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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
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Chapter 5 - From Dreams to Reality

Visions of his father falling to the ground, and orcs swallowing him up like a black tide, consumed Legolas’ mind, but it was those same visions that gave the young elf a new sense of courage. Though he had witnessed his father’s death, he had also witnessed his last fighting strength. How many orcs had met their end before their black blades extinguished his father’s life? He never gave up, even as he faced his mortality. His father fought until his heart stopped beating. He did not run and hide as Legolas did now.

Women gathered on the high platform. Some comforted their children while other held onto each other. All of them had someone fighting down below, whether they were fathers, sons, brothers or husbands. Sefa kept Legolas close to her side as she helped comfort some of the other women. The young elf looked at all of them and saw fear as the most prominent emotion. He was suddenly tired of being afraid. Night after night, the black monsters came for him and he cried out in his sleep. Now the monsters were real; below him on the ground were the same hideous creatures that stole his father from him. For the first time, anger pushed past Legolas’ fear. These beasts killed his family and burned his home, making him an orphan.

The young elf went to the window of his elevated sanctuary and looked out over the forest. Woodsmen fought with orcs below him. The smell of rotted flesh wafted up through the trees, and he felt his breath hitch. Not this time, Legolas told himself, as he allowed his anger to seethe, extinguishing his fear. A flash of gold flared across the forest floor. Elhadron ran to aid some of the archers who had the advantage over one group of orcs.

“Legolas get back from there,” Sefa yelled to him. She pulled him into her arms as she brought him away from the window. The youth sat silently next to the kind woman, his mind conjuring up thoughts and ideas. He had an overwhelming urge to run down to the forest floor. He wanted to see these creatures up close. He wanted to know that they were not stronger than he was. He needed to see them die. If only he could slip away from Sefa. He hated the thought of deceiving her—she had been so kind and loving towards him—but the hate that boiled within his elvish blood overtook him like a fever. This feeling of courage mixed with anger was intoxicating. Just one orc, he thought to himself. If he could kill just one of them, he was sure the nightmares would end. His father would be free of his dreams and he would not have to witness his death anymore.

At that moment, one of the women came to Sefa, shaking her head with defeat. “What is wrong?” Sefa asked.

“One of the pregnant women is complaining of sharp pains. We have tried to keep her calm, but it is not working. The pain worsens.”

“Is she due to deliver soon?” Sefa asked.

“She is much too far from that time. I fear something is wrong. Will you come and help, Sefa?” the woman pleaded.

Sefa nodded and the woman left to tend to the pregnant one. “Legolas, I have to go check on her, but I want you to stay here. Do not wander to that window again, do you understand? It is too dangerous. Should a stray arrow--.” Sefa refused to finish that sentence. “I will be right back.”

Legolas nodded and pulled his knees to his chest. Sefa tucked his hair behind a pointed ear and smiled sweetly at him. He returned the smile and watched her cross the hut and enter into a room where the women with medical needs were housed. The hut they were in was every bit as big as the dining hall, but it was mostly empty. Only a few crates and barrels littered the place. At the far end was the room Legolas watched Sefa disappear into. Thin mattresses lined the floor of the room. This place was meant for shelter during times of duress and nothing more. It was the highest point in the village, situated in the tallest tree, and furthest away from the rest of the tree city. Its safety was deceiving though. There was only one rope bridge accessing the building. If the enemy should overcome the men, the women were trapped with no escape. Still, through all the generations of Woodsmen, this had never happened, and by the looks of the determined men as they went to the battle, it would not happen today either.

Legolas glanced around the room. No one was paying him any attention. Three crates dotted the floor, each one closer to the door than the next. He looked left and then right. He checked on the room at the back. Sefa was still nowhere to be seen. Now was his only chance and he took it, sneaking quietly from crate to crate until he was at the doorway. Legolas slipped out of the door, crossed the bridge, and made his way to his home.

Legolas had not been seen, and Sefa hadn’t come looking for him. His home was dark with all the candles extinguished and no fire in the hearth. Legolas took a moment to catch his breath. He glanced around the room and saw his small bow leaning against the far wall, close to his bed. Beside it sat his quiver and arrows, the tips sharp, since he no longer used practice blunts. He pushed away from the doorway and ran to his weapon, attached the quiver to his back and grabbed the bow tightly in his hand. With a heavy sigh, he ran towards the door, hoping no one had noticed he left the safe house. The way was still clear, not a soul in sight. His mind was set on getting to the ground and helping the men fight, but he hesitated as he thought of the orcs below and the ones in his dreams. Legolas’ heart began to beat uncontrollably. It was one thing to face the monsters of his unconscious mind, but to encounter them face to face— black flesh and maddening eyes—that was frighteningly real. “I have to … for Uncle and for the men,” he encouraged himself, but his legs would not take him another step further. He lifted his hand and watched as it shook. He could not go, but deep down something was driving him to the decision to leave the safety of the trees and head to the ground. Legolas looked back into his home, as if trying to find someone there that would force him to leave. There was no one but himself, but then he remembered one thing that perhaps would give him the bit of courage he needed. He still had his talisman safely tucked beneath his pillow. Elhadron had given it to him when the nightmares had not subsided. His uncle had gone to Folvar and asked the man to make something. The chieftain had carved a small dagger from wood, not a real weapon, but a symbol of protection from dark dreams. Before giving it to Legolas, Elhadron added elvish runes to the handle, telling him it would help keep evil thoughts at bay during his slumber. Legolas kept the mock weapon with him at all times at first, but as his fear subsided, he left it under his pillow. The nightmares lessoned so long as the wooden trinket was there. Perhaps it would help him now, he thought, as he went to his bed, retrieved it from beneath the pillow and carefully tucked the talisman into his tunic. Now he was ready. He would face his fears, his dark nightmares that were living creatures on the forest floor. He must do this … for his uncle, for his father, for himself . . . “For Mirkwood,” he whispered, and he left the hut.

* * *

The sound of the grunts and groans below was frightening enough, but when Legolas jumped to the ground, and found himself in the middle of the battle, he was stunned. He had managed to release one of the rope ladders, and quickly descended to the forest floor. Keeping his back to the tree, he turned his head and looked around the trunk. Orcs ran here and there with their black scimitars swinging at anything that moved. Men dodged their strikes, but some were caught off guard and now lay dead on the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath the fallen bodies. Legolas whipped his head back behind the base of the wide tree where he was hiding. His heart felt as if it would break his ribs. His breathing became rapid and he was shaking. He began to doubt his decision to run away from the safety of the high platform, but it was too late now. He was in the middle of a brutal battle, a young elfling with no experience of the real world or its dangers. He remembered what the messenger had said. The orcs were looking for elves. They were looking for him, just like in his dreams, but this … the blood, the bodies, the stench of orcs … this was real.

“I have to calm myself,” he repeated, “I have to focus on my targets, and judge their next move.” These were the rules that Kular and Hafdan had taught him about archery. It was so easy when aiming at a rabbit or a bird. They did not want to cut his head from his shoulders. Legolas closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. “You can do this, and you have to do this if you ever expect to be a warrior someday.” He opened his eyes, feeling much calmer, and peered around the tree again. Legolas gasped at what he saw. Three very large, yellow-eyed orcs were running right at him. He hid himself behind the tree again and froze like a marble statue. The growls of the orcs became louder as they approached. Legolas was sure they had seen him.

Suddenly, they ran past his hiding spot. If they stopped and turned around, Legolas would be plainly visible to them, but they seemed to be on some sort of determined mission. Then the elfling realized that they were going deeper into the village’s territory. They had gotten past the line of defense. Had no one seen them? Legolas waited, but no arrows flew towards the orcs. He must be the only one to have witnessed them, and now he had to act quickly. The youth retrieved an arrow from his quiver, notched it, and stretched the string back. He was still shaking when he fired, and the arrow embedded into a tree in front of the orcs. They had seen it and all three spread in different directions, jumping behind the closest tree to take cover. One of the putrid beasts looked out from behind his tree and glanced around the camp, when suddenly, his evil eyes fell upon the youth. The orc growled at his companions, and all three came out of hiding. They straightened their backs, and brought their blades in front of them, smiling their fanged grins as they closed in on the youth.

“Is that an elf?” one asked.

“I believe it is,” answered another in their dark speech, “And a rat of an elf, he is.” He switched to Westron, as he and the other two prowled closer to Legolas. “Tried to stick me with one of your arrows, did ye?”

Legolas was in a state of shock and could not move. His nightmare was now living and breathing, coming closer with every step. He had lost the use of his voice and could not call out for help. All he could do was close his eyes tightly and hope death was swift.

One of the orcs laughed with a snort through his pig like nose. “Given up, have ye? Aw, ye make my job too easy.”

Legolas took one last deep breath and held it, when suddenly--.

thwack … thwack, thwack.

He was afraid to look, but managed to open one eye, and saw all three orcs lying dead on the ground, an arrow in each of their heads.

“Legolas!” someone called from across the way. The elfling came out from behind the tree and Kular’s fear instantly washed away when he saw the youth. “Legolas, how did you get down here?” Kular went to him and pulled the boy close, feeling his whole body shake. “It’s alright. I’ve got ya child, but you should not be here.” He spoke softly, not wanting to berate the elfling when he was so scared. Kular was sure Sefa would give Legolas an earful later.

Meanwhile, Elhadron was on the other side of the area, firing arrow after arrow at a group of orcs, when he heard someone call Legolas’ name. He looked to see who it was, and noticed Kular kneeling down by a tree. Surely, he had misunderstood the name called out. Legolas was safe with the women and children, but as he focused his sharp vision, there was no mistaking the flaxen head of the youth. It was indeed Legolas.

The number of orcs seemed to be dwindling and the men, along with Elhadron, managed to ward off the attack. From somewhere in the camp, Folvar called out, “They are retreating.” Some of the men followed the orcs, chasing them away from the village.

Elhadron watched Kular stand guard over Legolas and called, “Legolas, what were you thinking, coming here!”

“He is alright,” Kular shouted back, “Shaken, but well.”

“Aye, Kular come … we are needed,” Hafdan shouted.

Kular looked over to his brother and then glanced at Elhadron. “Go Kular, I’ve got Legolas,” the elf said.

Kular nodded and patted Legolas on the head before he ran off to join his brother. Elhadron was about half way to the elfling, and already reprimanding him, “What are you doing here? Did I not tell you to stay with Sefa and the others?”

Elhadron’s words faded from Legolas’ ears as he suddenly saw movement from the trees a few dozen lengths from his foster uncle. An orc rose from the underbrush, his enormous bow trained on Elhadron’s back. There was no time to shout a warning and there was no one else around to see. The counselor was oblivious to what was about to happen, still ranting about never listening; just like his father in his youth, of all the idiotic things … and so on. But Legolas was watching every move the orc made, and raised his small bow. He recited the rules in his head, calmed his thoughts and pretended as if this was nothing more than a boar.

Elhadron watched Legolas raise his bow towards him. “Put that weapon down. What has come over you? I may be upset but I’m not going to--.”

Legolas released his arrow and it whizzed right by Elhadron’s head making a wisp of yellow hair float up and curl in the quick passing breeze. The older elf dropped to his knees, unsure of what was happening. There was a cry like a stuck pig, and Elhadron looked behind him. He watched as an orc fell lifeless to the ground, a single arrow protruding from in between its eyes. The counselor scrambled to his feet and rushed to Legolas. The elfling dropped his bow and closed the distance, grasping Elhadron. His foster uncle cradled the youths head against his chest, feeling Legolas tremble.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Legolas repeated between sobs.

A flash of lightening lit up the forest and thunder rumbled across the treetops. Elhadron looked up to see the dark clouds filling the spaces in between the leaves of the canopy. Then he lowered himself to his knees and wiped the tears from Legolas’ face. “It is alright. Look at me. Everything is fine.” Then he smiled. “Did you see, Legolas? Did you see that shot?” he laughed.

“But I disobeyed you, and you are upset with me,” the boy continued.

“Oh my Little Leaf, for once I can honestly say I am glad you did not listen to me,” Elhadron caught Legolas by the chin, “Look at me.” The elfling’s azure eyes were rimmed with red, but he focused on his uncle. “You, Legolas, you will be a great warrior one day, just like your father. And some day I will tell you more of his story, but just know that he was as courageous, strong, and true as any of the great legends. You are just like him; that same fire burns within your soul. He loved you so much, Little Leaf, and I know he would be so proud of you right now.” Elhadron brushed the hair from Legolas’ eyes. “I am not upset. I am just as proud, and I love you too.”

Another flash of lightening illuminated the ever-growing darkness of an approaching storm, and the first drops of rain managed to find their way through the treetops, but the elves ignored the threat. Elhadron pulled Legolas to his chest, embracing him. Legolas’ tears stopped falling as he felt such comfort in his foster uncle’s arms.

“I love you too, Elhadron … Uncle,” he said, as rain began soaking the ground around them, but something changed. Suddenly Elhadron’s body stiffened, every muscle tensing. His tight embrace gave way and Legolas was confused. He’d never felt this from his uncle before.

Elhadron released Legolas and began leaning to the side. His eyes focused on Legolas, but the boy felt as if he was looking through him, not at him.

“Uncle?” Legolas asked, “Uncle, what is wrong?”

Elhadron fell onto his side, catching himself with his elbow so that his head did not hit the forest floor. He began to make unnatural sounds, gurgling and gasping for breath. Legolas stood, stunned and unable to process what was happening, but soon he saw the reason for Elhadron’s condition. From his back protruded a black arrow.

“Elhadron!” Legolas yelled. His cries gained the attention of a few of the Woodsmen who were returning from their chase. The boy looked towards them and desperately called, “Help! He’s been shot! Uncle’s been shot!”

One man ran back into the woods to get help, while the other came to Legolas and Elhadron. “An arrow, an orc arrow,” Legolas cried. While the man leaned down to help Elhadron, Legolas instantly started scanning the trees. At that same instant, Kular, Hafdan, and a few other men ran into the small clearing at the edge of the village. Legolas paid them no mind, but he kept searching until he saw it. There stood an orc with yellowish green eyes peering through the dark, grey-green skin, and pointed teeth set in a snarl. Legolas heard it laugh, as it gazed at its accomplishment. Then its sight fell upon the elfling and the boy felt the orc’s hatred drill into his being. It had seen him. It knew he was an elf and it knew its job was not yet finished. It started to reach into a quiver and retrieve another arrow, but Legolas broke the fearful trance and yelled to Kular, “There, over there in the trees! There is the orc!”

The beast released Legolas from its lethal stare, snapping its head in the direction of the men and hissing like a trapped wildcat. Kular had seen the orc looking at the elfling. It knew at least one elf lived. Then the monster turned and ran off into the forest.

“Men, follow it! Kill it! We cannot let it get away. It has seen the elf child. Hurry!” Kular called to his companions.

“Find Folvar and tell him what has happened. I will stay with Elhadron,” Hafdan told his brother before he too came to Legolas’ side.

Legolas, knowing that the men were after the orc, dropped to the ground with his legs tucked underneath him, and brushed the wet hair from Elhadron’s face. The rain came down in droves. The ground around them turned to mud, as small puddles formed here and there. The young elf looked up at Hafdan, “Can you help him?”

“We will try,” Hafdan replied, as he inspected Elhadron’s back. The arrow was deeply imbedded. He closed his eyes, knowing there was nothing that could be done except keep the elf as comfortable as possible. There was no doubt that he would die, but Hafdan would not tell either one. “Let me find something to transport him on, so that we can get him out of the rain.”

Legolas nodded and watched the Woodsman run off in a hurry, leaving the elves alone. The boy started to cry, and the sound of his whimpering brought Elhadron back to the present. His eyes cleared for a moment, and he spoke in barely a whisper, with what breath he had left in his punctured lung. “Laiqalassë, listen to me,” he said, using Legolas’ proper elvish name. “There is … something . . .” He coughed and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His world was beginning to darken as Námo called to his fae, his soul, “Your adar … his name … Tha … Thar … Tharan--.” And with that Elhadron breathed his last breath, the air slowly escaping his mouth. His eyes dimmed, and his natural glow faded. Elhadron, counselor, foster uncle and protector passed from Arda.

“Uncle! No, please don’t leave me! Elhadron!” Legolas wailed.

Hafdan came running with Torlek by his side holding a makeshift litter, but the sound of the elfling’s cries told them they were too late. The men slowed their steps and bowed their heads, saying a silent prayer for the elf’s soul to find safe passage. Then they approached Legolas, and stood on either side of the boy while he grieved for the passing of the only elf in his young life.

Lightening sparked above once more, only now it lit the sky opposite of where it had originally been seen. The storm was moving away from them now. It was still raining, but it was beginning to let up. A stream of blood and water flowed out from beneath Elhadron’s lifeless body. Legolas clung to him, rain-soaked and shivering from the cold. Kular emerged from the tree line with Folvar and the other men. Hafdan looked up and over to his young brother, slowly shaking his head. Kular touched his thumb to his forehead, then to his chest, as he too prayed for the elf.

Hafdan walked to his brother and Folvar, meeting them halfway, “Did you find the orc?”

“We lost sight of it and it escaped,” Kular answered, and he turned to Folvar, “It saw the elfling. It will no doubt tell the others and they’ll return. You know they will not stop until they think every last elf has been extinguished.”

“I know,” Folvar said, defeated, “We cannot stay. They will come back and with more reinforcements. They have seen our village and know our numbers. We will not stand a chance.”

“What are we to do?” Hafdan asked.

“Inform the women, we have to abandon the village. Tell them to pack only what is necessary.” Folvar sighed and looked off to the west, “We will go to the Ford of Carrock. The Beornings will hopefully give us refuge until it is safe to return home.”
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The Last Wood Elf