feel
only empty air and wind under him when he felt strong hands clasp his arms. Boromir and
Gimli dragged him up over the precipice, heaving his body away from the edge of the chasm.
Aragorn spent only a moment in relief before he struggled to his feet.
The bridge was gone. So were the horde of orc. But he knew not for
long.
Legolas stood alone on the other side.
Legolas looked at his companions on the other side of the chasm. They
could ill afford to sit there determining what he already knew. They had to move on
without him.
He raised hand and voice.
"Do not fear! I will find another way!" His keen eyes had
already found a path that lead from the ledge on which he stood. He would follow it until
he found another bridge. Or perhaps retrace his steps to one of the many passages he had
seen behind on the way. The enemy were many but he moved so much faster alone-
the. fang. the. blood
Legolas swung around swiftly notching and aiming an arrow ready to send
it into flesh. The words flowed and slithered through the air like vipers of smoke.
But there was nothing but the fallen orc dead and the vast bleak unlit
chamber beyond. He blinked uncertainly, adjusting his grip on the bow. A gentle rush of
wind where he knew there should be none blew softly against his face and played with his
long hair like a vile caress.
His breathing grew erratic as he frantically searched
for a target. Aragorn was somewhere behind him, calling to him.
"GO!" He yelled, not taking his sharp gaze from the empty
hall. Something was advancing slowly towards him in the gloom.
you. will. know. me.
Legolas watched as it emerged, the steady tread of its footsteps
sounding with each beat of his heart.
It made him ill to hear it but Aragorn knew better than to deny
Legolas. Each moment they lingered the foul armies of Sauron drew closer. The elf
was far from helpless. He, of any of the Fellowship, could survive. Legolas himself, his
bow drawn, had told them to flee.
The hobbits were already being hurried up the waiting stone steps by a
withdrawn Bormir.
Heart heavy, Aragorn was turning to follow the rest when he heard
Legolas cry out suddenly. He swung around expecting to see a wicked orc blade impaled in
his flesh. But the elf seemed unhurt.
He was on the far ledge on one knee, clutching his head. His bow lay on
the ground where he had dropped it.
"Legolas?" Aragorn stepped forward towards the edge, his mind
racing.
Was it the affliction? The elf who had looked upon death many times
over, of his comrades and kin, bold warrior who feared no earthly wonder. What in all this
realm had felled him? Alone on the far ledge he was crouched so strangely in the
foreboding silence that came after the splintering of rock, and the hissing orc armies.
Strong and able, Aragorn could leave him, confident of his survival. But the remaining
hordes were at hand and they would devour him in this state. Aragorn's heart was torn in
agony.
The voice of Gandalf was grave in his ear.
"Do not think I am ignorant of what it means for an elf to utter
your given name."
Dunedan. Aragorn stared at him a moment, amazed. Then he returned to
himself. "Take them, now. Frodo must stay alive."
"I will see you again." The wizard said and smiled. His long
robes flared as he turned and followed the rest.
Gimli stood uncertain and grim, looking from the passage steps and back
to Aragorn.
"Go." Aragorn said to him.
The dwarf hesitated, anguish plain on his rough features.
"The ring!" Aragorn said gripping the hand that was fastened
on his own. "I will follow!"
Gimli looked across the chasm grimly and nodded once. He took off
following Gandalf's wavering light as it flickered up the winding way.
The warrior looked back to the far side.
"You must get up!" Aragorn screamed in the Elvish tongue, his
eyes searching the ledge for a means to reach him.
"Legolas, HEAR ME!"
There was a shadow amongst the many shadows, forming slowly. Aragorn's
hand went to his sword as useless as it was. He waited for the shadows to flow and
multiply into the countless hideous shapes that pursued them.
But they did not. The dark shape made its advance alone towards
Legolas. Its great hulking body moved with an ease that seemed purposeful and intelligent.
This was not some gibbering mindless servant of Sauron.
"Uruk-hai." Aragorn clenched his teeth. He should have known
one would dwell in such a place as this. It was a giant, standing a full head taller than
the elf. Its bared flesh was hard as though carved from the very rock itself.
It paused and regarded the elf, and suddenly the small part of Aragorn
that shared Legolas's blood, felt a ripple and almost saw it move through the air like
heat. It touched the elf first and from his lips there came less a cry and more a moan so
saddened and sickened it wrought the warrior's heart to ice.
The ripple traveled and brushed against him and it felt the effect so
foul and polluted, it made his teeth clench and his stomach churn. Was this what had ailed
Legolas all of these cursed days?
The beast was drawing its massive sword.
Aragorn waited, his jaw trembling in frustration, for the blade to
descend.
But to his breathless relief, Legolas suddenly became alive with the
sound of steel hissing from its sheath.
With a guttural cry, the black blade was blocked by the dual drawn
daggers, a pained confused look on the fine features of the elf Aragorn had never
witnessed before.
Back, Legolas was driven, forced toward the gaping jaws of the crevice.
An instant he shone there on the edge and then the Uruk-hai's massive body descended like
a shadow upon him and together they fell down into the abyss.
"LEGOLAS!" Aragorn cried, outstretched hand reaching into the
wide jaws of the crevice, the rock glowing red with the fires burning slow and terrible
far below.
Aragorn felt his heart harden with resolve.
Ranger that he was, he moved like one born amongst the rocks. Grasping
at ledges, fingers trembling on spurs of stone, he descended swiftly into the abyss. All
the while the cry of Legolas echoed in his ears.
He would not abandon him.
to be continued.......