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The Last Wood Elf	By : Mel99Moe Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4551 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters or places. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
Chapter 30 – Preparing A City

“We were to marry,” said Rawynn, Prince Théodred’s betrothed, “When he returned, we were going to announce it to everyone.” She sat next to Eowyn on the settee within Meduseld. A fire warmed the hall as well as its inhabitants. Legolas and Eomer stood to the side, listening to Rawynn tell Eowyn about all the plans she had made with Théodred. The woman was grief stricken for her love. So many were. So many men had given their lives. Children were left fatherless, women were made widows, and an only son passed before his father.
Earlier this day, the city of Edoras had made their way to the barrows for Prince Théodred’s funeral. It had been a tough day for everyone, especially King Théoden. Eowyn had sung the final song. Eomer had been a pallbearer, and Théoden knelt at the foot of his son’s tomb until the sun had set. Gandalf had been with him. Legolas had seen the wizard stand unmoving, like a guard watching over his charge. Perhaps he had lent the King strength on this, the longest day, but no amount of magic would ease the sorrow in any heart in Rohan.
Night settled on the city, and it was unusually quiet. The residents stayed in their homes, cocooned in warmth. The taverns and other places of nightly business were dark. Everyone took to the solemnness that the day had brought, found relief from their woes within the dark, and hoped that the light of morning would bring new promise.
Eowyn did her best to comfort Rawynn until the night had grown late. Eomer offered to see her home and she agreed. Legolas stayed behind with Eowyn. She had been so busy performing her duties, he wondered if she had had the time to properly grieve her cousin. They sat on the couch staring into the fire, as they had on so many different occasions.
“I am going with the men,” she stated, surprising Legolas. He thought she would use the time to shed the tears she’d held back in order for others to express their sadness.
“What are you speaking of?” he asked.
“War, if the Rohirrim ride to war, I will go with them.”
“Eowyn, it has been a long day, and I’m sure you are tired. Tomorrow with bring—”
“No, Legolas, tomorrow will bring nothing but more sorrow. I am sick of it, I say, and I cannot … will not sit by and watch my loved ones disappear. I’ve lost my parents, my cousin, friends . . . How many more will fall? Saruman sets out to destroy Rohan, and I will do everything within my power to keep that from happening.”
“And do you think Théoden will let you ride out with the troops? Do you think Eomer would let you? You are a shield maiden, sworn to protect the city when the men are off to battle. Your duty lies within Edoras.”
“My duty lies with my king,” she retaliated.
“Théoden is recovering. You needn’t care for him anymore. Now you must care for your people. They will be looking to you for guidance,” Legolas acknowledged.
“You don’t understand. Théoden should not have to ride into battle. I know he is a strong ruler, and in his youth he was a valiant warrior, but he has aged. Eomer and Théodred were to be his brawn while my uncle ruled from his throne. I’m worried that Théoden will ride out in place of his son, and if he does, I am going too … to watch over him and protect him.”
Legolas shook his head. Eowyn was full of such stubbornness sometimes, “Théoden would never let you do this, and you know it.”
“Have you forgotten about Dernhelm?” she said.
“You mean to disguise yourself as a soldier? That is absurd and it is trickery, and … and why are you telling me any of this when it should be my duty to notify Théoden of your plans?” Legolas crossed his arms and stared down his nose at her.
“Because you, of all people, know that I am capable of this. You trained me, Legolas. You taught me how to become a better swordswoman. And let’s not forget who created and carried out the plan to save you from the cells.” She stopped and moved closer to him until their legs brushed against each other, “And because I trust you.”
Her words struck the center of his heart. She trusted him, trusted that he would support her, trusted that would be there for her people and her family. In return, he felt compelled to tell her his secret. Legolas lowered his arms to his lap and faced the fire again, “I have to leave soon.”
“Leave? What are you talking about? You can’t leave now,” Eowyn said adamantly.
Legolas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and gave a sigh, “I don’t even know where to begin. I’m still not sure I believe it myself, and ever since I found out, I have put it in the back of my mind.” He turned his head to the side, glancing at Eowyn over his shoulder. “I may not be who you think I am.”
Eowyn put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, “I don’t understand.”
“When I left Edoras, I went to Fangorn to finish healing, and to get my mind in order,” he began. “What happened to me here left a tear in my soul. Róta … did things that I am not sure were all her doing. Some of what happened was my own choice, and … well … I should have controlled my reactions better.”
“I’m so sorry you were hurt, but you cannot take all of the blame,” Eowyn comforted.
Legolas went on, “Well, it is over now, but … something happened while I was there. I met an elf, an elleth actually. She was a border guard for the Galadhrim, injured while on duty. I helped her, but I had to leave before she had recovered. When I went back, she was gone, but she left me a message.”
Eowyn waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be lost in thought, “What did it say?”
“She wrote my name, my given name, Laiqalassë, and told me to come to Lothlórien. No one knows me by that name but for those who have left this world.”
“What does this mean?” Eowyn asked curiously.
“I didn’t know at first, but it was Gandalf who told me. You see, he knew that name also, for that is the name of Thranduil’s son.” Legolas sat up and turned to Eowyn, “He said that my father was King Thranduil, and that I am the heir to the throne of Mirkwood.”
Eowyn was speechless, her mouth hanging open unbecomingly. Legolas smiled and laughed, “That was my exact reaction. Difficult to believe, isn’t it?”
“So, you are a Prince? Prince Legolas,” she managed to finally say.
Legolas shrugged his shoulders, “If Gandalf is correct. His mind was a little clouded, he tells me, when he came back to this world as Gandalf the White. Still, he said he knew my parents, said I look like my mother. I just don’t know what to believe, and I chose not to think about it much until I knew you, Eomer and Théoden were safe.”
“And you think this elleth might be the key to the mystery?” Eowyn asked.
“I’m not sure how she fits in to all of this, but one thing is for certain. She recognized me, though I do not know how. I was only an elfling when Mirkwood was destroyed,” he answered. “Maybe she knew my parents too, like Mithrandir.” Legolas leaned against the back of the couch, “I don’t know, Eowyn, but I think the answer lies within Lothlórien.”
Eowyn stood from the couch and paced past the fire. She stopped at the far end of the hearth, her back turned to Legolas, her arms wrapped around her to ward off the chill. He sighed and hung his head, knowing she did not want him to leave, not now on the brink of war. He slowly rose from the settee and went to her, putting his arm around her shoulders, “I haven’t made my mind yet, and besides, Théoden has not issued any orders as to what Rohan will do next.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered.
“I’m not too keen on the idea myself,” he said. “Let’s just wait and see what your uncle decides.” He walked around, stopping before her, tilted her head up to meet his eyes and smiled, “Whatever happens, I will not abandon you or Eomer or Théoden, for you did not abandon me when I needed you most.”
She smiled and nodded, though she did not seem convinced by his words.
“Come on, it’s late. I’ll walk you to your room.” Legolas held his arm out and she tucked her chilled fingers into the crook of his arm.
They stopped just outside of her private quarters, and Legolas released her. Eowyn turned the knob, but hesitated and looked back at him, “I have known you since I was a young girl, and you never mentioned having another name. Why did you tell me about all of this?”
Legolas took her hand and raised it to his lips, laying a gentlemanly kiss across her fingers. He smiled and looked at her through his lashes, “Because I trust you too.”
“Thank you, Legolas,” she said, and she slipped into her room.
* * *
The stars were not as bright as they usually were. A thin veil of clouds dulled their presence. Only a slight breezed blew across the veranda where Legolas stood, gazing across the open plains of the Riddermark. He sensed a presence behind him, but there was no need to turn around. He knew who it was.
“I think we are the only ones who stir in this entire city,” Gandalf stated. “The rest have gone to their slumber.”
“Yet it is a restless sleep. The people are worried about their future,” Legolas remarked.
“And they would be right to feel this way. Tomorrow will decide the fates of them all.”
“And what will you tell King Théoden?” Legolas asked.
“I will not tell him anything, but I will answer his concerns and hope to persuade him into making the right decision.”
“Is that not the same thing, Mithrandir?”
Instead of answering, Gandalf brought his smoking pipe to his mouth and puffed, the white smoke escaping from the corners of his mouth.
Legolas went on, “Théoden will be difficult to persuade, especially after all that has happened. He will have little trust in those who hold any kind of magic. Gríma saw to that.” He shifted his feet and turned to Gandalf, who stood at his side. He looked into the ancient face, wrinkled and worn, yet his eyes were unrestrained and full of enthusiasm. Gandalf was a man always thinking well into the future, making multiple plans so that there was always a different path to choose. “What would you have Théoden do?”
“Well,” Gandalf began as he lowered his pipe, “I would see him stay here in Edoras and protect his city and its people. But I have seen his strategy in the past. Théoden will choose to go to Helm’s Deep.”
“It is the stronghold of Rohan, a great fortress. Why do you find this disagreeable?” Legolas asked.
“For one, he will empty the city, and I am afraid there is not enough time to move all his people. They will be vulnerable once they leave Edoras, slow moving too, with all of the sick and elderly. He does not have enough soldiers to see them safely to the Deep. A thousand men he still has riding across the plains, but where they are is anyone’s guess.” Gandalf stopped and puffed on his pipe again, this time withdrawing a great amount of smoke that he did not release right away. When he did, he made short, quick puffs. Legolas watched as the smoke hung in the air, defying the breeze, and took form in the shape of the Hornburg. “My other concern is the design of Helm’s Deep. Yes, it is a mighty stronghold built into the mountain, but should Rohan’s defenses not hold, it will become a trap with no way of escape. It is better to fight out in the open of Edoras in my opinion. Inevitably, it is Théoden’s decision. All I can really do is give my advice, and then adjust my plans to meet his needs.” At the finish of his words, the smoke dissipated.
“Did you ever advise Thranduil?” Legolas asked. He found it difficult to refer to the elven king as his father. It still seemed unreal to him.
“I did once or twice. Thranduil was very strong minded. Ultimately, he only listened to his instincts. Such was the primitive practices of the wood elves.”
“You speak as though they were an insufficient race,” Legolas inquired.
“Not at all, Legolas. Thranduil and his armies were far from lacking. Ruthless warriors they were. They had to be living as they did, surrounded by fell creatures with danger around every corner. They isolated themselves in order to survive, but by doing so, they sacrificed advancement as a people.”
“From what I know, they chose to live a simple life. They had no need for great cities or structures as the elves of Rivendell. And they loved their land and being a part of Middle-earth, unlike the Noldor.” Legolas’ voice rose as he spoke, defending his lost people. After all, he was one of them and the only one left to stand up to those who may question their choice for civilization.
Gandalf chuckled quietly, though not out of disrespect. He observed Legolas with a stern eye, “You are so much like your mother that I find myself missing her as I did the day I learned that she passed from this world.” He paused and shook his head, “Such a shame, and Thranduil was brokenhearted. If not for you, I think he might have faded. He was so devoted to her. Love at first sight, they had said. Nothing would keep them apart. But it was not a blessed union, not at first. Thranduil was still a prince when he met Almárëa.
He had gone with his father to Lothlórien to learn how to negotiate with the Noldor. Needless to say, the only thing his attention focused on was her. He was instantly smitten, and she with him, though she hid it well. Thranduil visited Lothlórien regularly after that, and he became better acquainted with Almárëa, but when her family caught wind of the growing relationship, they forbade her to see him. After many attempts to ask permission, and each one met with denial, Thranduil snuck Almárëa out of Lothlórien and brought her to the Great Greenwood. They married soon after, and her family no longer had any say in the matter.”
Legolas was amazed by the story. He’d had no idea that their relationship had started out as a turbulent one. He hadn’t known much about them at all, except that they were very much in love. “Is that what caused the rift between the two realms?” Legolas asked.
“Well no, there had always been a certain amount of disagreement between the two, but this did not help matters. I would say it more or less caused a rift between Thranduil and Lórien, especially after he became king. But none of this changed how your parents felt about each other, and Thranduil went on to build a strong city and a devoted people who respected their King and loved their Queen.” Gandalf had finished with his pipe, tapped the ashes out into the wind, and tucked it inside his robe.
“This is all fine and well, Gandalf, but I do not see why I need to go to Lothlórien. So you say I am Thranduil’s son. Why should I think they will accept me any more than my father? I saw the elleth’s reaction when she realized who I was. Lothlórien thought I had perished along with my father and all of my people. Outside of being surprised that I lived, I don’t see how any of this makes a difference.”
“The differences between your father’s people and your mother’s people have been long standing. And then unto the world came the King’s son, born of both realms. You were to be the tether that linked the two great forests together. You still are that key, Legolas.” Gandalf faced the elf, clasping his shoulder, “I know how you long to go home, and I believe it can be done, for as long as one still survives, Mirkwood can be restored. You are but one, though, against a vast forest filled with beasts and creatures that most have only seen in their nightmares. You cannot do this alone.”
“I am not alone, Gandalf. Rohan will stand behind me. Eomer promised me long ago that he would aid me when the time came.”
The wizard’s eyes sparkled in the dull light of a crescent moon, “He may have been of only a little help. This is not just about taking back what is rightfully yours. It is about reconciling. You must go to Lothlórien. There will be those who will follow you, who will believe in your cause. That is where the healing will begin, and that is where you will find your army. It will begin with one.” Gandalf chuckled and went on, “It already has begun … with the elleth and the message in the sand. You will find more like her.”
Legolas thought about all that Gandalf had said. It was a lot to consider. Finding out that he was the son of a king was mindboggling enough. Now he was told that he was responsible for rebuilding Mirkwood and for mending the old wounds that existed between Lothlórien and his native home. Still, there was one matter of concern that seemed to overshadow all of this. “What about Rohan? What about Saruman and Gríma, and their army of orcs? Are you saying I should go to Lothlórien and abandon those who might need my help?”
“That, my dear boy, is solely your decision.”
* * *
“I will not leave my people in Edoras, Gandalf,” argued Théoden, “They will stand a better chance at Helm’s Deep.”
“They will be trapped with no way of escape if the enemy breaks through,” Gandalf retaliated.
“Then we will not let that happen,” Théoden said as he stood from his throne and paced the floor in front of the dais.
Legolas and Eomer were standing to the side of the hall, listening to both men argue over what might be the better decision, but Théoden was king and his word was final. Gandalf looked defeated after many attempts to make Théoden see his point.
“Grimbold, send word to every person in the city. They should take only what is necessary. Gather as many provisions as we can. We leave for Helm’s Deep in three days,” Théoden ordered. “Eomer … Legolas, see to it that all the armories are emptied. We will need every weapon and spare piece of armor we have.”
Eomer, Grimbold and Legolas left right away to fulfill their orders. They stopped out on the veranda, Eomer giving Grimbold a few more instructions that he knew would help things move along a little smoother. Gandalf, Aragorn and Gimli stayed inside a while longer. Finally, Gandalf graciously took his leave of the king, but once outside of Meduseld, he mumbled and complained about the stubbornness of the Rohirric King. Eomer caught a few of the wizard’s words, and stopped him.
“Théoden is only thinking of his people. They are always his first priority. If he says Helm’s Deep is our best chance of defense, then who are you to argue with him?” said Eomer defending his uncle.
Gandalf glared at the young Marshal, and Legolas was sure there would be more arguing, but the wizard’s face softened a bit, “Théoden is a good man. I will not question his decision anymore. Besides, I always have another plan. Tell me, Eomer, while you were out on patrol, did you happen to receive word of Erkenbrand’s whereabouts?” Gandalf did not wait for an answer before he started off in the direction of the royal stables. The others followed the wizard’s fast tread, Eomer trailing his white robes.
“Last I heard, he rode out from the Fords of Isen with around a thousand of our men, taking my place when I came to Edoras. I know not where he rides now, but I am sure it is to the north,” Eomer answered.
Aragorn, as though he already knew what Gandalf was thinking, interrupted, “I can ride out and find them, bring them back here.”
Gandalf shook his head, “No, I need you here to see that these people make it safely to the Hornburg. No doubt the roads will be watched.”
“Gríma will know Théoden’s strategy. If he has fled to Isengard, I’m sure he will tell Saruman of our plans,” Legolas informed.
By now, they had arrived at the stables. Gandalf went inside and straight to the stall that housed Shadowfax, but he stopped as he remembered something. He turned to the others and pulled a black leather bound book from his robes, “Speaking of Gríma, do either of you recognize this?” he said addressing Eomer and Legolas. Before they could answer, another spoke from a nearby stall.
“I do,” Eowyn said as she came from the stall of her horse, Windfola, “It belongs to Gríma. I have seen it in his rooms. How did you come by it?”
Gandalf stepped between the other members and approached the shield maiden, “Someone found it just outside of the gates of the city. I think Gríma might have carelessly dropped it as he made his hasty flight. The guard who brought it to me thought it to be a book of magic.”
“What would give him that idea?” Gimli asked, as he pushed his way in front of Legolas.
“There are ancient runes written inside, so old in fact that I almost did not recognize them, but they are of the black speech,” Gandalf answered as he flipped through the pages, opening it to the place he spoke of.
Legolas looked inside the book, and observed the familiar symbols, “I have seen this elsewhere, upon a dagger in which Gríma had made for him. He lied and said that Théoden ordered it forged for his collection, but the King has no such thing.”
Gimli nodded in confirmation, “I saw him wave that around at the Rohir Captain right before he ran off. It had an odd blade as I’ve never seen before, the edges wavy instead of straight.”
Gandalf furrowed his brow as his finger moved over the runes in the book, “Now it makes sense.”
“What does?” Eowyn asked. She glanced at Eomer and Legolas, for they all new the story behind the making of the blade and the blacksmith, Róta, who made it.
“It is a black spell, and will bring power to the one who completes it using the dagger,” Gandalf went on, “It is a list, if you will, and each task must be completed in order for it to work properly.” He looked up from the book, his eyes falling upon Eomer. “If Gríma had followed through with this, he could have easily taken control of Rohan.”
“How do we know he has not already started the spell,” Eomer asked worriedly.
“That would depend upon the Lady Eowyn,” Gandalf said turning to the shield maiden. “The first thing it says is . . . ‘the first blood of a virgin’.”
“You mean, he meant to kill me?” asked Eowyn, her innocence apparent to the rest.
Eomer’s eyes blazed with anger as he knew the meaning. He bent down to whisper in Eowyn’s ear, “There are other ways a virgin bleeds besides from a stab wound, and she will only bleed this way once.”
Eowyn’s mouth dropped open, and she could not meet the eyes of the others in the stable, but she answered, “No, he has definitely not begun the spell.”
“What are the other things,” Legolas asked, trying to save Eowyn her modesty.
Gandalf looked at the book again, “Some are nothing more than rare plants mixed with blood from a lamb, and a few other minor details, but the last is to kill the one whose power and position the conjuror wishes to overtake. Upon completion, the wielder of the dagger’s influence will be tenfold, making him more powerful than any of his forerunners.”
“If Gríma had all of this power within his reach, why did he not use it?” Gimli asked.
“Because he could not kill my uncle until Saruman was through with him,” Eomer answered. “The White Wizard promised Gríma Eowyn’s hand in marriage once his task of deception was complete. He would have no more use of the King at that point, leaving Gríma to dispose of him as he saw fit.”
Legolas was seething, but hid his emotions. To think of the times Wormtongue had been in his grasp. Just a quick twist of the neck, and the man would have been relieved of his corrupted life. “Why did you tell me to let him go, Gandalf? Now he has gone back to Isengard where he will undoubtedly come up with a new plan for sorcery.”
“The stars will align another way for him, and he will get what is coming to his black heart. There will be no time for him to make another attempt. Saruman concentrates on war, and he will not let Gríma out of his site again.” Gandalf went on to say something privately to Aragorn. The man nodded and wished the wizard safety and swiftness in elvish. Legolas was taken aback, not having known that he spoke the same language.
Gandalf entered the stall and mounted Shadowfax. Then, horse and rider burst from the stables with all haste in a flash of white. The others watched in awe as the wizard left, set on his mission. The rest would be up to them.
Eowyn went back to tending to her horse and put Windfola back in the security of the stall. Aragorn helped her when the horse seemed defiant. Legolas watched the exchange, and saw a look upon her face that he’d not seen since she asked him to be her first kiss. She was smitten with this Ranger of the North.
“I did not know you spoke the language of the elves,” she said, her cheeks flushing a becoming shade of pink.
“I lived in Rivendell for a time, after my mother died. Lord Elrond took me in and taught me much,” Aragorn answered.
“You were raised in Rivendell?” Legolas asked curiously.
“And you find this odd?” Aragorn smiled, “You, an elf raised in Rohan?”
“Sounds like the two of you were mixed at birth,” Gimli chortled.
Aragorn laughed at Gimli’s sense of humor, then regarded Legolas again, “Have you ever been to Rivendell?”
“No, I have not been to any elven realm except for the place of my birth, but soon I might—” Legolas stopped himself before he said too much. This was a decision he still had to come to a conclusion about.
Aragorn ignored his slip and clasped the elf’s shoulder, “Perhaps we shall journey there together one day.”
“Perhaps,” Legolas grinned, but he felt a cold stare from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and found Gimli watching him with one narrowed eye peeking from beneath a bushy brow.
Eomer, seeing that time was running short, took charge and addressed Aragorn and Gimli first, “We could use your help with the heavy lifting in the food pantries. Legolas and I shall head to the armories. Eowyn, gather the other shield maidens and begin organizing the women and children. They should take only what they need, nothing more. With Béma’s blessing, the city will still be here when we return.”
Eowyn nodded, and glanced shyly at Aragorn before leaving the stables. The others followed with Aragorn and Gimli going off towards the food stores, while Eomer and Legolas went the opposite direction. The friends discussed their concerns about Gríma and the black spell, Rohan’s safety and Eowyn’s sudden interest in Aragorn.
As they talked, Legolas mentally calculated the time it would take from now until Saruman’s armies were knocking on the doors of the Keep. He gave some thought to his newfound nobility, and to Gandalf’s advice to seek answers in Lothlórien. He was unsure whether Gandalf would find Erkenbrand in time for the company to arrive at Helm’s Deep before war broke out. His motives for going to Lothlórien took new shape. Could he have enough influence to convince Lothlórien to send their own troops to the Hornburg? Rohan’s numbers were very low at the moment. Their armies were split after Théodred’s death. He wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly, but he thought that Calariel might be able to help him gather enough elves to help in the war. She was a soldier, after all. She would know who to speak to, who would listen, and who would be willing to help. Legolas would have to give it more thought, but he would have to make a decision very soon. Time was against him, and there was not a moment to spare.
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The Last Wood Elf